vengeance

There’s a lot I don’t understand about prayer. I was reminded of that this morning when I read the end of Samson’s story, in Judges 16. The Bible contains some odd prayers, and one of them is the one Samson prayed, in Judges 16:28.


“Then Samson prayed to the Lord, ‘Sovereign Lord, remember me. Please, God, strengthen me just once more, and let me with one blow get revenge on the Philistines for my two eyes.’”


Samson is one of the more troubling judges of Israel. He never seemed like he was obeying God; in fact, he seemed to go out of his way to flout God’s prohibitions for his people. He willingly touched the dead lion and served some of the honey from the carcass to his mom and dad. He partied with Israel’s enemies and consorted with their women. He married outside the faith. His actions seem governed mostly by his appetites and his rage.


Even so, his humiliation, maiming  and death aren’t easy to read about. Those things didn’t change Samson much, though. In the end, when he turned to God, he prayed not for God’s will to be done but for vengeance.


God answered that prayer. Why? If I prayed to God for the power to avenge myself on an enemy, I wouldn’t expect God to listen. I’d advise against it if anyone asked me. Vengeance isn’t something you pray for. You pray for the strength to love your enemies, not hate them. Vengeance belongs to God.


Except that may be why God gave Samson what he asked for. God was taking vengeance on his own enemies, and Samson was the deliverer of that vengeance. In that way, Samson’s prayer, self-centered though it was, may have been a prayer for God’s will to be done.


Can God use even the misguided prayers of a wayward son to work out his plans? This story suggests that he can. In the end, maybe Samson’s recognition of God’s sovereignty was all that was needed. No matter how twisted his motivations or how wrong-hearted his desires were, he knew only God could grant them.


I wish I understood prayer better, because maybe I’d be motivated to do more of it. But then, maybe if I did more of it I’d understand it better.

get her

This morning, I’m wondering at how God uses the most ordinary of human things to do his work.

If I were planning on how to get rid of the detested Philistines who had occupied Israel and had all the power of Almighty God, I don’t think I would have looked at the array of choices open to me and thought, “Hey, I know! I’m going to use that tendency that young men have to be stupid about women! That’ll work!”

But that’s what God did. The story starts in the first four verses of Judges 14, and it goes like this: “Samson went down to Timnah and saw there a young Philistine woman. When he returned, he said to his father and mother, ‘I have seen a Philistine woman in Timnah; now get her for me as my wife.’
“His father and mother replied, ‘Isn't there an acceptable woman among your relatives or among all our people? Must you go to the uncircumcised Philistines to get a wife?’
“But Samson said to his father, ‘Get her for me. She's the right one for me.’ (His parents did not know that this was from the Lord, who was seeking an occasion to confront the Philistines; for at that time they were ruling over Israel.)”

Samson the Nazirite, set aside from birth for God’s service, will make a fool of himself chasing a Philistine woman, and from that beginning God will use him to wreak havoc with and eventually free his people from the hated occupiers.

It amazes me. God could and did use rivers of blood and parted waters and a tempest of fire and brimstone; he even drowned the whole world. He can do all of that and more. But in this case, he cause Samson to want the wrong woman, because, as scripture tells us, he was seeking an occasion to confront the Philistines.

Sometimes God chooses the most normal parts of human nature to work his purposes. I’m reminded that with God very few circumstances are about just one thing. What was passion and true love to Samson was a catastrophe to his faithful parents, but it was a salvation tactic used by God.

I have to be careful not to assume I know how God will work, and through whom. I think I miss a lot of what God does because it doesn’t look like God to me. But if verse 4 of Judges 14, that parenthetical explanation of what God was up to, wasn’t in scripture I would have missed God’s hand in this part of Samson’s story too.

So what does God at work look like? I think probably not any one thing, but maybe everything human. He used pagan kings like Nebuchadnezzar and Roman officials like Pilate to do his will, and in this case he used a young man’s lust. There isn’t anything he can’t use. So why do I assume I know what he will do?

If I watch more, and with a more open mind, I wonder what wonders of God I might see. 

equipping

We all have our favorite Bible stories. One of my top ones is the story of Gideon, which I read again this morning in Judges 6 through 8. I love this story because it has so many interesting plot twists, and because it reveals so much about how God saves.

One of those fascinating twists happens early in the story, in Judges 6:11-12 “The angel of the Lord came and sat down under the oak in Ophrah that belonged to Joash the Abiezrite, where his son Gideon was threshing wheat in a winepress to keep it from the Midianites. When the angel of the Lord appeared to Gideon, he said, ‘The Lord is with you, mighty warrior.’”

Israel needs a savior, and the angel of the Lord goes to one of the youngest sons of one of the smallest families of one of the least tribes in all of Israel. This is a man who’s already given up – just look at what he says to the angel in the following verses. That’s why he’s doing a lousy job of threshing his wheat, not in an airy high place where the wind will get rid of the chaff, but in a low hole in the ground where he can hide. Right then, hiding was more important that making the most of his crop. Gideon thinks God no longer acts on behalf of Israel, and he doesn’t think he can do anything about it.

Eventually, though, with just 300 men Gideon defeats the Mideanites who have oppressed Israel for years. Actually, Gideon and his 300 men stand safely on the ridgeline and watch God run the hordes of invaders out of the country. By the end of Judges 8, Gideon is the respected ruler of his people, and dies an old man after a long and good life.

Here’s what always impresses me: Hiding in that hole, threshing his wheat, Gideon was as far from a mighty warrior as you could imagine, but still the angel named him as one. Israel needed a mighty warrior, God called a very unlikely candidate to the job, and then God made Gideon into exactly what he and Israel needed.

