waking the dawn

Many mornings, as this morning, I sit with a cup of coffee and a Bible, watching the sun peek over the horizon. Sometimes I pray first, sometimes afterward. Sometimes, to be honest, I’m in a hurry and the prayer waits. On good mornings, the ones when my heart is attentive and my mind is focused, songs run through my head. I don’t actually sing them – I’m a Dutch Iowan, after all, so displays of feeling aren’t seemly, but those songs reflect a surge in my soul.

This morning, sitting at a cheap desk in a hotel room in Tulsa, I can see the eastern sky get light, and the song that’s stuck in my head is “Peace Like a River,” especially the third verse. I’m wondering if that   makes me a little bit like David. He wrote this, words I read this morning in Psalm 108:1-5:
“My heart, O God, is steadfast;
I will sing and make music with all my soul.
Awake, harp and lyre!
I will awaken the dawn.
I will praise you, Lord, among the nations;
I will sing of you among the peoples.
For great is your love, higher than the heavens;
your faithfulness reaches to the skies.
Be exalted, O God, above the heavens;
let your glory be over all the earth.”

David woke up the day with his singing; he too spent the first part of his day tuning his heart to God’s. Out of his faithful heart came music that, he said, he “made with all my soul.” Daily worship, personal but not private. I imagine the King singing at the top of his lungs, a sound that echoed through the palace.

We do it differently, David and I, but for the same reason: we want God to be exalted and his name to be glorified, because his love and faithfulness are bigger than this whole creation. Maybe a little singing is appropriate after all.

flood

Isaiah 11:9: "They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea."

There is a cure for what ails this world. There's a cure for the hate of neo-Nazis and Antifa, there's a cure for the savagery of ISIS and the belligerence of North Korea, there's a cure for the intrasagence of Democrats and Republicans. There's something that will fix my broken heart and the brokenness of my relationships. There's something that will fill that place inside me that's never satisfied, that restless part of me that always thinks there must be something more. 

What is it? It's the knowledge of the Lord. Isaiah tells me that on the day that knowlegde of God floods this world like Noah's 40 days of rain, there will be peace. The wolf will lie down with the lamb, and the cow and bear will feed together. No one will harm anyone or destroy anything; we will finally be at peace.

I think I write about this passage every year,  but it speaks such hope for my weary soul. And this year, I notice the concrete thing I can do to help this promise come to be: I can learn and spread the knowledge of the Lord. I can add my drops and ounces and gallons that Jesus will mulitply into floods, until that knowledge washes away all the anger and aggression and loneliness and lovelessness in the whole world.

It may not happen in my lifetime, but that won't be because I didn't do the thing I could do. So know this: God is good, and God loves you, and God has promised eternity to you if you just put your faith in Jesus. Read that truth in scripture, live it until you feel it's truth, and then go tell someone who needs to hear it. It can be our own pyramid scheme: if we all just tell a few people who tell a few people, maybe we can flood this old world with the knowledge of God sooner rather than later.

his name's sake

Sometimes I start thinking I'm something special. I live a blessed life, with good relationships and a decent standard of living. And I'm loved by God, even though he knows I'm a mess. Obviously, I have something going on that those other people don't.

Then I read things like this, from Psalm 106:8: "Yet he saved them for his name’s sake,

to make his mighty power known."

The Psalmist is writing about Israel, about how God didn't forget them the way they forgot him. But the truth revealed here is true about me too. God saved me, the single greatest blessing in my life and yet the one I so quickly overlook. He saved me not because I deserve it, not because I'm special. He saved me for the same reasons he saved Israel.

When I start looking down my nose at someone else, someone whose life choices seem certain to lead to bad things, I need to remember that there, but for the grace of God, go I. There's nothing special about me, nothing that makes me any different from them, except Jesus grabbed me by my sinful soul and won't let me go.

