Before removing any fence in life, you need to ask why it was there in the first place…
–adapted from G.K. Chesterton
Rules surround us in life. In nature, there are rules governing the movement of matter and the conservation of energy. Likewise in morality, there are rules managing right behavior and the treatment of others. When too plentiful or hurtfully applied, rules grow tedious. Depending upon their enforcement, rules can either protect us and cause us to thrive or cause us to shrivel and die. Perhaps because of the reckless and hurtful application of rules, the modern world is increasingly resistant to them. As a pastor, for example, I see more and more churches advertising that they are “Non Creedal,” or “Without Doctrine.” It is thought that firm beliefs and convictions hurt and divide people. Granted, I have seen how doctrines, convictions and rules have been used as hurtful weapons of control. However, we must be careful not to abandon rules solely because of their misapplication.
In the ancient world, cities boasted a curious feature very foreign to us today—walls. All ancient cities of any survivability had thick and high walls surrounding them. We moderns would find such walls confining, threatening, a detriment to our cherished freedom. However, in ancient times, such walls did not represent oppression from within, but protection from without. A wall-less ancient city was vulnerable to attack and destruction. In a similar way, moral rules rightly applied provide protection physically and spiritually.
The same principle we see in literature. British journalist and philosopher, G.K. Chesterton observed that every engaging work of literature must involve rules of good and bad, right and wrong. “You must never go into that tower,” “The ring must be returned to the foundry from which it was forged,” “The force surrounds us and guides us” – such warnings and principles in literature provide the structure we need for a believable story consistent with the way we know life to be. Any children’s story worth its salt, for example, has in the context of obedience to rules a Fairyland of joy, truth, and beauty, but also with disobedience the presence of despair, falsehood, and ugliness. Rules exist to protect from the harshness and destruction of reckless abandon and to provide a framework for true freedom through responsibility.
In his fine book, Recapture the Wonder, Author Ravi Zacharias describes an experience growing up in India. He and his young friends loved the game of tennis. Without money or means, they put their resourcefulness to work. They found an abandoned flat field in a community park behind their houses. Painstakingly, the exuberant boys worked for days to build a tennis court. They were filled with excitement to play this game they loved. Finally, after tireless hours of work, they had the playing surface all ready, with sheets tied to two poles for the net. Bursting with anticipation, the boys hit the court. But then, to their disappointment, they discovered a problem—they needed to see through the net to know how to hit the ball fair and in play on the other side. Not to be denied, they went back to the drawing board and tied sheets in strips to make holes to see through. But now, a new problem. Arguments erupted about whether the serve went through the holes, which they had made too large, or over the net. Still further, they had to have someone explain the rules of the game for doubles and singles. A startling and poignant life principle came out of this experience…
“The game is played not to protect the rules; rather, the rules are made to protect the game.”
–Ravi Zacharias, Recapture the Wonder.