That’s what we Christians, with our insider lingo, call “equipping.” One of the great reassurances I find in Gideon’s story is that when God calls me, he equips me to do anything I need to do. I might see all the reasons I shouldn’t be the one, but if God invites me to join him in his work, he already plans to give me everything I will need to successfully do my part.

I love that process of calling and then equipping, because the way it works itself out in this world is that most of the time God saves us from our troubles by sending us rescuers that are, well, us. That’s what the church is all about. That’s what missions and service are all about. It’s all just a bunch of average Joes and Janes with all our weaknesses and inconsistency faithfully trying to do what God expects. And when we do that, look at what we accomplish: wounded hearts are healed, enslaved sinners are freed, hungry mouths and souls are fed, evil is defeated. Every day the church remains faithful in this world, wonderful things happen. Because God equips those he calls, and he calls his church every day.

It shames me for all the times God has shown me where he is working and I have declined that invitation to join him. It shames me for all the times one of those wounded hearts or enslaved sinners or hungry souls has crossed my path and I let them go.

But mostly, it inspires me to watch carefully for those people and invitations and then jump excitedly into the adventure that following God truly is. The opportunities are everywhere, and story of Gideon promises that the equipping will be just as abundant.

Shamgar

There’s an old saying: “There’s nothing new under the sun.” It shows up in Ecclesiastes, but I have no way of knowing whether it originated there. But we all say it because it really does seem as though history repeats itself.

Judges kind of proves the point. Israel sins, God hands them over to a pagan nation for judgment, Israel cries out, God sends a deliverer. Here’s a perfect example, from Judges 3:31:  “After Ehud came Shamgar son of Anath, who struck down six hundred Philistines with an oxgoad. He too saved Israel.”

Ehud was the guy who stabbed the fat Philistine with the short sword. Shamgar came after him, killed his six hundred Philistines, and faded into obscurity. Everything we know about Shamgar is in this one verse; he was just a place-holder between Othniel and Ehud, who came before him, and Deborah, who came after. All of them had the same job, although the rest got a little more ink than Shamgar.

It all seems pretty futile, doesn’t it? Why did God put up with it? Why did he bother sending all those deliverers?

Another saying is that those who don’t study history are doomed to relive it. I think that saying is relevant to the purpose of this book of Judges in the Old Testament, with its boringly repetitious plot and seeming lack of progress in the story line. Judges describes human nature, with its tendency toward worldly things and its forgetfulness about God’s grace.

So I study it. I know that I could very easily be one of those Christians doomed to relive the basic plot line of Judges over and over again. I can learn from my own pain, or I can try to learn by reading of the pain of Israel.

The Old Testament lets us walk beside God’s people as they learned to know God. There’s a lot to learn about God and my relationship with him in Judges.

Bokim

Judges 2:1-5 “The angel of the Lord went up from Gilgal to Bokim and said, ‘I brought you up out of Egypt and led you into the land I swore to give to your ancestors. I said, “I will never break my covenant with you, and you shall not make a covenant with the people of this land, but you shall break down their altars.” Yet you have disobeyed me. Why have you done this? And I have also said, “I will not drive them out before you; they will become traps for you, and their gods will become snares to you.”’
“When the angel of the Lord had spoken these things to all the Israelites, the people wept aloud, and they called that place Bokim. There they offered sacrifices to the Lord.”


Gilgal was the first place that the Israelites camped in their new land. Now, after a period of fighting, they’ve penetrated into Canaan, encountered a number of the tribes they were supposed to get rid of, and already compromised their mission.


And then, God’s angel, there to speak for him, travels the land from their first stop to a place called Bokim to make the following pronouncement: In spite of all God’s faithfulness to you, you have already decided not to obey him. And then, the challenging question. Why?


The people repented, but they wouldn’t change. That makes me ask, what was the point of Bokim? It seems so fruitless, both for God and his people. God reminds them of their failings, they feel bad, but nothing changes. Gilgal was all about God’s faithfulness. Gilgal was the end of the beginning, and the beginning of the end. Bokim seems futile.


I wonder if I have my own Bokim. Or maybe I’ve had many of them. Were there times in my life when God confronted me with my own unfaithfulness and I felt horrible, but nothing changed? You bet there were. I can think of more than one. So what right do I have to judge Israel because of their behavior in Judges?

Thank God for his grace! Thank God that he loves me, he bought me, he pursues me, he never gives up on me. Thank God that nothing about my salvation depends on my own miserable, selfish tendency to do the easy thing, to go along to get along, to compromise rather than stand firm. Thank God!


Judges is one of the more depressing books in the Bible – it’s all about the inability of the Israelites to follow God. But it’s also about God’s faithfulness anyway. So I guess that’s not depressing. In the context of my life, it’s encouraging.

inquire

I don’t pray enough. I know I don’t; in fact, I’ve often thought that if I prayed about all the things I should pray about, it would take hours. How dumb is that! I recognize all kinds of things that require prayer, but just don’t take the time.

That makes me like the foolish Israelites I read about this morning in Joshua 9. They were fooled by the Gibeoniates, a tribe of Hivites that they were supposed to eliminate from the land. The crafty Gibeonites packed moldy bread and old wineskins for their short journey from a nearby town to treat with Israel, because they knew Joshua and his army could crush them like a bug.

