Syria, Obadiah, and Us

If you have paid any attention to the news over the last several days, you are aware that there is a country in the Middle East plagued by civil unrest and violent atrocities, and the United States finds itself in the position of determining if and how to intervene. Sounds like a story that we’ve heard several times before, doesn’t it?

Knowing the proper response to the messy situation in Syria is difficult. I am not a foreign policy expert, and I don’t pretend to have all the answers. This helpful article has made the rounds on the internet, and basically suggests that although there is no good solution and military action is likely to be unhelpful in the long term, it is unacceptable for a brutal regime to attack its own citizen population with chemical weapons and not be punished for it (I recommend that you read the article linked to above if you haven’t already).

As I think about the situation in Syria (and similar conflicts in other parts of the world in which the U.S. has sometimes intervened in and sometimes not), I can’t help but think about the little Old Testament Book of Obadiah.

We don’t talk about Obadiah all that often. It is short—only one chapter long—and is hard to find tucked away in the minor prophets. Basically, the Book of Obadiah is a judgment against the people of Edom which proclaims their coming downfall. The Edomites were the descendants of Esau, and thus cousins of the Israelites. Obadiah’s suggestion is that, as close relatives of the Israelites, the Edomites should have come to the aid of Judah during its conflict with Babylon, but they didn’t, and will be punished as a result (Obadiah 1.10-14). I find verse 11 to be particularly haunting (emphasis mine):

“On the day that you stood aloof,
on the day that strangers carried off his wealth
and foreigners entered his gates
and cast lots for Jerusalem,
you were like one of them.”

Now, I am aware that the situation of Edom and Judah (and Babylon) in Obadiah’s time and the situation today in Syria and the U.S. response to it are not direct parallels. I am further aware of the need for caution when it comes to seemingly removing a passage of Scripture from its context and applying it elsewhere. 

But at the same time, I’m also aware that Scripture teaches certain principles that seem to apply regardless of context, and I think this is one of them. The Bible teaches repeatedly that God blesses people not so they can hoard those blessings, but so that they can be a blessing to others. The Bible teaches that we are supposed to consider others to be our neighbors, and rather than ignoring their plight, to step in and help them as we can. The Bible teaches that when we come to the aid of the “least of these,” we are coming to the aid of Jesus Himself. 

So, that brings us back to Syria. What are we to do? Again, I am not a foreign policy expert, and in a real sense, I’m not qualified to give an answer. But at the least, it seems that we should consider tactical missile strikes against chemical weapons stockpiles (as the article above suggests).  

But maybe a different question that I am (somewhat) more suited to answer: what would the Bible suggest that we do? Biblically, I think we have to do something. At least try to help. Something more than standing aloof and being like one of them, which is the response I have unfortunately heard from several Christians. They give excuses like:

• We shouldn’t get involved because it will be expensive.
• We shouldn’t get involved because it’s none of our business.
• We shouldn’t get involved because we have problems of our own to deal with.
• We shouldn’t get involved because it will make other countries more annoyed with us than they already are.

Are those good enough reasons to justify standing aloof on the sidelines? I really don’t think so. In fact, I think the Edomites could have used some of those same excuses, and God wasn’t too pleased with them.

God and Government

I go back and forth quite a bit in my thoughts on the relationship between God, government, Christians, politics, etc. I read this yesterday in a journal article and found it helpful:

“Jesus lived in a conquered province in an empire whose imperialistic ruler stood for everything that was antagonistic to the revealed faith of the Jews. Jesus was not a revolutionary but instead conformed to the laws of civil government. Nowhere did he denounce the legitimate power of the state. Jesus paid his taxes (Matthew 17.24-27). He recognized the authority of Pontius Pilate, even when Pilate unjustly delivered him over to his enemies (John 19.11). Jesus reminded him, however, that his authority was not autonomous (John 19.10-11) but that it was delegated from the One who was above. Thus, in practice and precept Jesus recognized that the government under which he lived was ordained of God.”

–David Plaster, in Grace Theological Journal 6 (Fall 1985), p. 437.

The Fall of Man and the Ecological Consequences of Sin

In the first post of this series on the Fall of Man in Genesis 3 and the widespread devastation of sin, I mentioned that we tend to focus on the theological and personal consequences of Adam and Eve’s sin while ignoring some of the other areas. I think the most ignored of those other areas is the ecological consequences associated with the sin in the Garden of Eden. 

Men and women were created to live in relationship with God and with one another, and, in a sense, with creation as well. This is clear in the early chapters of Genesis. Genesis 1.26-30 recounts how Adam and Eve were to have dominion over creation, and Genesis 2.15 mentions that they were to work it and keep it. So in effect, Adam and Eve were to rule over creation, but to do so as stewards who would take care of what God had made. 

But following their disobedience to God’s command to not eat of the forbidden fruit in Genesis 3, the ecological consequence is evident, as a curse is placed on creation in Genesis 3.17-19: 

“And to Adam he said, ‘Because you have listened to the voice of your wife and have eaten of the tree of which I commanded you, ‘You shall not eat of it,’cursed is the ground because of you; 

in pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. 

By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.’” 

This curse makes it clear that the relationship between man and creation has been destroyed as well. And that’s pretty easy to see, right? Rather than embrace our role as stewards of God’s earth, we tend to exploit creation to satisfy our own selfish desires. There are countless examples of companies which have carelessly polluted in order to cut corners and maximize profits, and even “little” problems like widespread littering show a basic lack of respect for the home God has created for us. 

And I think there is significant indication in Scripture that the problem isn’t all one-sided: creation itself doesn’t operate the way it was intended to. In Romans 8.20-22, Paul makes this point, speaking of creation in personified terms: 

“For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.” 

A creation that is subjected to futility, bound to corruption and groans in the pains of childbirth seems distinctly different from the creation that God made and called “good.” I suppose this is ultimately unprovable, but my personal opinion is that the natural disasters that plague our lives—tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis, etc.—are symptomatic of the problems Paul refers to, as creation lives out a cursed existence different from the one for which it was intended.¹ 

In sum, sin has devastated this aspect of our existence as well. Creation is less than the good and hospitable home for humanity for which it was created to be, and we fail to care for it as we should.²

• • •

¹If my thinking on this is correct, then it stands in judgment against the hurtful things that some religious people say in very public ways following a natural disaster such as “Hurricane Katrina was God’s judgment against the wickedness of New Orleans”. Natural disasters are a condition of our broken world, rather than God’s wrath against a specific people/place. Incidentally, I think the promise made to Noah following the flood (Genesis 9.8-17) that man and creation would not again be judged by a massive flood (and perhaps, by extension, other natural disasters) supports this idea.

²I mentioned the general neglect of this topic, and I think that neglect is itself evidence of the distorted relationship we have with creation. In a significant portion of Christendom, discussion of the creation care is considered to be a “political” or “liberal” idea, despite the fact that environmental stewardship is a clearly biblical principle!