For his name's sake.

smoldering stubs

There's something I need to remember, andI was reminded of it again this morning. God actually said it to King Ahaz, through his prophet, at a time when Ahaz faced overwhelmingly strong enemies:

Isaiah 7:3-8: "Then the Lord said to Isaiah, 'Go out, you and your son Shear-Jashub, to meet Ahaz at the end of the aqueduct of the Upper Pool, on the road to the Launderer’s Field. Say to him, "Be careful, keep calm and don’t be afraid. Do not lose heart because of these two smoldering stubs of firewood—because of the fierce anger of Rezin and Aram and of the son of Remaliah. Aram, Ephraim and Remaliah’s son have plotted your ruin, saying, 'Let us invade Judah; let us tear it apart and divide it among ourselves, and make the son of Tabeel king over it.' 

"Yet this is what the Sovereign Lord says: 

'It will not take place,

it will not happen,

for the head of Aram is Damascus,

and the head of Damascus is only Rezin.'"

The reason I need this is that I can be too aware of worldly power. In fact, I was trained as a military officer in a strange skill called relative combat power analysis. That's a process of comparing not just numbers of soldiers and kinds of vehicles and weapons, but also training, morale, affects of weather and terrain, and other things we called multipliers. As a result, I tend to approach business and politics the same way.

Sometimes, the results are scary. It seems like the power is with factions I think are bad. So it's good this morning to remember that to God, they are just smoldering stubs. As he said so dismissively about Aram and Damascus, the head of North Korea is only Kim, and the head of our dysfunctional government is only Donald Trump. David Duke and Mitch McConnel and Nancy Pelosi and whoever the head of ISIS - these are only men and women.

Left unsaid, of course, is that God is God. All of us will go no farther than the boundaries he sets.

I need to remember that.

good grapes

This morning, as I read Isaiah 5, I'm reminded of how much I owe God.

This chapter starts with a sort of parable about a man who builds a vineyard. The nub of the story is found in verses 1-2:

"I will sing for the one I love

    a song about his vineyard:

My loved one had a vineyard

    on a fertile hillside.

He dug it up and cleared it of stones

    and planted it with the choicest vines.

He built a watchtower in it

    and cut out a winepress as well.

Then he looked for a crop of good grapes,

    but it yielded only bad fruit."

The vineyard is a metaphor for Israel, but I see here a potent picture of myself. God has cleared my soul like this man dug rocks out of his hillside; he rooted out all those attractions and loyalties that were to the wrong things. Then he gave me his Spirit to help me guard my heart, and gifted me to be productive in my church and my town, and in his kingdom. 

Did he then watch for good fruit? I think so. But what did he see?

Yesterday, did he see love and service and good works? Today, will he see love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control? I think he did, and will. But maybe not all day long, and maybe not as ripe and mature as fruit could be.

God has told me numerous times in Scripture that I will be known by the fruit I bear. I have everything I need to yield good grapes. Do I?

glory

I have an idea sometimes that the TV show The Walking Dead (never actually seen it, but I can't escape it around the water cooler or on social media) is a great metaphor for being Christian. As I understand it, that show is about a handful of surviving people fighting for their lives in a world of zombies, which is very much what faithful living can feel like.

Isaiah prophesied about an Israel much like that, but in his vision it would all be worth it. Here's a small excerpt from Isaiah 4:2-6: 

"In that day the Branch of the Lord will be beautiful and glorious, and the fruit of the land will be the pride and glory of the survivors in Israel. Those who are left in Zion, who remain in Jerusalem, will be called holy, all who are recorded among the living in Jerusalem. The Lord will wash away the filth of the women of Zion; he will cleanse the bloodstains from Jerusalem by a spirit of judgment and a spirit of fire. Then the Lord will create over all of Mount Zion and over those who assemble there a cloud of smoke by day and a glow of flaming fire by night; over everything the glory will be a canopy. It will be a shelter and shade from the heat of the day, and a refuge and hiding place from the storm and rain."

