holy war

I noticed something this morning in a familiar Bible story. I think it struck me because I wrote a sermon related to it a while back.

The story is the one where the Amalekites attack the Israelites, and Joshua leads the battle defending God’s people. Moses watches from a hill and raises his hands; as long as he keeps them up, Israel wins. At the end of a long day, the Amalekites are sent packing.

Here’s the part not taught in Sunday school, from Exodus 17:14-16: “Then the Lord said to Moses, ‘Write this on a scroll as something to be remembered and make sure that Joshua hears it, because I will completely blot out the name of Amalek from under heaven.’
“Moses built an altar and called it The Lord is my Banner. He said, ‘Because hands were lifted up against the throne of the Lord, the Lord will be at war against the Amalekites from generation to generation.’”

God declared war on the Amalekites that day. Generations later, he would direct King Saul to exterminate them, down to the kids, dogs, and all the livestock. It was Saul’s failure to do this – he kept the herds and took the King captive as a trophy – that led to him losing his throne.

What God is declaring here we would call genocide, which makes this a really hard passage. But what is really happening here is that God calls for a sacrifice of atonement for the sin of trying to destroy his people. When I studied for the sermon, I learned that the Hebrew word used when God gave this mission to Saul is one for setting aside, or consecrating. God called for the Amalekites to be devoted to him, and he named it a blood sacrifice. This has perfect consistency with the laws laid down in Deuteronomy.

It’s a sobering thing, though. Toward those who fight against him, God is implacable. Moses notes that the real offense of the Amalekites was their opposition to God’s sovereignty; they “lifted their hands agains the throne of the Lord.” (By the way, isn’t it neatly symmetrical that the Lord’s army won as long as Moses’ hands were lifted?)

I’m led to consider the ways I might challenge God’s sovereignty. Am I guilty when I try to go my own way instead of seeking his guidance? Or maybe when I medicate my fear or loneliness or hurt with sinful escape instead of prayer and dependence? I don’t know where that line might be, but I do know there are days that I honor other authorities more than I honor God.

That seems to me the same type of sin that led to destruction of the Amalekites. It makes grateful once again that Jesus makes good on all my shortcomings. Scripture shows me all the ways I’m more like God’s enemies than I am like Jesus. Jesus, though, calls me brother and gives me his white robe of perfection to wear. That way, when God looks at me he sees Jesus’ righteousness; he remembers that I’m one of those elect that are adopted children.

It’s a humbling, exhilarating blessing. I wonder why sometimes I consider it so cheap.