the third captain

I can remember a handful of occasions in my military days when I was given orders I didn’t want to carry out, but I don’t think I’ve ever gotten orders as bad as the ones I read about this morning, in 2 Kings 1:13-14: “So the king sent a third captain with his fifty men. This third captain went up and fell on his knees before Elijah. ‘Man of God,’ he begged, ‘please have respect for my life and the lives of these fifty men, your servants! See, fire has fallen from heaven and consumed the first two captains and all their men. But now have respect for my life!’”

It’s hard to imagine that feeling when your commander says, “Captain, take a reinforced platoon and go get Elijah. But be advised, he doesn’t want to come and God is backing him up. The last two patrols I sent got burned to a crisp. But I need to to try anyway.”

The third captain used the only tactic that would work; he pleaded with Elijah. He recognized that this prophet of God, alone as he was, was the one dealing from a position of strength. Two captains tried to exert power and force; the third entreated Elijah and, through him, God.

It’s a reminder to me that God cannot be forced or commanded or coerced; he can only be asked. Anyone who thinks otherwise is in for a rude awakening at some point.

It’s interesting that, like so much of the world today, the king recognized that God had power over his future, and knew what would happen. But the king thought God would recognize and be impressed by his worldly position; Elijah taught him otherwise.

I think sometimes I want God to see what I’ve done, how I’ve contributed, what I’ve accomplished, and maybe treat me a little better. When I think that way, I forget that God is already giving me exactly what I would want if I knew everything he knows. That’s why the third captain got it right; the only thing I can do before God is kneel and ask.

counting the days

I wonder if, like the grasshopper in Aesop’s famous fable, I live too thoughtlessly.

This morning, reading in the Psalms, I again encountered this verse, fromPsalm 90:12:
“Teach us to number our days,
    that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

As always, it makes me think of our dislike of numbering our days. Who wants to think about how long or short we’ll live? Who wants to consider mortality, or the fact that, in my case, life is more than half done?

The Psalmist thinks that if I could learn to do this, I’d gain wisdom. Is that true?

Maybe numbering my days will prompt me to be more deliberate and less carefree, like the ant in the above-mentioned fable. Maybe I’ll work diligently, save what I earn, and be prepared for whatever might come my way. There seems to be some wisdom in that.

As I think about it, though, I think that’s still too shallow. I think I’m supposed to realize that my time here is short, but eternity is very long. As I consider what comes next, I may be moved to more meaningful and less frivolous choices about how I live. I may, as I ponder why God would organize things this way, realize that what I though was the purpose of my life really is a diversion from the real reason I’m here.

True wisdom, it seems, could spring from putting these few days on earth in the context of the eternity that I will spend with God. Or elsewhere, as the case may be.

duty

The book of Ecclesiastes paints a grim picture of life, and the end doesn’t really change that. After all his studying and seeking and experimenting, here’s what the author concludes, in Ecclesiastes 12:13-14: “Now all has been heard;
    here is the conclusion of the matter:
Fear God and keep his commandments,
    for this is the duty of all mankind.
14 For God will bring every deed into judgment,
    including every hidden thing,
    whether it is good or evil.”

I don’t think Americans like the idea of duty – it’s a have-to imposition, not a want-to choice. Duty is seen as onerous. To see our Christian walk as duty seems to separate it completely from joy.

But I was a soldier for a while, and soldiers know about duty. Soldiers swear a vow; officers live by the motto “Duty, honor, country.” Soldiers willingly embrace the concept of duty because it’s the thing that’s bigger than they are. A life of duty is a life of discipline, a life given to the greater good, a life that puts self last. Duty is that thing that enables soldiers to sweat in training, to bleed in war, to die if necessary. Duty steels them to stay at their posts, or to move forward into danger. It’s this idea that there is a thing out there worth more than your own life. Duty gives meaning to service.

Certainly a duty toward God is the highest possible calling. He has a claim on us, there’s no doubt of that. This call to fear him and keep his commandments is no more than he deserves for saving my soul.