I'm tempted sometimes to let the "science proves you're an idiot" group or the "you have to tolerate my sin but I get to belittle your righteousness" crowd have the field, to just back off and let them control things. I want to just ignore the "truth is relative and you're just superstitious" attacks on my faith, to hide with my Christian tribe behind our little walls and let the world burn.

That's only when I forget who God really is, though. Those people all are tiny, squeaking mice yammering at the most powerful being there is, and he promises that one day all the filthy lies and bloody acts will go in a purge of judgment and fire. Everyone standing after that will be his people, living in peace and glory. 

I don't wish the judgment on anyone, but I am ready for the peace and glory. Come, Lord Jesus. Quickly come.

weary

I had a rare moment this morning of empathy with God - is that too irreverent to say? I did, though. Something I read in Isaiah 1 reminded me of all those times I was just sick  and tired of putting up with things. I didn't want one more person to approach me with one more complaint or one more request.

Here's the passage, from Isaiah 1:13-15, where God says, 

"'I cannot bear your worthless assemblies.

Your New Moon feasts and your appointed festivals

I hate with all my being.

They have become a burden to me;

I am weary of bearing them.

When you spread out your hands in prayer,

I hide my eyes from you;

even when you offer many prayers,

I am not listening.' "

But in just three verses, God feels differently: 

"'Come now, let us settle the matter,' says the Lord.

'Though your sins are like scarlet,

they shall be as white as snow;

though they are red as crimson,

they shall be like wool.'" (Isaiah 1:18)

That's the part I don't empathize with as well, but I'm grateful for it. I know that sometimes my worship isn't God-centered, and my lifestyle doesn't look like worship at all. I know that even when my life is OK, my heart often isn't. And my prayers are often thoughtless and quick, more checking off a requirement than what you would call fervent. I have given God plenty of reason not to listen when I pray. 

But he does. Even in the face of 55 years of bad behavior, he invites me to reconcile. He offers complete forgiveness; he reminds me he can clean me up and make me presentable again. Amazing grace!

It's why, no matter how weak I am, I never stop loving him.

no vile thing

Am I committed to discipleship? I want to say yes, but when I read the Psalms of David, I'm not so sure. 

Take this example, from the start of Psalm 101:1-4

"I will sing of your love and justice;

to you, Lord, I will sing praise.

I will be careful to lead a blameless life —

when will you come to me?

I will conduct the affairs of my house

with a blameless heart.

I will not look with approval

on anything that is vile.

I hate what faithless people do;

I will have no part in it.

The perverse of heart shall be far from me;

I will have nothing to do with what is evil."

If I were honestly writing this Psalm, I would have to say, "Sometimes I lead a blameless life, but it doesn't last very long. Sometimes I seek out vile things so that I can look at them. Sometimes I tolerate what faithless people do because that's what society expects of me. Sometimes I coexist with evil and the perverse of heart."

I'm going to keep these verses in front of me for a while, and pray to see where I fail to meet David's example. I hope I have the courage and discipline to change the things God shows me.

tingling ears

God's anger is a terrible thing. Look at how mad he finally God at Manasseh, the king of Judah, in 2 Kings 21:10-15: 

"The Lord said through his servants the prophets: "Manasseh king of Judah has committed these detestable sins. He has done more evil than the Amorites who preceded him and has led Judah into sin with his idols. Therefore this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: I am going to bring such disaster on Jerusalem and Judah that the ears of everyone who hears of it will tingle. I will stretch out over Jerusalem the measuring line used against Samaria and the plumb line used against the house of Ahab. I will wipe out Jerusalem as one wipes a dish, wiping it and turning it upside down. I will forsake the remnant of my inheritance and give them into the hands of enemies. They will be looted and plundered by all their enemies; they have done evil in my eyes and have aroused my anger from the day their ancestors came out of Egypt until this day.'"

Will I ever see the Lord's anger like that? I hope not. I know I disappoint him a lot, and that he hates my sin; I hope his grace will keep me from ever being wiped out like a dirty bowl.

