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Shema Yisrael

5/31/2017

Shema Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai echad.

Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.
-Deuteronomy 6:4-9

This passage is known in Hebrew as the Shema, sometimes referred to as Shema Yisrael (“Hear, O Israel”). It was and is an integral part of Jewish daily prayer services and religious holidays, often combined with the Vehayah (Deuteronomy 11:13-21) and the Vaiyomer (Numbers 15:37-41). Clearly, these words were spoken specifically to Israel—to the Jews—and not to the Church. But I suggest Christians would do well to make this passage a central part of our lives as well seeing as how its main thrust—a proclamation of faith in and love for the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—is one that is applicable to us today. In a day and age where people conflate the God of the Bible with Allah, the Great Spirit, or any number of other false gods, it is vital that we understand and recognize who God is and Who alone is God. In fact, as Christians we hold a different belief as to the nature of God than does an Orthodox Jew who daily recites this same passage. Orthodox Jews do not recognize Jesus as their Messiah. Christ repeatedly claimed unity with God,[1] meaning the phrase “the Lord is one,” includes Him. As Paul wrote, “for us there is but one God, the Father, from whom all things came and for whom we live; and there is but one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom all things came and through whom we live.”[2] That was and is blasphemy to Orthodox Jews, as evidenced by their attempts to kill Jesus and rejection of Him to this day. So even though Christians have much in common—in terms of origins of faith, up to and including this passage—with Orthodox Jews, we disagree as to the nature of God because they missed the One they were—and sadly still are—waiting for.

As key as our understanding of God is, it was the second part of the Shema that Jesus quoted when asked which was the greatest commandment: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”[3] However, it is of note that Mark’s Gospel records Jesus also quoting the beginning of the Shema: “‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.’” [4] Whether or not this passage exists in the Old Testament and whether or not it was/is significant in Jewish religious practice, it is of vital significance because Jesus issued it as a directive, and furthermore, He cited this as the greatest commandment, upon which all the others were based. We would be remiss if we did not pause for a moment to consider what is meant by loving God with all our heart, soul, and strength. It is not a call to halfhearted commitment nor to mere lip service. Rather, God is to be the focal point of all we do. And that hasn’t changed since these words were initially given to Moses. Clearly, then, we would be wise to follow the commands in the Shema.

So naturally, that raises the question of how? Judaism, as too often was the case, took God’s commands and followed them incredibly literally—if not actually. The Pharisees, for example, “ma[d]e their phylacteries wide and the tassels on their garments long.”[5] A phylactery was a small box containing Scripture verses and that was worn around the forehead. They literally bound God’s commands to their foreheads, but as our Lord’s rebukes repeatedly pointed out, they failed to obey those commands. Even the incorporation of the Shema into twice daily rituals can become nothing more than a mumbled recitation done to technically fulfill a command. Is that what God wants, a mere functional observance or procedural obedience? If I recite a few words on schedule or slap a Bible verse above my front door, am I good?

No, of course not. Instead, I think the model for practicing the Shema is given to us throughout the New Testament. Paul wrote to “set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.”[6] He instructed us to “be filled with the Spirit, speaking to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit.”[7] We’re told to “pray continually.”[8] The theme here, and throughout the Bible, is that our Christian faith is not supposed to be a one-hour, once-a-week obligation. Faith isn’t something we do; it is supposed to be who we are. We’re to “clothe [y]ourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ.”[9] Fathers are taught to “bring [children] up in the training and instruction of the Lord.”[10] And we’re all to use Scripture “for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness,”[11] as Paul wrote to the church in Colossae: “Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom . . .”[12] The essence of the Shema is that our faith is supposed to be a part of everything we do.

We need to be intimately familiar with God’s commands—we need to know them but we also need to practice them. We should meditate on them—not with an emptying of the mind as has become the connotation of meditation, but by fixing our thoughts on God and His Word. We should think deeply, ponder and reflect, let Scripture infuse our minds. We cannot be passive in raising our children or teaching them to follow God. Their souls are at stake! We must daily guide and direct them in the ways of the Lord. And not just at “Bible time” or during “family devotions” but throughout the day, when hanging out together, when walking along the road through God’s creation, or when resting in Him as we lay down to rest at night. We should get past football scores and weather predictions and “how’s work?” conversations with our Christian brothers and sisters and contemplate the Word of God with each other, formally and informally. It is not that we are to physically affix God’s commands to our bodies and our homes, but that they should be as good as bound there because they are with us wherever we go.

I’ll reiterate, as Christians, we would do well to make the Shema a vital part of our lives. Recognize and remember who our God is, make Him the center of our lives, and make His Word essential to our everyday life—particularly when it comes to leading the next generation of disciples to Jesus.

[1] John 5:17-18, 8:12-58, 10:30, 14:6-11, 17:20-22
[2] I Corinthians 8:6; see also Ephesians 4:4-6
[3] Matthew 22:37-40
[4] Mark 12:29
[5] Matthew 23:5
[6] Colossians 3:1
[7] Ephesians 5:18-19
[8] I Thessalonians 5:17
[9] Romans 13:14
[10] Ephesians 6:4
[11] II Timothy 3:16
[12] Colossians 3:16

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The Big D

5/20/2017

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The son of a respected psychiatrist once famously said the following: “There’s no way out of it. You’re going to die. I’m going to die. It’s going to happen. And what difference does it make if it’s tomorrow or in eighty years?”[1] Death is a reality we all face sooner or later. As Switchfoot sings, “This skin and bones is a rental / And no one makes it out alive.”[2] We all know death is looming—whether we bravely face it head on, try to ignore it and direct our focus elsewhere, or sublimate our fear toward odd fascinations with the ghoulish and ghastly. (Why else would we celebrate ghosts and goblins and skeletons and the like each October 31?) “You’re going to die. I’m going to die. It’s going to happen.”

For my family, that reality has hit particularly close to home lately. We have stared down that ugly monster, with all the pain, stress, chaos, and confusion it entails. And it’s gotten me thinking about a Bible verse I’m sure we’re all familiar with, if for no other reason than its brevity. In John 11:35 we read simply, “Jesus wept.” The immediate context explains Christ’s display of emotions—He was at the graveside of Lazarus, described as “the one you love.”[3] But the extended context perhaps confuses us a little. Just a few verses later, Jesus commanded those present to “take away the stone”[4] and called, “Lazarus, come out!”[5] And he did just that, the grave clothes were removed, and Lazarus went back—presumably—to life as normal. If we back up to the beginning of the chapter, we see Jesus hearing of Lazarus’s sickness and responding, “This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s son may be glorified through it.”[6] Jesus didn’t say the sickness would not result in death, but that it would not end in death. Then He waited two days before departing, at which time He told the disciples, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep; but I am going there to wake him up.”[7] The disciples thought Jesus was speaking of regular sleep, but John informs us “Jesus had been speaking of his death.”[8] Jesus knew He was going to raise Lazarus from the dead and be glorified through it. So why, when he arrived at the tomb, did He weep?

It could be that Jesus, being fully human, was simply stirred by seeing others weeping. However, I once heard another explanation—and I can’t recall from where, so I can’t give proper credit—that I think makes more sense. Jesus didn’t shed tears at His own personal loss, because He knew it wasn’t a net loss—He was going to raise Lazarus from the dead. And while He may have shed tears of sympathy at seeing the grief of His friends, I suggest to you His grief went deeper. I think He wept because of death in general. I think He wept because He knew the scene before Him would play out millions upon millions of times throughout history—just as has recently for my family—and this was not the plan. Death was never supposed to be a part of creation. Paul tells us that “sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned.”[9] God’s intent was for man to exist in perfect, eternal fellowship with Him. But the first man and woman rebelled—as we all do—and one of the results of that breaking of fellowship—of sin—is death.[10]

Jesus knew that—it was, after all, the reason He came to earth. He knew the agony of parents forced to bury a child. He knew the empty heartache of a spouse losing a lifelong partner. He knew vacancy left behind by the death of a parent. He knew the pain and suffering that accompany death. And in that moment, standing outside the tomb, I think He wept for all of humanity, for its numbing grief and paralyzing pain, for the consequences of sin and of living in a fallen world. The author of Hebrews tells us, “he too shared in their humanity” and “he had to be made like them, fully human in every way.”[11] Having entered His creation, I believe He joined us in “[groaning] inwardly as we wait eagerly for . . . the redemption of our bodies.”[12]

But weeping is not the end of the story. As mentioned, Jesus called Lazarus from the tomb. Lazarus is recorded in the next chapter eating with Jesus and visiting with people as if he had never died. And Jesus’ choice of language is telling. Speaking to His disciples, He didn’t say that Lazarus was dead, but used the metaphor, “Lazarus has fallen asleep.” Paul also used this sleeping imagery to refer to death:

Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. According to the Lord’s word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words.[13]

Indeed, before visiting the grave, Jesus spoke to Martha. He told her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?”[14] The death described in the Bible as “the wages of sin” is not just a physical death, although as seen above, that is clearly part of it. Rather, it is an eternal separation from God.[15] Given the gravity of death, it is all the more reason why Jesus would be “deeply moved in spirit and troubled.”[16] It is also why Jesus “[gave] himself as a ransom for many,”[17] that “whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”[18]

Death is hideous. I hate it. I hate every aspect of it. I hate it even more given the fact that eternity is at stake. I believe Jesus hated it too. And yet, as Lazarus was a type of “sleeping” and “waking,” we have hope beyond this life. For those who have faith in Christ, death is still heinous, horrible, and repulsive. It is painful, stressful, chaotic—a nightmare. But it is only a veil. I again quote the Apostle Paul:

Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed—in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.”[19]

It was also Paul who wrote “to live is Christ and to die is gain.”[20] What’s more, he quoted these words from Hosea: “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?”[21] Paul was able to taunt death. He looked the black ghoul in the face with confidence. Why? “But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”[22]

Jesus wept over the pain of death. But He also walked to the cross and stomped on death’s repugnant face. He took the horror and ugliness of that crude implement of death and “made a public spectacle”[23] of it. Then, he once and for all defeated death by rising from the grave, as pointed to in the “type” of Lazarus, which is what enabled Him to tell Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life.”