The Fall of Man and the Sociological Consequences of Sin

Aftermath of the Boston Marathon Bombing

In our continuing discussion of the Fall of Man in Genesis 3 and the widespread devastation of sin, we have already covered the theological and personal consequences of Adam and Eve’s misdeed; in this post we turn to the sociological fallout of that sin, or the way that sin affects our relationships with one another.

Returning to our text, we can see this dimension clearly played out in verses 11-13:

“[God] said, ‘Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?’ The man said, ‘The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit of the tree, and I ate.’ Then the Lord God said to the woman, ‘What is this that you have done?’ The woman said, ‘The serpent deceived me, and I ate.’”

People were created to live in community with one another. Specifically, Eve was created to be the perfect partner for Adam (Genesis 2.18-25). But when God confronts Adam and Eve with their sin, something very significant (and unfortunate) happens: the unity that had previously existed between Adam and Eve is shattered as Adam immediately blames his wife for the sin which they had committed together.

This brings a conflict and disharmony between them that would be passed down over time (Genesis 3.16), and we can see it unfold in the pages of Genesis in the accounts of numerous broken relationships—Cain’s murder of his brother, the depraved society of Sodom and Gomorrah, the distorted relationships between Sarah and Hagar, Jacob and Esau, Jacob and Laban, Joseph and his brothers, and more. But the problems certainly don’t stop there—this same conflict and disharmony continues to darken and distort our world today.

Our world is deeply flawed by sin, and this manifests itself everyday sociologically, as we treat one another in a wide array of horrible, messed up ways:

• On an international level, countries wage war and kill because of conflict over ideology or resources.
• Systemic evils such as poverty, abortion, racism, sex trafficking, government corruption, lotteries, and more stem from our exploitation of our neighbors in order that we might obtain our own selfish desires.
• Horrific acts of incomprehensible violence fill our news cycles. Mass shootings at elementary schools, the use of passenger airliners as terrorist missiles, bombings at marathon finish lines and incomprehensible barbarity at soccer matches shock and dismay us and cause us to weep.
• Our interpersonal relationships are also a mess. Dishonesty, reckless ambition, and violence abound. The (supposedly) lifelong bonds of marriage are broken on a whim.

And the sum result: our society as a whole stagnates and decays, as people live lives marked by self-interest and fear of one another. The community for which we were created is broken.

Sin destroys our relationships with one another.

Cultural Upheavals and Kingdom Business

This is an excellent article from one of my grad school professors, Richard Oster. In it, he reflects on disturbing recent developments in our culture, discusses a comparable cultural upheaval from the 4th century, and then ultimately puts it all into a kingdom perspective:

“It is time for those whose faith and practice rest on Scripture to get on with Kingdom business with or without the help of legal maneuvers and political and ecclesiastical machinations.”

I highly recommend the read.

“You Did Well That It Was In Your Heart”

After the death of King Saul, there is a struggle between David and Saul’s son, Ish-bosheth, for the throne of Israel. With God’s support, David eventually wins out, things settle down, and everything seems to be okay.

But David isn’t happy. He isn’t happy because he realizes that while he lives in a nice, comfortable house made of cedar, the Ark of God is kept in a tent!

This doesn’t seem right to David, so he determines that he wants to build a temple for the Ark to be housed in. That sounds like a good idea, but God rejects his offer in 1 Chronicles 22.8-10:

“But the word of the Lord came to me, saying, ‘You have shed much blood and have waged great wars; you shall not build a house to My name, because you have shed so much blood on the earth before Me. Behold a son will be born to you, who shall be a man of rest; and I will give him rest from all his enemies on every side; for his name shall be Solomon, and I will give peace and quiet to Israel in his days. He shall build a house for My name, and he shall be My son and I will be his father; and I will establish the throne of his kingdom over Israel forever.’”

Later, Solomon talks about his father’s desire to build a temple for God in 1 Kings 8.17-19:

“Now it was in the heart of my father David to build a house for the name of the Lord, the God of Israel. But the Lord said to my father David, ‘Because it was in your heart to build a house for My name, you did well that it was in your heart. Nevertheless you shall not build the house, but your son who will be born to you, he will build the house for My name.’”

Did you catch that? God tells David, “You did well that it was in your heart.”

Even though David wasn’t going to be able to accomplish his goal of building the temple, God still appreciated and honored David’s intentions. Because he had been a man of war, David was told that he would not be the one to build a temple for the Lord—but God still appreciated that David had the desire to do so.

“It’s the thought that counts” is a common saying that we tend to throw around when we receive a gift we don’t like. It’s somewhat of an ironic saying, since often the reason we receive bad gifts is specifically because very little thought was put into it, but I think it’s still a true statement, and it’s basically what God tells David in this story: “It’s the thought that counts.”

By extension, this passage means that God cares about our intentions as well. And to me, as a Christian and as a minister, that is incredibly encouraging—while our actions certainly matter, the thoughts behind our actions matter as well. We can’t always control how things turn out, but we can control our intentions.

When we try to do something big for God, as David did, and we fail and our plans don’t pan out, I’m thankful to know that we have a God who says, “You did well that it was in your heart!”

I don’t know what your exact situation is…

• Maybe you try to help a friend with a problem like substance abuse or financial or marital difficulties, but your assistance is refused…God looks at your “failure” and says, “You did well that it was in your heart!”
• Maybe you try to influence others for good and try to be salt and light in the world, but your influence is ignored and they continue to embrace darkness…You did well that it was in your heart!
• Maybe you’re a youth minister and you’ve got that teen who you’ve poured yourself into— teaching, going to athletic events, modeling the Christian life, praying for them and lying awake at night worrying about them—but they choose to follow the world…You did well that it was in your heart!
• Maybe you try to share your faith with someone, perhaps a family member or close friend, but it simply falls on deaf ears…You did well that it was in your heart!

Realize that you are going to fail in life. Your results won’t always match up with your intentions and your plans. But our God is someone who sees our hearts and appreciates our best efforts. With that in mind, let us attempt great things for Him!

Different Types of Maps: Read (and Preach, and Teach) the Whole Bible

In 2 Timothy 3.16-17, Paul writes:

“All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work.”

Based on Paul’s words here, I think it should be obvious that we should give attention to all of Scripture, rather than just study the parts that we like over and over again. Some people focus on Paul’s writings; others spend a lot of time in the Gospels. Some folks obsess over the accounts of the early church in Acts, while others never stray far from the wisdom literature or the historical books of the Old Testament.

And it’s okay to have favorites, but if we emphasize our favorites to the point that we neglect the other portions of Scripture, then we aren’t taking Paul’s words from 2 Timothy 3.16-17 very seriously.

