Wax on, wax off Daniel-San.
Out of the great 1980’s movie era came what is widely regarded as one of the most iconic films in movie history, The Karate Kid. In this film, the protagonist Daniel-San is perpetually bullied and beat up by the Karate students of the Cobra Kai dojo until the wise sage and Karate master Mr. Miyagi steps in and saves him. Eventually, Mr. Miyagi reluctantly agrees to teach Daniel-San Karate in order to beat the Cobra Kai bullies in a local Karate tournament.
Unbeknownst to Daniel-San, Mr. Miyagi begins teaching him Karate through regular household chores; waxing Miyagi’s car, painting his house and fence, and sanding his wooden deck. Of course without the end result in mind, to Daniel-San this is nothing more than being an errand boy in a feeble attempt to earn Mr. Miyagi’s time so he’ll teach him real Karate. This only lasts for four days, until finally Daniel-San has had enough with the chores and furiously decides its time to go home.
“Daniel-San!” exclaims Mr. Miyagi. “Come here!”
As a martial artist myself, I love what follows in this scene between these two characters. Mr. Miyagi begins to unfold what his plan has been all along. “Sand the floor” is not simply a technique Daniel-San learns to make a deck look nice, but to block kicks coming at his midsection. “Paint the fence” is not only the proper technique for exterior remodeling, but for blocking high and low punches as well. “Wax on, wax off” is another way of saying, “Use correct technique or you’re going to get punched in the face.”
Daniel-San finally gets it; he’d been learning Karate all along.
Sometimes I feel like my attempts at learning theology are much like Daniel-San’s approach to learning karate. I don’t want to know application and wisdom, I just want to know facts and answers. My pride gets in the way and turns theology into an intellectual pursuit rather than worship. It is all too easy for me to turn my studies of the Scriptures into an attempt to tear down other peoples philosophies and worldviews, completely neglecting the fact that I’m supposed to be drawing closer to the holy and loving God of the entire universe. In haste, I determine that people who aren’t teaching me enough facts aren’t teaching me enough “theology.” After all, in order to be the best around you have to know more than everyone else, right?
Take for example when I started my Islam class a couple years ago. I went into the class wanting a five-point systematic discourse on how to tear apart Muslim apologists. Instead, I learned that if I don’t actually love people, I have no business engaging in evangelistic dialogue – regardless of how much I know.
Wax on, wax off. Paint the fence, Ben-San.
When I first became a Christian and the majesties of God were opened to me, I bought every apologetic resource I could find hoping to prove to my friends why I was right and they were wrong. I had no conception that a right understanding of God should only lead me to a correct worship of God.
Wax on, wax off. Paint the fence, Ben-San.
I think about how often I go into a sermon on Sunday simply looking for new nuggets of information and knowledge, rather than a desire to draw near to the throne of grace through the preaching of God’s Word. Instead of setting myself at the foot of the cross, seeking to have the Word of God pierce my heart, I elevate myself to a place where I feel worthy of picking apart good or bad facts.
Wax on, wax off. Paint the fence, Ben-San.
After every one of these examples, I had a moment where I realized that my original desires weren’t for real theology, but something entirely different. Every time my knowledge and pride puffs me up, like a crane kick to the face I get knocked down and realize I don’t know real theology at all.
The truth is, more often then not I act like one of the antagonist students from Cobra Kai than I do a protege of Mr. Miyagi. My goal is to show no mercy, sweeping the leg of my opponents and humiliating them at whatever cost. Oh Lord, shape my study of you to lead towards praise of you! It has been said that a right theology leads to proper doxology. May my life be evidenced not by how much I know, but by the magnitude of the God I worship. He must increase, but I must decrease.
Being the best around isn’t about how much you know, but instead is defined by being united to a compassionate and loving God through the sacrifice of Christ, as evidenced by your kindness and goodness towards other people. Being the best around means realizing that Christ is Lord over all, and that I am the least of these worthy to be called one of his own.