I’m not surprised at the Super Bowl halftime show or the mixed reviews of it among my friends. The performance was predictable; we all saw or should have seen it coming. I’m no longer naïve to the complex blend of taste, attitude, and morals that we individually use to filter cultural events. I’ve also grown a little beyond the church-lady-like requirement I once held for those in my close circle to share near-identical opinions and standards. No, their views may still puzzle me, but I wasn’t caught off guard by any comments I read this morning. What knocked me breathless was the perfect timing of God’s Word on the core question opened wide for all to see Sunday night. Monday morning, I turned to the day’s Read-the-Bible-in-a-year scripture which happened to be Exodus 32-33. The Golden Calf and its aftermath chapters. What started with satisfaction, thinking myself on the “right” side of the issues of morality, modesty, decency – whatever you call it – ended with shame at seeing my own face in the crowd at the foot of the calf.

“He who asks for gods makes them,” goes the ancient Latin saying. Maybe we cut the Israelites some slack and try to understand their absolute failure at this point. More likely, we turn on them with moral indignation and ask why. Why do you turn your back on a God who brought you from Egypt, delivered you from Pharaoh’s thundering army by parting then closing the Red Sea, and provided shoes that never wear out, food that never runs out, and water that never dries up? How can you explain forgetting Who led and protected you? How can you demand a golden idol of a cow, bow down and worship and promise to follow where it leads? I’m sure some in the Israelite camp didn’t actively rebel. I see myself with them. What did they think? What did they say? I may not have chosen to worship a golden calf or enjoyed the risqué show, but the idols I make have the same effect. We may not demand the building of an idol, but we may through a choice, or the lack of one, pitch a ring of gold into the fire. The little idols I erect say as much about my desire to follow God as the world’s idols say about their refusal to do so. Before I caution the lost and wandering, I need to identify and destroy my own enabling gods.

1) The idol of an unrocked boat. For the word of God is living, and active, and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing even to the dividing of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and quick to discern the thoughts and intents of the heart (Hebrews 4:12). Oh, how I love calm seas, especially in my relationships. I avoid confrontation like the plague it’s made out to be. Peace at any cost is too often my rally cry for inactivity. I hold tight to my seat, often suppressing the Holy Spirit’s urging me to stand up and speak out. Peace is a gift of the Spirit, but not the kind of peace we cling to as we try to fly under the world’s radar and fit in, get along, or be embraced for fairness, open-mindedness, and inclusion. Ouch. How much damage follows my failure to bravely stand for truth? Jesus removes the don’t-rock-the-boat argument in Matthew 10:34. Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword (ESV).

2) The idol of a foggy mirror. Aaron’s total unwillingness to accept responsibility when confronted by Moses for his part in the golden calf making and worship is detailed in Ex. 32:21-25. He seems to a) deny his own susceptibility to sin (vs. 22, you know the people yourself, that they are prone to evil), b) forget his own actions in taking gold, melting it, and shaping the calf (it just popped out of the fire like that!?!); and c) ignore his own fence-straddling by invoking God’s presence at an altar. We practice dangerous deception when we avoid taking responsibility. What part of my own appetite for diversion makes unwholesome entertainment an acceptable norm? Do I actively participate in encouraging immoral behavior with passive acceptance? Do I sooth the alienation of a holy calling with a healthy dose of the world and its ways? Do I take a step further by building an altar to God on unholy ground? Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body. (I Cor. 6:19-20, ESV).

3) The idol of a familiar place. When I think about my own need for comfort and security, I understand why the Israelites grew tired and restless in the wilderness. I don’t like change. Following God into the unknown is not for the faint of heart. I think we’re comforted in sin because it represents a familiar life with plenty of company. And a return to feeling in control over our destiny. On some days that is appealing. But God calls us out of our comfort and security to find freedom in Him. A life that diverts or numbs us from this call to the hard place of holy living is not life. It’s death. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few. (Matt. 7:14, ESV) And lest we buy the lie that the world’s pleasures are better than a life in Christ, the Word reminds us You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore. (Psalm 16:11, ESV)

4) The idol of an unburdened heart. As I’ve already said, I wasn’t shocked with Sunday’s performance or Monday’s mixed reaction. But I was burdened for those who settle for less than all God wants for us as His creation. What does my concern lead me to do? It’s easier to tune out culture or grab a spot on the sidelines while waiting for a Moses to show up. I prefer to stay on the mountain with God where I soak up His presence until I shine, oblivious to sin and pain in the valley. But for whose glory? Moses came down from the mountain to confront the sin and plead for the sinners’ restoration at the price of his own life (vs 32).

I’m not thrilled by cultural engagement. I don’t like the weight of others keeping me from self-appointed acts of service. Left to myself, I would avoid all burden for others, comfortable and content to row my boat, smug and upright, on smooth waters. But I’ll share the nutshell of what God revealed through His word Monday. He doesn’t call me to play it safe, enjoy calm seas, and use a foggy mirror to measure my involvement. He wipes away the film to show reality through His eyes. It hands me the hammer to smash my own gods. Then He launches me into a restless ocean of humanity and culture to draw others to Himself. Now that is life.

Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. (John 14:6, ESV)