In Reading the Gospels Wisely: A Narrative and Theological Introduction, Jonathan T. Pennington puts it very well:

“…For Jefferson County, Kentucky, where I live, we could look at a topographical map that shows terrain and elevations or a road map; at a map that records annual rainfall or one that indicates historical landmarks and points of scenic interest; or we could consult a survey that shows where property lines begin and end. These are all different maps, and they would look very different if set beside one another. But of course they don’t contradict one another. They are complementary and beneficial. They are different discourses of truth—or different ways of approaching and presenting knowledge. 

If this is true for maps of Jefferson County, Kentucky, how much more for theology and Holy Scripture. We need to think of the Bible not as a single map that just gives us doctrinal statements or moral commands, but we must realize that the Bible is like an atlas—a collection of maps/books that shows us the way, the truth, and the life but in a variety of languages or discourses or ways of communicating. To privilege—or worse, to rely exclusively on—only one form is detrimental to apprehending truth; a topographical map helps little when we’re seeking the best restaurants.” 

What a great analogy this is! The Bible is true, but it presents truth in a variety of ways. In Matthew, truth might be presented through a parable. In 1 Kings or Acts, it might be presented in historical narrative. In Psalms, truth is presented through poetry, and in Proverbs through pithy sayings. In books like Romans, Paul often presents truth in direct theological or doctrinal statements, and in Revelation, John presents truth through bizarre and sometimes frightening visions.

All of these different “maps” are a vital part of the entire “atlas” of the Bible. Some are more useful for certain purposes than others, but all contain truth and none should be neglected.

I think all people of faith would do well to be more well-rounded in our Bible study.

Reflecting on Religious and Theological Disagreements

As a theology grad student, I read a ton of stuff about religion, theology, and doctrine from a wide variety of sources. I also hear a lot of podcasts, sermons and devotionals. And some of the stuff I read and hear is really, really good, but some of it I’m not too sure about and some stuff I think is absolutely wrong.

There was a time in my life when I was greatly disturbed anytime someone disagreed with me about theology, and felt a compulsion to try to convince them that I was right. I still feel this way at times especially if the issue at hand is one that I think is of essential importance.

That being said, I have come to understand something which I think is very important: I can still respect someone’s opinion even if I disagree with it. 

Sounds pretty simple right? And it is simple, but it’s not all that easy—just look at all the religious, political, and cultural debates that surround us and see how often respect is completely left out of them.

When it comes to matters of theology, even if I disagree with you, I can respect your opinion if the following two characteristics are true:

(1) You are a person of integrity. Maybe this is obvious, but I’m going to tend to be skeptical about what you’re telling me if you’re not a very good person. If I don’t see the Fruit of Spirit in your life, why would I think that you have an exemplary understanding of the character and nature of God?

(2) Your viewpoint is not shallow. I am not going to be impressed with your argument if it is based on some hunch or feeling or tradition or something your pastor told you that you cannot support with Scripture. If we have a difference of opinion about how a particular biblical passage should be interpreted, that’s a different issue, but if you’re making no attempt to be anchored to the Word in the first place, we’re going to have a problem.

If you meet these two qualifications, we might disagree on some things (and we almost certainly will), but I can still respect you despite those disagreements.

Naaman and the Commands We Don’t Understand

As a kid, one of my favorite Bible stories was the story of Naaman in 2 Kings 5. I think I had some sort of children’s storybook version which probably influenced my preference, but it has remained a story that I enjoy as I’ve gotten older.

Do you remember the story? Naaman is an important man, the commander of the army of Syria, but he has leprosy. An Israelite slave girl who works in the service of Naaman’s wife suggests that Elisha, a prophet from Israel, could heal him. Naaman relates this to Ben-Hadad, king of Syria, and then the king sends him to Israel, laden with gifts, to seek a cure. Eventually, Elisha gets word of what is happening and sends for Naaman, who arrives at Elisha’s house with his horses and chariots.

But Elisha doesn’t even come out to see Naaman; instead he just sends a messenger to tell him that his health will be restored if he goes and washes in the Jordan River seven times. Naaman is enraged by this response. He had expected Elisha to come out and do something dramatic, and he doesn’t even begin to understand how washing in a dirty little river could cleanse his leprosy. Furious, Naaman prepares to depart for home, but his servants basically point out that he has nothing to lose by obeying Elisha’s commandment, and so Naaman goes to wash and sure enough, his leprosy is cured.

Grateful for his healing, Naaman renounces Rimmon, his former god, and accepts the God of Israel, pledging to worship no other god in the future.

By personality, and by heritage as well, I like to understand things. If someone makes a decision that affects me, I want to understand why the decision was made. If I am told or required to do something, I want to understand why it is a good thing to do. The same thing is true in my approach to Scripture as well. I come to Scripture wanting to understand it, wanting to figure out what it means, and wanting to discern the correct interpretation of a certain passage.

And there’s nothing necessarily wrong with that, except this: even when I don’t understand Scripture, I still have to obey it.

And honestly, there are a lot of things in the Bible that I don’t really understand. Why does God choose to save people the way He does? Why is He so particular about some things and not about others? Why are some practices so abhorrent to Him? How exactly does the Trinity work? I have some ideas, but ultimately, I don’t know.

But I don’t have to understand everything, I just have to obey. Just like Naaman.

God is more interested in my trust than my knowledge.

He is more interested in my obedience than my understanding.

Destroying the Works of Satan

A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to speak at a youth rally and my topic was the purpose of the church. I talked about how the church is God’s vehicle for saving the world today (through the preaching of the gospel), for influencing the world and trying to make it a better place (through service), and equipping Christians for those first two tasks (through education and discipleship).

And those are all pretty standard ideas—we hear about those things a lot when we talk about what the church should do. But the church has another important purpose that is often neglected in such discussions: the mission of the church is to oppose and destroy the works of Satan.

In 1 John 3.8, John said that Jesus came to earth so that “He might destroy the works of the devil.” In Ephesians 6.12, Paul says that our struggle as Christians is not against flesh and blood, but against the forces of darkness. 

These verses make it clear that as the church, we are a part of a spiritual battle against Satan and his influence. Moral corruption and sin are the works of the Devil (and we focus on things like that a lot),  but so are things like disease, starvation, poverty, terrorism, and racism. 

When you look at all the sad and messed up stuff that happens in our world—do you think God likes that stuff? Of course not! Children starving to death in the developing world, or innocent people being killed because of racial wars, or bombs going off at marathon finish lines—those are works of Satan, and when we take part in efforts to fight against those things, we are fulfilling the purpose of the church in opposing and destroying the works of the Devil. 

To me, realizing that when we fight against evil, we’re part of a cosmic struggle and are fighting against Satan himself gives us a whole new level of motivation for doing it. The decisions we make each and every day are important because we have the opportunity to stand up against evil. 

