Goody-Two-Shoes

We weren't supposed to cross Taylor Street.

It was a busy road--at least for 7-year-olds to navigate--so Mom told us to stay away. We were allowed to ride our bikes around the block or to play in the less-trafficked Leeds street. But, there's only so much fun available within the boundaries--right?  That's why my brother, Tim, loooooved every excuse to put a toe over the "Taylor Street" line.  

"Oops, my stick flew into the road. I'm going to grab it."

"I only touched Taylor Street for a second!"

"I'm not in the street. I'm standing on a rock in the street."

For whatever reason, I never felt confined by parameters the way Tim did. If our parents said "don't," I usually didn't. On the occassions I strongly disagreed with them, I'd debate the rules verbally. But I rarely defied them behind their backs--especially if they provided a reason for their guidelines. For instance, "You have no reason to cross Taylor Street, and it's not worth the risk that a speeding driver might hit you."

They were right: I had no reason to cross Taylor, and it was dangerous. But that road called to my strong-willed and rebellious little brother like the music of a circus or the bells of the Icecream Man (who, incidentally, usually rode up from Taylor Street and provided Tim with what he believed to be another valid reason to disobey...) 

It was as a seven-or-eight year old--calling warnings to my thick-headed brother--that I first was called a "Goody-Two-Shoes."

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In highschool, it was a similar story. Since I took rules seriously in a world where parents and teenagers alike are taught to EXPECT defiance and rebelliousness from teens, I was one of the weirdos. There were drugs; there was sex. I'm sure there was shop-lifting and worse yet. But the behavior which annoyed me (and I assume annoyed our teachers) the most was the "petty" disruptions, comparable to stepping on a rock in Taylor Street.

I went to a private school and was blessed to have many good friends who lived what they claimed to believe: that right is right and wrong is wrong. And the teachers called us "good kids." But, there were others at the school--those who made nuisances of themselves and routinely got in trouble for bucking against authority--who scribbled on desks and talked in class. They defied the dress code and then complained about the teachers who wrote them up. And they had a different name for those of us asking "why not just follow the rules?"    Goody-Two-Shoes.

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The vocabulary is a tad different in the adult world. Over here, we like to say, "It's my life" or "Don't judge me," when we don't have a good excuse for our actions, yet refuse to admit we're behaving like rebellious children. But anybody who has been called "holier-than-thou" or told to "mind their own business" should recognize those names for their playground equivelent: Goody-Two-Shoes.

It's sad, really. Because the Bible tells us that wise men take rebuke to heart and recognize correction as a blessing. No one likes being wrong--but when a fellow brother or sister points out your wrongs in love, her or she is giving you an opportunity to fix it and not be wrong anymore. The classic, "Don't judge me, Goody-Two-Shoes" is a last-ditch attempt at a comeback from a guilty, defenseless party, and it leaves me wondering...  Why not just take your toe off the line? Why not back away from Taylor Street? Shut your lips during class? Wear a longer skirt and be respectful to authority even if you disagree?...

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Our preacher talked about "Thermodynamics" yesterday, specifically the law which states everything is heading toward the same temperature. (When you take a pizza from the oven to the counter, the pizza warms the air and the air cools the pizza until both the pizza and the air are the same temperature...) The problem is things spoil at room temperature. SO, if you want hot pizza (or an icy drink) you can't allow the natural law of thermodynamics to take over for too long. Matter tends toward the same temperature--which isn't always pleasant for our tastebuds--and it also tends toward total disorder. After several days, the pizza or iced drink won't just register "unideal temperatures." They will be completely rotten.

He used the verse: "...because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I'm about to spew you out of my mouth."  GOD HIMSELF is the one who spoke those words. He is disgusted by wishy-washy, half-devotion. And, most surprisingly, He would rather we be completely cold toward Him than claim salvation while neglecting to follow His rules. It's as if God is saying: "Cross Taylor Street, if you know what's good for you. DANCE in the road, if you must. Come to school half-naked, if the dress code is so completely ridiculous. But don't call me God and think you can write your own commandments."

Unfortunately, the world loves lukewarmness and hates extremes. Those who break BIG rules are societal deviants. The murderers, thieves, rapists, and other "bad guys" might be called "totally cold," and we frown on them. But, those who are hot are just as bad. They're passionate about doing good whenever they can and determined to follow the rules. And they actually think others should follow the rules, too! Those guys are freaks. They are legalists. They are conservative extremists.

Extreme cold makes you a criminal. Extreme Hot makes you a Goody-Two-Shoes...

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Oh, Christians, you know the rules, so why do you want to play in the street? It's tempting to believe I'm just judgmental, but you act as though God Himself isn't going to judge you, either. He will! And it will be by HIS standards. Standards which say your half-commitment is even more disgusting than outright disobedience. He would rather have your extreme cold.

This is the generation which, while singing along with DC Talk, decided being a "Jesus Freak" wasn't such a bad thing. So I wonder, can we renew our acceptance of lables like "legalists" and "Goody-Two-Shoes"  if it keeps us from being lukewarm and spoiled, vomitted from the mouth of God?