Here’s how it played out, after Joshua questioned them, in Joshua 9:9-15 “They answered: ‘Your servants have come from a very distant country because of the fame of the Lord your God. For we have heard reports of him :all that he did in Egypt, and all that he did to the two kings of the Amorites east of the Jordan—Sihon king of Heshbon, and Og king of Bashan, who reigned in Ashtaroth. And our elders and all those living in our country said to us, “Take provisions for your journey; go and meet them and say to them, ‘We are your servants; make a treaty with us.’” This bread of ours was warm when we packed it at home on the day we left to come to you. But now see how dry and moldy it is. And these wineskins that we filled were new, but see how cracked they are. And our clothes and sandals are worn out by the very long journey.’
The Israelites sampled their provisions but did not inquire of the Lord. Then Joshua made a treaty of peace with them to let them live, and the leaders of the assembly ratified it by oath.”

See, Joshua and the Israelites made the same mistake I do. Even though they knew better, they didn’t ask God. They didn’t seek his guidance before making this treaty, so they wound up swearing an oath on the name of the Lord that would require them not to carry out God’s instructions. They actually swore to God they wouldn’t do what God wanted them to do!

That seems foolish, but it reminds me how easily people with good intentions and trust in other people can be taken in by this world. Things like tolerance sound so good that I can easily forget they actually want me to tolerate what God calls wickedness. Charities can tug at my heartstrings to get money that will actually be used for questionable things. People on all sides of the Syrian conflict use images of children to manipulate my opinions. Fake news is a thing now. How do I know what’s real? How do I know who I can trust?

That’s why I need to do what Joshua didn’t: I need to inquire of the Lord. Him I can trust completely. If I don’t turn to him, I’m going to get so much of this wrong, causing who knows how much harm?

This requires an urgency in prayer that I too often lack. I want to do better; will I?

guilt

I have a problem with the idea of group guilt. I don’t like it when other people have something against me just because my kind – white people, soldiers, bosses – have somehow wronged them in the past. It doesn’t seem fair to me.

This morning, though, that idea is being challenged. I read the story of Achan’s sin and the resulting defeat of the Israelite army at Ai. The nub of the problem is here, in Joshua 7:1 “But the Israelites were unfaithful in regard to the devoted things; Achan son of Karmi, the son of Zimri, the son of Zerah, of the tribe of Judah, took some of them. So the Lord 's anger burned against Israel.”

The Lord’s anger kept burning until Achan was publicly found out and put to death. Until that time, all of Israel suffered.

So I must be wrong. If God would hold the entire nation accountable for the sin of one man, then there is something to the idea of group guilt. But I still can’t see exactly what.

Part of it probably has to do with accountability. We’re expected to help each other fight sin, and to challenge each other when we seem to compromise God’s values.

In this case, it probably also has to do with the fact that the things Achan took were supposed to be devoted to God. Achan stole God’s stuff. That’s serious; combined with the fact that right beforehand God had told the Israelites what he expected, this becomes an act of defiance that must be addressed.

I still don’t get why so many other Israelites had to die because of Achan’s sin. It’s not like they were in on it, or even knew. All those mourning families and an entire discouraged nation, all because of one man. Nevertheless, God’s anger burned against all of Israel.

One thing is obvious: God’s sense of justice is so absolute and so pure that I won’t always understand it. But that doesn’t mean God is wrong, or in any way unjust; it simply means God’s ways are so far beyond me. It comes once again to trust, trust that God is good and will do what is right. I don’t have to get it to accept it; I just have to trust God.

Passover and manna

I read a cool thing this morning in Joshua 5:10-12 “On the evening of the fourteenth day of the month, while camped at Gilgal on the plains of Jericho, the Israelites celebrated the Passover. The day after the Passover, that very day, they ate some of the produce of the land: unleavened bread and roasted grain. The manna stopped the day after they ate this food from the land; there was no longer any manna for the Israelites, but that year they ate the produce of Canaan.”

The Israelites, after decades of being fed in the desert by God, finally get across the river and into the fertile, productive land of Canaan. As soon as they get there, two things happen.

First, they celebrate the Passover. I’m sure you remember that Passover was first celebrated in Egypt, at the point that God set them free from Pharaoh. Now, they complete their long journey to their own place by commemorating that event once more.

Second, they get to eat from the crops of this new land, and the very next day, there is no manna. Think for a minute what a powerful message this must have been. Most of the Israelites had live their whole lives eating manna, knowing from this visible sign that God met their daily needs. Now, suddenly this gift from God stops. It isn’t needed any longer. God will fulfill his promises in another way.

These two events, taken together, bring home to me once again God’s remarkable faithfulness, his complete commitment to the covenant. I’m grateful once again to be an inheritor of this covenant.

That’s why I love reading the Old Testament. There is no clearer picture of our God than his revelation of himself to the Israelites, and there is no greater reassurance than seeing God clearly.

piling up water

The weather has been so nice, it’s hard to believe we got snow just a couple of weeks ago. Although we probably dodged another significant snow, but  it rained instead.

I thought of that rainy day this morning while I was reading from Joshua 3. A couple of guys at work were saying how glad they were that it was raining. “You don’t have to shovel rain,” they said. But one guy said, “Yeah, but my kids love the snow. You can’t put rain in a pile, either.”

It’s true that I can’t, but God can pile up water. That’s what I was reading about this morning, in Joshua 3:14-17 “So when the people broke camp to cross the Jordan, the priests carrying the ark of the covenant went ahead of them. Now the Jordan is at flood stage all during harvest. Yet as soon as the priests who carried the ark reached the Jordan and their feet touched the water’s edge, the water from upstream stopped flowing. It piled up in a heap a great distance away, at a town called Adam in the vicinity of Zarethan, while the water flowing down to the Sea of the Arabah (that is, the Dead Sea) was completely cut off. So the people crossed over opposite Jericho.”

