“You’re not the boss of me…”

From time to time, as I am reading a passage of Scripture, a memory is triggered and I am instantly transported to a moment in time.

Specifically, it was Exodus 40 that provided my ticket for a return trip to Franklin, Tennessee, in the late 1980s. We had moved to a quiet neighborhood in 1987 and immediately connected with neighbors. One of these neighbors had a son and daughter who matched up nicely in age with our family.

Nick was the same age as our son, Erik—both about six years old at the time.

One afternoon, as the two boys were playing in our backyard, Nick did something that I considered out of bounds. I quickly made him aware of the fact that we did not behave that way at our house. In an instant Nick flashed a look of indignation at me and proclaimed, “You’re not the boss of me!”

This story lives on in family lore. Our present-day laughter, however, was not the reaction that surfaced in our cul-de-sac in Franklin.

What made Exodus 40 pull the thread on this memory was the list of very specific building instructions that God gave to Moses about the Tabernacle. In fact, in the first 15 verses of the chapter, God employs the phrase “you shall” fifteen times. There was no ambiguity on God’s part, and the clarity provided an inescapable “to-do” list for Moses and the people he was leading.

While I understand that the context of these instructions was very different from what I said to Nick—and very different from anything that might seem practical today—I was struck by the precise authority that God used.

I fear that, like our neighbor Nick, I’m prone to overtly or covertly fire back, “You’re not the boss of me…” or perhaps more accurately, “I’m the boss of me.”

My rules. My way.

Personal autonomy has become the golden calf of our culture. If I can’t understand how a specific instruction will be good for me, then it’s not worth my effort to comply.

If my way conveniently overlaps with what appears to be God’s way, then great. But where they diverge, I exit at the altar of personal freedom.

I AM THE BOSS OF ME.

And with this as my personal mission, I defend my own position at the expense of righteous obedience.

“You shall” submits to my will, my way.

In Exodus 40, in the most basic form of summary, here’s what is recorded about Moses:
“This Moses did: according to all that the Lord commanded him, so he did.”

God’s instructions to us are no less clear, and His expectations are not lowered. Jesus put it this way:
“If you love me, you will keep my commandments.”

Not when it’s convenient.
Not when it makes sense or advances my own agenda.
Not when it generates more likes, more votes, or more control.

Always. Only.

When He speaks —
“This Moses did.”

Should we do less?