There is, however, a down side to duty. There are serious penalties for failure to carry it out; dereliction of duty carries severe punishment. God, these verses say, will bring every deed into judgment; the good will be rewarded and the bad will stand against me until Jesus steps up and says, “Those sins are atoned for, remember? This man is one of mine.” So . . . no penalty at all. Just the privilege of service, the joy of a life filled with meaning.

Duty is a fine thing after all.

schemes

Sometimes I have trouble going to sleep at night. Usually it’s because I can’t stop my brain; my mind can buzz with thoughts and ideas and things I need to do.

I used to think that was a sign of high productivity, but this morning, as I continue my read through Ecclesiastes, I wonder. I was especially brought up short by Ecclesiastes 7:29:
“This only have I found:
    God created mankind upright,
    but they have gone in search of many schemes.”

Isn’t that true? We all have our big plans for success, our ideas of how to get ahead. We’re going to go to school and work in this career field making that much money. Someday, we’ll live in that dream house in that special place. In our retirement, we intend to buy vineyards or travel overseas or live half the year down south. So we figure out how to make money, and how to stay young and beautiful, and how to get all the things we want to live that life we collect on Pinterest.

So what makes a plan different that a scheme? I think for the author of Ecclesiastes, it has a lot to do with who’s leading. My scheming to0 often puts me in the lead, and trusts me to work things out. A scheme is an attempt to get around the way things are supposed to be, and in my life that’s the way laid out by God and modeled for me by Jesus.

The opposite of scheming is reliance on God’s providence. The opposite of scheming is planning just how I can identify God’s will and do it. I think that kind of planning has a lot less to do with my job and my home and money and my leisure, and a lot more to do with my heart and my service.

I’ve gone in search of many schemes in my life, but sometimes (and more often lately) I’ve instead just tried to follow God. I’ve tried to look at each day as a thing he has made, and just tried to experience it and enjoy it rather than control it. When I do that, I find the opposite of what Ecclesiastes describes: I find a lot of meaning in my life.

alone

Ecclesiastes 4:9-12: “Two are better than one,
because they have a good return for their labor:
If either of them falls down,
one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls
and has no one to help them up.
Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.
But how can one keep warm alone?
Though one may be overpowered,
two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.”

This is one of my favorite passages in the wisdom literature of the Bible. It captures the truth that life with others is better all around than life alone.

The military and first responders have strict policies that no one goes alone, that everyone has at least a partner and usually several people with them on the same mission. Medical care is usually provided in teams. When it’s really important, we know that groups of people perform better and are safer than loners. One of the stupidest lines in fiction, one that’s repeated way too often, is “No, I have to do this alone.”

The author of Ecclesiastes sees the futility of toiling alone. We should too – we shouldn’t go it alone, or leave anyone else alone. That’s especially true of church.

pleasure and toil

Solomon was supposed to be the wisest man on earth. If indeed he wrote Ecclesiastes, then he certainly had keen insight into the human condition.

He wrote one of the best descriptions of the spirit of this age in Ecclesiastes 2:10-11:
“I denied myself nothing my eyes desired;
I refused my heart no pleasure.
My heart took delight in all my labor,
and this was the reward for all my toil.
Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done
and what I had toiled to achieve,
everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind;
nothing was gained under the sun.”

A decade or more ago, Chuck Colson in his book “How Now Shall We Live” documented in case after case the unhappiness and hopelessness that was prevalent among celebrities and superstar athletes. He cites case after famous case of how pleasure, wealth and accomplishment produced despair and depression.

It becomes harder and harder to deny ourselves the things we want, and we continue to take pride in our promotions and big offices. In the end, though, we’re always left wondering, along with the author of Ecclesiastes, what’s the point? Is this all there is?

There’s one project that never fails to produce joy and satisfaction, that never feels meaningless. That’s my work on my own sanctification, my struggle to be more like Jesus. It’s not as self-centered as it sounds. In fact, it’s the only thing that pushes me to think of others, to love them like I love myself, and to serve them.