I'd like to see that – water piled up in a heap. What an amazing God we have! He can make heaps of water, or make a dry pathway through it if he wants. He split open the ground to swallow up the complainers. He sent fire from heaven to burn up Sodom and Gomorrah. When God spoke, serpents and diseases and great big fish all chastised his disobedient people. Quail flew in massive coveys to their deaths to become food. God sent rain on Noah for 40 days, and stopped the rain for three years during the time of Elijah. Is there anything our God can’t do? This is his creation, and it obeys him completely.

But then, why don’t ?. Of all the things God created, why does only the human soul rebel?

I know there are deep theological discussions here about free will and what it means to be elect. I just wish sometimes that I could commit acts of faith as readily as the natural world obeys God. I can’t even get the easy things right, like getting my church committee work done; my wayward heart would rather watch March Madness or play a computer game. I’ll never be able to do the hard faith tasks, like heaping up water.

But I don’t have to. Some things are reserved for God. He works all day, every day, even when I don’t. And he welcomes me again the days I do show back up to work. My salvation and sanctification are his might works of grace, not mine. And maybe as hard, or as easy, for him as piling up water.

left or right

There’s a reason, I think, that Christians are called children of God. It’s because we don’t follow very well, and are frequently distracted.

Maybe that isn’t really why, but it’s a thought I had while reading Joshua 1. Joshua has a new job, leading the people, and here’s part of his initial marching orders, in verse 7. “Be strong and very courageous. Be careful to obey all the law my servant Moses gave you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left, that you may be successful wherever you go.”

For whatever reason, the image that immediately jumped into my mind was one of trying to get my kids to leave the Sioux Falls Zoo. Unlike the Henry Doorly Zoo in Omaha, which is so big the kids were always worn out when it was time to go, the Sioux Falls Zoo is a more kid-appropriate size. So the short back walk to the front gate took forever, with dozen of side trips to check out the new thing the monkeys were doing, or to see the big gator that got in the water. There were many, many trips both to the left and the right.

Too often, I think, my faith life is like that. God has the right path pretty clearly marked out, but instead of looking down it as far as I can see, I’m always checking out the scenery on both sides.  I’m looking at the big old world, not toward heaven. And I leave the path a lot, on both sides.

That’s what God warned Joshua of, and it sounds restrictive when I read it. God’s law seems restrictive. That’s why we make all those left-and-right trips. It’s also why I’m not as successful as I should be in my faith. The way is lined with the spiritual equivalent of outlet malls and amusement parks, non-productive fun that keeps me from moving down the road. What looks restrictive is actually just good focus.

It’s a great reminder for today, and every day. If I want to ever be holy, I have to keep my focus. I have to know the path, watch for the markers, and ignore the tempting things on either side, or I’ never going to get anywhere.

stiff-necked

A few years ago at a business seminar I learned about something called the Fundamental Attribution Error. This rule of what in business is called emotional intelligence  is about a basic mistake we make when we look at each other’s success or failure.

Here’s the mistake: when I explain why good things happen to me, I tend to say it’s because I worked hard and earned them. When good things happen to other people it’s human nature to say they were lucky, not that they worked harder than I did. And the reverse is true. Bad things I tend to attribute either to my bad luck or to the other guy being a bad person. If we’re not careful, we give ourselves all kinds of breaks but are really hard on other people.

Why the dissertation on the Fundamental Attribution Error? Because I think Moses knew about it a long time ago. I read this morning in Deuteronomy  9:5-6 about Moses instructing the people not to misunderstand God’s grace to them:

“It is not because of your righteousness or your integrity that you are going in to take possession of their land; but on account of the wickedness of these nations, the Lord your God will drive them out before you, to accomplish what he swore to your fathers, to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Understand, then, that it is not because of your righteousness that the Lord your God is giving you this good land to possess, for you are a stiff-necked people.”

It’s interesting to think that this mistake we make is as old as humankind. Even the Israelites were prone to think that all of God’s goodness to them was because they were such fine, upstanding people. In fact, they weren’t much better than the wicked pagans God would use them to punish.

It’s a good reminder for me. I live a pretty good life, with plenty of material things. In general, I think I have a good reputation and maybe even some respect at work and at church. It would be easy think I’m a pretty fine fellow. But when I do a gut-check, I realize that I’m not that great; in fact, there’s a lot about me I’m glad people don’t know. I didn’t earn this good life, it’s a great blessing.

And if I paraphrase Moses in this way, I end up with a statement that is true and applicable to me: It is not because of my righteousness or my integrity that I have a place in heaven, because I'm as stiff-necked as any Israelite. Salvation is God’s great grace to me.

love

This morning, I was struck by two seemingly unrelated passages that, the more I thought about them, the more linked they seemed to be.

The first was a warning about the unbelievers in Deuteronomy 7:3-4 “Do not intermarry with them. Do not give your daughters to their sons or take their daughters for your sons, for they will turn your children away from following me to serve other gods, and the Lord's anger will burn against you and will quickly destroy you.”

Those verses are pretty straightforward, a great reminder that my marriage is a key factor in my faithfulness. My wife will either help me walk with God or lure me from him; fortunately, with Dawn it’s always been the former.

Just three verses later, I read this, in verses 7-9: “The Lord did not set his affection on you and choose you because you were more numerous than other peoples, for you were the fewest of all peoples. But it was because the Lord loved you and kept the oath he swore to your ancestors that he brought you out with a mighty hand and redeemed you from the land of slavery, from the power of Pharaoh king of Egypt. Know therefore that the Lord your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commandments.”

In the context of those verses on marriage, this passage struck me because, unlike the way we tend to choose people to love, God didn’t love the Israelites because they were attractive or powerful. He did it because, well, he’s God. God is love. Loving us is a defining characteristic of God.