As noted in this passage, Manasseh did two things that God called detestable. First, rather than turning toward God, he continued and increased the trajectory of evil of the previous kings. Second, he led the whole nation into idolatry. 

The opposite of those sins is to become more holy and to lead others to Jesus - the basic calling of any Christian. In the end, Manasseh was destroyed because he forgot his purpose. 

shout

Psalm 100:

"Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth.

Worship the Lord with gladness;

come before him with joyful songs.

Know that the Lord is God.

It is he who made us, and we are his;

we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving

and his courts with praise;

give thanks to him and praise his name.

For the Lord is good and his love endures forever;

his faithfulness continues through all generations."

This short Psalm is one I grew up with.  As I read it over the years, there are words that seem to leap off the page, words I understand but that sometimes just aren't me. Words like shout, worship, come, know and enter are action words that call us to worship individually and collectively. And words like joy, gladness, joyful songs, thanksgiving and praise describe how we should worship.

I confess that I struggle with joy. I'm not gloomy, but I am restrained. I control my emotions and how I display them. As a result, at those moments in life when something inside me surges up, I tend to keep it inside. I'm more a practitioner of the understatement than a shouter of joy.

But the reason given here is definitely one for joy: the Lord is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations.

Part of my service to God and others is not just to see the good and feel the joy, but to share it. That's something I need to work on.

how long?

How long does it take before God has had enough? It's an important question, but more important, I'd guess, for the people who never ask it.

Reading through 2 Kings 17, I was reminded by the story of King Hoshea that God will not tolerate sin forever. In Hoshea's case, he finally had enough of his people putting their faith in everything but him, and sent the King of Assyria as punishment. After three years of siege (a kind of house arrest that involved increasing shortages until finally starvation forced surrender) God's people were hauled off into exile.

And it was all avoidable. Here's what it says in verses 12-14: "They worshiped idols, though the Lord had said, 'You shall not do this.' The Lord warned Israel and Judah through all his prophets and seers: 'Turn from your evil ways. Observe my commands and decrees, in accordance with the entire Law that I commanded your ancestors to obey and that I delivered to you through my servants the prophets.' But they would not listen and were as stiff-necked as their ancestors, who did not trust in the Lord their God."

How much trusting in other things is so much that God will do something drastic to get my attention? At what point does financial planning become reliance on my ability to earn and save? At what point does locking doors and owning guns become trusting in physical strength for my safety? At what point does swallowing whatever distasteful thing I have to in order for "my people" to gain political power become putting my faith in an earthly king?

Because God is patient, I sometimes forget how much my faithlessness hurts him. And I forget that he won't let me wander forever. 

God in a corner

When I read 1 Kings 16 this morning, I thought, “Ahaz was an idiot. I wonder what priced he paid in the end for his idiocy.”

I thought that because Ahaz, impressed by the big gaudy altar used by the pagans in Damascus, ordered one built for the temple in Jerusalem. When it was finished, he had it put in a prominent place, and moved the bronze altar designed by God to a secondary spot.

Here’s his reasoning, in verse 15: “King Ahaz then gave these orders to Uriah the priest: ‘On the large new altar, offer the morning burnt offering and the evening grain offering, the king’s burnt offering and his grain offering, and the burnt offering of all the people of the land, and their grain offering and their drink offering. Splash against this altar the blood of all the burnt offerings and sacrifices. But I will use the bronze altar for seeking guidance.’”

What an idiot! Why disrespect God that way? How can you just put God in a corner?

But then, on my walk to work, I realized something. I realized that so often I set God aside unless I have a big problem. Many days I do my work and solve my problems using my own wisdom and the knowledge of my industry. I use advice from business gurus and the collective wisdom of my peers. But I seldom pray over them.

Only when my parents get a bad diagnosis or my kids are struggling or I’m feeling guilty about something do I really seek out the Lord. Oh, I pray often, but it’s easy for those routine prayers to become a task that gets checked off in the morning. Once done, I can get on with the real business of the day.