A cosmic struggle against evil: think about that the next time one of your friends tells a racist joke—are you going to sit there and laugh at the works of Satan, or realizing that God loves all people regardless of race and that racism comes from Satan, are you going to speak up and put a stop to it? 

Or the next time you have an opportunity to give to people, maybe people living on the other side of the world who have less than you do—are you going to be willing to use what you have to fight against the works of Satan like poverty and starvation, or are you going to hold onto those things so you can continue to pursue the idolatry of the “American dream”?

Studies show that a whole bunch of teens leave the church after high school, and I think a big reason for that is because it just doesn’t seem like the work of the church is all that important. After all, if we narrow down what church is to only a couple hours of activity a week, of course its importance is going to be diminished. But when we realize the cosmic nature of the struggle we are involved in—saving the world, serving the world, training Christians to do those things, and opposing the works of Satan—we see that the church is absolutely a cause worth giving our lives to.

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Jesus: God In Our Neighborhood

Who is God? What is He like? What does He want from me? What does He expect of me? 

These are ancient questions, asked by countless people over thousands of years. But they are also modern questions which people still wrestle with today. We can get answers to those questions and can learn things about God by looking at nature, and by reading about Him in Scripture, but the fullest and clearest expression of what God is like was made available to us through the Incarnation of Jesus. 

The word “incarnation” comes from Latin and literally means “to make into flesh” or “to be made flesh”. The Incarnation is one of the central teachings regarding Jesus, and says that Jesus was the Son of God, but that he “became flesh” and lived life as a man. Jesus was both God and human. 

For many of us, that’s an idea that is pretty straightforward because it’s what we’ve been taught for a long time, but it’s an idea that was debated and argued about for a long time in the early church, and a lot of false teachings came up to try and explain who Jesus really was: 

• Adoptionism said that Jesus was an ordinary man who followed and obeyed the Law so carefully that he became the Messiah and that God “adopted” Jesus as His Son at baptism. So basically this view says that Jesus was a man, but was not really God—it stressed His humanity, but not His divinity. 
• Docetism said that Jesus was a divine being that took on human appearance but not flesh. It comes from a Greek word which means “to seem”, so basically this view says that Jesus seemed like a man but really wasn’t one. Docetism stresses the divinity of Jesus, but not His humanity. 
• Arianism said that Jesus was divine in some sense, but that He was created by the Father, so that He wasn’t an eternal being—He wasn’t God in the same sense that the Father was. 
• Nestorianism said that the Son of God and the man Jesus shared the same body, but were two separate beings within that body with different natures. Almost like Jesus had a split personality. 

That all might start to sound somewhat confusing, and that’s okay, because it is confusing, and I think it illustrates an important point—sometimes we get ourselves into trouble by trying to explain things that we really can’t explain. The Bible really doesn’t try to explain in detail how the Incarnation ‘worked’—how it was that Jesus was both God and human at the same time—it just affirms that that’s who He was. He wasn’t part human and part God, he was completely human and completely God at the same time. So while I can’t fully explain how the Incarnation worked, I can say that the ‘isms’ that we mentioned before are not true, because they deny that Jesus was both fully human and fully God. 

What I think is more important than completely understanding how the Incarnation worked is understanding what the Incarnation means to us as Christians—how Jesus living as a human shows us what God is like and what He expects from us.

The classic passage on the Incarnation is in John 1. There in v. 14 it says, “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.” 

A lot of times when speaking about the Incarnation, we talk about that first part, “The Word becoming flesh” and that’s an important concept (all of arguments and debates and ‘isms’ mentioned above are based on the first part of the verse), but I want to focus on the second clause, “The Word made his dwelling among us”. 

Here John is using Old Testament language from the time when the Israelites wandered in the wilderness and God dwelt in the tabernacle to explain how God, through Jesus, came down to be among His people in a new way. A more literal translation of the end of John 1.14 would be something like, “he put up his tent among us.” 

The Message, which is a paraphrase translation of Scripture in modern language, says in John 1.14 that the Word became flesh and moved into our neighborhood, and I love that idea—through Jesus, God is no longer Someone who is unknowable or impossible to figure out, because He lives right down the street from us—we can see what God is like for ourselves! 

Shah Abbas the Great of Persia

There’s an old story about Shah Abbas, the great king of Persia who came to the throne in the late 1500s. Shah Abbas was beloved by his people, and he loved them in return, and in order to understand them better, historically we know that he would often disguise himself as a common man and mingle among them. 

The story goes that one day, while visiting a bathhouse, Shah Abbas went down into the cellar and sat down next to the poor man whose job was to keep the furnaces burning to heat the baths. The king quickly struck up a friendship with this lowly laborer, who welcomed his company without having any idea who he was. They became friends and the king returned often to visit the furnace keeper. When mealtime came, the peasant would share his meager food with the king, and the two came to be close.

At last, one day the king revealed his true identity to the man. Shah Abbas expected the keeper of the fire to ask him for a special gift or some favor. Instead, when the man recovered from his shock, his request of the king was for neither wealth nor favors. He simply said: 

“You left your palace and your glory to sit with me in this dark place, to eat of my coarse food, to care whether my heart is glad or sorry. To others you may give rich presents, but to me you have given yourself, and all I can ask is that you never withdraw the gift of your friendship.” 

Like the Shah of the story, God put on a lowly disguise and through Jesus, moved into our neighborhood. From there, right down the street, He offers the gift of friendship and as our friend, we are never left to wonder what He is like, or what He wants from us. 

You want to know what God is like? Look at Jesus. You want to know how God wants you to live? Look at Jesus.

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Planning Ahead Is A Good Thing, Except When It Isn’t

Last week, in what was an entirely unplanned and spectacular display of clumsiness, I managed to spill a cup of water on my MacBook.

Most likely, this will result either in the death of said MacBook or a significant “doctor’s” bill to replace  the water-logged and destroyed components (the MacBook is currently drying out in a bag of kitty litter. It’s theoretically possible that it will turn back on when I try it in a few days…that would be nice). 

I was frustrated when this happened, but ultimately, it was more of a major annoyance than a tragedy because I had planned ahead. It was an annoyance because it disrupted my week and forced me to devote a lot of time I didn’t really have to retrieving files and ordering and setting up a new laptop. It was not a tragedy because I had been faithfully saving up money for over a year to get a new MacBook anyway (and let’s be real: it’s a computer, a thing. Losing it wouldn’t actually be a tragedy, but it would be tough considering how integral a computer is to my life in 2013). 

Some people are better planners than others, but in general, planning ahead is a good thing. It is a form of good stewardship of our resources to plan for the future, and planning ahead was what downgraded my water-spilling escapades from a tragedy to an annoyance. 

But a word of caution: planning can be a dangerous thing as well, because it can give us the illusion that we are in control when we really aren’t. Consider James 4.13-16:

“Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit”—yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.” As it is, you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil.”

