Coloring inside the lines dictates the clothes that you wear, where you live, where you work, what you say. Coloring inside the lines is more important than living for the moment, more important than living out of passion, more important than savoring life. Far more important to conform, to make a good first impression, to never make people feel uncomfortable, to fit in, to be normal – to color inside the lines.
When our children were little, we celebrated everything that they did. When they were really little, like two years old or so, it didn’t matter whether they did things the “right” way or followed the rules; we celebrated what they did anyway. Take coloring for instance. When they were small they discovered crayons and paints and pencils and quickly started using them everywhere. On the paper, of course, but also on the table, the floor, the carpet, the walls, the door frames, their windows, and even occasionally on the television screen. Thank goodness for Greased Lightning® and the Magic Eraser™! They really liked to free-hand their masterpieces, but they also liked to color the pages in coloring books or handouts from their Sunday school classes. When they were really small, they colored those in pretty much the same way every time: one color; wide, random patterns of frantic coloring that not only ignored the lines but sometimes even lapped over the edge of the page. And we praised their efforts! “Great job, honey!” we would proclaim. “I’ve always liked purple, and it looks great on Winnie the Pooh.” And they would smile proudly and usually say, “Here, Daddy, I made it for you.”
At some point they started making an effort to color within the lines on the page. I don’t remember if we suggested it to them or if they just intuitively understood what the lines were for, but we noticed their effort to stay in the lines. “Great job staying in the lines, honey! That looks great.” The more they stayed within the lines, the more praise they received. The more they used the traditional colors for their coloring the more they were praised as well. When Winnie the Pooh appeared yellow with a red shirt, we applauded and told them how much we approved. Let Winnie have an orange shirt, though, and we would gently remind them that the shirt was actually red. We thought that we were helping; we just wanted them to conform to what the “real” Winnie the Pooh looked like. Eventually all the colors were exactly like the original published artwork. Every bit of color was within the lines, there were no blank spots, and the drawings just wound up in a pile and eventually were thrown away.
For the rest of their lives, they will be rewarded for coloring inside the lines.
Somehow coloring inside the lines applies to everything after two or three years of age. Your five-year-old wants to play t-ball, but during the games he is more interested with what his friends are doing over on the next field than with what is going on in his own game. You keep yelling at him to pay attention, to be ready for the ball, but in a minute or two he has his glove on his head and he’s watching a cricket in the grass. By the time kids get to middle school they are harassed by peers and chastised by adults whenever they color outside the lines.
When I was about thirteen I was invited to a friend’s house for a party. There were probably twenty or thirty kids there, all of us from the same school and well known to each other. Many of us went to church together, played sports together, and played together after school. The host family had a very cute and playful beagle who was excited that all of these weird-smelling people were at his house. He went from person to person smelling their ankles, looking up anxiously and wagging his tail. Person after person, kid after kid, ignored him. He finally got around to standing on my foot, which got my attention. I reached down and scratched his ears, which excited him even more. Before long, I was playing with him, pushing him from side to side while he tried to nip my hands. We were making quite a commotion. After several minutes of this I straightened up with the intention of resuming the conversation with my friends. My friends had drifted away from me, leaving me standing all by myself in the middle of the patio. One group of girls were looking over their shoulders at me and laughing. My friends stayed away from me for the rest of the night. Apparently playing with the dog wasn’t cool, and they were all about being cool. I learned that for teenagers at a party doing anything un-cool was coloring outside the lines.
Coloring inside the lines dictates the clothes that you wear, where you live, where you work, what you say. Coloring inside the lines is more important than living for the moment, more important than living out of passion, more important than savoring life. Far more important to conform, to make a good first impression, to never make people feel uncomfortable, to fit in, to be normal – to color inside the lines.
Becoming a pastor in the United Methodist Church requires a lot of coloring inside the lines. One of the first ways that I experienced that was when I met with the psychologist for my psychological examination. I answered questions on computer screens for hours before I got to actually talk with her. During our discussion she asked me about my “other” job, the one that actually pays for the groceries and keeps the mortgage company from repossessing our house. I expressed to her that I appreciate where I work because the atmosphere is openly Christian and I feel that being there is a real opportunity for ministry with the people that I work with. The psychologist looked at me for a moment and then replied, “That’s fine, as long as you aren’t proselytizing on the job.” Excuse me: I thought that my faith was more important that making sure that my coworkers feel comfortable. The workplace is apparently not somewhere to color outside the lines, according to the psychologist.
I often look at the church and imagine Jesus shaking his head in disbelief. Before you think that I am “down” on the church, I’m not. I just think that Jesus can see the potential of the church and how far short we fall, and he has to be disappointed with us. The reason for his disappointment is that we in the church are focused on coloring inside the lines.