You’re going to die.
I’m going to die.
It’s going to happen.

But the one who believes in Jesus will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in Him will never die.

Do you believe this?

[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SERiABqsmyA
[2] Switchfoot. “Where I Belong.” Vice Verses, Atlantic Records, 2011.
[3] John 11:3
[4] John 11:39
[5] John 11:43
[6] John 11:4
[7] John 11:11
[8] John 11:12
[9] Romans 5:12; see also Genesis 3:14-19
[10] See Romans 3:23, 6:23
[11] Hebrews 2:14, 17
[12] Romans 8:23
[13] I Thessalonians 4:13-18
[14] John 11:25-26
[15] See Revelation 20:12-15; II Thessalonians 1:8-9; II Peter 2:9
[16] John 11:33
[17] Matthew 20:28
[18] John 3:16
[19] I Corinthians 15:51-54
[20] Philippians 1:21, emphasis added
[21] I Corinthians 15:55, quoting Hosea 13:14
[22] I Corinthians 15:57
[23] See Colossians 2:13-15

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Considering Joy

5/6/2017

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When I first started this blog, my intent was to write about passages of Scripture that I especially liked (using various definitions of “like”). Today, however, I am going to examine a passage I particularly dislike—and thus a passage that is probably most pertinent to my life. James writes in his epistle, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds.”[1] What? Come again? Consider trials to be joy? This seems absurd, and indeed it is if not for A) the grace of God and the power of the Holy Spirit working in us, B) a proper definition of joy, and C) the rest of the passage. We’ll examine joy in detail in a moment, but first let’s see what else James tells us. We are to “consider it pure joy” when we face trials, “because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”[2] There is, then, an end game in mind, a thought we’ll examine more as we move on.

Back to the definition of joy. The world uses the words joy and happiness interchangeably. I often thought that happiness was based on circumstance whereas joy was not. But after studying the various passages of Scripture that talk about joy, I think there’s a little more nuance to it. Before we go deeper, let’s wrap our minds around what this three-letter word truly means. What is joy? Webster defines it thusly:

JOY, noun
1. The passion or emotion excited by the acquisition or expectation of good; that excitement of pleasurable feelings which is caused by success, good fortune, the gratification of desire or some good possessed, or by a rational prospect of possessing what we love or desire; gladness; exultation; exhilaration of spirits.
JOY is a delight of the mind, from the consideration of the present or assured approaching possession of a good.[3]

I think that last statement hits the nail squarely on the head. “Joy is a delight of mind, from the consideration of the present or assured approaching possession of a good.” In other words, joy is based on circumstances, just not necessarily present circumstances. Let’s flesh that out a little more by digging into Scripture.

“Joy” or some derivative of it is used 242 times in the NIV. Many times, joy is a result of something good happening—as a result of God’s blessing.[4] God told the Israelites to “celebrate the festival to the Lord your God” and that “[He] will bless you in all your harvest and in all the work of your hands, and your joy will be complete.”[5] The Book of Esther records the Jews avenging themselves against their enemies, killing seventy-five thousand of them, and “on the fourteenth day they rested and made it a day of feasting and joy.”[6] Even the women who discovered the empty tomb and the disciples were filled with joy after the resurrection and the ascension.[7] In all these instances, joy and happiness are synonymous.

However, many other times in Scripture we see joy occurring or being commanded apart from happy circumstances. Consider the words of Habakkuk: “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior.”[8] Or consider the Thessalonians, who “welcomed the message in the midst of severe suffering with the joy given by the Holy Spirit.”[9] How about the recipients of Hebrews, who “suffered along with those in prison and joyfully accepted the confiscation of [their] property, because [they] knew that [they themselves] had better and lasting possessions.”[10] We’re starting to get a glimpse of where this joy comes from and in what—or I should say Whom—it is rooted. But our best example is Jesus. Also in Hebrews, we read “For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”[11] Think about that for a moment. Think about the horrors of the cross, about the loneliness of being abandoned by God, about the overwhelming weight of bearing the sin of the world. What must be the joy that could counterbalance that burden and make it worthwhile? What “joy set before him” could offset such agony? On a similar vein, Paul asked (and answered), “For what is our hope, our joy, or the crown in which we will glory in the presence of our Lord Jesus when he comes? Is it not you? Indeed, you are our glory and joy.”[12]

The biblical picture of joy, then, is one that is motivated by circumstances. But, as in Webster’s definition, those circumstances may not be current. Instead, we have “delight of mind” by faith. Paul told the Romans to be “joyful in hope.”[13] Biblical hope is not wishful thinking, as in “I hope things all turn out all right in the end.” If it were, we would have no basis for being joyful. That would be like telling a sports fan to be happy, your team might win. No, I’ll be happy if and when they win. But what if the outcome was guaranteed, if victory was assured before the game was completed? That is biblical hope, the “anchor for the soul” referenced in Hebrews 6:19.

Peter wrote, “Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls.”[14] Also, “Therefore, with minds that are alert and fully sober, set your hope on the grace to be brought to you when Jesus Christ is revealed at his coming.”[15] Isaiah foresaw this culmination: “They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away.”[16] Indeed, so did the angel who appeared to the shepherds and said, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.”[17]

There is a lot more that could be said about joy, and I’ve included links[18] to some more verses that address the subject. But let me conclude by bringing us back to James 1. Note that the author does not say, “Have joy whenever you face trials of many kinds.” He says “Consider it pure joy.” This is an action word. The Greek is hégeomai, which carries the connotation of making something (joy) the foremost or primary thought. As we observed, sometimes joy will spring from present circumstances, and it comes naturally. But when the joy-inducing circumstances—our eternal deliverance and salvation—are far off, being joyful requires actively contemplating and weighing the eternal and the temporal—as did Jesus when it came to the cross. Doing so enables us to “Rejoice in the Lord always”[19] and even “when people hate you, when they exclude you and insult you and reject your name as evil,” because “great is your reward in heaven.”[20] Focusing on the eternal, and the joy it gives us, enables us to endure even the worst circumstances because we recognize they are temporal—and temporary—and “are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”[21]

Considering it pure joy is admittedly far easier said than done, and I write this as one who struggles to be joyful in the present reality for a future promises. Discipline is involved in considering it pure joy. As Paul prayed for the Romans, so now I close by praying for you and me, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”[22]

[1] James 1:2
[2] James 1:3-4
[3] American Dictionary of the English Language, “joy,” accessed April 25, 2017, http://webstersdictionary1828.com/Dictionary/joy
[4] See I Kings 8:65-66; II Chronicles 30:26; Psalm 92:4, 126:3;
[5] Deuteronomy 16:15, emphasis added
[6] Esther 9:17, emphasis added
[7] See Matthew 28:8; Luke 24:52
[8] Habakkuk 3:17-18
[9] I Thessalonians 1:6
[10] Hebrews 10:34
[11] Hebrews 12:2
[12] I Thessalonians 2:19-20
[13] Romans 12:12
[14] I Peter 1:8-9, emphasis added
[15] I Peter 1:13
[16] Isaiah 35:10
[17] Luke 2:10-11
[18] See also Psalm 5:11, 19:8; Isaiah 26:19; Jeremiah 15:16; John 15:10-11, 16:20-24; Philemon 1:7; Colossians 1:12; and Jude 24-25
[19] Philippians 4:4
[20] Luke 6:22-23
[21] II Corinthians 4:17
[22] Romans 15:13, emphasis added

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Belief vs Unbelief

4/26/2017

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Have you ever been asked which Bible character you most relate to? We tend to gravitate, it seems, to the usual suspects: we’re like Peter because we’re impetuous; we’re like Joseph because we’re long-suffering; we’re like David because we made a grave mistake but repented of it. All valid. But one of the people I best identify with is a man whose name we’re never told, about whom we know very little. In fact, he only utters only a few lines before disappearing from the scene. We find the most detail about him in the Gospel of Mark:

A man in the crowd answered, “Teacher, I brought you my son, who is possessed by a spirit that has robbed him of speech. Whenever it seizes him, it throws him to the ground. He foams at the mouth, gnashes his teeth and becomes rigid. I asked your disciples to drive out the spirit, but they could not.” “You unbelieving generation,” Jesus replied, “how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you? Bring the boy to me.”
So they brought him. When the spirit saw Jesus, it immediately threw the boy into a convulsion. He fell to the ground and rolled around, foaming at the mouth.
Jesus asked the boy’s father, “How long has he been like this?”
“From childhood,” he answered. “It has often thrown him into fire or water to kill him. But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”
“‘If you can’?” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for one who believes.”
Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”
When Jesus saw that a crowd was running to the scene, he rebuked the impure spirit. “You deaf and mute spirit,” he said, “I command you, come out of him and never enter him again.”
The spirit shrieked, convulsed him violently and came out. The boy looked so much like a corpse that many said, “He’s dead.” But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him to his feet, and he stood up.
(Mark 9:17-27)

There are a number of ways we could analyze this passage and points of focus we could emphasize. But I want to look specifically at this father and the quality of his faith. His seeming contradiction (“I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief,” emphasis added) naturally raises the question, what condition was this man’s heart in? That is, which statement overrode the other? Was he a man of faith who struggled with doubts, or was he a disbeliever trying to muster some small seed of faith? And does it matter?