There are a lot of miserable people right now, and they seem always to spit and hiss like angry cats. When I’m tempted to join them, or to fight them, I try to remember this lesson from Ecclesiastes, that they’re trying all the things the Father of Lies tells them will make them happy. And they’re finding them all meaningless. Who can find joy that way?

temptations

Just as there are wonderful benefits to following God, there are consequences for disobedience. The story of King Solomon tells me that.

This morning I read this, from 1 Kings 11:1-5: “King Solomon, however, loved many foreign women besides Pharaoh’s daughter—Moabites, Ammonites, Edomites, Sidonians and Hittites. They were from nations about which the Lord had told the Israelites, ‘You must not intermarry with them, because they will surely turn your hearts after their gods.’ Nevertheless, Solomon held fast to them in love. He had seven hundred wives of royal birth and three hundred concubines, and his wives led him astray. As Solomon grew old, his wives turned his heart after other gods, and his heart was not fully devoted to the Lord his God, as the heart of David his father had been. He followed Ashtoreth the goddess of the Sidonians, and Molek the detestable god of the Ammonites.”

Solomon’s gluttonous appetite for women led him to disregard God’s will. As a result, God determined to end David’s dynasty after Solomon; no son of Solomon would sit on the throne.

God also raised up adversaries against Solomon. Hadad and Jeroboam, both with ties to and support from Egypt, attracted a following and contested with Solomon for leadership (isn’t it ironic that one of Solomon’s earliest mistakes was making a treaty with Egypt?)

Even wise Solomon, with his intimate relationship with God, was not immune to the temptations of this world. And even beloved Solomon, who please God with his desire to rule wisely, was not exempt from God’s requirements.

It’s a needed reminder to me that nothing that attracts me in this life is worth taking a single step away from God. The benefits of being faithful to God are so wonderful I can’t even understand them. As C.S. Lewis famously said, when I cling to my worldly pleasures I’m like a little boy who insists on making mud pies in the slum because I can’t fathom the wonders of a holiday by the sea.

wisdom and wealth

1 Kings 10:23-25: “King Solomon was greater in riches and wisdom than all the other kings of the earth. The whole world sought audience with Solomon to hear the wisdom God had put in his heart. Year after year, everyone who came brought a gift —articles of silver and gold, robes, weapons and spices, and horses and mules.”

There’s something here I didn’t realize before: God, at least in part, used his gift of wisdom to also bring riches to Solomon. It was Solomon’s wisdom that drew the world to him, and their desire to repay him in some way that led them to bring gifts. Solomon’s wisdom brought him articles of silver and gold, robes, weapons and spices, and horses a mules.

It seems such direct application of the truth that in following God we gain everything we need. Not all of us get riches, but we don’t really need riches, we just think we do. But we get enough; God in his providence always sees to it that we have access to food and people and shelter. And he also ensures we have enough challenge to actually have faith, because without trouble what need would there be for faith?

I’m encouraged in my trust in God’s providence. I wonder what would happen if I spent most of the time I focus on providing for myself on working for him instead?

fully committed

After Solomon completed the temple and dedicated it with offerings and prayer, he had this to say to the people, from 1 Kings 8:56-61:

“‘Praise be to the LORD, who has given rest to his people Israel just as he promised. Not one word has failed of all the good promises he gave through his servant Moses. May the LORD our God be with us as he was with our ancestors; may he never leave us nor forsake us. May he turn our hearts to him, to walk in obedience to him and keep the commands, decrees and laws he gave our ancestors. And may these words of mine, which I have prayed before the LORD, be near to the LORD our God day and night, that he may uphold the cause of his servant and the cause of his people Israel according to each day’s need, so that all the peoples of the earth may know that the LORD is God and that there is no other. And may your hearts be fully committed to the LORD our God, to live by his decrees and obey his commands, as at this time.’”

I like this statement, for the people and for myself, because it connects God’s goodness to the commitment we should all make in response. Not one word of what God promised, Solomon reminds us, failed to come to pass. Think of that! Think of all the promises in scripture – they’re facts, not hopes.

