Yes, I read the Bible. And if you’re following my blog, you’ll be at least as disappointed and/or pissed off as I am about following Jesus.
What the heck
Was up with Lamech?
“Adah and Zillah, hear my voice; listen to me, you wives of Lamech. I have killed a man who attacked me, a young man who wounded me. If Cain is avenged seven times, then Lamech seventy-seven times.”
Later, God commands His people not to murder. He also decrees the “eye-for-an-eye” justice system.
I wish God would establish some rules for my home. Even when my husband and I agree on a rule, declare it, and begin to enforce it, it never lasts. He usually forgets, is too tired, or changes his mind. One time, he and I decided to take a month off from electronics and I said, “Screw this,” a day later and started iFunnying like a madwoman.
If the members of a family are reasonably motivated and devoted to one another, do we need family rules? I don’t mean the unspoken ones (Daddy grouses about someone’s using his towel) or the requests (could you please close the shower curtain? Ensuring it will be left open even more often). I mean like sitting down and choosing just a few rules together to make this tiny community we call Our Family a little safer and more dependable.
Thou shalt clean thy own mess.
Thou shalt convene at dinner time and share about thy day.
Thou shalt take good care of thyself because thou art important to us.
I don’t know how Adah and Zillah responded to Lamech (besides having more babies). My own husband doesn’t like my ideas for our family and refuses to communicate important information to me. I don’t pursue these things anymore. I ask fewer questions. I wait for him to tell me why there’s a giant wooden spool in the backyard. I don’t remind him of his mother’s birthday or our anniversary or that we agreed 9:30 is the kid’s optimal bedtime.
I hate him. I resent him. I feel like a bit-player in my own life. He makes the decisions and meets my input with either silence or defiance. I’m too old and tired to be having any more babies. Obviously Adah and Zillah couldn’t love their offspring into better people.
But it sure would be nice to have a few rules. Maybe a family war-cry. Maybe a chore-chart. Maybe at least a written statement of the truth: I’m a slave.