i feel bad for the Pharisees. [but this is War]

Usually, I'm the type that looks down on the disciples for all their problems. I'm not even going to pretend like I'm the only one that's thought it: "How could the Disciples fail to understand every single thing that Jesus said? I would never have denied Jesus three times. I would have known what He meant about temptation being sneaky and sin knocking at the door, and I would have given that girl by the campfire a firm stare and declared loudly that I was indeed a follower of the Son of God. Maybe Jesus just picked the dense ones on purpose or something." 
I just re-read that paragraph and I feel all squirmy inside, like I said something I knew wasn't true and now I can't take it back. But that's really how I used to feel about the Disciples. I used to wish that I could have been there so that Jesus would have had at least one disciple in scripture that listened to Him and understood Him and got things right the first time. Hah! That's a joke. Looking at my life, at any human life, should wither the pride in that italicized paragraph. 
But today I was reading in Matthew, and something very strange happened in me when I read the "Seven Woes to the Scribes and Pharisees" in Chapter 23. Go read it. 
I felt so bad for them. In me, somewhere, there was something that identified with a proud and ancient people, asking of others what had been asked of them, trying to be a little better than the last guy, propagating the same teaching that had been taught to them, staunch in ideologies but a little weary of heart. I connected with a people who had been taught the teachings of well-respected men since their childhood, and knew how to say the right answers and look like the best kind of person and be just exactly who they were supposed to be in church. I knew what it was to be surprised by a person who didn't make sense, claiming ludicrous things that went against every single idea I had been taught, and to react with disdain and judgment. I cringed when I remembered all of the people that I had written off because they didn't line up with my theology or because they went about their lives in a completely different manner than I did, or just because they didn't have any social skills. Come on!
When these men stood up to preach in the synagogue, they didn't read the scriptures! They read the commentaries of whichever scribe or pharisee was the most to be respected, and they cited sources back through the generations for every sentence they spoke. Timidity reigned. When Jesus stood up to talk, He blew their minds. He spoke with authority and He said His own words and He interpreted scripture in a way that destroyed the paradigms that built their daily lives. And all of the people, sensing something they had never sensed before, flocked to Him. They couldn't get enough of authority and love and challenges to their daily routine and dead religion.
How am I to be surprised that when a not-very-attractive man came from a disreputable community with a raggedy band of extremist followers (Peter and his sword didn't do anything in half-measures) and went to tell all of the preachers and theologians that they were wrong and dirty and sons of Satan, they wanted to kill Him? I would too! If someone knocked over everything I'd pridefully stood for my entire life, toppling my respect in the community and challenging every single thing that I had been able to convince my people of, I would react with hatred. Indignation. Disbelief. I wouldn't even entertain the thought that He might, just might, be telling the truth. 
And even if there was something in Him that drew me, even if I knew, deep down, that there was more and that maybe He had it... How many times have I felt that really, for real, in this life, and ignored it? How many times have a known that tug at my heart and decided it was silly and emotional and that maybe right now wasn't the time to risk looking crazy?

For a very long time in my life, I have been enchanted by the idea of being a Marine. I don't tell people that, and I don't hardly ever bring it up. But last year, two girls I grew up with, one of whom to which I am kind-of-not-quite related, joined. They signed their lives over and disappeared to Bootcamp and then came back for a little while with harder faces and slower smiles and they stood up very straight. Their bodies were strong and their minds were good at keeping a cap on rebellion and there were so many stories they'd lived without us that it was like there wasn't a way to tell them and they'd made kind of a wall. 

In a very real sense, they had been set apart.

All the rest of us were on the civilian side and they weren't anymore, but there was a strange honor that floated around them. Something in the air that said they had been through the fire and lived, that they'd made the commitment and they weren't backing out, that they had lived through unspeakable things and would live through more, and that if they were afraid, it wasn't worth showing. Maybe I'm romanticizing what they've done and the things they've been through, but I've never been this close to the transformation before.
But the more and more I read of scripture, Matthew especially, the more I see that I don't think I wanted to see. In my sometimes-complacent and mostly comfortable life, I would have been content with not being run over by this new, undeniable truth. There is a call that is not optional. And it is not partial. The things that He tells us to do are absolute. Forgive. Give to the poor. 
We cannot paint watercolors over it and call it a goal and talk about how the Holy Spirit helps us but we'll never really get there, so just remember that Jesus forgives you and that way we can all keep not giving our all. I am being a little bit facetious, but that is how it comes out sounding most of the time. And I know this is not a popular theme. Me a month ago would have told me today to stop being legalistic. 
I am not saying that God doesn't love or forgive. That would be entirely untrue. I am saying that we are in an Army. We are enlisted. We are soldiers in training, and if we don't do the exercises assigned to us, we will never have bodies or minds that are prepared to fight.
I don't think we can ever understand the value of our freedom and our inheritance as sons until we understand the weight of the commands that have been given us. 
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P.S.: I don't mean to sound harsh and angry. I am just very, very convicted. I have never seen this before in my readings of scripture. It was like it was jumping out of the words at me. I know that's crazy I've-been-a-christian-too-long talk to some of you, but the Lord reveals new things in His time. I was told by someone once to only live in the revelation that God had given me. I didn't like the advice because I always wanted to try to make myself better, and to learn new things all the time, but I have realized that they were right. When I try to live according to revelation that the Lord has given to someone else, but not to me, I end up hurt and confused and feeling legalistic and lazy at the same time. It's so, so easy for Satan to pin all kinds of condemnation to me when I don't understand the thing I'm trying to live out. 
So. If this is not something that the Lord has revealed to you yet, let it go. I am serious. I want to say, gently, that this is what Grace is for. The Lord reveals in His time, and when it's your time to understand this thing that I have so suddenly discovered, you will understand it, and then you will be held accountable for it.