Suddenly this part of Deuteronomy seemed to be about true love versus what the world thinks of as love. Contrasted with our tendency to love people based on physical attraction or what they can do for us, God loves because his plan since he created us was to love us, for his own sake. Because that’s how he demonstrates the true glory of who he is.

God’s love is unfailing, always there; it’s completely selfless. Human love is fickle and selfish; it ebbs and flows. That’s probably why Moses started with this warning on marriage. We need a lot of help being faithful to God, while his faithfulness to us is beyond my comprehension.

It seems that if I think more about this, there are key truths related to love and relationships and what my motivations should be. I feel I’m just scratching the surface of the deep truths revealed here.

I wonder if I’m wise enough to get it all.

righteousness

As the current overly-used saying goes, often life does really come at us fast. It can come so fast that it’s hard to focus on the right things. When I commanded the 734th, we had a sign in the Operations room that said, “When you’re up to your armpits in alligators, it’s hard to remind yourself that you’re really here to drain the swamp.”

I wonder, though, if sometimes I don’t make life too complicated. Maybe the whole “life comes at you fast” thing becomes an issue only because I’m trying to live the wrong kind of life.

I’m thinking that this morning because at the end of Moses’ long reminder to the Israelites of
God’s goodness on their long trail to where they were, I read this, from Deuteronomy 6:24-25:

“The Lord commanded us to obey all these decrees and to fear the Lord our God, so that we might always prosper and be kept alive, as is the case today. And if we are careful to obey all this law before the Lord our God, as he has commanded us, that will be our righteousness.”

Life can be pretty easy, if I just remember what it’s all about. Obey God and fear him. Those aren’t things on a schedule or to do list, they’re choices. They’re choices we make in the midst of all those calendar and taskers that make up what we think of as life.

I think remembering this might reduce tension in my days, because tension only develops between conflicting things that have near-equal precedence in my mind – like Dawn wanting me home on time but my boss wanting me to work late. Nothing should ever be of equal importance to obeying God, and anything that comes into conflict shouldn’t be part of my life anyway.

Too simplistic? Sure. But basic principles often seem simplistic. In the same way that the Pharisees developed more than 60 volumes of rules to ensure obedience to the relatively simple laws of Moses, I think I try to codify something that should be relational. That’s what makes obedience complicated.

Maybe obedience can be as simple as this: Love God above everything, and love other people the way I love myself. Jesus said that’s the basis of all of God’s law. Simply asking how I would want someone else to act in my circumstances shouldn’t be hard.

The reward these verses promise is worth it – in fact, it’s really a promise to fulfill the purpose of my life. My righteousness, Moses says, is what will come of my obedience.

ask

Deuteronomy 4:32 Ask now about the former days, long before your time, from the day God created human beings on the earth; ask from one end of the heavens to the other. Has anything so great as this ever happened, or has anything like it ever been heard of?

That was Moses’ charge to the people, who would enter the Promised Land without him. He said this to help the Israelites remain faithful to God; he knew that if they remembered all God had done, they would have the confidence to continue to follow.

This morning, I think that’s great advice. If I were trying to convince a skeptical seeker, or help a doubting child, I would say along with Moses, “Ask!” Just let me tell you about my great God, and all the truly amazing things he’s done for his people.

So when I doubt the value of who I am and what I contribute, or when I wonder if God really has a plan for me, or when life comes at me so fast I waver in my confidence, I should also ask. I should query scripture and my memory and my faithful friends about this same God.

Because when I hear the stories of creation and flood, of plague and deliverance, of arks and bronze snakes and manna and great big fishes, I’m always awed once again. Even more, when I read of water turned to wine and dead men brought to life, of crucifixion and resurrection, of ascension and my sanctification, I’m brought to my knees. What a God! What a Savior!

So, fellow believer, ask with me of the former days, long before our time, from the day God created mankind. Has anything so great as this ever happened? I don’t think so.

no trust

The start of Deuteronomy is one of my favorite parts of the Bible. Deuteronomy is the book where Moses, preparing to part with God’s people as they entered the promised land, literally lays down the law. But before he does, he spends some time reminding the people of all the ways God has been faithful during their long walk in the desert.

It’s a reminder, as a good friend said yesterday, not just of God’s faithfulness but also of human stubbornness. Here’s a great example, a little piece of history recalled by Moses for the people in Deuteronomy 1:29-32

“Then I said to you, ‘Do not be terrified; do not be afraid of them. The Lord your God, who is going before you, will fight for you, as he did for you in Egypt, before your very eyes, and in the wilderness. There you saw how the Lord your God carried you, as a father carries his son, all the way you went until you reached this place.’
“In spite of this, you did not trust in the Lord your God, who went ahead of you on your journey, in fire by night and in a cloud by day, to search out places for you to camp and to show you the way you should go.”

In spite of God’s nurturing goodness, so beautifully described in this passage, the people didn’t trust God. How could that be? They witnessed all kinds of amazing things from God, yet no trust.

It’s unthinkable, until I think about myself. I struggle to trust. I often behave as if I don’t trust the people who’ve been most faithful to me for the longest time, like my wife or parents. I fret about things they are handling for me; I try to micro-manage them because I think that’s the only way things will turn out exactly the way I want.

Even more so with God. Boy, do I have a hard time leaving things in God’s hands. It’s so hard for me to believe that once I turn something over to him, I can really let it go because he’s going to do exactly what’s best for me. I have all kinds of helpful suggestions for God, and I often worry until I see how it all turns out

If I’d been with the people back then, I’d have been one of those saying, “Are you serious? Those are dangerous people; a guy could get hurt! Couldn’t God do another one of his floods or something?”