First, we must make a clarification. There is a difference between doubt and disbelief. Webster defines the former thusly: To waver or fluctuate in opinion; to hesitate; to be in suspense; to be in uncertainty; to be in suspense; to be in uncertainty, respecting the truth or fact; to be undetermined.[1] Disbelief, on the other hand, implies willfulness. One could say a person with doubts is trying to believe or wants to believe, but struggles to do so because faith isn’t always easy, isn’t always natural. On the other hand, a person who disbelieves is trying not to believe, is refusing to believe, regardless of the evidence. While there are warnings against doubting in the Bible, it is this latter form of person Scripture especially condemns.[2]

We tend to fall into the trap of thinking that having faith means never having doubts. But look at the “father” of faith, Abraham, a man who we’re told “did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God”[3] but lived “by faith.”[4] If anybody had perfect faith, it was him, right? Yet in Genesis we find him trying to bring about God’s promise on his own terms[5] and twice passing off his wife as his sister out of fear instead of faith.[6] Even Abraham, the man of faith, struggled with doubts.

So what of the man in Mark’s gospel? “Help me overcome my unbelief.” The Greek word used for unbelief is apistia, and it’s the same word found in Mark 6 when Jesus “was amazed at [many in his hometown’s] lack of faith,”[7] in Hebrews 3 (as noted above) to lament the Israelites who rebelled against God and were denied entrance to the Promised Land, and which Paul used to describe his pre-conversion state.[8] It is also the same word used to define Abraham’s lack of unbelief in Romans 4 (also as noted above). As it pertains to the man in Mark 9, then, it doesn’t seem to be relating to a passing doubt. It seems to be describing someone who is seriously wrestling with who God is. Indeed, what did he say to Jesus—“If you can.”

So we have here a man who expresses faith, but at the same time admits a lack of faith. If we’re honest, I think we can all relate to that at some point and in some way in our lives. I know I can. So to rephrase my earlier question, does his faith cancel out his lack of faith, or does his unbelief cancel out his belief? And what does that mean for us when we find ourselves in the same situation. Are we going to be left on the outside looking in because of our unbelief?

I think we find the answer in how Jesus responds to the man. He commands the spirit to leave the man’s son, then lifts him to his feet healed. Jesus then moves on to talk to his disciples about what has taken place and why they couldn’t drive out the spirit. He turns it into a teaching moment. But as it relates to the man, we see Jesus responding to his faith. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus’ healing is not always based upon a declaration or demonstration of faith. Often we read of Him making a comment to the affect that He is healing in response to faith,[9] but not always. However, we never see Him perform healing in response to a declaration or demonstration of disbelief. In fact, we’re told in one instance that “he did not do many miracles there because of their lack of faith.”[10] Another time He quoted from Isaiah 6, saying “For this people’s heart has become calloused; they hardly hear with their ears, and they have closed their eyes. Otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts and turn, and I would heal them.”[11] Note that Jesus does not heal these calloused people because they exhibit signs of disbelief. These verses open an entirely new conversation on the correlation between our faith and the movement of God, but that is for another time. What I think it tells us in this particular instance is that Jesus looked at this man and his struggle of faith and saw legitimacy in his belief.

We tend to talk about being people of faith, or having faith. And Scripture is clear, a faith response is required on our part to receive God’s forgiveness and salvation. But the issue is not the size, strength, or substance of our faith. It is the size, strength, and substance of the One in whom we have faith. If perfect faith was required to be right with God, no person would attain that right standing any more than if the standard was perfect obedience. But the beauty of the gospel is that God does not require our perfection—either in works or in faith. He simply requires that we have faith. As He told His disciples immediately after the interaction with the man and his son, “Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”[12] The key seems to be having faith at all, not having perfect faith. Not until, as the old hymn puts it, “the day when my faith shall be sight” will we have perfect faith, and then it will no longer be faith.

So if you relate to this man, as I do, take heart. Your doubts and struggles do not separate you from God. In fact, a doubt implies there is something (a belief) to be doubted. A struggle implies two sides (one of them being faith) are present. This is by no means an excuse to wallow in doubt or unbelief. Perhaps the key word in all this text is “help.” This also clues us in to the man’s true position. “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief” (emphasis added) is a heartfelt, perhaps even tearful[13] request—a plea. If you, like this man, say to Jesus, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” I think you can be confident that your faith “is enough” or is sufficient, as was—as demonstrated by Jesus’ response—his.

[1] American Dictionary of the English Language “doubt,” accessed April 20, 2017, http://webstersdictionary1828.com/Dictionary/doubt
[2] See Numbers 14:11-12; Romans 11:20-23; Hebrews 3:12-19
[3] Romans 4:20
[4] See Hebrews 11:8-19
[5] See Genesis 16
[6] See Genesis 12:10-20 and Genesis 20
[7] Mark 6:6
[8] I Timothy 1:13
[9] See Matthew 9:22, 29; 15:28; Mark 10:52; Luke 17:19;
[10] Matthew 13:58, emphasis added.
[11] Matthew 13:15
[12] Matthew 17:20
[13] See Mark 9:24 (ESV) and footnote

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Pilate Error, Part III

4/14/2017

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Part I and Part II examine Pilate’s failure to recognize Truth, ignorance of truth, and devaluing truth.

Pilate has failed to recognize that he should be seeking truth. He has failed to recognize truth when presented to him. And he has disregarded truth when it came knocking again. But the story is not finished. And we will see Pilate have several more opportunities to encounter truth, and we will see him come tantalizingly close to responding to truth. But in perhaps one of the saddest (and most easy for us to identify with) errors in all of Scripture, we will see Pilate turn away from truth.

We’re told that Pilate goes back out to the Jews and tells them, “I find no basis for a charge against him.”[1] We would at first cheer Pilate in at least recognizing that Jesus didn’t deserve to die. But his next statement condemns him. “But it is your custom for me to release to you one prisoner at the time of the Passover. Do you want me to release ‘the king of the Jews’?”[2] The Jews respond, “No, not him! Give us Barabbas!”[3] Their bloodlust was such that they were willing to have a thief, an insurrectionist, a murderer, released into the populace again. But as we focus on Pilate, we see an abdication of duty. Jesus was clearly innocent of the charges against Him, and Pilate saw it. But instead of standing up to the mob, he tries to bribe them to do the right thing. He seeks the path of appeasement. Now, I don’t envy Pilate facing these crazed, bloodthirsty folks. But neither can I absolve him of guilt for caving to them.

We are given another tidbit of information in Matthew’s Gospel, where between Pilate’s offer to free Jesus and the people’s response to give them Barabbas instead, we’re told that his wife sends the following word to Pilate: “Don’t have anything to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him.”[4] Scripture gives us no indication as to how Pilate receives the news, but it doesn’t appear to stiffen his spine at all.

In John, we’re told that Pilate has Jesus flogged.[5] This is perhaps the greatest understatement ever penned (aside from the description of the crucifixion). In reality, Pilate has Jesus’ body mutilated. After this, the soldiers place the crown of thorns on Jesus’ head and mock him, and we read that Pilate again goes out to the crowd and says, “Look, I am bringing him out to you to let you know that I find no basis for a charge against him.”[6] He then has Jesus brought out and says, “Here is the man!”[7] Compare that with verse 14, where he says, “Here is your King.”[8] I’ll touch on that more later, but for now, the distinction is that Pilate has dehumanized Jesus and now has Him stand before the crowd and refers to Him not as the King of the Jews but as a “man.” I think Pilate was again hoping that the chief priests, elders, and the mob would see the spectacle that Jesus’ body had become, be overtaken with pity—or that their bloodlust would be satisfied—and would relent. Pilate is torn here—he wants to free Jesus, but he doesn’t have the courage to do so. Truth has found its way into his heart and head, but will he accept it?

The Jews demand that Jesus be crucified, and tell Pilate, “We have a law, and according to that law he must die, because he claimed to be the Son of God.”[9] John records that “[w]hen Pilate heard this, he was even more afraid.”[10] I mentioned earlier that Jesus’ statement about His kingdom being from a different place seems to affect Pilate. I think, at least on some level, Pilate recognizes that not only is Jesus not guilty of any crime, but also that he is somehow different from the average person on the street. I think he has a supernaturally-inspired fear, and when the Jews announce that Jesus claimed to be the Son of God, that fear strikes home.