My experience is with the United Methodist Church. Other than a brief stint in a Baptist Church in extreme northern North Carolina, I have been a United Methodist all of my life. Most of that time I didn’t know that we were coloring inside the lines, but now I know that we do. We go to Sunday school but never ask the hard questions. We follow the same order of worship as everyone else. We preach on the safe topics. We try to make people feel good about their church experience instead of making them feel uncomfortable in their complacency. We would rather ask a church member about the weather or their vacation than about their son’s divorce or their daughter’s miscarriage. We would rather recite a communion service from the hymnal than help people understand that the sacrament offers them the opportunity to experience the real presence of Jesus. Coloring inside the lines means that we never question a sermon; we never wonder aloud what the music meant. We see each other, but we don’t notice each other.
I imagine Jesus shaking his head because he spent his earthly lifetime coloring outside the lines. On purpose. If his ministry was the Winnie the Pooh coloring sheet, all the colors are different from the original, none of the lines held in the colors, and everyone who looks at it sees it in a different way. Jesus noticed people and asked the hard questions. Just ask the Samaritan woman at the well. Or the rich young ruler. Or James’ and John’s mother. Or Peter; especially Peter. Jesus’ ministry crossed all of the lines: social, political, religious, tradition. He didn’t color outside the lines just to cause waves. He colored outside the lines to open eyes, to soften hearts, to wash feet, to offer salvation. He didn’t color outside the lines for any other reason than to guide each of us back to the Father. We have fallen so far away that we don’t even know that we have lost sight of God. We have colored inside the lines for so long that we don’t even know that there is anything beyond the lines. They’re not just lines anymore; they’re giant walls that keep passion and love outside.
Many of us claim to accept Jesus as our Lord and Savior, that we have been born again in his sacrifice for us. But we fall short of being his disciple. A disciple by definition is “one who embraces and assists in spreading the teachings of another.” Jesus taught us not to worry about tomorrow because today will have enough worry of its own; the world teaches us to set goals, to budget, to plan. So we color inside the lines instead of follow Jesus. Jesus taught that looking on someone other than your spouse with lust is the same as physically consummating adultery; the world encourages us to flaunt our sexuality and admire the beautiful people. So we color inside the lines instead of follow Jesus. Jesus taught that if we have the tiniest bit of faith in him we can do anything that we can imagine in his name; the world teaches that we must know our limitations and play it safe. So we color inside the lines instead of follow Jesus. Jesus taught that there is nothing that we can do to earn God’s love or our salvation; the world teaches that you have to prove your worth, pay your dues, and work to succeed. We serve on committees, sing in the choir, and keep the nursery to prove to God that we are worthy. So we color inside the lines instead of follow Jesus.
I want to follow Jesus. I want to be a disciple and embrace his teaching because I love him and I know he speaks the truth. I want to be a disciple and help others know him like I do, or even better. I want to stop being politically correct when it comes to my faith. I want to challenge people when they are complacent. I want to provide people with the example of a joyful, fulfilled life in Jesus that they will want to have, too. I want to live life out of my passion for Jesus rather than knuckle under to a world that wants me to conform, to be normal. I want to share my joys, my fears, my loves, my hates with my friends and family because we want to notice each other like Jesus noticed the woman who touched him in the crowd.
By the world’s standards I am a failure because I don’t color inside the lines. I used to; boy, did I used to. But since I had my eyes opened in what can only be described as divine revelation I keep getting farther and farther outside the lines. Since Jesus warmed my heart in a strange and mysterious way my coloring has become more and more erratic. The farther down the trail I follow Jesus the lower the walls become; maybe they’ll just be lines again one day.
One day I will stand in front of Jesus. He’ll want to know what I did to deserve the great and awesome gift that he has for me. And I’ll show him the picture of my life. The colors will be all over the place. Pooh’s face will be the wrong color, there will be parts of him that aren’t colored at all. Jesus will peek around me to see that in my enthusiasm I colored all over the table, the walls, and the floor in indelible ink – I left my mark, if you’ll pardon the bad pun. But when he looks back to me I will hold the coloring of my life a little higher, a little closer to his face. I will smile at him and say, “Here Daddy, I made it for you.” I think he’ll be okay with that.
All the prophetic pieces are assembling before our eyes. It is time to prepare for Earth's final hour. There is hope for the future as you see that Day approaching.
Finally! Understand and learn from the New Testament Books of Romans, 1 Corinthians, and 2 Corinthians.
Try James first for free
Now there is a Bible translation that is easy to read, understand, and study.
This translat
Want to get your kids praising more than just their favorite sports stars and celebrities?
Gather a group of praise-minded youths, add 26 beautifully illustrated praise affirmations, couple them with 26 appropriate Bible verses, stir in short Bible