So while planning is a good thing, it is essential that we recognize its limitations: it can help us better respond to situations that arise, but it doesn’t give us control over those situations.

Wanted: Role Players in the Body of Christ

Joe Kleine was one of the best basketball players in Arkansas Razorback history. An All-Conference Selection in 1984 and 1985, and Kleine also played on the 1984 Gold Medal U.S. Olympic team. In a game against the 2nd-ranked Houston Cougars in 1984, Kleine led the Razorbacks to victory, snapping Houston’s 31-game conference winning streak and outscoring future Hall of Famer Hakeem Olajawon 22-10. During his career at Arkansas, Kleine averaged 18 points per game—more than Michael Jordan averaged during his career at the University of North Carolina. 

But, after completing his collegiate career and joining the NBA in 1985, Kleine went from being a stand out all-star to an average, back-up, role player. In the late 80s and early 90s, Kleine played for the Boston Celtics. While he was there, he was overshadowed by a number of very famous and very good players—Larry Bird, Kevin McHale, Reggie Lewis, and Robert Parrish. Parrish in particular overshadowed Kleine, because Parrish played the exact position that Kleine did—center. Robert Parrish is considered by basketball experts to be one of the greatest centers who has ever played the game, so Joe Kleine got to be Parrish’s backup. 

It's not easy being a backup, a second teamer. Backups are called things like “substitutes” and “bench-warmers” and “role players”. Backups don’t get to play on the Dream Team; they don’t get to play in All-Star games. Their basketball cards aren’t worth very much, and they don’t get to make many commercials. It would seem that being a backup isn’t a very important job.

Nothing could be further from the truth, however. Consider the following description of Joe Kleine from an article by a Celtic sportswriter a few years back: 

“He is what he is. And he knows exactly what that is—the backup center on an NBA team. Every NBA team would love to have Kleine be what he is, which, in addition to being a competent NBA center, includes being a first-rate person.” 

The article goes on to quote one of Kleine’s former coaches: 

“When we had him here, Joe was our lug. Now, he’s your lug. But you know what? He’s a good lug, I wish we still had him.”

Why is Joe Kleine, a second-string backup center, the kind of player that every coach wants on his team? Why is he the kind of player that coaches don’t want to give up? Because he is willing to accept the role he is given, and give his best performing that role, even if it is not exciting or glamorous. 

Paul talked about role players in 1 Corinthians 12.14-18: 

“Now the body is not made up of one part but of many. If the foot should say, ‘Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,’ it would not for that reason cease to be a part of the body. And if the ear should say, ‘Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,’ it would not for that reason cease to be a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact, God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, just as He wanted them to be.” 

We don’t each fill the same role, but Paul goes on to tell us that we each have a role to fill. Moreover, he tells us that God bestows an extra measure of honor upon those who fill roles that seem unglamorous: 

“The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I don't need you!’ And the head cannot say to the feet, ‘I don’t need you!’ On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think of as less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other.”

Just as role players are an integral part of any NBA team, they are also indispensable within the church. Unfortunately, this is often a difficult lesson for Christians to learn. Even some of Jesus’ apostles struggled with this concept—in Mark 10, James and John asked to sit at the right and left hand of Jesus so that they could receive special recognition. This request was made because they did not understand the role that God had given them. In Mark 10.43-45, Jesus explained to them that “whoever wishes to become great among you shall be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you shall be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.”

Are you willing to be a role player in the Body of Christ? Because that’s the kind of player that God is looking for on His team.

Pity for Those Who Do Not Know: The Story of Jonah, Part 3

If you’re coming late to the party, be sure to check out Part 1 and Part 2.

So far, we’ve seen that Jonah was pretty mixed up about what was important—he valued a plant which provided him with shade more than he valued the lives of the people of the great city of Nineveh. We’ve also seen that as the people of God, we can get similarly mixed up.

God’s response to Jonah at the end of chapter 4 is an attempt to correct Jonah’s perspective on things. He says, 

“You pity the plant, for which you did not labor, nor did you make it grow, which came into being in a night and perished in a night. And should not I pity Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than 120,000 persons who do not know their right hand from the left, and also much cattle?” 

God tries to get Jonah to see how He pities the people of Nineveh. A lot of time we have a negative connotation with the word “pity”, but it really just means to feel sorrow over someone else’s condition (The New American Standard Bible says “compassion”; The NIV uses “concern”). God points out how ridiculous it is that Jonah felt sorrow over the death of the plant, but feels no concern at all over the 120,000 people of Nineveh “who do not know their right hand from their left”—basically, people who don’t even realize how bad of a spiritual condition they are in. 

It’s interesting—the Book of Jonah ends with God’s question. We don’t get to hear how Jonah responded; we don’t get to see if he corrected his attitude. But really, that makes sense, because the Book of Jonah isn’t really about Jonah—it’s about God…and God’s concern for all people…and God letting His people know about how much He is concerned for all people! So it makes sense that the book ends with God sharing that concern with Jonah. 

It is our understanding of God’s pity for the lost—His feeling of sorrow for their condition—that can provoke a similar sense of concern in us. You know, a large part of Jonah’s problem was that he didn’t understand the value of the Ninevites. To him, they were worthless, less deserving of his concern than a plant which sprung up overnight. 

What about us? Do we understand the value of those who are lost? 

Most of my readers know that I am a huge baseball fan, and when I was younger, one of my favorite hobbies was collecting baseball cards. I would spend most of my allowance buying packs of cards, I would collect and trade for my favorite players, and I would spend a lot of time looking at and organizing my cards. 

Another thing I would do with my baseball cards was try to figure out how much they were worth. They would put out price guides every month that would supposedly tell you the value of each card. I remember I would look up my cards and I would take them and brag about it to my dad: “Look Dad, this card is worth $2; this one is worth $5; this one is really rare—it’s worth $30!” 

My dad was never impressed with my claims though, and I remember that he would always look at me and say:

“Son, that card is only worth what someone will pay for it.” 

You know, that definition of value makes a lot of sense to me. And if the value of something is determined by what someone will pay for it, God made it abundantly clear for once and for all that the lost are worth more to Him than anything—because He paid for them with the death of Jesus on the cross. 

That price was paid even for folks whom we don’t like very much, people who make us uncomfortable, or people who have hurt us in some way. 

That price puts all of the distractions in our lives—the other things that seem so important to us—into perspective. 

As I said at the beginning of this series, I’m really not a big fan of Jonah, because he reminds me too much of myself: 

• I’m not always eager to do what God wants me to do…
• I make the mistake of thinking that I am somehow more worthy of God’s grace than someone else…
• I get distracted by unimportant things and forgetting the value of the souls around me…

Maybe some of you can understand where I’m coming from. 

Fortunately, the God who is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in love with the Ninevites is also that same way with me. Fortunately, that same God decided that my soul was worth enough for Jesus to come and die for it.

