Passage: Daniel 6
Daniel is best known for a few punchy Sunday school stories – the most memorable of which is “Daniel in the Lions' Den”. Most of our familiarity with Daniel ends with this and the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace. We seldom venture into the book itself, preferring to stick with the bedtime stories and smattering of moral lessons that get tacked onto them.
The Book of Daniel is somewhat more gritty, and infinitely more theologically rich than the Sunday School lessons suggest. As a young man Daniel is taken captive following a 605 BC siege of Jerusalem by Babylon. In exchange for sparing the city, the Babylonians are given the most lavish furnishings from the Temple of the LORD, as well as Jerusalem’s most promising young nobles. These are taken and “re-educated” (resistance is futile) to serve as attendants to the king of Babylon. In Daniel 1 we’re told they are supervised by Ashpenaz, “chief of his court officials” (NIV); other translations identify Ashpenaz as “chief eunuch”. The implication, restated with certainty by such commentators as Josephus, is that Daniel and his friends become eunuchs, too. The Hebrew captives are pressed into service, but distinguish themselves quickly. They are healthier and have a higher aptitude for learning than their Babylonian counterparts. They are also unwilling to fully “get with the program”, in particular refusing to give up their devotion to the God of the Israelites. This garners at turns condemnation (as in the cases of the fiery furnace and the lions' den) and admiration (as when Daniel interprets the kings’ dreams and when the angel preserves Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego). By their presence in Babylon and their unwavering commitment to the LORD, Daniel and his friends bear witness to the undeniable reality and authority of the one true God.
The overarching theme of the Book of Daniel is that the LORD is God. In Daniel the Babylonian and Medo-Persian kings encounter the God of Daniel and his people. And God proves himself to be the ultimate power in their world. Nebuchadnezzar sees God’s authority in the interpretation of his dreams, in God’s preservation of the men in fiery furnace, and in God’s usurpation of the king’s own mental faculties. Belshazzar’s life is cut short when he defiles the objects taken from the LORD’s temple. Darius witnesses God’s power in his protection of Daniel and the elevation of Daniel to second-in-command of the kingdom. In each instance the king bows the knee to the greater authority.
In Daniel 7 the historical vignettes of Daniel’s life give way to Daniel’s own prophetic visions. Here, too, we encounter more explicitly the promises that are implicit in God’s dealings with and through Daniel. Daniel catches a glimpse of how history will unfold. At the end of the story, God will be revealed as ruler of all. Every king and kingdom will give way to God’s ultimate authority. And in the end God’s people – those who stood firm in the face of temptation and oppression – will be raised to eternal life in his kingdom. The call – to honor God with your life and to stand firm in the faith – resonates throughout history.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
What Are You Waiting For?
Ezekiel 43:1-12
Three entire chapters of Ezekiel (40-42) are devoted to a detailed description of a vision of the new temple. Recall that in Ezekiel 10 the prophet has a vision of God’s glory leaving the temple in Jerusalem. This symbolizes the removal of God’s provision and protection, felt acutely by God’s people during the Babylonian invasion.
Through Ezekiel God assures his people that this isn’t the end of the story. After a greatly protracted chronicle of Israel’s sins and the requisite punishment, Ezekiel details his God-given vision of a new temple. I confess that as a reader I glaze over when I get to Ezekiel 40. The ensuing three chapters are tedious at best. And you can’t help wondering about the point. Why all the detail about the dimensions, contents, and decorations of the new temple?
The response to this question has layers that can’t be explored fully here. However, there are two simple answers that provide some impetus for taking some time over Ezekiel 40-42. The first is that Ezekiel’s vision captures the completeness and perfection of the new temple. This will be a temple to top all temples. The second is that this extended description is intended to build anticipation. The whole time Ezekiel recounts his vision we the readers should be thinking, “Why? Why all this detailed preparation?” The answer, of course, is that this will be God’s dwelling place. Everything has to be just right for this event – the event for which God’s people have been waiting: the return of God’s glory to the temple. “God with us.”