I think there are a lot of days when I do exactly as Ahaz did. What an idiot!

thistles and cedars

Here’s another of those earthy sayings I picked hanging around soldiers: Don’t let your alligator mouth write a check your hummingbird butt can’t cover. As with most of those adages, this one captures a basic truth, in this case that prideful words can get us in trouble.

Jehoash had the same message for Amaziah, recorded for us in 2 Kings 14:9-10. Amaziah, puffed up with pride over his recent defeat of the Edomites, challenges the king of Israel to battle. And then we read this:
“‘But Jehoash king of Israel replied to Amaziah king of Judah: ‘A thistle in Lebanon sent a message to a cedar in Lebanon, “Give your daughter to my son in marriage.” Then a wild beast in Lebanon came along and trampled the thistle underfoot. You have indeed defeated Edom and now you are arrogant. Glory in your victory, but stay at home! Why ask for trouble and cause your own downfall and that of Judah also?’”

This same advice would come from Paul centuries later, when he wrote to the Romans that they should not think of themselves more highly than is warranted, but instead consider their station and abilities with sober judgment.

I wonder if we haven’t lost this lesson in our time. I’m not in favor of violence as a problem-solving tool, but I remember as a boy just keeping my mouth shut rather than risk a beating. Now, with the fear of reprisal gone, people are willing to say some pretty offensive things. They no longer risk the outcome that Amaziah faced: when he persisted, Jehoash whipped his army, took him prisoner, and looted his capital.

There are still consequences to rash arrogance, though, ranging from damaged relationships through missed opportunities to being socially ostracized. Worse still, such in-your-face pride and the disrespectful attitude that goes with it violates God’s instruction to love one another.

In the end, I think Jehoash’s advice is wise, and so is Paul’s, and that from James, too, who advised me to be slow to speak and quick to listen. That’s the only way to keep my alligator mouth from getting me in over my head.

rejoice in judgment

Will I be happy on the day Jesus returns?

I often end my prayers with, “Come, Lord Jesus, quickly come.” I pray that because I believe that, much as I love this life, eternity with Jesus will make me wonder why I clung to it. But when I pray those words, there’s usually this nagging in the back of my head that if he really came quickly, I might not be ready.

Reading in Psalm 96 this morning, I read this in verses 11-13:
“Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad;
let the sea resound, and all that is in it.
Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them;
let all the trees of the forest sing for joy.
Let all creation rejoice before the Lord, for he comes,
he comes to judge the earth.
He will judge the world in righteousness
and the peoples in his faithfulness.”

As much as I love the idea of all of creation celebrating the same way we celebrate a sports victory, I had again that nagging question: Will I be ready on that day?

The truth is, the created world will rejoice, but many in it won’t. The same people who don’t want to encounter Jesus in daily life will be mortified to meet him on that day.

I don’t really think that will be me. I think I’ll hold back, knowing I’m not worthy, but I think Jesus will call to me. I think he’ll see in me the righteousness he paid for with his blood, and call me to him. I think he’ll remember that, even in my weakest times, even on those days when I didn’t want to follow him, even in the very act of sinning, I never denounced him. At my weakest, I loved Jesus and hated myself. At my worst, I knew Jesus was my future and my only hope; I knew I would find my way back. And at my best, I was a courageous voice for his Truth. I think Jesus will know all that, and the day of his return will be a happy one for me.

That would be enough, but I have a greater hope, one that I’m trying to live for. I hope that he will say to me, “Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into your reward.”

facts

“Come, let us bow down in worship,
let us kneel before the Lord our Maker;
for he is our God
and we are the people of his pasture,
the flock under his care.” Psalm 95:6-7

I love the simple logic of this well-known call to worship. We live in a time when people are quick to ask, “Why should I?” Why should we kneel before God? Because he made us and we are his people. Simple truth, and really all we need to know.

