To date, my wife and I have had only two houseguests that we would have considered challenging.  From the moment they entered our home, all they did was eat, keep us up at night, and constantly demand our attention.  Never helped with the dishes.  Never said thank you.  In fact, for the first year, they never even said a word.

Which, of course, goes with the territory when you have children.  And here’s the deal: even though they could only cry at us, demand that we clean their diapers at all hours, and never did a single chore for the first couple of years, none of that changed how deeply and fully and completely and unconditionally we loved them. We were beside ourselves in love.  Overtaken. Smitten.

We still are.

This is the way the ancient Hebrews spoke of God from the very beginning: a Parent deeply in love with His children from before the beginning of time.

Which strikes many as surprising.  Perhaps the best known Hebrew text passed around in the world is what we might call “The Ten Commandments”.  But here’s the thing about the Ten Commandments: the sacred texts from which they come don’t even refer to them as commandments.  The word often translated as “commandments” in the ancient tongue is the word dabar, which simply means “word”.  These aren’t commandments that the people received, they are words.

Which is important, because the first of the “Ten Words” is the furthest thing from a commandment.

It is this: “I am YHWH your God who brought you out of Egypt.”

That’s it.

Go try and do that command.

Of course, it is undoable.  It is only receivable.  And it is the first word.

In the oldest Hebrew memories, this is how God begins with His people.  Remember that He rescued you from 430 years of slavery.  Remember that He is yours. Remember, before you hear a single instruction from God, that you are already worth His rescuing, His presence, His grace.

And as the ancient story goes, before they are even given these “words”, they experience rescue from their masters, food and water in the desert, guidance through the wilderness.  The ancient rabbis taught that God wanted His people to know His trustworthiness, care, and love before He gave them a single thing to do.  It is this care that the Hebrews are reminded of at the beginning of the “ten words”.

So…sometimes my children don’t do what I’d like them to do.  Can you believe that?  Sure, they say “thank you” now, can take care of their own poop, can even feed themselves reasonably well.  But they still listen to my “words”, look as if they’ve heard them, and then go off and do something different.

Weird, right?

And I’m slowly learning that when this occurs, more “words” rarely remedy the situation.  Barking more commands rarely spurs them to devotion.  Saying them louder almost never gets the results I’m looking for.

What “works”, what tends to move the needle, is me stepping closer to them.  Playing a game with them.  Taking them out for breakfast.  Sitting with them for no particular reason other than that they are my kids.

Things tend to shift when I do that.  In them.  In me.

Sometimes they need reminding that I love them on the front end.  Sometimes they need reminding that their obedience is not a precondition for my attention or favor or care.

Which is what the Hebrews believed God was trying to get through to them—and to us!—from before the beginning.  There is a work to do in the world, a way of partnering with the Spirit in repairing what we find broken along the way, both within us and without us.  But our work must always begin with and grow out of and be informed by grace.  

Which is important, because what we think we receive from the Giver is precisely what we end up passing on to others: our kids, our spouse, our friends, our coworkers, our enemies.

“I am YHWH your God who brought you out of Egypt…”