This week marks the beginning of Advent. Once again we commence a season that symbolizes our communal waiting. Sometimes the waiting feels interminable. Let’s spend the time getting our houses in order. Preparing ourselves for this event all creation has been waiting for: the consummation of God with us.
Three entire chapters of Ezekiel (40-42) are devoted to a detailed description of a vision of the new temple. Recall that in Ezekiel 10 the prophet has a vision of God’s glory leaving the temple in Jerusalem. This symbolizes the removal of God’s provision and protection, felt acutely by God’s people during the Babylonian invasion.
Through Ezekiel God assures his people that this isn’t the end of the story. After a greatly protracted chronicle of Israel’s sins and the requisite punishment, Ezekiel details his God-given vision of a new temple. I confess that as a reader I glaze over when I get to Ezekiel 40. The ensuing three chapters are tedious at best. And you can’t help wondering about the point. Why all the detail about the dimensions, contents, and decorations of the new temple?
The response to this question has layers that can’t be explored fully here. However, there are two simple answers that provide some impetus for taking some time over Ezekiel 40-42. The first is that Ezekiel’s vision captures the completeness and perfection of the new temple. This will be a temple to top all temples. The second is that this extended description is intended to build anticipation. The whole time Ezekiel recounts his vision we the readers should be thinking, “Why? Why all this detailed preparation?” The answer, of course, is that this will be God’s dwelling place. Everything has to be just right for this event – the event for which God’s people have been waiting: the return of God’s glory to the temple. “God with us.”
This week marks the beginning of Advent. Once again we commence a season that symbolizes our communal waiting. Sometimes the waiting feels interminable. Let’s spend the time getting our houses in order. Preparing ourselves for this event all creation has been waiting for: the consummation of God with us.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Watchmen
Passage: Ezekiel 33:1-11
On a plane trip about ten years ago I watched a movie about a career cop who goes looking to find a bone marrow donor for his young son. It turns out the closest match is a sociopathic killer the father helped put behind bars years earlier. When the cop goes to make his appeal, the convict responds, “Just give me moment to savor the irony. Here I am stuck on death row, and all I have to do to kill again is sit here? And a cop’s kid, no less.”
In Ezekiel 33 God confronts his prophet with a dilemma. God says, “I’ve given you the task of warning my people about the judgment that’s coming. If they don’t change their wicked ways, they’re finished. But if you fail to give them fair warning, I’m going to hold you accountable for their deaths.” God goes on to say, “You may be tempted to let my people get what they deserve. You may even want to sit back and enjoy the show. But as my watchman, you have the responsibility to deliver my warning." God says, “As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign LORD, I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live. Turn! Turn from your evil ways! Why will you die, O house of Israel?”
It’s easy to think of God only as judge. Too often God is characterized as angry – an angry God preoccupied with punishing evildoers. When God’s children think this is God's priority, we make it ours, too. We lobby lawmakers to legislate against “immorality.” We picket funerals. We make public statements about how God is punishing us all for the sins of a few. We want to create as much distance as possible between ourselves and the sinners so we don’t get caught in the crossfire. God tells Ezekiel it doesn’t work that way. He says, “Don’t think you can stand back and escape the fire. Take your place alongside the sinners, and pray for grace.” We stand watch – not as onlookers safe in our own self-righteousness, but as those entrusted to sound the alarm. We delight not in the thought of the sinners finally getting theirs, but in the promise that God’s grace is great enough to save even the worst of us.
On a plane trip about ten years ago I watched a movie about a career cop who goes looking to find a bone marrow donor for his young son. It turns out the closest match is a sociopathic killer the father helped put behind bars years earlier. When the cop goes to make his appeal, the convict responds, “Just give me moment to savor the irony. Here I am stuck on death row, and all I have to do to kill again is sit here? And a cop’s kid, no less.”