I used to work with a guy who’d say, “Them’s the facts, Jack!” It was his way of pointing out that you can’t change what’s real by playing what if. You can whine and complain and wish and dream all day long, but at the end of the day reality is still reality.

There are a lot of arguments that go around about why it’s good to be a Christian. There are wonderful expositions of the benefits of God’s promises. There are well-reasoned discussions about how the wonderful family values benefit society. There are emotional appeals to the desire for relief from guilt and despair.

In the end, though, those are wonderful side benefits of a basic reality: God made us for his purposes, and we won’t be happy unless we follow him. Them’s the facts, Jack.

senseless ones

Sometimes it seems like the post-Christian voices might be right. The church seems ill-suited to our current times, ill-suited for the anything-goes kind of tolerance demanded as the price of civic peace. Anyone who dares speak for ultimate truth on behalf of the Prince of Peace had better be ready to pay a price. Anyone willing to go along to get along, anyone willing to say what peoples’ itching ears want to hear, will find enough retweets and Facebook likes to satisfy even the most narcissistic.

On days when this seems the dominant factor, rather than just a factor, I’m tempted to believe with the Psalmist that there is no punishment for evil anymore. I want to cry out with the first two verses of Psalm 94, which starts this way:

“The Lord is a God who avenges.
O God who avenges, shine forth.
Rise up, Judge of the earth;
pay back to the proud what they deserve.”

That same Psalm has these words of caution that I think are perfectly suited for our day, in verses 8-11:
“Take notice, you senseless ones among the people;
you fools, when will you become wise?
Does he who fashioned the ear not hear?
Does he who formed the eye not see?
Does he who disciplines nations not punish?
Does he who teaches mankind lack knowledge?
The Lord knows all human plans;
he knows that they are futile.”

God knows. He knows what I really believe, not just what I have the courage to say. He knows what I’m praying for, and what I’m living for. He knows that for all of us. And, eventually, in his good time, he is the one who judges and, yes, avenges. He won’t avenge me, I don’t think, but he’ll avenge himself. All the attacks and slights and mockery from a world who think him either helpless or distant or non-existent will one day be repaid.

It’s not a thought that satisfies me – that will be a terrible day – but it does fill me with relief. And it gives me hope and strength to continue my discipleship.

waves

Standing in ocean surf will remind you where you fit in the world. At its mildest, the sea will pull the sand out from under your feet, while when the surf is up it will knock you over and pull you out. As you stand, the waves come at you endlessly all the way from the horizon. Those waves can pound boats to pieces and, over time, change the shape of the rocks themselves.

I was thinking all that this morning, thinking of walking the tide line at Moro Bay and swimming in the Atlantic off the Panama Canal, two times that the ocean exhausted me. Here’s what triggered my memories, from Psalm 93:3-4:

“The seas have lifted up, Lord,
the seas have lifted up their voice;
the seas have lifted up their pounding waves.
Mightier than the thunder of the great waters,
mightier than the breakers of the sea—
the Lord on high is mighty.”

The irresistible weight of the ocean is part of God’s revelation, one that speaks in particular to his power and might. In the same way, the rain and sun and seasons tell of his providence, and birds and flowers show his love for beauty. Grandmothers who tell Bible stories are evidence of the covenant, and children who love Jesus show God’s faithfulness to all generations.

This whole world sings of God, if we just take the time to listen.

praise song

The other night, I was sitting on my deck with Dawn as the sun set, reading and watching the barn swallows. I thought then, and said to her, “This is good.”

When I think of good things, or the good life, I think of things like that. Those are the moments that seem the best, the part that makes all the struggle and so-so days and really awful days worthwhile.

This morning, as I read Psalm 92, I was challenged a little bit in that kind of thinking. I still think I’m mostly right, but I stop short. Look at the first three verses of that Psalm:
“It is good to praise the Lord
    and make music to your name, O Most High,
proclaiming your love in the morning
    and your faithfulness at night,
to the music of the ten-stringed lyre
    and the melody of the harp.”

