The Door Refusing to Close
So, each week Brandon and I will make a video segment or two that complements the written devotions, and lately we’ve been trying to change it up a bit as to location. When it came to this video segment for week seven of this Galatians series, I suggested filming it inside our own school bus for the simple reason that’s the metaphor I end up with in my comments.
I’ve shared the video below if you want to watch it — but for the purpose of this post, you really only need to watch the last minute or so.
Let me set it up just a bit first.
The metaphor of the school bus is simply that the Law of Moses served, essentially, as the divine school bus, getting Israel from the point of origin of the promise (Abraham) to the fulfillment of the promise (Jesus), ushering them into the full reality of divine sonship and justification by faith. As Paul says, “Now that faith has come, we are no longer under the supervision of the law.”
And so the point for the Galatians and for us: It’s time to get off the bus.
It’s an occasion for a bit of reflection on how we might be lured into living on the bus through obsessing on divine vehicles such as the Law of Moses, or even on the Bible as a whole, rather than embracing the destination to which it is all designed to bring us: into a divine encounter with God through Jesus.
I thought the comments flowed well. As usual, this is all in one take with no rehearsal or script. I just start talking and then try to shut up after 8 minutes or so.
I thought here it would be fun to conclude by stepping off the bus.
So I turned to get off the bus and then naturally tried to close the door behind me.
And it simply wouldn’t budge.
As I pulled and pulled at the unyielding door, it struck me as incredibly funny. I suppose it would have been a good idea to try the door first before we started the shoot, but I’m glad we didn’t. (At least the door didn’t jam locking us in — that would have been a different kind of funny.)
Finally getting the door to close and then walking away triumphantly, it hit me.
How begrudgingly, how stubbornly does the door of religion and rule-based “salvation” schemes close for us!
“No, leave my door open. You may need back in here, you know. This isn’t such a bad place. It’s safe. You know this space. You know how it works. You’re used to its rhythms. It will keep you out of trouble. Come on back. The bus will always be here waiting for you. Always.”
But we need to close that door.
And we need to journey on…