In Ezekiel 33 God confronts his prophet with a dilemma. God says, “I’ve given you the task of warning my people about the judgment that’s coming. If they don’t change their wicked ways, they’re finished. But if you fail to give them fair warning, I’m going to hold you accountable for their deaths.” God goes on to say, “You may be tempted to let my people get what they deserve. You may even want to sit back and enjoy the show. But as my watchman, you have the responsibility to deliver my warning." God says, “As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign LORD, I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live. Turn! Turn from your evil ways! Why will you die, O house of Israel?”
It’s easy to think of God only as judge. Too often God is characterized as angry – an angry God preoccupied with punishing evildoers. When God’s children think this is God's priority, we make it ours, too. We lobby lawmakers to legislate against “immorality.” We picket funerals. We make public statements about how God is punishing us all for the sins of a few. We want to create as much distance as possible between ourselves and the sinners so we don’t get caught in the crossfire. God tells Ezekiel it doesn’t work that way. He says, “Don’t think you can stand back and escape the fire. Take your place alongside the sinners, and pray for grace.” We stand watch – not as onlookers safe in our own self-righteousness, but as those entrusted to sound the alarm. We delight not in the thought of the sinners finally getting theirs, but in the promise that God’s grace is great enough to save even the worst of us.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
A Dreadful Thing
Passage: Hebrews 12:14-29
One of the most beloved rituals of my childhood was our annual St. Nicholas party. St. Nicholas, the historical figure who has been reinterpreted in our culture as Santa Claus, was a 3rd century Greek bishop who became a patron saint of, among other things, children and students. An annual festival was adopted around St. Nicholas’ birthday (Dec. 6) in a number of European countries, including the Netherlands. The tradition was carried on in countless Dutch Canadian families, like the one I grew up in. Our St. Nicholas party, or “Sinterklaas”, went like this:
A group of the families of my parents’ closest friends would gather at one of our homes. After a lavish meal – that none of the children could enjoy because we were so excited about what was coming next – we’d gather in the living room. We’d sing traditional Sinterklaas songs. We’d speculate about what St. Nick was going to bring us. We’d go half crazy with anticipation. And just when we thought we couldn’t stand it any longer, the living room door would open a crack, and a handful of candy would be thrown into the room. The door would close as the kids would climb over each other to get the candy. The door would open again, another handful of candy launched into the room. Finally the door would burst open, and St. Nick would stride into the room, dressed in his full saintly regalia, white mane of hair and beard flowing around his obscured face.
Now those of us who had been through this routine were beside ourselves with excitement because St. Nick always brought with him a bag full of presents, and there was always one with your name on it. But every year there was at least one little kid for whom this was his or her first Sinterklaas. When St. Nick burst through the door, the youngest kids would invariably react one way: abject terror. They would scream, cry, and scramble to get behind a parent or piece of furniture. I’m sure more than one pair of pants had to be changed over the many years we celebrated Sinterklaas.
It seems funny now to think of such a joyous occasion being punctuated with consuming fear. In Hebrews 12 the author describes a similar joyous occasion – a day of celebration unrivaled by anything the human race has ever seen. And yet, says the author, that day will be a day of unparalleled terror for many. Why?
The day the author of Hebrews describes is the day of Christ’s return. The day on which every human being who has ever lived is brought face-to-face with the God of the universe. For those who lived their lives in communion with God, this reunion will be a moment they’ve anticipated with great excitement. There will be, however, many for whom God is a stranger. Their response will be one of consuming fear. As the author of Hebrews says, “It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” The author offers this as both an invitation and a warning. He says, “The day is coming. It can be a day of incomparable joy. Or it can be a day of ultimate terror. Your call.” Get to know God, so that the day of our reunion comes as a pleasant surprise rather than a terrible shock. Now’s your chance.