It’s only reasonable, then, that I should want to follow Solomon’s encouragement to be fully committed to the Lord and to live by his decrees and obey his commands. And I do want that. So why is it so hard?

Solomon recognized something else, though: he knew I couldn’t do this, and his people couldn’t. So his wish, his prayer for his kingdom is also found in these verses. He asked that God would help the people walk in obedience and keep God’s commands.

There are a lot of famous speeches that I had to learn about. I wonder why this isn’t one of them? It seems to me to capture the Christian faith walk very succinctly.

seven years

2 Kings 6:37-38: “The foundation of the temple of the Lord was laid in the fourth year, in the month of Ziv. In the eleventh year in the month of Bul, the eighth month, the temple was finished in all its details according to its specifications. He had spent seven years building it.”

I, with a lot of help, just finished building a deck. It took a little less than three months, but it seemed longer than that. Last year, when I built the shed, it was the same story. A few months of project seemed to stretch out for half the year.

I admire people like Solomon who can keep at something for years and years. I know he didn’t personally do the work, but he had the foresight and commitment to plan this massive project and see it through.

There aren’t very many things I’ve ever given more than seven years to. I was in the Guard for 25 years, and have worked for my current employer about as long. I’ve been married to Dawn for more than 35 years, and have been a member of my current church for maybe 27 or 28 years. For about 20 years I had kids in my house; I’d like to say I helped raise them but I think Dawn did a lot more of it than I did.

But those are the kind of things that happen when you build a life with someone. Those things were part of my worldly journey. Have I ever given God so much?

Well, I’ve been preaching for ten years now, but part-time. This blog has been a thing for maybe 5 years, although I can only claim to have done it faithfully for a couple. Other than that, the only long-term “project” I’ve worked on for God has been my own spiritual journey, my holiness.

I’ve been trying to be a better disciple all my life, but I have to admit those efforts have been sporadic. There were times I didn’t care that much about it, and one notable period when I railed against God because his restrictions seemed to be limiting me too much. But still, I’ve put a lot of time into becoming a better Christ-follower.

Maybe I can take a little satisfaction into the commitment I’ve given my personal temple to God. But I’m a long way from finished. And maybe I shouldn’t count that as service to God; after all, who benefits more than me?

wisdom

This morning, I’m wondering how David, the man after God’s own heart, the author of so many Psalms, managed to raise such ignorant children. Even Solomon, the best of the bunch, didn’t seem to get it.

Look at this, from 1 Kings 3:1-3: “Solomon made an alliance with Pharaoh king of Egypt and married his daughter. He brought her to the City of David until he finished building his palace and the temple of the Lord, and the wall around Jerusalem. The people, however, were still sacrificing at the high places, because a temple had not yet been built for the Name of the Lord. Solomon showed his love for the Lord by walking according to the instructions given him by his father David, except that he offered sacrifices and burned incense on the high places.”

The passage goes on to describe the thousand offering Solomon made on the altar at Gibea. God had been very clear with his people from the days of Moses exactly where and how offerings were supposed to be made. Why didn’t Solomon know that?

And didn’t Solomon know that God had told his people not to make a treaty with Egypt? Egypt was the military power of the day, and God didn’t want his people putting their hope in strong neighbors instead of him.

Yet, despite Solomon’s mistakes, God continued to love him and work with him. He came to Solomon and offered whatever he asked for, and Solomon famously asked for wisdom. Solomon knew he didn’t know what he should know. He knew it and didn’t like it; he wanted to change. He wanted that more than he wanted anything else evidently, so God made him into the wisest king who ever lived.

Even that wisdom, though, didn’t keep Solomon from some pretty significant sins. It’s striking that even the advantage of Godly King David as a father and God-given wisdom as a gifting, Solomon wasn’t able to live a pure life.

We can’t save ourselves. Solomon couldn’t, and I can’t. But, as he did with Solomon, God continues to love me and work with me. I hope I want to get it right as much as Solomon seemed to.

parenting and politics

The first couple of chapters of 1 Kings are full of plotting and intrigue. They include a contest for David’s throne as he lay on his deathbed, jockeying for position on the part of his officials, and acts of defiance and vengeance.