The good news is, it doesn’t matter much; God is who he is, and will do what he’s going to do. And whatever he does will be good. My lack of trust just makes me miserable. I imagine God smiling as I throw my little tantrum in the backseat of the car on the way to something that I’m going to love.

I want to trust more; I’m going to try. But I’m comforted by the fact that whether I trust or not, God will continue to be completely trustworthy.

reckless

This morning I read again one of my favorite Bible stories as a child, the one where Balaam’s donkey can see the angel but Balaam can’t. It’s in Numbers 22.

Balaam, you remember, is going to meet Balak king of Moab, who wants him to curse Israel. At first God forbids Balaam, but latter tells him to go along to Moab. The part I loved as a child was when Balaam met an angel standing on the road between two stone walls. Balaam beats his donkey for balking.

And then this, from verses 32-25: “The angel of the Lord asked him, ‘Why have you beaten your donkey these three times? I have come here to oppose you because your path is a reckless one before me.  The donkey saw me and turned away from me these three times. If it had not turned away, I would certainly have killed you by now, but I would have spared it.’
“Balaam said to the angel of the Lord, ‘I have sinned. I did not realize you were standing in the road to oppose me. Now if you are displeased, I will go back.’
“The angel of the Lord said to Balaam, ‘Go with the men, but speak only what I tell you.’ So Balaam went with Balak's officials.”

When I read it this morning, I wondered why God wanted to kill Balaam for something God told him to do? Then I read the statement, “I have come here to oppose you because your path is a reckless one before me.”

That makes it sound like Balaam was planning to try to put one past God. Maybe he had a scheme where he could walk the edges of God’s restriction and still skim some of Balak’s gold. I think this might be right because Balaam acknowledges he has sinned. Going to do God’s work with the idea of lining his own pockets put him on that path with a death-dealing angel. Reckless is right!

Now I’m mulling over my own recklessness, because sometimes I go to do God work for Greg purposes. I can get involved at church as much to make sure things go the right way (as if I really know what that is) as to serve. I can use my influence for changes that meet my preferences. I’m capable of seeking personal recognition just as much as I try to glorify God.

I see now that when I do those things I follow Balaam down his same reckless path, except I don’t have that all-seeing donkey. Am I going to walk into an angel one of these days? I don’t think so – I’m a committed follower of Jesus, who already paid that price. But sin still grieves God, and it also puts me in a bad place.

My problem is the same as Balaam’s: how do I keep my focus on a God I can’t see? It will take purposeful, intentional action; I can’t just push God to the back of my mind and expect to keep him first in my life.

mistrust

Sometimes families can be the worst. When brothers fall out, or different branches of the clan get after each other, it seems like forgiveness is harder to offer. Maybe that’s because we don’t expect strangers to care much about us, but family should. Betrayal by family cuts deeper than any other kind.

I’m thinking these dark thoughts this morning because I read in Numbers 20 about what happened when the offspring of Jacob and Esau met up at the town of Kadesh. Israel was traveling from Egypt to the Promised Land, and they made a reasonable request. The story plays out in verses 16-21:

“’Now we are here at Kadesh, a town on the edge of your territory. Please let us pass through your country. We will not go through any field or vineyard, or drink water from any well. We will travel along the King's Highway and not turn to the right or to the left until we have passed through your territory.’
“But Edom answered: ‘You may not pass through here; if you try, we will march out and attack you with the sword.’
“The Israelites replied: ‘We will go along the main road, and if we or our livestock drink any of your water, we will pay for it. We only want to pass through on foot—nothing else.’
“Again they answered: ‘You may not pass through.’
“Then Edom came out against them with a large and powerful army. Since Edom refused to let them go through their territory, Israel turned away from them.”

This is the outcome of that business with the red lentil stew, when Jacob was quick to exploit his a starving Esau and extort from him his birthright. And of the way Jacob cheated Esau of their father’s blessing. Generations later, Edom sees no reason to trust Israel, no reason to take them at their word.

It makes me think of our human tendency to remember old grievances. Church is a good example. In my lifetime the Orthodox CRC decided my denomination made too many compromises with the world and went its own way, and they still judge us. But when I was a child we judged the Reformed Church for not sending their kids to Christian school. Keep going back and you see where the Calvinists and the Lutherans and the Baptists all decided a certain theologian had the best insight, or even before that there was an even call the Protestant Reformation where a permanent schism in the church took place.  As a result, worship wars are plentiful and vicious, leaving maimed and wounded ministries in their wake.

More recently we’ve become fearful of people from other nations who grew up with different world views and value systems. Those things threaten us and make us fearful, which is natural. But sometimes we respond with mistrust and suspicion, which shouldn’t be a Christian’s default response. We find isolated cases to justify our prejudice, forgetting that we don’t want to be tarred with the brush of evils committed by our kind.

So this morning I’m playing What If. I started with musing about what might have happened if Jacob had been generous with Esau and had looked out for his brother’s interests over his own. That led me to think of a few What Ifs in my own life, with my own four brothers, with my wife, with my church, and at work. And that led me to think about some national What Ifs involving different responses to indigenous people, to immigrant groups, to the exploitative despots we’ve often made our friends.

In the end, they all are the same question: What If I acted like Jesus? That could avert a lot of hostility.

almonds

I love almonds. I eat them almost every day, and I’ve taught my grandkids to love them too. They not only taste great, they’re a healthy snack. A little expensive, maybe, but it’s an indulgence I’m willing to pay for.

Additionally, after this morning, almonds are going to remind me of the time in Numbers 17 when God once again found a way to spare his wayward people the death their sins deserved.