One of the most beloved rituals of my childhood was our annual St. Nicholas party. St. Nicholas, the historical figure who has been reinterpreted in our culture as Santa Claus, was a 3rd century Greek bishop who became a patron saint of, among other things, children and students. An annual festival was adopted around St. Nicholas’ birthday (Dec. 6) in a number of European countries, including the Netherlands. The tradition was carried on in countless Dutch Canadian families, like the one I grew up in. Our St. Nicholas party, or “Sinterklaas”, went like this:
A group of the families of my parents’ closest friends would gather at one of our homes. After a lavish meal – that none of the children could enjoy because we were so excited about what was coming next – we’d gather in the living room. We’d sing traditional Sinterklaas songs. We’d speculate about what St. Nick was going to bring us. We’d go half crazy with anticipation. And just when we thought we couldn’t stand it any longer, the living room door would open a crack, and a handful of candy would be thrown into the room. The door would close as the kids would climb over each other to get the candy. The door would open again, another handful of candy launched into the room. Finally the door would burst open, and St. Nick would stride into the room, dressed in his full saintly regalia, white mane of hair and beard flowing around his obscured face.
Now those of us who had been through this routine were beside ourselves with excitement because St. Nick always brought with him a bag full of presents, and there was always one with your name on it. But every year there was at least one little kid for whom this was his or her first Sinterklaas. When St. Nick burst through the door, the youngest kids would invariably react one way: abject terror. They would scream, cry, and scramble to get behind a parent or piece of furniture. I’m sure more than one pair of pants had to be changed over the many years we celebrated Sinterklaas.
It seems funny now to think of such a joyous occasion being punctuated with consuming fear. In Hebrews 12 the author describes a similar joyous occasion – a day of celebration unrivaled by anything the human race has ever seen. And yet, says the author, that day will be a day of unparalleled terror for many. Why?
The day the author of Hebrews describes is the day of Christ’s return. The day on which every human being who has ever lived is brought face-to-face with the God of the universe. For those who lived their lives in communion with God, this reunion will be a moment they’ve anticipated with great excitement. There will be, however, many for whom God is a stranger. Their response will be one of consuming fear. As the author of Hebrews says, “It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” The author offers this as both an invitation and a warning. He says, “The day is coming. It can be a day of incomparable joy. Or it can be a day of ultimate terror. Your call.” Get to know God, so that the day of our reunion comes as a pleasant surprise rather than a terrible shock. Now’s your chance.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Wiping the Slate Clean
Passage: Ezekiel 18
In this passage Ezekiel echoes a sentiment expressed by the prophet Jeremiah. In chapter 31 Jeremiah says,
In those days people will no longer say, ‘The parents have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge.’ Instead, everyone will die for their own sin; whoever eats sour grapes—their own teeth will be set on edge.
Ezekiel repeats the same proverb, and expands on the promise given by Jeremiah. Here Ezekiel belabors the point that God will judge every person according to his or her sin. And at first this part of the message seems harsh. The idea of God keeping track of your sins and holding you accountable for them is something that people in our culture find distasteful about religion. In fact, what Ezekiel talks about in chapter 18 is what we find at the heart of the Gospel. There are two aspects of this discourse that are genuinely good news.
The first is God’s statement to a people who have been convinced, over the centuries, that they are being punished for the sins of their forebears. As the children of Israel and Judah are reminded of the infidelity generations of their ancestors committed against God, they conclude, “There’s no way we can compensate for them.” In the same way that those who believe in Karma are convinced it takes several lifetimes to make up for sins committed in this one, God’s people are convinced they, their children, and their grandchildren will suffer for the failures of their predecessors. God says, “Not so. I’ve wiped the slate clean. From this point forward I will hold you accountable only for your own sin.”