The tone of the whole thing is captured for me in just a couple of verses, one really. 1 Kings 1:5-6 read: “Now Adonijah, whose mother was Haggith, put himself forward and said, ‘I will be king.’ So he got chariots and horses ready, with fifty men to run ahead of him. (His father had never rebuked him by asking, ‘Why do you behave as you do?’ He was also very handsome and was born next after Absalom.)”

King David, as good a king and as godly a man as he was, was a lousy father. His problems with Absalom weren’t an anomaly; he did a bad job of parenting Adonijah as well. Adonijah, from the sounds of things, was a spoiled brat. His dad never even questioned him, much less disciplined him. As a result, Adonijah, like his older brother, nearly stole the crown. As the sordid events play out, Joab the army commander is killed at the altar, the high priest is exiled to his farm, and Adonijah is executed for having the gall to demand David’s concubine.

This isn’t really a story of politics; it seems to me to be more a lesson about parenting. David didn’t do Absalom or Adonijah any favors with his laxity. We also can cause society a lot of problems when we don’t teach, counsel and discipline our children.

It reminds of what I’ve put God through as my father. He’s tried to show me the right way, but I’ve done a lot of damage to myself and others by trying to forge my own path. Good sonship, it seems, is as important as good fathering.

costly offerings

Most Christians I know, and I myself, are kind of cautious about giving. We know what we have available and we apportion it among the causes we believe in. I’ve heard many faithful church members explain that, of the 10% they give, only half goes to the church so that they have some remaining for other charities.

This morning, I wonder if we’re not all too cautious. David had something thought-provoking to say in response to a man who offered to give David land he wanted for an altar. It’s in 2 Samuel 24:24: “But the king replied to Araunah, ‘No, I insist on paying you for it. I will not sacrifice to the LORD my God burnt offerings that cost me nothing.’”

If something’s easy to give up, how much does it mean to give it? When they come around the office asking for $5 to buy flowers for a funeral, I never think much about it, before or after. When I sit in the house where a grandchild is sleeping in bed, that’s pretty easy. Those ways of giving I can readily agree to because they don’t cost me anything.

Soon, I hope, my church will approach me asking for contributions to a building project. How much will I have to give before it pinches me? What size of offering would actually require me to do without something else? If I give out of my excess, but not enough to impinge on all the other things I want to do, how generous am I?

I’m reminded of something a wise mom once said during a toy drive for needy children. She told me she asked each of her kids to give up a favorite toy, not a heavily used one or one they didn’t really like. She wanted them to give something they valued, not something they were ready to do without anyway.

I think it’s easy to violate the spirit of David’s statement, “I will not sacrifice to the Lord my God offerings that cost me nothing.” True giving should cost me something. The kind of giving I so often do, with a careful eye to what I can afford, seems too carefully calculated not to deprive me of anything.

in kind

In 2 Samuel 22, David writes a song of thanksgiving to God. Part of that song, in verses 26 and 27, says this: “‘To the faithful you show yourself faithful,
    to the blameless you show yourself blameless,
to the pure you show yourself pure,
    but to the devious you show yourself shrewd.’”

David suggests that God will respond to us as we come to him. Faithfulness and blamelessness and purity will result in God showing us all his love and grace and providence. But any attempts at conniving and manipulation and taking advantage will be thwarted, because no one can be craftier that God. Sooner or later, the devious will be outwitted by God. All of us, the faithful and unfaithful alike, will receive from God what we deserve.

This is immensely reassuring, because so often it seems that the wicked get away with their wickedness. But it’s a sobering reminder too: I can’t fool God. I can’t claim to be faithful and not be. That’s being devious. It would be very easy to become one of those that God treats with shrewdness.

One of the most important things for me to remember is to be open and transparent in my relationship with God, because he knows anyway. When I’m tempted to sin, or deliberately plan to sin, or just don’t want to be bothered with Godliness on a certain day, the best thing I can do is tell God so. I can’t deceive him, and I can’t hide things from him, so there’s nothing to lose by discussing it all with him.