Pity for Those Who Do Not Know: The Story of Jonah, Part 2

In Part 1, we summarized the story of Jonah and noted that Jonah’s attitude toward his mission was very disappointing and not what we would expect from a prophet of God. Jonah was all mixed up about what was important.

But then I think: what about us? 

There are over 7 billion people in the world today. Christianity is the world’s largest religion (though not the fastest-growing) with a little over 2 billion adherents. Now, even if we could take that number at face value, that means there are over 5 billion people—16 times the population of the United States—who don’t claim to have a relationship with Christ at all. 

And of the 2 billion who claim to be Christians, a lot of those are people that you work with and go to school with and see everyday—people who say they are Christians, but who make no real attempt to be obedient to what God says in his Word. For them Christianity is not something that affects their daily lives, but is rather a box that they check on a census survey. We know that the number of real, faithful Christians is much, much smaller. 

It is staggering when you realize just how many people in our world need a relationship with Jesus Christ. 

And yet, for the vast majority of us, we hear those statistics, and perhaps we think things like, “That’s too bad” or “What a tragedy” or “I really should do something about that”, but that’s all we do. Why is that? 

Maybe there are some people who we just aren’t concerned about. We talked about how the Ninevites were the enemies of Jonah and his people and how this affected his view of them. What about us? You might not have enemies in your life in a classic sense, but you certainly have people who you don’t care for as much. What about your boss at work who treats you unfairly and acts like a jerk? How motivated are you to share Jesus with that person? Or the person at school with a bad reputation, or perhaps the unpopular kid that no one likes—how likely are you to talk about your faith with that person? Let’s be honest—there are some people that we just don’t care about very much! 

Maybe our culture has made us feel bad about sharing the Good News of Jesus. In a postmodern culture where people argue that there’s no such thing as absolute truth and that one person’s beliefs are just as valid as another’s, evangelism has almost become a dirty word. People who share their beliefs with others are regarded as pushy, nosy, Bible-thumpers. We’ve all heard the jokes about religious groups who go door to door to spread their faith—we don’t want people making jokes like that about us! It’s actually reached the point that most churches have to have a special Invite-a-Friend Day in order for their members to make much of an effort to reach out to others—what’s up with that? Do people have less of a need to hear the Gospel at other times? Or are we just so impacted by our culture that it takes a special occasion for us to work up the courage? 

Maybe we get so distracted by other things that we just forget. You know, Jonah was so concerned about the precious plant that grew up over his head and gave him shade that he didn’t really have enough concern left over for the people of Nineveh! We as a people are so busy; we have so many things going on in our lives that it’s easy for us to get distracted and lose perspective. When we’re so concerned about issues going on at work, or our squabbles with our spouses, or our children’s athletic careers, how can we have concern left over for those who are lost? 

As the people of God, I think we can get mixed up too. Just like Jonah was.

Pity for Those Who Do Not Know: The Story of Jonah, Part 1

Jonah is not one of my favorite characters in the Bible, and I think it’s because he reminds me too much of myself.

The story of Jonah is a familiar one—it’s a story that many of us have known since childhood when we learned it in Sunday School. 

God calls Jonah to go and preach to the Ninevites, but Jonah doesn’t want to, so instead he goes down to Joppa and hops on a boat bound for Tarshish in the other direction. Of course, the boat has trouble at sea, the sailors become afraid and go and wake up Jonah, who was taking a nap, and implore him to cry out to his God. Then they decide to cast lots to see whose fault it is that this storm has come upon them, and the lot falls to Jonah. Jonah confesses that he is running from Jehovah, the God of heaven who made the sea and the dry land. At this point, the men become terrified and they ask Jonah what they should do in order to make the sea quiet down. He tells them that they should throw him overboard into the sea, and after the men unsuccessfully attempt to row back to the land, they reluctantly throw Jonah overboard. 

Then comes the most famous part of the story, where God appoints a great fish to come and swallow Jonah, and Jonah is stuck inside the belly of the fish for three days and three nights. There, Jonah prays to the Lord, and then God has the fish spit Jonah up on dry land. 

And from there, Jonah goes to Nineveh, and preaches to the city, and the people believe him! They begin to fast and put on sackcloth and the king of Nineveh covers himself in sackcloth, sits in ashes, and commands that no man or beast be allowed to eat or drink. And when God sees the repentance of the Ninevites, He decides not to destroy them after all. 

And you know, in Sunday School, that’s where we tend to stop…with a happy ending.

But that’s not the ending, and Jonah isn’t happy at all. Rather than being happy that his preaching has led to the repentance of the Ninevites and has saved them from destruction, he is angry—“exceedingly angry” the Scripture says. 

So he prays to the LORD and says, “This is why I ran away in the first place, because I knew that you are a gracious and merciful God, slow to anger and abounding in love…I knew you would forgive them!” Then Jonah goes on to say that he is so upset that he would rather die than live. 

And God asks Jonah an interesting question: “Do you do well to be angry?” And obviously, it’s the sort of question that isn’t meant to be answered, but is supposed to make Jonah think. 

You know, people have wondered why this seems to make Jonah so angry. We know from 2 Kings 14 that Jonah was a prophet to the Northern Kingdom of Israel, and Assyria (of which Nineveh was the capital city) was a long-standing enemy of Israel. In fact, it would ultimately be Assyria who conquered Israel in 722 BC. So it makes some sense that Jonah would be hesitant for the Ninevites—his enemies—to be saved. He didn’t think they deserved it. 

At this point, Jonah goes outside the city and makes a little booth for himself there so he can watch and see what happens. Perhaps he wanted to see if the Ninevites would remain faithful in their repentance or if they would turn back to evil and maybe God would still punish them. And while he is there watching, God appoints a plant to grow up over Jonah, so that it provided him with shade and made him comfortable. Scripture says that Jonah was exceedingly glad because of the plant. 

But then the next day, God has a worm come to attack the plant so that it withered, and then a scorching east wind comes and beats upon the head of Jonah and Jonah is miserable again. Once again he tells God that it would be better for him to die than live, and once again God asks him a question: “Do you do well to be angry for the plant?” 

And all of this language brings into clear comparison Jonah’s reactions to the salvation of Nineveh and the destruction of the plant:

• Jonah was “exceedingly angry” about the salvation of Nineveh, but “exceedingly glad” about the appearance of the plant. 
• Both when the city was spared and when the plant withered, Jonah was so upset that he said it would be better for him to die than to live. 
• And after both episodes, God tried to get him to reflect on his attitude by asking him if he did well to be angry. 

And this second time, Jonah answers the question, belligerently stating that he does do well to be angry, angry enough to die! The plant shaded him from the sun; its value is clear to him. But the Ninevites, on the other hand, why would God want to save them? They’re worthless! 