The second is that God will in fact hold people accountable for their sin. This means, for example, a person who has been victimized as a child or during a time of vulnerability can know that her or his abuser won’t get away with what they did. The abuser will, at some point, be held accountable by the one who sees all. Imagine for a moment you suffered abuse at the hands of a parent. You grow up having been convinced it was somehow your fault. The abuse is a source of shame that you carry into adulthood. Shame over what happens predisposes you to think of yourself as vulnerable to and deserving of abuse. You also carry an injustice that at some level you feel the need to rectify. You can’t get back at your abusive parent, either because they’re too powerful, or because they’re gone. You either live with the sense that you are stuck a victim because justice was never done, or you channel your hurt and sense of victimhood into acts of aggression against someone weaker than you. It all stems from the idea that you’re stuck with the consequences of someone else’s sin; stuck with the need to make justice happen.
In this passage in Ezekiel God offers freedom from having to live out the sins of your parents, grandparents and great-grandparents. He offers a clean slate – the chance to be defined by your own choices. God also assures us that justice is ultimately in his hands. We don’t have to live our lives obsessed with making sure someone gets punished for our hurt. That’s God’s job. Ours is to live in response to God’s love, not in reaction to our own hurt. God wipes the slate clean and makes us new people.
In this passage Ezekiel echoes a sentiment expressed by the prophet Jeremiah. In chapter 31 Jeremiah says,
In those days people will no longer say, ‘The parents have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge.’ Instead, everyone will die for their own sin; whoever eats sour grapes—their own teeth will be set on edge.
Ezekiel repeats the same proverb, and expands on the promise given by Jeremiah. Here Ezekiel belabors the point that God will judge every person according to his or her sin. And at first this part of the message seems harsh. The idea of God keeping track of your sins and holding you accountable for them is something that people in our culture find distasteful about religion. In fact, what Ezekiel talks about in chapter 18 is what we find at the heart of the Gospel. There are two aspects of this discourse that are genuinely good news.
The first is God’s statement to a people who have been convinced, over the centuries, that they are being punished for the sins of their forebears. As the children of Israel and Judah are reminded of the infidelity generations of their ancestors committed against God, they conclude, “There’s no way we can compensate for them.” In the same way that those who believe in Karma are convinced it takes several lifetimes to make up for sins committed in this one, God’s people are convinced they, their children, and their grandchildren will suffer for the failures of their predecessors. God says, “Not so. I’ve wiped the slate clean. From this point forward I will hold you accountable only for your own sin.”
The second is that God will in fact hold people accountable for their sin. This means, for example, a person who has been victimized as a child or during a time of vulnerability can know that her or his abuser won’t get away with what they did. The abuser will, at some point, be held accountable by the one who sees all. Imagine for a moment you suffered abuse at the hands of a parent. You grow up having been convinced it was somehow your fault. The abuse is a source of shame that you carry into adulthood. Shame over what happens predisposes you to think of yourself as vulnerable to and deserving of abuse. You also carry an injustice that at some level you feel the need to rectify. You can’t get back at your abusive parent, either because they’re too powerful, or because they’re gone. You either live with the sense that you are stuck a victim because justice was never done, or you channel your hurt and sense of victimhood into acts of aggression against someone weaker than you. It all stems from the idea that you’re stuck with the consequences of someone else’s sin; stuck with the need to make justice happen.
In this passage in Ezekiel God offers freedom from having to live out the sins of your parents, grandparents and great-grandparents. He offers a clean slate – the chance to be defined by your own choices. God also assures us that justice is ultimately in his hands. We don’t have to live our lives obsessed with making sure someone gets punished for our hurt. That’s God’s job. Ours is to live in response to God’s love, not in reaction to our own hurt. God wipes the slate clean and makes us new people.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Dear Shame
Passage: Ezekiel 16:53-63
Ezekiel 16 is probably the most difficult chapter in what is decidedly a difficult book. What’s difficult about this chapter is the visceral language the prophet uses to describe the unfaithfulness of God’s people. Ezekiel uses two metaphors to describe Israel and Judah. The first is that of an infant abandoned at birth. Ezekiel describes in detail the state of this infant before God finds her, cleans her, and nurtures her. The second metaphor is that of a beloved bride who becomes adulterous – indiscriminately giving herself to anyone who comes knocking. Through the prophet God is describing the tendency of people, and nations, to seek comfort, solace and fulfillment in cheap substitutes: money; physical pleasure; social/political influence; military might. God is saying, “These are the lovers you’re inviting in my place.” What God offers, again and again, is the true comfort, security, and intimacy for which every person hungers. God identifies each of our tendency to look past him to lovers that are a little flashier; a little more exciting; offer more immediate gratification. Eventually God allows his people to suffer the consequences of that tendency.