Pilate questions Jesus some more, asking “Where do you come from?”[11] He is probing. This time, I think he is sincerely asking the question of Jesus. He has begun to respond to truth! But now Jesus, who previously spoke to Pilate more than to anyone else, is silent. We could speculate as to the reason, but it would be just that. So let’s focus on what Pilate says next. “Do you refuse to speak to me? Don’t you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?”[12] Pilate is still focused on power, and he dangles a carrot in front of Jesus. Were this an ordinary human—were Jesus not on a divine mission to lay down his life—he would jump at the chance to get out alive. But Jesus answers, “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.”[13]

Pilate plays his trump card—I have the power to save your life. And Jesus trumps it by telling Pilate that his authority is at the discretion of God. This response by Jesus is the type we might expect to incur a violent outburst from Pilate. But what happens next?

From then on, Pilate tried to set Jesus free.[14] That is an interesting statement that gives us insight into Pilate’s state of mind. Remember what he just told Jesus, “I have authority to release you.” So why does John write that Pilate “tried” to set Him free? The answer comes in the latter part of the verse, but before we go there, let’s press pause and review what has happened so far. Christ has revealed Himself to Pilate, declaring Himself to be a king from another place and declaring—as reported to Pilate by the Jewish leaders—Himself to be the Son of God. Pilate’s wife has called Jesus an “innocent man.” And Pilate has three times protested to the Jews that Jesus is innocent. Now, the phrase “from then on,” suggests a turning point. Pilate has been confronted with truth, and he has turned toward it. He has not placed faith in Christ as his Savior or recognized Him as the Messiah, but an initial softening of his heart has taken place. He is being drawn to Jesus.

This presents a fascinating tangent for us to explore for a minute. As we read through the last half of John 18 and the first part of John 19, we cannot help see the Holy Spirit tugging at Pilate. He is presented time and time again with truth and with opportunity to respond. Clearly Jesus came to die on the cross—it was the mission He referred to repeatedly throughout the Gospels. We see how the events leading up to His death were prophesied centuries earlier and fulfilled in precise detail. It would seem that Pilate is destined to play the part of the villain. And yet, we cannot but infer that God is drawing him to the truth throughout these events. Which raises the obvious question of why?

I think there are two reasons. First, because God “wants all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth.”[15] I think the case of Pilate is one of the strongest arguments supporting the idea that man does indeed have free will, and is capable of accepting or rejecting the salvation God has offered. In His omniscience, God could have worked out His purposes and plans had Pilate ultimately freed Jesus. God didn’t create Pilate, imbue him with a soul, and damn him to a role in the cosmic story that would send him to hell. Rather, before time began, God knew the ultimate decision of Pilate’s heart, and worked accordingly.

Second, I think God—knowing Pilate would ultimately not respond in faith—still revealed Himself, still drew the Roman governor, so that there could be absolutely no question of his guilt on the Day of Judgment. Neither Pilate nor anyone else will be able to stand before God and accuse Him of playing favorites, of not giving them their fair shot. Pilate clearly had it. And as we’ll see, he blew it.

Back to John 19. Pilate seeks to free Jesus, we’re told. [B]ut but the Jewish leaders kept shouting, “If you let this man go, you are no friend of Caesar. Anyone who claims to be a king opposes Caesar.”[16] The Jews now play their trump card. They hate Caesar. They hate Rome. The people have been longing for a Messiah, but not a spiritual one. They want a conquering hero to come and overthrow the oppressive Romans. To invoke the emperor must have nearly gagged them. But they know it will bend Pilate to their will.

We have seen repeatedly that Pilate is obsessed with power. And the one thing he would hate to lose, more than anything, is his position of power. Let word get back to Caesar that he’s tolerating a man who claims to be king, a usurper, and that position would be in danger. (Study the history of Rome—they pulled the trigger pretty quickly and dramatically when it came to regime change.) And the Jewish leaders knew this. Earlier, while plotting to kill Jesus, they said, “Here is this man performing many signs. If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and then the Romans will come and take away both our temple and our nation.” The high priest, Caiaphas, responded, “You know nothing at all! You do not realize that it is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish.”[17] They themselves fear the Roman hammer falling on them, and Pilate shares their fear.

He makes one last, desperate push. “Here is your king,”[18] he says. Consider what he’s really saying: “Look at this guy. His body’s been ripped apart. He’s been mocked, ridiculed, spat upon, taunted. His ‘devoted’ followers all ran away. Look at him! This--THIS!—is the king you’re claiming is a threat to Caesar? Really?”

They are undeterred. They chant for Jesus to be crucified, and close their case with the words, “We have no king but Caesar.”[19] It had to stick in their throats, but the fact that they would utter something so heinous to them tells Pilate they will follow through on their threat. If he lets this man claiming to be a king go free, they will make sure Caesar hears about it. And so while Pilate “tried” to free Jesus, he is unable to overcome his obsession with power, his fear of being unseated and losing his position. Truth was presented to him. And Truth began to win him over. But Truth was never paramount to Pilate, and in the end, He chooses his own god while sending the Son of God to His death.

Note: History doesn’t tell us what ultimately became of Pilate. According to the Romano-Jewish historian Josephus, he was deposed and sent to Rome few years later. Rumors exist that he was ultimately driven mad and committed suicide. If true, one could understand why.

[1] John 18:38
[2] John 18:39
[3] John 18:40
[4] Matthew 27:19
[5] See John 19:1
[6] John 19:4
[7] John 19:5
[8] John 19:14
[9] John 19:7
[10] John 19:8
[11] John 19:9
[12] John 19:10
[13] John 19:11
[14] John 19:12
[15] I Timothy 2:4, emphasis added; see also II Peter 3:9
[16] John 19:12
[17] John 11:47-50
[18] John 19:14
[19] John 19:15

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Pilate Error, Part II

4/13/2017

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Part I examines how Pilate failed to recognize truth and how he was ignorant that truth even existed to be found. Read it here.

Having missed the ultimate question Christ was asking him, Pilate proceeds to say the following: “Your own people and chief priests handed you over to me. What is it you have done?”[i] This is clearly not inquisitiveness on the part of the governor, because the charges against Jesus have been presented to him. No, he’s mocking Jesus. He is supposed to be the King of the Jews, and yet it is the Jews who are asking Pilate to execute Him. Pilate is basically taunting, “What kind of lousy king are you?”

Jesus doesn’t reply directly, which is very common for Him. Instead, he says, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place.”[ii] Again, let’s ask the question, why does Jesus answer the way He does?

He has just asked Pilate a question to determine whether or not Pilate acknowledges Jesus for who He is. As we looked at, Pilate doesn’t recognize Truth as it stands in front of him. Pilate doesn’t even recognize that he should be seeking Truth. So Jesus introduces to Pilate this concept of a heavenly kingdom—a kingdom “not of this world.”

If Jesus was the earthly, solely physical “King of the Jews,” one of two things would happen: The Jews would claim Him as such and not arrest Him in the first place, or His servants—those closest and most loyal to Him—would fight to stave off the uprising and rebellion. This takes us back twenty-five verses, to the Garden, when “a detachment of soldiers and some officials from the chief priests and the Pharisees”[iii] came to arrest Jesus:

Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it and struck the high priest’s servant, cutting off his right ear. (The servant’s name was Malchus.)
Jesus commanded Peter, “Put your sword away! Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?”[iv]

In Matthew’s Gospel, we read that Jesus also said, “all who draw the sword will die by the sword. Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels? But how then would the Scriptures be fulfilled that say it must happen in this way?”[v] Peter, who exhibited great faith by proclaiming Christ’s identity as the Son of God, is also known for showing a very human focus and perspective, perhaps never more so than in Gethsemane. But Jesus’ focus was not on avoiding arrest. It was not on putting down these usurpers to His kingdom. It was not about the physical, but the spiritual. Thus His words to Pilate.

Jesus gives Pilate a second encounter with the truth. This time, Pilate cannot claim ignorance—although such a claim wouldn’t really excuse him. “My kingdom is from another place,” Jesus says. He cannot be speaking of an earthly kingdom from another place (i.e., Greece or Persia) because His earlier statement about His servants fighting to prevent His arrest would still be true. Here before Pilate is a man who did not resist arrest, who did not defend Himself when accused, who engages the most powerful man in Jerusalem not with pleas for mercy but with a high-level debate. Weighing Jesus’ words and actions, we should infer—as should have Pilate—that Jesus is claiming something supernatural, a kingdom that transcends even the mighty Roman Empire by its very nature. And that should, considering Jesus displayed no symptoms of a madman, give Pilate pause. As we’ll see later, it appears that is—at least on some layer—the case.

Commentaries disagree on the tone of Pilate’s response, “You are a king, then!”[vi] Some suggest he is mocking Jesus, having some fun with Him as we might with someone who claimed to believe in aliens. Others claim that Pilate is uneasy and in awe of Christ’s manner. I tend to lean toward the former, as evidenced by Pilate’s next remark, and believe that he is patronizing Jesus.

Having introduced to Pilate the concept of a supernatural, eternal kingdom, Jesus now confronts him head on with the truth: “You say that I am a king. In fact, the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth.”[vii] The phrase “you say” is essentially an affirmation, which is why the previous edition of the NIV stated it, “You are right in saying . . .”[viii] This is an important distinction because it is a definitive declaration by Jesus that He is indeed a king. He is not ducking the issue or avoiding going on the record.