What a disappointing attitude for a prophet of God to have! 

Jonah is mixed up.

Christmas 1914 and the Hope for Peace

British and German officers on the Western Front during the Christmas Truce of 1914.

The Christmas Truce of 1914 is fairly well-known; my brother once wrote about it here:

“The First World War broke out in August of 1914. Many rushed to war almost gleefully, confident in victory for their particular side. Many thought the war would be over by Christmas. But when Christmas came the war was still young. It would last another four years and claim the lives of some 8 million soldiers before it was through. 

In the midst of this bloodshed, though, a remarkable thing happened. In many places along the Western Front, particularly where the British and the Germans faced each other, unofficial Christmas truces were made in 1914. And here, for a brief few hours, the killing ceased.  

Instead of firing bullets at each other, the mortal enemies sang Christmas carols to one another on Christmas Eve. German soldiers even decorated their trenches with candles and with Christmas Trees—tannebaum, they called them. On Christmas morning, soldiers from both sides met in no man’s land and exchanged what gifts they had: buttons and medals, candy and tobacco and liquor. Soldiers who had once been barbers gave free haircuts. One German soldier who had been a juggler in happier times gave a performance in no man’s land.  

The goodwill between enemies was only temporary. In a matter of days they were back to the grim business of trying to blow one another apart. But for a few brief hours, the influence of the Prince of Peace had been felt.”

Moments like these where the Kingdom of God breaks into the twisted and fallen world in which we live don’t seem to come often enough. But they are made possible by the fact that 2000 years ago, the Word became Flesh and the Son of God came to earth. The baby Jesus grew to be a man, lived a perfect life, and then died on our behalf, and for Christians, that is a source of great hope. 

A lot of times we don’t understand the concept of biblical hope very well, because in everyday usage, the word hope means something very different than what it means in the Bible. We use hope as a synonym for wish, as in “I hope I win the lottery”, or “I hope our economy gets better soon”—both of these are things that people wish would happen, but they don’t actually expect either of them to happen.

Biblical hope is something different though—it is a confident expectation of something that will happen because it has been promised by God. And the entrance of Jesus into the world and his subsequent death and resurrection are a source of great hope for Christians because they make possible a Day of Peace—a day when there will be no more suffering, no more disease, no more school shootings, and no more war. For those who have made peace with God, it is a day to look forward to—an everlasting day which will find the faithful in the presence of the Heavenly Father. That’s the hope—the confident expectation— that Christians have. 

And in the meantime, as we wait for that day to come, Christians have a lot to do to keep busy:

–We gather together to remind one another of that hope and to pledge our devotion to the cause of Christ…

–We work to instill the values of the heavenly Kingdom into our earthly surroundings, so that our friends and neighbors can taste the peace of God for themselves…

–And we celebrate the small down payments on the promise of peace that God has given us…such as the few blessed hours when the armies of the world ceased their strife and remembered the Baby of Bethlehem.

Merry Christmas to you and your family this holiday season! Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and good will toward men!

Thanksgiving: Enzo the Baker, the Men of Jabesh-Gilead, and Gratitude

Some previously-published (and slightly edited) thoughts on Thanksgiving:

One of my all-time favorite movie scenes occurs fairly early in Francis Ford Coppola’s iconic classic, The Godfather.

Vito Corleone, Don of the Corleone crime family and the “Godfather” of the movie’s title, is in the hospital, having barely survived an attempt on his life. His youngest son, Michael, comes to visit him, but discovers that his father is unguarded and all by himself, and realizes that another attempt is about to be made on his life.

Michael calls his older brother on the phone and tells him to send reinforcements, and then hides his father in another hospital room.

About this time, Enzo the Baker arrives.

Earlier in the movie, the Godfather had used his considerable influence to take care of some immigration issues that Enzo was struggling with, and now the young Sicilian has come to pay his respects to the ailing Don.

Michael tries to warn Enzo of the danger he is in, but Enzo refuses to leave:

“You better get out of here, Enzo, there’s gonna be trouble.”

“If there is trouble, I stay here to help you. For your father. For your father.”

The two men go outside and wait on the front steps, posing as bodyguards. A car of would-be assassins pulls up, but confused by the appearance of guards where they weren’t expecting to find any, they drive on.

Scared to death, Enzo begins to shake and struggles to light a cigarette. He is out of place in the world of organized crime, but a debt of gratitude has compelled an ordinary man to act in an extraordinary fashion, risking his life to save someone else.

We talk a lot about being thankful, or grateful, at this time of year, but I wonder if we don’t often mistake appreciation for gratitude.

Sure, we’re glad that we are able to gather with family, and we appreciate the fact that we have a lot of blessings—we certainly wouldn’t want to try living without those blessings—but often that’s as far as it goes.

But gratitude goes a step further than appreciation. From Wikipedia:

“Gratitude is the substance of a heart ready to show appreciation, or thankfulness; it is not simply an emotion, which involves a pleasant feeling that can occur when we receive a favor or benefit from another person, but rather the combination of a state of being and an emotion; often accompanied by a desire to thank them, or to reciprocate for a favour they have done for you.”

Gratitude is a feeling of appreciation accompanied by a desire to act. It was a deep feeling of gratitude that drove Enzo to disregard his own safety in order to help the man who had helped him.

One of my favorite Old Testament stories illustrates gratitude very well, and focuses on the men of Jabesh-Gilead.

Just after Saul has been anointed as the first king of Israel, the Ammonites come and besiege the town of Jabesh-Gilead. The elders of Jabesh know that they can’t withstand the Ammonites, and they also know that they will be treated harshly if they surrender, so they send messengers throughout Israel, hoping that someone will come to their aid.

When Saul hears the news, he becomes angry and promises to deliver the town in 1 Samuel 11.9,11:

“They said to the messengers who had come, “Thus you shall say to the men of Jabesh-gilead, ‘Tomorrow, by the time the sun is hot, you will have deliverance.’” So the messengers went and told the men of Jabesh; and they were glad.

The next morning Saul put the people in three companies; and they came into the midst of the camp at the morning watch and struck down the Ammonites until the heat of the day. Those who survived were scattered, so that no two of them were left together.”

Saul’s rescuing of the town of Jabesh-Gilead serves to cement himself as the King of Israel, but if you were to stop reading there, you would be unaware of the debt of gratitude that the men of Jabesh apparently felt toward him.

In fact, you have to go many years into the future, to the very end of Saul’s reign, before Jabesh-Gilead is mentioned again.

This time, Saul has gone to war against the Philistines, and the fighting has gone very badly for the Israelites: three of Saul’s sons are killed, and Saul takes his own life after being badly wounded by an archer.

When the Philistines come upon the body of Saul, they cut off his head and take his weapons. The weapons end up in a temple to a false god, and Saul’s body is hung as a war trophy on the wall of the town of Beth-Shan.