It’s a kind of prayer I’m not used to, but it seems more honest.

officials

This morning, I’m fascinated by a brief passage from 2 Samuel 20 that I’ve never paid much attention to before. It’s verses 23-26, a section headed “David’s Officials” in my Bible, and here’s how it reads: 2 Samuel 20:23-26: “Joab was over Israel’s entire army; Benaiah son of Jehoiada was over the Kerethites and Pelethites; Adoniram was in charge of forced labor; Jehoshaphat son of Ahilud was recorder; Sheva was secretary; Zadok and Abiathar were priests; and Ira the Jairite was David’s priest.”

For starters, I was a little surprised at what wasn’t there. Who oversaw tax collection and revenue? Who handled relations with other nations? David, it appears, was his own State Department and Justice Department, among other things.

I was also struck that the two high priests and David’s personal priest were accorded the same respect as the head of his army, his recorder and his secretary – those three were the only ones that seemed relatively normal to me.

But the two who really surprised me were Benaiah, who led a group believed by many scholars to be elite mercenaries used as the palace guard and to protect the king in battle, and Adoniram, who was in charge of forced labor. Why was the king’s guard separate from his army, and overseen by a different official? Maybe David had learned the cynical truth that a mercenary’s love of money brought more loyalty that nationalism or political passion – after all, look how easily Absalom stole the hearts of his people. And why was this king after God’s own heart doing his civic building projects with slave labor? You’d think that would be one way that the David would be culturally different from other nations.

I guess, as only the second king God’s people had ever had, David was still inventing government. Probably these were the areas that demanded so much time that David just couldn’t see to them. Or maybe there was so much drudgery involved that he didn’t want to. All in all, though, it suggests some kind of dysfunctional things about society under David.

In the end, it makes me think of the shortcomings of my own government, and I’m reminded what a precious gift it is to have Jesus as my true king. He’s the only ruler who never abuses his people, who instead sacrifices himself for their good. No American president has done that completely, and even David couldn’t.

monument

I think all of us, to varying degrees, wants to be remembered after we’re gone. We want our lives to mean something to someone, enough that years later people still say, “Remember her? She . . . .”

David’s son Absalom wanted that. This what I read this morning, in a passage that described the death of Absalom: “During his lifetime Absalom had taken a pillar and erected it in the King’s Valley as a monument to himself, for he thought, “I have no son to carry on the memory of my name.” He named the pillar after himself, and it is called Absalom’s Monument to this day.” (2 Samuel 18:18)

It’s really kind of a sad way to try to preserve your legacy. The idea of a monument is to make people look and wonder, “What did this person do to deserve this?” For example, on a recent vacation to Kansas City there was a park dedicated to a woman; I googled her to find out that she had been a long-time civic leader, especially active in developing the parks system, so a grateful city named a park after her when she retired. The only accurate answer to those who asked about Absalom’s Monument would have been something like, “He didn’t have kids and was afraid no one would remember him, so he paid for his own monument.”

Absalom teaches me a different lesson, though: people remember you primarily for your actions. Absalom’s name has indeed been remembered, carried down through the centuries by God’s dictation so that anyone who reads the Bible knows who he was. But we all know the truth of Absalom’s self-absorbed ambition that led him to manipulate everyone around him and attempt to kill his father.

Around my town, there are people who know me as Pete’s son, or Dawn’s husband, or Amber or Brandon’s dad. Or now (even better) as someone’s grandpa. More, though, know me as that guy who put in 25 years with the Army Guard and is Operations Manager at Vogel’s. And a few remember what I did on a handful of occasions when the stuff hit the fan and things could have gotten really bad.  But of all those things, what will people remember 50 years from now?

There are people who still remember my grandpas and grandmas, and Dawn’s too, as hardworking Godly people who made a difference at church and in community. There are local heroes who played pro football or started large businesses. What will I be remembered for?