Now note what comes next. Jesus tells Pilate His purpose in being born, the purpose of the incarnation, is “to testify to the truth.” Paul writes to Timothy of “Christ Jesus, who while testifying before Pontius Pilate made the good confession.”[ix] We must ask then, what is this truth that Jesus is confessing? What is this truth of which it is His purpose to testify? Is it truth in general—has Jesus come to be a human lie detector? Or is He speaking of a specific truth? Similarly, when Jesus told the Jews who had believed in Him, “Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free,”[x] of what truth was He speaking? And how exactly is testifying to the truth His ultimate purpose? Didn’t He tell the disciples “the Son of Man [came to] give His life as a ransom for many,”[xi] the Pharisees that “I have come that they may have life,”[xii] and Zacchaeus that “the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost”[xiii]? Did Jesus have a dual purpose? Was His primary purpose to speak truth and He just happened to also save the world while He was at it? What are we to make of this statement?

This question is important as we ultimately examine Pilate’s response (and, indeed, as we form our response to a questioning world). And I think John’s Gospel gives us the answer. In his extended dialogue with the Jews in John 8, Jesus made the following statements:

“I stand with the Father, who sent me.”[xiv]
“If you knew me, you would know my Father also.”[xv]
“[H]e who sent me is trustworthy, and what I have heard from him I tell the world.”[xvi]
“When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know that I am he and that I do nothing on my own but speak just what the Father has taught me. The one who sent me is with me; he has not left me alone, for I always do what pleases him.”[xvii]

“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”[xviii]
“[I]f you do not believe that I am he, you will indeed die in your sins.”[xix]
“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”[xx]

Two observations from these verses: 1) Jesus is speaking and doing what the Father has told Him to say and do. The two are in union, a theme common in John’s Gospel. 2) Jesus’ actions lead to life and freedom. The context of the rest of the book and of the Gospels (and indeed of all Scripture) tell us that that life is eternal life and that freedom is freedom from sin and death, and both are a result of Christ’s death on the cross. Thus, when Jesus says, “As it is, you are looking for a way to kill me, a man who has told you the truth that I heard from God,”[xxi] we can conclude that the core of that truth to which he has testified or confessed is none other than the truth he told Nicodemus:

Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him.
For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.[xxii]

In other words, the truth Jesus came to testify to is also the work He came to do. This is how He can tell the disciples, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

Therefore we see that Jesus’ purpose as stated to Pilate is in harmony with the purpose He gave His disciples, the Pharisees, and Zacchaeus. So to recap, Jesus has told Pilate that He is a king, that His kingdom is not a mere physical kingdom, and that He has come to testify to the truth that He is the Savior of the world. This ties back to His initial question to Pilate, asking if the governor recognized Jesus as the King of the Jews—the true, rightful king—on his own. Jesus has in these few verses made a truth claim—not just any truth claim, the ultimate truth claim. It is the claim that divides all mankind into two categories— “Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life, but whoever rejects the Son will not see life.”[xxiii] And Jesus concludes his remarks to Pilate with the statement, “Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”[xxiv] He has put before the Roman governor “a time for choosing,” with the sides clearly defined.

Pilate’s response is haunting: “What is truth?”[xxv] The NIV tells us he “retorted” this question, and all versions inform us that he viewed this as the end of the discussion. This was not, then, an inquisitive remark. Pilate is not seeking wisdom from Jesus. He is dismissing Him. He is scoffing at the idea of truth. Perhaps he is a postmodernist who doesn’t believe in absolutes. More likely, the only truth that matters to Pilate is that he has power. Either way, he makes a grave error in devaluing truth. It’s a two thousand-year-old account, but it could be ripped from today’s headlines—a politician (or the average guy or gal on the street or in a church pew) who views truth as subservient to personal preference, emotion and feelings, and power or money. But Truth will not long be suppressed . . .

[i] John 18:35
[ii] John 18:36
[iii] John 18:3
[iv] John 18:10-11
[v] Matthew 26:52-54
[vi] John 18:37
[vii] John 18:37
[viii] Courtesy of StudyLight.org
[ix] I Timothy 6:13
[x] John 8:32
[xi] Matthew 20:28
[xii] John 10:10
[xiii] Luke 19:10
[xiv] John 8:16
[xv] John 8:19
[xvi] John 8:26
[xvii] John 8:28-29
[xviii] John 8:12
[xix] John 8:24
[xx] John 8:36
[xxi] John 8:40, emphasis added
[xxii] John 3:14-17
[xxiii] John 3:36
[xxiv] John 18:37
[xxv] John 18:38

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Pilate Error, Part I

4/11/2017

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One of the most intriguing passages in Scripture, in my opinion, is the back-and-forth between Jesus and Pilate. As we pause this Passion Week to remember and reflect, I want to take a deep dive into that conversation. But I want to do so from the perspective of the Roman governor of Judea, the man known as Pontius Pilate. Particularly, I want to focus on how he responded when he encountered Truth, and use his errors as cautionary tales for us. I’ve broken this examination up into three posts, each looking at a different portion of their conversation and each highlighting a different Pilate Error.

John’s Gospel gives us the greatest glimpse of this interaction, so we’ll focus primarily on his account, but we’ll also fold in other references to flesh out our knowledge of the situation. We first come upon Pilate in the middle of John 18, where we’re told the Jewish leaders bring Jesus from Caiaphas the high priest to Pilate, who asks them, “What charges are you bringing against this man?”[i] Their response, in John, is essentially, “He is a criminal.” Mark tells us that they “accused him of many things”[ii] and Luke records them saying, “We have found this man subverting our nation. He opposes payment of taxes to Caesar and claims to be Messiah, a king.”[iii] It is this charge that prompts Pilate’s interaction with Jesus, starting with a question recorded verbatim in all four Gospels:

“Are you the King of the Jews?”[iv]

We should note here that Jesus does not respond to any of the Jews’ accusations, “not even to a single charge.”[v] This mirrors His behavior when on trial before Caiaphas. He gave no answer, offered no defense, except in response to one question, “Are you the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed One?”[vi] Each of the Synoptic Gospels records Him confirming it. Now, before Pilate, Jesus is again silent until asked if He is the King of the Jews. He replies, “Is that your own idea, or did others talk to you about me?”[vii] At first, this seems like a somewhat odd response, but I think Jesus is asking a much deeper question of Pilate. I think He is essentially asking the same question He asked the disciples, “Who do you say I am?”[viii] Let me unpack that.

Pilate’s question is an odd one as well, because the Jews have not had a king in over six hundred years. The Southern Kingdom, Judah, was captured by Babylon and the Jews were taken into exile in 586 B.C., approximately 135 years after the Northern Kingdom, Israel, was overthrown by the Assyrians. Currently, the Jews are under Roman control. Pilate, as governor, would clearly know this, and would never think to ask anyone—much less an itinerant rabbi, the son of a carpenter—if he was the King of the Jews unless either that person had made such a claim or someone had made the claim about the person (as noted in Luke, above). Even then, the question “Are you the King of the Jews?” would be asked the way a psychiatrist might humor a mentally unstable person. So why does Jesus reply the way He does?

There is another way the phrase King of the Jews could be meant, and to understand it, we have to go back to the Old Testament. In I Samuel, we read the following:

So all the elders of Israel gathered together and came to Samuel at Ramah. They said to him, “You are old, and your sons do not follow your ways; now appoint a king to lead us, such as all the other nations have.”
But when they said, “Give us a king to lead us,” this displeased Samuel; so he prayed to the Lord. And the Lord told him: “Listen to all that the people are saying to you; it is not you they have rejected, but they have rejected me as their king.”[ix]

God then had Samuel anoint Saul as king. Saul was followed by David, then Solomon, and then the kingdom split up into North and South until the respective captivities. But the divine plan was never for Israel to have a human king. Yahweh was to be their only king. This is the same Yahweh who revealed Himself to Moses in the burning bush, saying “I am who I am.”[x] Jesus incited the Jews to attempt to stone Him when he said to them, “Before Abraham was born, I am!”[xi]—a declaration that He was Yahweh. (Interesting to note, “I am” in John 8:58 is translated from the Greek eimi, the same word we find when Jesus answers, “I am,”[xii] to the charge of the high priest in Mark’s Gospel.) Tie this all together and we see that the only true King of the Jews who was ever to be is Yahweh—the very Person standing before Pilate at that moment. And it would only be a person who recognized Jesus as such who could, on their own, come to the conclusion that He is the King of the Jews.

So when Jesus asks the question, “Is that your own idea, or did others talk to you about me?” I would suggest to you He is really asking, on a deeper level, “Do you believe that I am Yahweh, the true King of the Jews, or are you responding to what someone else said?” In other words, “Who do you say I am?”

And what is Pilate’s response? A sarcastic, dismissive, “Am I a Jew?”[xiii] Pilate completely misses the question, and it leads to our first Pilate Error: When confronted with the truth—and in this case, Truth with a capital T—Pilate doesn’t even recognize it as such. There are two ways we can miss truth. We can be like the Jewish leaders, who knew to ask the question, “Are you the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed One?” They knew truth existed—they had been taught the truth all their lives, yet “refuse[d] to come to [Jesus] to have life.”[xiv] They were looking for Truth in the wrong place—they were looking for a political savior—and were so focused on their own power and self-righteousness that they didn’t realize they were in need of a spiritual savior. Or we can be like Pilate, who—not being a Jew—was not anticipating the coming of the Messiah. We can be ignorant that truth even exists to be found.