The people rebelled, and God swallowed the ringleaders (that’s in Numbers 16). That made the people angry, and God sent a plague that only stopped when Aaron made atonement in the tabernacle. To resolve the issue, God set up a demonstration: he had Moses plant the staffs of all the tribal leaders like they were trees. And then this, from Numbers 17:6-12:

“So Moses spoke to the Israelites, and their leaders gave him twelve staffs, one for the leader of each of their ancestral tribes, and Aaron’s staff was among them. Moses placed the staffs before the Lord in the tent of the covenant law.   The next day Moses entered the tent and saw that Aaron’s staff, which represented the tribe of Levi, had not only sprouted but had budded, blossomed and produced almonds. Then Moses brought out all the staffs from the Lord’s presence to all the Israelites. They looked at them, and each of the leaders took his own staff.   The Lord said to Moses, ‘Put back Aaron’s staff in front of the ark of the covenant law, to be kept as a sign to the rebellious. This will put an end to their grumbling against me, so that they will not die.’ Moses did just as the Lord commanded him.   The Israelites said to Moses, ‘We will die! We are lost, we are all lost! Anyone who even comes near the tabernacle of the Lord will die. Are we all going to die?’”

That ringing question – “Are we going to die?” – is what you hear from people who finally realize that God is God and we are just people, little ants he could crush at any time. It’s what people say when they realize they’ve been provoking that all-powerful God. I think most Christians have had that moment of realization, when their faith became real.

Because this is really what Christianity is all about: I earned death with my sins but God loved me so much he wouldn’t let me go. He found a way – not a almond tree brought to life from a dead stick, but his own son hung on a cross – for me to live. But my story is better, because instead of being barred from the Holy of Holies, I can go in any time I want.

So for me, almonds are now another reminder of my salvation. Another reason to eat them.

humble

One of the least attractive traits of grown men, and actually of a lot of other Americans as well, is our insistence that we be treated with respect. Usually when we say this, what we mean is we want to be treated better than our status or accomplishments warrant; we like short cuts and the head of the line and the best food and drink.

Every day I encounter people who demand better things from other people, or who think life owes them something better. Sometimes that person is me. That’s why I was intrigued to read Numbers 12: 3: “(Now Moses was a very humble man, more humble than anyone else on the face of the earth.)”

The parentheses are because this is a fact stuffed into the center of a story about a challenge to Moses’ authority. His own brother and sister started to grumble about him – you can read about it in the first two verses of the chapter.

But look at what Moses did in the fact of this disrespect: nothing. He was humble. He wasn’t going to disrespect Aaron or demean Miriam to defend himself.

But Moses, humble and honorable, had a fierce defender in God. If you read through verse 15 you’ll see that God called Aaron and Miriam to Moses’ tent, and spoke to them in a pillar of cloud. Actually, he chewed them out, and when he left, Miriam had leprosy. Moses shows his character by pleading with God to spare her, and God reduces her sentence to seven days of uncleanness.

This is a good thing to keep in mind. God will defend his people. That means a couple of things to me.

It means that I don’t have to worry so much about defending myself. If I’m doing God’s work, if I’m walking closely with God, he’ll make sure that my mission and my witness aren’t compromised by anyone else. And that’s all I should care about.

The other thing, though, is that I’d better be careful about how I treat the people God loves. This includes, loosely, all of his image bearers, but more so his elect. And possibly more than that, the widows, orphans and refugees that he has said he will defend.

I think it all comes back to caring about the things God cares about. Aaron and Miriam were looking at things humans think are important, and too often I do to. Moses had a good grasp of God’s values. I need to work on that.

leading

Church leadership can be hard. I’ve served a few terms as elder, and I admire those pastors who keep their cool in the face of too much emotion.

Moses could relate. This morning, in Numbers 11, I read about one of his trying times as leader of God’s people. Verses 10-15 read like this: “Moses heard the people of every family wailing at the entrance to their tents. The Lord became exceedingly angry, and Moses was troubled. He asked the Lord, ‘Why have you brought this trouble on your servant? What have I done to displease you that you put the burden of all these people on me? Did I conceive all these people? Did I give them birth? Why do you tell me to carry them in my arms, as a nurse carries an infant, to the land you promised on oath to their ancestors? Where can I get meat for all these people? They keep wailing to me, “Give us meat to eat!” I cannot carry all these people by myself; the burden is too heavy for me. If this is how you are going to treat me, please go ahead and kill me —if I have found favor in your eyes—and do not let me face my own ruin.’”

At the start of this chapter, the author notes that it was certain “rabble” that started all the grumbling. The complaint was about how boring it was to eat manna all the time.

Moses did what I’m always tempted to do: he felt sorry for himself. His complaints to God sound a lot like giving up. When God says he’ll give the people what they want, Moses can’t see how that would be possible. And then, this wonderful reply from God, in Numbers 11:23: “The Lord answered Moses, ‘Is the Lord 's arm too short? Now you will see whether or not what I say will come true for you.’”

I think maybe leadership, at church or anywhere else, starts to seem hard when I forget what I’m supposed to be doing. If I remember that God wants me to serve people, and I have a vision of things being better for others instead of myself, I always have more tolerance and more energy.

When I think about leadership as something great for me, to enhance my status or give me more control, or maybe make my life easier, I’m usually heading for frustration.

And when I see problems and think I have to solve them, instead of the team solving them or, better yet, the team following God to solve them, then leadership can start to look too hard.

I’m going to remember that when something good for God’s people seems out of reach to me: “Is the Lord’s arm too short?” Nothing, not even leading a church full of independent adults, is to hard for God.

fire

I've had some days I thought were hard, but this morning I read about a hard day for Aaron that put me to shame.