Whenever I have one of those “this is good” moments, I think the next thing I should do is sing. I should let everyone in earshot know of God’s love and faithfulness; I should let them know that my God is the source of every good thing in this world.

In fact, I should be singing a lot more than I do. Praise songs (and this Psalm is one) are part of worship, and worship should happen in my heart and home every day.

Maybe someday those moments of singing will themselves be the good thing I’m grateful for.

rescue

I’ve taken refuge in a lot of different places and ways. I hid under a canoe during a violent hail storm once, and sat out a tornado in a coal cellar. I waited out a bull on a shed roof, stood watch in a foxhole, and ran from wasps. I’ve also hidden behind my rank, wealth and privilege to avoid emotional unpleasantness. Too often these are the things I rely on.

Psalm 91 is all about taking refuge in God. I especially like verses 14-16:
“’Because he loves me,’ says the Lord, ‘I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
He will call on me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
With long life I will satisfy him
and show him my salvation.’”

In return for my love, God promises me the ultimate in protection plans. He has me covered for any kind of trouble in my life, which he says will be long and satisfying. He also has a great plan for my eternity. With God, I don’t have to fear physical harm, mental pain, or corrupting sin. Body, mind and soul are secure under his protection.

I wonder why I so often look for worldly protectors when I have this promise?

run away

I would never have the temerity to ask God, “What were you thinking?” Sometimes, though, I really wish I knew, because I don’t understand what I’m reading in scripture. That’s true of the story of Jehu, recorded in 1 Kings 9 and 10.

Things get off to a bizarre start with the anointing of Jehu, in 2 Kings 9:1-3: “The prophet Elisha summoned a man from the company of the prophets and said to him, ‘Tuck your cloak into your belt, take this flask of olive oil with you and go to Ramoth Gilead. When you get there, look for Jehu son of Jehoshaphat, the son of Nimshi. Go to him, get him away from his companions and take him into an inner room. Then take the flask and pour the oil on his head and declare, “This is what the Lord says: I anoint you king over Israel.” Then open the door and run; don’t delay!’”

That’s my first “what were you thinking” moment. Run away? Like escaping from something? What’s that all about. Prophets often acted in strange ways to get the attention of the people, like Jeremiah binding himself with ropes, but usually they explain it.

But as I read on, it seemed appropriate; Jehu was a guy to run away from. He was a lethal and prolific executioner who cut a bloody swathe through Israelite and left dozens of dead behind him. The story of Jezebel’s death is one of the most gruesome you’ll find anywhere.

Yet God is pleased – that’s the second thing I don’t understand. Look at this, from 2 Kings 10:30-31: “The Lord said to Jehu, ‘Because you have done well in accomplishing what is right in my eyes and have done to the house of Ahab all I had in mind to do, your descendants will sit on the throne of Israel to the fourth generation.’ Yet Jehu was not careful to keep the law of the Lord, the God of Israel, with all his heart. He did not turn away from the sins of Jeroboam, which he had caused Israel to commit.”

I get that Jehu was God’s judgment on Ahab and Jezebel, but why did God look past his sins (Jeroboam set up the golden calfs for worship, which Jehu continued) and give him four generations on the throne? In so many cases God punished men and women for so much less. I don’t like Jehu, and I guess I don’t want God to like him either.

I don’t get it, but there’s some comfort here for me: God doesn’t require perfection in his servants, only obedience. I’ll never be perfect, but I can obey.

God for us

Look at the things that our Lord has done!

2 Kings 7:5-7: “At dusk they got up and went to the camp of the Arameans. When they reached the edge of the camp, no one was there, for the Lord had caused the Arameans to hear the sound of chariots and horses and a great army, so that they said to one another, ‘Look, the king of Israel has hired the Hittite and Egyptian kings to attack us!’ So they got up and fled in the dusk and abandoned their tents and their horses and donkeys. They left the camp as it was and ran for their lives.”