But don’t underestimate our God. Even if we fail to recognize that truth exists, He is still gracious to reveal Himself to us—as we will see as we study Jesus’ interaction with Pilate in more detail.

[i] John 18:29
[ii] Mark 15:3
[iii] Luke 23:2
[iv] Matthew 27:11; Mark 15:2; Luke 23:3; John 18:33;
[v] Matthew 27:14
[vi] Mark 14:61
[vii] John 18:34
[viii] Matthew 16:15
[ix] I Samuel 8:4-7
[x] Exodus 3:14
[xi] John 8:58
[xii] Mark 14:62
[xiii] John 18:35
[xiv] John 5:40

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Taking God's Name in Vain

4/1/2017

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You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless who takes his name in vain.[1]

Somehow, somewhere along the way, I fear we’ve gotten into our heads that the Third Commandment is a third-rate commandment. And I’m not talking culture at large. I’m talking about Christians. I’m talking about me. Murder and adultery and lying—sure, they’re bad and we frown on them. But read some Christian blogs, listen to Christian conversations, read Christian social media posts. Do we live out “hallowed be your name”[2] in how we talk? Are our words half as holy as the cows, cats, certain species of fish, and northern Ohio cities to which we ascribe sacredness? Now, I’m sure some of you are rolling your eyes and asking what’s next, prohibitions against playing cards and going to the movies? Maybe I’ll growl for you to get off my lawn? And I get it, nobody wants a visit from the language police. My intention is not to go around with a little notecard marking up demerits when I hear you utter a “darn” or “dang.” Rather, I want to remind us all of the holiness of God’s name. We dare not profane it. And I use the plural “we” intentionally, because I am talking to myself as much as anyone.

As we look at the Third Commandment, I want to focus primarily on two words, “take” and “vain,” as we seek to understand what exactly this commandment is outlawing. What constitutes taking God’s name in vain?

A check of multiple versions repeatedly shows the original Hebrew translated simply as “take,” or else as the NIV puts it, “You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God” (emphasis added). It’s pretty straightforward. So how do we take God’s name that we could take it vainly—how do we use it that we could misuse it? Scripture gives us the answer with several examples. First, look at Joshua, who instructed Achan (who had broken God’s commands by taking the devoted things from Jericho) by saying, “My son, give glory to the Lord, the God of Israel, and honor him. Tell me what you have done; do not hide it from me.”[3] Similarly, the Pharisees, when questioning the blind man whom Jesus had healed, put him under oath by saying, “Give glory to God by telling the truth.”[4] And when questioning Jesus at His “trial,” the high priest said, “I charge you under oath by the living God: Tell us if you are the Messiah, the Son of God.”[5] We do something not all that different in our modern courts of law, where a witness places their hand on a Bible and swears “to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.” The author of Hebrews sheds a little more light on this practice: People swear by someone greater than themselves, and the oath confirms what is said and puts an end to all argument.[6] Sort of like swearing on your mother’s grave or crossing your heart and hoping to die. All of these have in common the idea that you would never dare tread upon that by which you take the oath. Your life, your mother’s grave, the Bible on which you place your hand, and God’s name and glory are all sacred. This then, I believe, is what is meant by the phrase “take the name of the Lord your God.”

Put a pin in that thought for a moment and consider the meaning of our second word, “vain.” It is the same Hebrew word used in other passages warning against taking God’s name in vain, as well as in admonitions against bearing a false report[7] or false witness[8] and in regard to seeing false visions.[9] It is also the same word we find in Psalm 127:1: Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain. We don’t need to overthink this one—“in vain” means just what it sounds like it means. The point of the Third Commandment, then, is that we should not invoke the name of God—we should not swear—lightly.

But let’s flesh out this idea a little more. Where did the taking of oaths originate? Didn’t Jesus say in the Sermon on the Mount, “All you need to say is simply ‘Yes’ or ‘No’; anything beyond this comes from the evil one”[10]? We’ll come back to this passage in a moment, because I think it needs some clarification. And the reason for that is because oaths actually originate with God. Do a word search of “oath” in the Old Testament[11] and you will see repeated mention of God’s oath to Abraham and to the Israelites, as well as instructions for the administration of oaths in legal matters. You’ll even find the command, “Fear the Lord your God, serve him only and take your oaths in his name.”[12] Referencing God’s oath to Abraham, the author of Hebrews writes, “Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, he confirmed it with an oath. God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled to take hold of the hope set before us may be greatly encouraged.”[13] The text goes on to give us assurance in our “anchor,” Christ Jesus—assurance based on God’s promise and the impossibility of God lying. He cannot break a promise. And He is our model when we make an oath, when we make a promise. Our word should be our bond. This is why James echoes Jesus when he writes “let your ‘yes’ be yes and your ‘no’ be no.”[14]

This brings us back to the Sermon on the Mount:
“Again, you have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘Do not break your oath, but fulfill to the Lord the vows you have made.’ But I tell you, do not swear an oath at all: either by heaven, for it is God’s throne; or by the earth, for it is his footstool; or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the Great King. And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make even one hair white or black. All you need to say is simply ‘Yes’ or ‘No’; anything beyond this comes from the evil one.”[15]

Is Jesus revoking the Old Testament instructions about oaths and, in fact, condemning Himself for taking them? I’ll answer that by quoting from two well-respected commentaries that I think resolve the apparent tension between God’s words in the Old Testament and Jesus’ words (and actions, as seen in Matthew 26:63-64) in the New Testament:

There is no reason to consider that solemn oaths in a court of justice, or on other proper occasions, are wrong, provided they are taken with due reverence. But all oaths taken without necessity, or in common conversation, must be sinful, as well as all those expressions which are appeals to God, though persons think thereby to evade the guilt of swearing. The worse men are, the less they are bound by oaths; the better they are, the less there is need for them. Our Lord does not enjoin the precise terms wherein we are to affirm or deny, but such a constant regard to truth as would render oaths unnecessary.[16]

Our Saviour here evidently had no reference to judicial oaths, or oaths taken in a court of justice. It was merely the foolish and wicked habit of swearing in private conversation; of swearing on every occasion and by everything that he condemned.[17]

Once again, the idea expressed in the Third Commandment and supported by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount is that of falsely or loosely invoking God’s name. As He said elsewhere, “Do not swear falsely by my name and so profane the name of your God. I am the Lord.”[18] This can have several meanings. We can swear an oath we have no intention of keeping. But we can also swear an oath (i.e., wedding vows) that we have every intention of keeping, but then break. And if we take that oath in God’s name, we have just profaned God’s name—we have by our actions taken it in vain. And if we somehow can read the second half of the Third Commandment and still think this is not a grave offense, consider some other biblical instances of profaning God’s name: sacrificing children to the false Ammonite god Molek,[19] stealing,[20] disobedience and idolatry leading to being exiled from Israel,[21] sexual perversity,[22] and marital unfaithfulness.[23] Friends, this is not a list we want to be part of.

We live in a pretty informal culture. Short of swearing in court or some legal proceeding, we don’t take oaths very often. But that does not mean we don’t take God’s name in vain every day. Have you broken the wedding vows (and I’m not just talking about adultery) you made “in the sight of God and these people”? Have you, as a Christian, who professes to follow God, not let your “yes” be yes or your “no” no? Have you tossed out a casual “Lord willin’” or “God forbid” or “for God’s sake” without truly meaning those words? Do you say “God bless you” when someone sneezes without the slightest intent of actually pronouncing a spiritual blessing upon that person? Have you texted “OMG” without considering what the “G” stands for? I would suggest these are all instances of invoking God’s name lightly or loosely, of taking it in vain.

I know some who read this will be likely to say I’m nitpicking or am being overly legalistic. Once again, my intent with this post is not to point out everyone’s flaws (mine included). Instead, it is to remind us all of the holiness of God’s name. It is not something we should use casually or dismissively, but rather reverently and soberly.

[1] Exodus 20:7, ESV
[2] Matthew 6:9
[3] Joshua 7:19
[4] John 9:24
[5] Matthew 26:63
[6] Hebrews 6:16
[7] See Exodus 23:1
[8] See Deuteronomy 5:20
[9] See Ezekiel 13:7-9
[10] Matthew 5:37
[11] https://www.biblegateway.com/quicksearch/?qs_version=NIV&quicksearch=oath&begin=1&end=46
[12] Deuteronomy 6:13
[13] Hebrews 6:17-18, emphasis added
[14] James 5:12, ESV
[15] Matthew 5:33-37
[16] Complete Commentary by Matthew Henry, Public Domain
[17] Notes on the Bible by Albert Barnes, Public Domain
[18] Leviticus 19:12
[19] See Leviticus 18:21, 20:3
[20] See Proverbs 30:9, ESV
[21] See Ezekiel 36:18-20
[22] See Amos 2:7
[23] See Malachi 2:10

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When We Walk Through the Valley

3/18/2017

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I was drawn to examine I Kings 19 about four years ago when I was going through a particularly rough patch in my life and when I, like Elijah, prayed, “I have had enough, Lord.”[1] I turned to study Elijah’s experience in the hopes that I would be able to find some encouraging examples of how God worked in his life. As I mentioned in my previous post on Elijah, I’m not proposing a formula for how to get God to act on our behalf or some magic sequence to solve our problems. That being said, we can look to these passages to learn something about God’s character and methods.