It is at this point, many years after Saul had rescued them from the Ammonites that the men of Jabesh-Gilead make their appearance in 1 Samuel 31.11-13:

“Now when the inhabitants of Jabesh-gilead heard what the Philistines had done to Saul, all the valiant men rose and walked all night, and took the body of Saul and the bodies of his sons from the wall of Beth-shan, and they came to Jabesh and burned them there. They took their bones and buried them under the tamarisk tree at Jabesh, and fasted seven days.”

When the men of Jabesh-Gilead hear what has happened to Saul, they remember the debt of gratitude they owe him, walk all night into enemy territory, retrieve his body, and bury it honorably.

This act of gratitude is even more impressive when you realize that this is a debt that they have been waiting to pay for 40 years—the entire length of Saul’s reign. It seems likely that some of the valiant men who made the journey that night weren’t even born yet when Saul had saved their town, and yet they are still willing to risk their lives to protect his honor.

Gratitude compels people to act.

As a Christian, I believe that Jesus sacrificed Himself to cleanse me of sin and to make reconciliation with God possible.

I very much appreciate that sacrifice, but more than that, I am grateful for it—I wish there was something I could do to repay the debt of gratitude that I feel.

But there isn’t. The best I can do is to try to live each day for Jesus, to live as He Himself did.

I fail often, and sometimes I fail miserably, but I am still compelled to try. Gratitude will permit nothing less.

God Is The One We Should Rely On: Lipscomb On Human Government

David Lipscomb was a very influential leader within Churches of Christ in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Lipscomb served as a minister, an educator (a co-founder of the Nashville Bible School, which exists today as Lipscomb University), and an editor of the very influential Gospel Advocate.

Lipscomb was also a pacifist, and in some sense, a Christian anarchist: he believed that Christians had no business interacting with government, including voting in elections or serving on juries. My own views on government are not as extreme as Lipscomb’s, but I do think his thoughts serve as a helpful corrective to what I see from a lot of people.

It has been distressing to me during this election cycle to see so many Christians who (based on their comments on Facebook or Twitter) seem to be placing so much of their hope for the betterment of our world in political candidates (regardless of which party they happen to support). To these folks, Lipscomb offers some helpful words:

“Everyone who honors and serves the human government and relies upon it, for good, more than he does upon the Divine government, worships and serves the creature more than he does the Creator.”

On Civil Government, p. 50

With all due respect to Lipscomb, I believe that it is appropriate for Christians to vote, and that ideally, Christians should use their vote to reinforce the values of the Kingdom. And sometimes it can be easy to get pretty wrapped up in the political process, because those values can mean a lot to us.

But I think he is right on the money about this: let us never think that the president we elect or the government we put into place is the ultimate source to which we should look for guidance, protection, or good. Those things come from God, and He still sits firmly on His throne, in control of all the things we debate and worry about.

A God Who Is Not Far From Us

St. Paul Preaching in Athens, by Raphael

In a well-known passage in Acts 17, Paul addresses the Areopagus in Athens:

“Men of Athens, I perceive that in every way you are very religious. For as I passed along and observed the objects of your worship, I found also an altar with this inscription, ‘To the unknown god.’ What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it, being Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in temples made by man, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mankind life and breath and everything.”

The Greeks were a very religious people—I can remember studying in school about the various Greek gods and goddesses—and Athens was filled with temples, statues, and idols in honor of them. Apparently, in addition to these deities, they even worshipped an “unknown god”, I guess to make sure they didn’t leave anyone out.

But the point that Paul tries to make to them is that they did leave Someone out—the most important Someone of all—the God who made the world and everything in it. The Greeks were ignorant of this God…

Being ignorant of God—what He is like and what He desires of us—is a problem that was not specific to the Greeks. It’s a recurring problem that has appeared throughout history. And when it’s up to us to determine what God is like and what He wants, sometimes we end up in some pretty dark places.

Chichén Itzá was a pre-Coumbian Mayan cultural center located on the Northern Yucatán peninsula in modern day Mexico. Today it is a popular tourist attraction and every year thousands of people go and visit the ruins.

The Yucatán is a dry area with no rivers above ground, but despite this, Chichén Itzá was able to thrive as a major Mayan city because of the existence of a certain type of geological formation called a cenote. A cenote is a sinkhole which had formed in the limestone foundation and contained groundwater. There are several cenotes throughout the Yucatán, and at Chichén Itzá, there were two cenotes which were substantial in size and would likely have contained adequate drinking water year round for the people of the city.

Cenote Sagrado, believed to be the home of the Mayan rain god,  Chaac.

However, of the two cenotes, only one was used for drinking water, because one of them was believed to be the home of the Mayan rain god, Chaac. In order to keep Chaac happy and the rain plentiful (and plentiful rain was a big deal in such a dry area), the Mayan people would offer human sacrifices. These sacrifices, often children, would be weighted down with gold and silver jewelry and then tossed down into the cenote where Chaac was thought to live. Hundreds of years later, when the area was excavated by archaeologists, many tiny skeletons, as well as the treasure that dragged them to their deaths, were found.

Senseless deaths…sacrifices made in order to appease a god they didn’t understand, whose will they had to guess at.

We hear that and perhaps it’s easy for us to dismiss that example as being far removed from our own circumstances, but it’s not an isolated incident—people have often justified terrible actions because they thought they were doing what God wanted: fighting in the Crusades…buying and selling people based on the color of their skin…blowing up abortion clinics…flying airplanes into skyscrapers.

When it’s up to us to determine what God is like and what He wants, sometimes we end up in some pretty dark places.

But reading further in Acts 17, Paul says that it doesn’t have to be this way—we don’t have to be ignorant of God. He tells the people of Athens that God is “not far from each one of us”, and that we are His offspring.

And then, speaking of Jesus, Paul goes on to say that God “has fixed a day on which he will judge the world in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed; and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him [Jesus] from the dead.”

Paul’s claim that God is not far from us finds fuller expression in the classic passage on the Incarnation in John 1. There, in verse 14 we read, “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”

A lot of times when speaking about the Incarnation, we talk about that first part: the Word becoming flesh. That’s certainly an important concept, but I want to focus on the second clause: the Word made his dwelling among us. Here John is using tabernacle language to explain how God came down to be among His people in a new and special way. A more literal translation would be something like, “He pitched His tent among us.”

In The Message, Eugene Peterson says that “the Word became flesh and moved into our neighborhood”, and I love that sentiment—through Jesus, God is no longer a mysterious stranger Whom we don’t understand, because He lives right down the street from us—we can see what God is like for ourselves! 

The wonderful news of the Incarnation is that the God who does not wish to be far from each of us put on flesh, and Jesus took up residence in our neighborhood. From there, He offers the gift of friendship, and as our Friend, we are never left to wonder what He is like, or what He wants from us.