For the Israelites, this was the kind of thing worship sprang from. Worship songs, which we call Psalms, were written about these things, and the elders talked of them while the village listened. God was very real to them, because these were the stories of their grandfathers and great-grandfathers.

They’re still the stories of our God, though. That’s precisely why they were dictated by the Holy Spirit to men who wrote them down for us. They are part of what we need to know about God.

Sometimes when I read these stories – stories like Elisha making the ax head float, or multiplying the oil and the flour – there’s a part of me that wonders if they’re just fables. It would be easy to dismiss them as tales that teach a moral but didn’t actually happen, but that’s because our little minds struggle to fathom the least of what God can do.

The truth is, for our God these things are nothing, the equivalent of parlor tricks. Pulling an ax head from the bottom of a river and making scary noises in the tree tops impress us, but I’m thinking those things would be relatively simple to God.

A more amazing miracle, in my mind, is my salvation. Somehow God, through the cross and Jesus’ sacrifice, made it possible for me to have a relationships with him. Somehow, he moved my heart to want one. And somehow, he helps me every day to resist the pull of the world and turn to him. That’s an accomplishment that takes planning, effort and daily attention, yet God does it for millions.

Look at the things our God has done, and, like the Israelites, we will be moved to worship.

eyes wide open

Life seldom goes as I want. Usually it just surprises me or maybe annoys or frustrates me, but sometimes it scares me, and sometimes I want to despair.

Those times I’m like Elisha’s servant, facing the army of Arameans who had come to capture Elisha. With possible abuse and death looming, there didn’t seem much that two men could do. Elisha’s servant despaired, but Elisha didn’t. Here’s his reaction, in 2 Kings 6:16-17:

“‘Don’t be afraid,’ the prophet answered. ‘Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.’
“And Elisha prayed, ‘Open his eyes, Lord, so that he may see.’”

What the servant saw, of course, was a mighty flaming host of heavenly warriors, present for the duty of ensuring Elisha’s safety. Elisha, whose God had made an ax head float and whispered to Elisha every plan of the king of Aram, knew that he had nothing to fear. His faith in God was fixed.

It’s a message I need, as I watch change come to our public life and erosion wear away the morality I grew up with. When violence splatters our cities in blood and every kind of depravity is just a few clicks away, and holders of the highest offices in the nation have vulgar mouths and worse lifestyles, I’m tempted to despair. It’s tempting to let my voice go silent and try to escape notice of all the haters and judgers out there.

But those who are with us are more than those who are with them. It would be a huge mistake for me to look at all the attacks and lose faith in God. Like Elisha, I have a lifetime full of God’s faithfulness and providence to look back on. So this morning I’m praying Elisha’s prayer for myself: “Open my eyes, Lord, so that I may see you at work in this world.”

last resort

It’s happened to me more than once: after some tale of woe in which I describe a mistake or a wrong turn or a lesson learned, someone says, “I could have told you that.” And I’d guess they’re right. Someone else already knows everything I need to learn, if I just knew who to ask.

That’s a truth that I should apply to my relationship with God. In matters of life, I already know who can advise me, but I never ask him. I’m kind of like kings Joram and Jehoshaphat in the story in 2 Kings 3. On their way to make war against Moab, they ask each other the best way to go and decide to traverse the desert. A week later, they’re out of water and in deep trouble, and that’s when they come to their senses, as described in 2 Kings 3:11: “But Jehoshaphat asked, ‘Is there no prophet of the LORD here, through whom we may inquire of the LORD?’”

It begs the question, why wait until things look bad to ask God? Once they did, God helped them avoid death by dehydration, and then helped them defeat their enemies.

Why is God so often my last resort? Why do I first try things on my own, then go to my friends for advice, then look it up on the Internet and then, when all else fails, pray? Wouldn’t it be far easier to pray as I make my plans instead after they’ve gone off the rails?

It’s something I intend to do better at.