Before we dive into I Kings 19, let’s remember what we just saw in the previous chapter. Elijah scored a huge victory over the prophets of Baal. God showed up in a miraculous way. People’s hearts were turned back to God. Justice was meted out against those hostile to God. Rain fell on a parched land as God had promised. And all this took place as Elijah walked in faith with God. This actually leads to our first observation: When we walk through the valley, it is often after a mountaintop experience. Logic tells us that you can only go down from a mountaintop, so it is natural to expect something of a “letdown.” But often, the valley in which we find ourselves is not a mere alpine meadow, but a deep ravine with slopes so high and steep the sun can’t penetrate. Having just been on the mountaintop, literally and figuratively, that’s where Elijah finds himself as chapter 19 begins:

Now Ahab told Jezebel everything Elijah had done and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. So Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah to say, “May the gods deal with me, be it ever so severely, if by this time tomorrow I do not make your life like that of one of them.” Elijah was afraid and ran for his life. When he came to Beersheba in Judah, he left his servant there, while he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness.[2]

Elijah is so distraught that he pleads with God to take his life, to let him die, and then he lies down and falls asleep. Ever been there, so tired, so worn out from life, that the only escape is sleep? It may serve as a small measure of comfort to know that what you are experiencing is not atypical, whether in backcountry trekking, the everyday ebb and flow of life, or your spiritual walk. It may also serve as something of a reminder when you are on the mountaintop—not to sully the moment or create fear about what lies ahead—but to keep a sense of perspective and an honest recognition that you probably aren’t on a never-ending mesa.

While you may be able to relate to Elijah’s despair, I’m guessing you cannot relate—at least not in methodology—to what happens next. Our second observation is that when we walk through the valley, God sustains us. I’m not talking spiritual sustainment here. Look at verses 5-7. An angel came, provided food and drink for Elijah (similar to God’s provision in I Kings 17:2-6), and told him to rest again. This isn’t to say Christ followers never struggle to put food on the table or pay the rent. But I have heard numerous stories of Christians who didn’t know where their next meal or that rent check were coming from and, somehow, God provided. Furthermore, and this is the point I really want to hit on, when your valley is spiritual, don’t overlook the fact that God sustains you physically. That shows us that God has not forsaken us, even if He isn’t responding as quickly or in the way we’d like to our particular problem.

Now, this third observation is where things get a little unpleasant. Because we’d like to see that after providing for Elijah’s pressing physical needs, God makes all his problems go away. Instead, the angel tells him, “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.”[3] In the next verse, we’re told that journey lasts 40 days and 40 nights. We’ll see the relevance of that number a little later on, but for now our observation is that when we walk through the valley, sometimes God calls us to keep walking. He doesn’t fix our problems; He doesn’t ease our suffering; He doesn’t necessarily even address our need. This is where it becomes essential to remember God’s provision and trust in His character and His word and His past examples, lest we lose faith. The old saying is that “it always gets darkest just before the dawn.” But Elijah—and oft times you and I—can better relate to the adaption made by “Hannibal” on The A-Team: “It's always darkest just before it goes totally black.”[4] But the story isn’t over.

We’re told that Elijah spent the night in a cave in Horeb, the mountain of God. Then “the word of Lord came to him: “What are you doing here, Elijah?”[5] Our fourth observation is that when we walk through the valley, God lets us speak. Read through the Psalms. David cries out to God, pouring out his soul. Here we see Elijah doing the same thing. Often times, I think Christians feel we dare not show emotion in front of God, dare not be honest with Him. We shouldn’t take it to the extreme and lose respect or reverence for God, either. But He already knows us intimately and infinitely.[6] Scripture tells us He is our “Abba”[7] or Daddy. One of the great privileges of sonship is that, through Jesus, we can “approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.”[8] Sometimes that includes a confession of absolute exhaustion, of being at our wit’s end, as is Elijah: “The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.”[9]

As is often the case, biblical authors tell us what happens next with the barest of details (whereas other authors—ahem, ahem—might be a little more descriptive): Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.[10] The fifth observation is this: When we walk through the valley, God doesn’t always show up the way we want or expect. We think He should be the conquering hero, but He is the lowly servant. We sometimes want Him to come riding in on a white stallion but he plods in on a donkey. We expect special effects of, well, biblical proportion, but we get a “still small voice.” We want dramatic resolution, but get something of a process.

I also find it interesting that God whispers. A whisper has two purposes. One is secrecy. Elijah and God are, by all accounts, alone on the mountain. There is no need to whisper and no need for secrecy. The second purpose of a whisper is tenderness, an expression of love. God has clearly shown His power to Elijah, both in previous chapters and in the “special effects” on the mountain, but now He wraps his arms around the prophet. Note too that Elijah does not recoil from the whisper, but rather approaches the mouth of the cave—albeit with the cloak over his face, recognizing that “no one may see [God’s face] and live.”[11] This tender expression from God has drawn Elijah to Him, and now we see the resolution begin to take shape.

God repeats His earlier question, verbatim, and Elijah repeats his answer, verbatim. This leads to our final two observations. First, when we walk through the valley, sometimes God assigns us more work. “Go back the way you came,” God tells Elijah by way of answer, “and go to the Desert of Damascus. When you get there, anoint Hazael king over Aram. Also, anoint Jehu son of Nimshi over Israel, and anoint Elisha son of Shaphat from Abel Mehola to succeed you as prophet.”[12] Once again, this is not the answer we might expect or want. It at first appears that God is somewhat callous, responding to Elijah’s concerns with a taskmaster’s “get back to work” sort of response. But see what God says next: “Jehu will put to death any who escape the sword of Hazael, and Elisha will put to death any who escape the sword of Jehu.”[13] And we see one particular aspect of this judgment play out in II Kings 9:30-37, where Jehu has Jezebel thrown down from a window and killed. Remember her, the woman who drove Elijah to his despair? We also see a bit earlier in Scripture that the word of God came to Elijah about her fate.[14] So we see that God is not being dismissive in sending Elijah back to work, but is orchestrating His divine judgment and deliverance. And this segues to our last observation, which is this: Even when we walk through the valley, God is in control. Note how this section ends, in verse 18: “Yet I reserve seven thousand in Israel—all whose knees have not bowed down to Baal and whose mouths have not kissed him.” This is a direct response to Elijah’s assertion that he was the only one left loyal to God. And God gives him the reassurance—perhaps just enough reassurance—that He is still sovereign and that there is a remnant—a remarkably common theme of Scripture—“chosen by grace.”[15]

Before we conclude, I want briefly to note a couple parallels to this story. I’ve said that God isn’t bound by formulas, but He does often employ patterns. Consider the Israelites, whom God delivered from centuries of bondage in Egypt, passing them through the Red Sea in miraculous fashion (a mountaintop experience). When hard times beset them, they grumbled and turned away from God and found themselves wandering in the wilderness for 40 years (a real valley). Or look at Jesus. After His baptism, a “mountaintop” act of surrender that prompted the Father to say, “This is my son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased,”[16] Scripture tells us that Jesus was led into the desert where he was tempted by the devil for 40 days. We won’t take the time to examine specific consistencies in great detail, but we do see that with the Israelites, with Elijah, and with Jesus Himself, a valley follows a mountaintop, but also that God is faithful to bring deliverance. In the case of the Israelites, God was faithful to fulfil His promise and brought them to a “land flowing with milk and honey.”[17] In Jesus’ case, after He had resisted the devil, angels came and attended Him and He continued on with his Father-honoring mission. And we see that Elijah was, to some extent, an instrument of his own deliverance from the problem of Jezebel, and that God provided a successor in his ministry so that Elijah might eventually have rest.

To quickly summarize, when we walk through the valley: It is not uncommon but actually a typical part of life; we find that God sustains us; we see that God often calls us to keep walking; God allows us to express our feelings to Him; He doesn’t always show up as we expect or want; He often assigns us more work; and He is faithful to ultimately deliver us because He is in control.

[1] I Kings 19:4
[2] I Kings 19:1-4
[3] I Kings 19:7
[4] The A-Team. “The Rabbit Who Ate Last Vegas.” Season 1, Episode 6. Directed by Bruce Kessler. Written by Frank Lupo. National Broadcasting Company, March 1, 1983.
[5] I Kings 19:9
[6] See Psalm 139:1-5; Hebrews 4:13
[7] See Romans 8:15; Galatians 4:6
[8] Hebrews 4:16
[9] I Kings 19:10
[10] I Kings 19:11-12
[11] Exodus 33:20
[12] I Kings 19:15-16
[13] I Kings 19:17
[14] See I Kings 21:23
[15] Romans 11:5 (and see verses 1-4)
[16] Matthew 3:17
[17] Exodus 3:8, et al

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When God Shows Up

3/8/2017

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As a kid, one of my favorite Bible stories was that of Elijah racing Ahab’s chariot after spotting a cloud the size of “a man’s hand” in the distant sky. Now that I’m an adult, that story—coupled with Elijah’s showdown with the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel that preceded it—is still among my favorites. So I want to dive into it a little deeper and draw some observations related to God “showing up,” as He does here in remarkable fashion. With my next post, I want to build on and follow up those observations by scrutinizing Elijah under far different circumstances.