It strikes me that the very best legacy of all would be some souls won for Jesus, or strengthened for service, people who because of me clung to the hope of the cross and changed their families and neighborhoods because of it. Have I done that? It’s hard to know, but I’ve tried, and am trying. If there’s ever a Greg’s Monument, I want it to be some Christ-following kid in a four-generation home of faith, whose great-grandma heard or saw something from me that helped her see Jesus.

charisma

I’ve often wondered how people are drawn in by cult leaders. These men and women somehow get dozens or even hundreds of followers to submit to their will, give up everything, and do almost anything.

I had an inkling of how that works this morning as I continued reading the saga of Absalom. I was struck by this passage, from 2 Samuel 15:1-6:

“In the course of time, Absalom provided himself with a chariot and horses and with fifty men to run ahead of him. He would get up early and stand by the side of the road leading to the city gate. Whenever anyone came with a complaint to be placed before the king for a decision, Absalom would call out to him, ‘What town are you from?’ He would answer, ‘Your servant is from one of the tribes of Israel.’ Then Absalom would say to him, ‘Look, your claims are valid and proper, but there is no representative of the king to hear you.’ And Absalom would add, ‘If only I were appointed judge in the land! Then everyone who has a complaint or case could come to me and I would see that they receive justice.’
Also, whenever anyone approached him to bow down before him, Absalom would reach out his hand, take hold of him and kiss him. Absalom behaved in this way toward all the Israelites who came to the king asking for justice, and so he stole the hearts of the people of Israel.”

Absalom didn’t care about the people, but in the way of those charismatic cult leaders he made them think he did. He played to their vanity and their personal desires and they gave him their loyalty. In the end it was enough to run King David out of the royal city.

Personality cults abound, and they are dangerous. We can become so devoted to our pastor or a blogger we like or someone famous like John Piper that we start using their words as our gospel. We can be beguiled by people who say things we wish to be true, enough so that we swallow what they say without examining it critically.

The Bible tells us to be discerning about who we believe and what we listen to. Ultimately, words from anyone other than God himself are tainted in some measure by misguided thinking  and self-interest.

prodigal

Every family is normal, until you get to know them. I often think of this saying when I read of King David’s family. This is the family Jesus would come from, the royal family, but it’s full of plotting, dastardly deeds, and weird people.

This morning I read of the rape and murder and the exile and then return of Absalom. Even though he was allowed back home, Absalom was kept away from the palace and the king until he burned Joab’s field to get his attention, and then pled his case. And then this, from 2 Samuel 14:33: “So Joab went to the king and told him this. Then the king summoned Absalom, and he came in and bowed down with his face to the ground before the king. And the king kissed Absalom.”

There are echoes here for me of the parable of the prodigal son, except this maybe is a dark, twisted version. In the parable, the greedy son repents, the loving father welcomes him home, and the faithful older brother struggles with this act of grace. In the real-life story of Absalom, the son never really repents and its the father struggles with the tension between grace and justice.

Even more key, in Absalom’s story no one turns to the only one who can truly show grace, which is God. David could forgive an offense against him, but he couldn’t forgive the sins committed by Absalom. And Absalom, unforgiven in this sense and, even worse, not seeing a need for forgiveness, will go on to contest for David’s throne.

That’s the warning here for me – the way men and women strive and compete and do each other wrong and never see it as wrong. It’s easy to miss my own need to be forgiven. We’re all prodigals, but we see the homecoming welcome as our right, because we can explain. We had good reasons! Like Absalom, we can mask our own ambition behind an act of serving others, and excuse ourselves a lot of corner-cutting as we do so.

My prayer this morning is to see my need for forgiveness and grace, to see my misbehavior as the sin it is.

expectations

I remember some of the best advice for life I ever got. It came from my recruiter, who summarized the way to get by and even get ahead in the military this way: “Just be where you’re supposed to be, doing what you’re supposed to be doing.”

Seems simple, but I’ve repeated those words to myself often. It’s amazing how many times the I’ve gotten into trouble and then realized I’d violated one or both halves of what my recruiter told me.

David proves my point. 2 Samuel 11 starts this way: “In the spring, at the time when kings go off to war, David sent Joab out with the king’s men and the whole Israelite army. They destroyed the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah. But David remained in Jerusalem.”

