“Deciding whether or not to obey an honor system can be a dilemma, especially if one places his or her personal financial self interest above the interest of the institution he or she is patronizing. Honor systems are often criticized for promoting laziness and bad behavior. Some have suggested it is paradoxical to ask people to obey a law if there is no readily apparent agent of enforcement.” – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Honor_system
That Wikipedia article also warns that British readers would understand Honor System better as Trust System.
Rules, rules, and more rules. The world operates on rules. Being a Christian, whether we admit it or not, comes with a whole’nother batch of rules. In fact, it may well be an accurate summarization of Jesus’ message and the new covenant to put it thusly. God always intended man’s relationship with Him to be the ultimate honor system, but man was in the habit of diluting it into a list of rules. To take it further, Jesus became the ultimate “rule” to save man from “the list”. (yes, I know some folks would put the period inside the quotes, I just think it looks silly and since this is my article, then I make the rules.)
Every time I come in contact with rules I wind up obsessed with some aspect or another that I cannot resolve. A paradoxical combination that seems incompatible. I’ve written before about pick-up basketball. How it is so difficult to have a smooth and friendly game where each person applies a similar judgment on the game play. Without a referee things get silly quite easily, and based on televised games even a referee isn’t enough to stop the silliness.
Another sport I’d like to mention is soccer (aka, football). In soccer the practice of taking a dive has become the basis of many punch lines. I’ve played in about a half dozen friendly games in the last 2 years here and in at least half of those a person has taken a dive on me or near me. Not to be funny, or joke around, but seriously to try to draw a foul call. Now if that tweaks you a bit, then you understand my perspective. Obviously the rule has become more important than the honor if we take to faking a fall to gain an edge.
Well, like my mom always said: “it’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game.” (is that period (aka full stop) better?) In fact, it is probably my mom’s fault for this obsession of mine. This indignation that boils me as soon as I notice someone exploiting a loophole in the rules. You see, my mom coached my basketball team when I was in my formable years. Not only that, but I was mutantly tall and on every ref’s radar. At 8 years old I had to work this issue out and what I came up with has bound me ever since.
It was a notorious day in no man’s history but my own. A Saturday morning game at the local elementary school. The Edgewater team, or Shady Side, who can remember, one of the red ones, we were blue. The other team had this big guy and I was in charge of shutting him down. My contract was on the line… So far the game had gone pretty good. We were most of the way through the game, maybe 4th quarter or so, and I was on my last foul. Like I said, the refs were always watching me and fouls were always a bit like trying to dig enough change out of my pocket for a soda from the machine. I may just have enough of them to get through the game, or may not. I still remember the ref’s name… Eugene. In hindsight I should appreciate Eugene, he reffed our games for years and years. I don’t though…
The big guy was driving straight down the middle of the lane. I was the only thing between him and the basket. My hands were up, my feet planted. BANG! As was his usual custom he drove straight into me and I did all that was in my 8 year old might to freeze like a statue as he pushed me over. I looked at Eugene from the ground awaiting that hand behind the head sign that meant charging… But instead, he was pointing his whole hand at me. That was my last foul and I was out of the game.
Now I don’t remember whether we won or lost. I don’t remember the name of the kid. I do remember crying. I cried and cried. I sat on the bench and cried like a baby watching everyone else play. Thinking I should be out there, it isn’t fair… Life isn’t fair. Of course, in hind sight (some of you will think hindsight is two words, so to split the credibility damage of your misinformation I’ve put this one as well, now if you spell sight site or hind hine… I don’t care what you think) again, I expect some shorter kid got to play because I was out.
In the weeks that followed there were rumors as to why Eugene called it that way. Mr. Webster sat on the Tracy’s Elementary, light pine stain colored, stage. The kind with the slatted vents that made kids think that there were animals, or worse other kids, locked up in the dark under there. He looked down at me and said, I saw you move your foot back to brace yourself. That seemed pretty feasible. So let’s say that was it. Hmm… Maybe it was.
Life was a bit cruel, in the years to follow. Most kids caught up with me height wise. I became average, and then, finally, well I didn’t even like basketball anymore. Every game I’ve played since has reminded me of that day. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit.
What happened, whether I liked it or not, was I acquired a cynicism about rules and the arbitrary application of them. That may not have been a problem if I didn’t have such a stubborn idealistic tendency to begin with. Nope, this combination is volatile to say the least. So here is my purgatory. I believe the reason for the rule is what matters the most, in fact it is a necessary component for anything that resembles a just result… But… I also can’t shake this firm and sealed cynicism that navigating any situation and receiving justice is little more than a coin toss. That justice is enforced arbitrarily, and the people who enforce justice are corrupt. The refs will pay undo attention to me and while doing so someone will take a dive, steal the game, and make off with the cup while I am left looking like the idiot. I have tried to exploit the rules, it simply does not work… Not for me.
So my Christian outlook is modeled from a 3rd grade basketball game? In a lot of ways it is. Jesus represents closure in a spiritual dimension. The most important of life’s arenas is safe from all of the fallibility and corruptibility of the physical world. The “rules” of the Bible are the external appearance of a deep and thorough truth that has no gaps or loopholes. A law so thorough could never be written in a book. With God watching, with Jesus judging, no thief will steal the cup. I don’t have to master and exploit the loopholes to be successful. I don’t have to pretend something happened that did not. I don’t have to pretend to be someone that I’m not. I don’t have to exaggerate my case. I don’t need to make up some statistic or quote some famous person for faux credibility. My life, in Christ, is solid.
I admit that I continue to relate to the physical world around me with mistrust and suspicion. I continue to try to play by the world’s rules and it often blows up in my face. I have faith that my solid foundation in Jesus will ultimately change that outlook. I am constantly challenged to voluntarily be vulnerable. To be willing to suffer. After all, Jesus allowed himself to be handed over to unjust judges. A careful reading of 1 Peter will emphasize this point. I press on, but now my challenge is to trust God with the physical world and stop with my strategies. Having discovered all I could ever hope for in Jesus I must loosen my grip on “this world” and trust Him here and now. That would mean not focusing on the physical rules, but the simple rule of the Spirit. God is here, He is in control, and if we believe that, and live like that, then the most important things will happen. No matter what other people do.