It should have  been one of the best days of Aaron's life. Leviticus 9 tells of the grand ceremony at which Aaron and his sons and the other priests were installed in their offices. They put on those beautiful vestments crafted by Bezalel's crew, and they went into that wonderful tabernacle. Aaron prepared the offerings there for the very first time. You can read about it in Leviticus 9:23-24:

"Moses and Aaron then went into the tent of meeting. When they came out, they blessed the people; and the glory of the Lord appeared to all the people. Fire came out from the presence of the Lord and consumed the burnt offering and the fat portions on the altar. And when all the people saw it, they shouted for joy and fell facedown."

What a glorious day! What a celebration of God's goodness, of the fact that their God would dwell visibly right in their midst!

But the day wasn't over yet. Aaron’s sons Nadab and Abihu went back into the tabernacle and offered unauthorized offerings. God responded to this affront by burning them up. It was a horrible tragedy, but Aaron couldn’t mourn; Moses told him to buck up and finish the day's festivities.

It's interesting to me that fire plays such a diverse role in this story. God's fire consumes the good offerings laid out by Aaron. Aaron's sons bring a bad offering of "unauthorized fire," and this time God's fire consumes them. It’s as if the holiness of God requires that when offerings are made, something must burn. If the offering isn't right, then he'll take the people.

In fact, that might be exactly the point. The animal brought for sacrifice was meant to bear the penalty demanded for sin under Old Testament law. Nadab and Abihu bore than punishment themselves.

It reminds me that God will not be demeaned with second or third-rate efforts at worship. This business of approaching him in his place is a serious, potentially dangerous one. If I blaspheme by misusing anything God has made holy, I do so at my own peril.

The two take-aways for me are these: first, once again I'm reminded of the great debt I owe Jesus for taking that punishment for me; and second, I'm forced to consider what it means that God's elect are set aside for his purposes. That's what holy means, to be set aside for God's special use. It seems possible to me that when I mistreat any of God's people I walk dangerously close to the line that Nadab and Abihu crossed.

land of the living

Snowflake is a word we’ve started to use for people who seem too fragile to handle real life. I jumped on that bandwagon along with everyone else, but I got off it pretty quick. That’s because sometimes I find life hard, and I complain about it. I’ve decide it’s not my place to judge what’s hard for other people; sometimes, judging from the advice I get, my big issues are no big deal to other people either.

Making ends meet can be hard. Raising kids can be hard, and so can wishing we could do more for our grandkids, or see more of our kids. Marriage is sometimes hard.

On top of all that, often what I see happening in the world worries me. Will my kids be OK if Social Security goes under? What is life going to be like for my grandkids in an always-connected social media world, where perfect strangers will say the most hateful things to them? Can we ever return to nuanced, respectful discussions of complex issues like immigration, education and the social safety net, or have we been permanently polarized by the most strident among us?

There are entire people groups who think the world would be better if they could eliminate the Unites States – they call us the Great Satan. There are entire groups of people who think the US would be better off if they could eliminate any Christian influence in public life. There are people who put everyone in categories of either us or them, with the intention of rooting for us and trying to keep them out or down or at least away from us.

Pretty discouraging, huh? But it doesn't have to be. This morning in Psalm 27 I read this, in verses 13 and 14: “I remain confident of this:  I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”

David, who wrote this psalm, had a much harder life than I did. I’m not sure, but I think he wrote this before he was king; a lot of his early psalms were written in that period when he was exiled, fleeing from King Saul, living either with the enemy Philistines or in caves. Yet he was confident not just in his eternal security, but that God would be good to him while he was here on earth.

God is good, and he will bring me good things; I will indeed see his goodness in the land of the living. All of these things only worry me when I forget who I follow.

When I remember, I can do what David advises: be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.

Offerings

Leviticus 1:1-3 “The Lord called to Moses and spoke to him from the tent of meeting. He said, ‘Speak to the Israelites and say to them: “When anyone among you brings an offering to the Lord, bring as your offering an animal from either the herd or the flock. If the offering is a burnt offering from the herd, you are to offer a male without defect . . . .’”

I started Leviticus this morning, and was reminded of my belief that if it wasn’t for reading plans no one would read Leviticus.

That’s because the first chapters of Leviticus are all about things we don’t do anymore. There is so much detail about offerings for sin, and fellowship, and thanks, and all kind of things. And there are so many rules. Why am I reading about a requirement that I no longer have to fulfill?
I remind myself that these words have value for me or they wouldn’t be in the Bible. And I realize, as I think it over, that there are a couple of key points here.

The first one is this: before Jesus, it was really, really hard to get right with God. God put in place a system that would let people try to atone for their sins, and live in a good relationship with him, but it had to be repeated over and over. The blood of animals and the burning of grain just couldn’t take the place of the human death called for by God’s justice. So the Israelites were faced with this chore over and over again all their lives.

That makes me all the more grateful that Jesus’ sacrifice did what all those animals couldn’t. I’m right with God, and it didn’t cost me a drop of my own blood.

The second point is that God’s expectations for anything dedicated to him are very high. Offerings were made holy – meaning set aside for God’s purposes – only when they were brought to him in very specific ways. These steps were a reminder that pleasing God requires diligence and attention to his wishes, and also that God deserves our very best. All of that is still true.

Do I sometimes cheapen grace by taking Jesus’ death for granted? I’m embarrassed to say I think I do.

Do I sometimes try to get by with giving God less than my best, or with not fully dedicating my offerings of money and time to him? I think I do this too.

Since those things are true, it’s good that I read Leviticus. I think it takes several pages of detailed description to drill into my thick skull what it is that I owe God.