Normally, I hone in on a specific, fairly small passage, but in this post I’m going to be covering an entire chapter, so I’ll encourage you to pull up and read I Kings 18 for context. I also want to point out that I don’t mean to imply from these two posts that God always acts according to a set outline or follows 1-2-3 formulas. However, we will see some patterns, and we will get insights into God’s nature that can guide us, encourage us, and give us hope.[1]

To begin, let’s back up to chapter 17, where we are first introduced to Elijah the Tishbite. There we read the following decree he issued to Ahab, the evil king of Israel: “As the Lord, the God of Israel, lives, whom I serve, there will be neither dew nor rain in the next few years except at my word.”[2] Chapter 18 picks up this story by telling us, “After a long time, in the third year, the word of the Lord came to Elijah: ‘Go and present yourself to Ahab, and I will send rain on the land.’”[3] In between those two verses, in chapter 17, we see Elijah hearing, speaking, and acting on the word of God as he ministers to a widow in Zarephath. When her son died, Elijah cried out to God to restore his life, and we’re told, “The Lord heard Elijah’s cry.”[4] Our first observation then, is of Elijah closely following God and carrying out God’s will. God is not a magic genie whom we can summon to perform a particular action simply by obeying Him. However, I think Scripture is clear that God often moves in response to obedient faith. James, in a passage about prayer and faith, writes, “Elijah was a human being, even as we are. He prayed earnestly that it would not rain, and it did not rain on the land for three and a half years. Again he prayed, and the heavens gave rain, and the earth produced its crops.”[5] Jesus often healed in response to faith, and “did not do many miracles [in his hometown] because of their lack of faith.”[6] There is, then, a correlation between faith-filled living and the working of God.

The second thing we see, and it corresponds to the first, is that when God shows up, He does so according to His own will. I’ve often marveled at the account of Elijah’s showdown with the prophets of Baal and wondered if I could do such a thing—could I challenge those who believe in false gods and expect God to give a miraculous demonstration of His power and authority? And the answer is an emphatic yes!—if it was God’s will for me to do so. After the false prophets spend an entire day in futility, seeking to summon their god, Elijah has them douse his offering in water three times. Then he prays: “Lord, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Israel, let it be known today that you are God in Israel and that I am your servant and have done all these things at your command.”[7] Several times earlier in the chapter (verses 15, 22) Elijah referenced his service to God, and we’ve just looked at examples of that from chapter 17 as well. But the second observation is that Elijah has done “all these things” at God’s command. He did not wake up one morning and decide to poke the bear. God called him to this showdown. Can you or I expect God to do what He did for Elijah, or move in a similarly remarkable way? Are we walking in faith? Has He directed us accordingly? If so, the biblical model gives a resounding yes. But those are two significant caveats to consider.

Third, when God shows up, His people are emboldened. In the first part of chapter 18, we see that Ahab was hunting Elijah to the point that Obadiah, Ahab’s palace administrator, feared for his life if he misled the king as to Elijah’s whereabouts. When Elijah finally presents himself to the king, Ahab calls him a “troubler of Israel.”[8] It does not take a lot of reading between the lines to infer that Ahab blamed Elijah for the drought and famine. Yet what does Elijah do? Does he cower or back down or promise rain to appease the king? Did he run from God’s command to present himself to Ahab in the first place? No, he challenges Ahab to bring the prophets of Baal to Mount Carmel, and more than that, to invite people from all over Israel to witness what is about to take place. Again, as I’ve put myself in Elijah’s shoes, I’ve realized I’d be terrified of trying this, for fear that God wouldn’t show up and we’d have wasted a day and some good beef—and that I’d get sacrificed by the false prophets. But Elijah shows no such fear, because God is moving in him.

Elijah issues his challenge: prepare two sacrifices, one for Baal and one for the Lord. “The god who answers by fire—he is God.”[9] The people agree, and the prophets of Baal spend the morning calling out to Baal, with no result. At noon, we’re told, Elijah began to taunt them, suggesting that Baal was busy or asleep. (This is, if I’m not mistaken, the first recorded example of trash talk, and Larry Bird has nothing on Elijah.) Throughout the afternoon, the false prophets plead with their god to answer, even cutting themselves with swords and spears in an effort to summon him. No dice. Elijah then calls the people to him, rebuilds the altar of the Lord—note the reverence and respect, even in the heat of the moment—and digs a trench around it. He then has the people pour water on the sacrifice, the wood, the altar, and in the trench. Three times. Elijah ups the ante. He is going for style points here, but not for his own glory, but for Jehovah’s. You don’t do that if you aren’t emboldened.

On a similar vein, we see here (as throughout Scripture) that when God shows up, He almost always uses people. God didn’t need Elijah. His voice could have thundered from heaven to draw people and He could have issued the challenge Himself. But he used a man of God as His instrument. Similarly, the Holy Spirit doesn’t need our help to share the gospel or minister to others, but it is His chosen method, I dare say more often than not. Along those lines, He gives His people the tools they need to accomplish their task. Sometimes that is in the form of issuing drastic decrees about the weather or the ability to outrun a chariot. (Seriously, how cool was that?) Sometimes it is merely the right words to say.[10]

The fifth thing we notice is that when God moves it is not always restorative; sometimes, His movement is punitive. In a recent review of William P. Young’s The Shack, I noted that Young presented God as being only about love and mercy, even going so far as to have his “God” character state, “I don’t need to punish people for sin. Sin is its own punishment, devouring you from the inside. It’s not my purpose to punish it; it’s my joy to cure it.”[11] Young also writes, “Judgment is not about destruction, but about setting things right.”[12] However, this is not the picture we see in I Kings 18, nor in the rest of Scripture[13] (and is one of the many reasons I consider The Shack to be heretical). Check out verse 40: “Then Elijah commanded them, “Seize the prophets of Baal. Don’t let anyone get away!” They seized them, and Elijah had them brought down to the Kishon Valley and slaughtered there.” God moved, and his servant Elijah brought about swift judgment on those who had worshiped false gods. This serves as a warning to Christians that although we are forgiven our sins in Christ Jesus, that doesn’t mean God will tolerate sin, and there are consequences in this life: “A man reaps what he sows.”[14] But this is also a warning to unbelievers in that a day of repentance isn’t guaranteed. At any moment, God could exercise His judgment upon them for their sin and that judgment could result in death. Scripture tells us that God “is patient . . . not wanting anyone to perish”[15] but also that He will not remain patient forever.[16]

The last observation I want to draw from this incredible story is that when God moves, people are transformed. We aren’t given insight into their state of mind, but when Elijah proposes the challenge, the people agree to his terms. Were they humoring him? Were they honestly expectant that the true God would be revealed? We don’t know, but they at least were willing to be present, which is a sign of God moving. And do you remember Elijah’s challenge? “The god who answers by fire—he is God.” After no one answered the false prophets of Baal, we’re told “the fire of the Lord fell and burned up the sacrifice, the wood, the stones and the soil, and also licked up the water in the trench.”[17] Note what happens next: “When all the people saw this, they fell prostrate and cried, “The Lord--he is God! The Lord--he is God!”[18] Let me ask you as I ask myself, when was the last time you fell prostrate before God? Scripture informs us that Ahab had led the people of Israel to prostitute themselves by the worship of idols,[19] and Jesus, when speaking of prophets not being honored or welcomed in their country, seemed to imply that at least part of the reason Elijah went to minister to the widow in Zarephath (as seen in I Kings 17) was because he wasn’t welcomed by the people of Israel.[20] So for them to fall down in adoration and declare that Jehovah was indeed God represents a dramatic change of heart. So dramatic, in fact, that they served as Elijah’s agents in bringing the false prophets to justice.

Once again, I want to be clear that I’m not proposing step-by-step instructions for getting God to act as we desire. But we can draw from Scripture some reflections of God’s character: When God moves, it often is in response to faith, He does so at His own behest, He uses people (and emboldens them and equips them for the task), He brings forth judgment as well as mercy, and He changes people’s hearts. Oh, and at the risk of stating the obvious, when God moves, sometimes He does some pretty incredible and fascinating things!

[1] See Romans 15:4
[2] I Kings 17:1
[3] I Kings 18:1
[4] I Kings 17:22
[5] James 5:17-18
[6] Matthew 13:58
[7] I Kings 18:36
[8] I Kings 18:17
[9] I Kings 18:24
[10] See Mark 13:11
[11] William P. Young, “Breakfast of Champions,” in The Shack, (Newbury Park: Windblown Media, 2007), 119.
[12] Young, “Here Come Da Judge,” 170.
[13] See Hebrews 9:27; Revelation 20:12,15; Matthew 25:46; Luke 21:22; and II Thessalonians 1:8-9
[14] Galatians 6:7
[15] II Peter 3:9
[16] See Romans 2:4-5
[17] I Kings 18:38
[18] I Kings 18:39, emphasis added
[19] See II Chronicles 21:13
[20] See Luke 4:23-27

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