David remained in Israel, and because he wasn’t where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to be doing, he was instead in a position to notice Bathsheba and to do something about it. That led, of course, to him plotting murder, and eventually to the death of the son he and Bathsheba would have.

Fact is, the expectations God and society have of us tell us what good citizenship and good discipleship look like. We may think of those expectations as restrictive and rebel against them – we tend to admire rule-breakers and those who walk that fine line – but the fact is, if we’re where we’re supposed to be, doing what we should be doing, life usually goes pretty well.

I think God makes it pretty easy to know what the right thing is. Satan gives us all kinds of reasons not to want to do it. That conflict can define my life, if I let it. Or I can choose to follow my recruiter’s advice, which strangely enough seems to coincide with God’s will. I haven’t gotten in trouble doing that yet.

kindess

Today is the day we celebrate our most patriotic holiday.Yesterday was last day of our family vacation. After leaving the beautiful house we stayed in, we spent some time at the WWI museum before heading home. It was a fitting way to prepare for the July Fourth holiday, reminding myself of the cost of nationhood.

When I’m at museums like that, I always look for those instances of compassion and kindness, because to me they are a glimpse of God’s image pushing through all that is negative about war. In WWI, I know of the case where both sides joined together to sing Silent Night at Christmas. I know of a time when both sides came out of their trenches to play soccer. In both cases they offered treats and cigarettes, and show pictures of their families. Kindness, completely out of context.

I’m thinking about kindness this morning because I read the story of David befriending Mephibosheth. That story starts this way, in 2 Samuel 9:1: “David asked, ‘Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness for Jonathan’s sake?’”

Kindness for Jonathan’s sake. Kindness to an unloveable man because of his gratitude to his best friend. It made me wonder who I might be that thankful to, who I might care about that much. Who has been that good to me?

The answer, obviously, is Jesus. So I find myself challenged this morning to show kindness to those unpleasant people who deserve it only because they are image-bearers of God, creations of the one I owe so much. Which, I guess, is the only reason I deserve kindness either.

German and British and American young men found it in their hearts to share smokes and candy bars with people they should have hated. David gave generously to one of the family who had would continue to plot against him. Surely, then, I can find a way to show God’s love to anyone I encounter.

grateful

Sometimes, when my heart and head are both in the right place, I can really feel David’s prayer in 2 Samuel 7.

This was a time when David wanted to build a temple for God, but Nathan the prophet returns with word from the Lord that this task was not for David. However, David’s family, intended for a key role in God’s redemptive plan, would see the job done. And David prayed.

2 Samuel 7:18-19: “Then King David went in and sat before the Lord, and he said:
‘Who am I, Sovereign Lord, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far? And as if this were not enough in your sight, Sovereign Lord, you have also spoken about the future of the house of your servant—and this decree, Sovereign Lord, is for a mere human!’”

I often feel that way. Who am I, that God would covenant with me? Who am I to be one of the elect? What do I have that God can possibly need or want? What do I offer that thousands of others couldn’t do better?

There’s nothing that makes me preferable to God over the drug dealers and despots and other depraved people that he leaves to his judgment. There’s nothing that makes me a better choice than the dads and moms and mechanics and doctors and all the other normal people who live their lives without God. But he draws me to himself, so that I can know what love truly is. He rains his providence on me, so that I can feel the amazing security of an existence controlled and directed by him. He opens my eyes to the hurting and needy and helps me feel his great compassion for them, so that I can live an exciting, purposeful life serving his kingdom. All my good emotions of gratitude and safety and joy and wonder come from this incomprehensible relationship that he initiated, that he desires to have with me.

Who am I indeed? And, like David, he has a promise and a plan for the future of me and my God-fearing family, rooms in a mansion and eternity spent with him. The greatest reason for gratitude of them all! All, in David’s words, for a mere human.

God is so good to me, for reasons I don’t understand. I also don’t understand, in the light of this great truth, why I live so many days in the gloom of my own doubts and misdirected longings? Great is his faithfulness to me!