But God doesn’t give up on us. At the end of Ezekiel 16 God says, “I will never forget the covenant I made to take you in, provide for you and love you. I will return to this covenant not because you deserve it, but because my love is limitless.
“When I return to you," says God, "you will finally feel the shame you should have felt when you were running around on me. You’ll finally recognize what you became. Perhaps one day you’ll see yourself through the lens of my perfect love for you. When you do, you’ll grieve the shameless way you discarded me.”
We treat shame as a bad word. And yes, there are times when shame comes from the wrong place or is inappropriately assigned. In these cases shame becomes an oppressive barrier to health. Like any other innate instinct, however, shame has a place. Sometimes it tells us we aren’t living into the people we want to be. Sometimes it tells us we aren’t living according to a valuable set of rules or standards. Sometimes it tells us we have fallen short in a commitment or obligation to a loved one. People who know no shame are capable of doing great damage to themselves and their relationships. Sometimes the restoration of shame is the first step toward the restoration of self-love; of dignity; and of loving relationship. When God promises to restore his people’s shame, God promises to restore them to a beloved and cherished status they’ll wish they’d never lost.
Ezekiel 16 is probably the most difficult chapter in what is decidedly a difficult book. What’s difficult about this chapter is the visceral language the prophet uses to describe the unfaithfulness of God’s people. Ezekiel uses two metaphors to describe Israel and Judah. The first is that of an infant abandoned at birth. Ezekiel describes in detail the state of this infant before God finds her, cleans her, and nurtures her. The second metaphor is that of a beloved bride who becomes adulterous – indiscriminately giving herself to anyone who comes knocking. Through the prophet God is describing the tendency of people, and nations, to seek comfort, solace and fulfillment in cheap substitutes: money; physical pleasure; social/political influence; military might. God is saying, “These are the lovers you’re inviting in my place.” What God offers, again and again, is the true comfort, security, and intimacy for which every person hungers. God identifies each of our tendency to look past him to lovers that are a little flashier; a little more exciting; offer more immediate gratification. Eventually God allows his people to suffer the consequences of that tendency.
But God doesn’t give up on us. At the end of Ezekiel 16 God says, “I will never forget the covenant I made to take you in, provide for you and love you. I will return to this covenant not because you deserve it, but because my love is limitless.
“When I return to you," says God, "you will finally feel the shame you should have felt when you were running around on me. You’ll finally recognize what you became. Perhaps one day you’ll see yourself through the lens of my perfect love for you. When you do, you’ll grieve the shameless way you discarded me.”
We treat shame as a bad word. And yes, there are times when shame comes from the wrong place or is inappropriately assigned. In these cases shame becomes an oppressive barrier to health. Like any other innate instinct, however, shame has a place. Sometimes it tells us we aren’t living into the people we want to be. Sometimes it tells us we aren’t living according to a valuable set of rules or standards. Sometimes it tells us we have fallen short in a commitment or obligation to a loved one. People who know no shame are capable of doing great damage to themselves and their relationships. Sometimes the restoration of shame is the first step toward the restoration of self-love; of dignity; and of loving relationship. When God promises to restore his people’s shame, God promises to restore them to a beloved and cherished status they’ll wish they’d never lost.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Ezekiel Who?
Passage: Ezekiel 1
The Book of Ezekiel opens with vivid and elaborate imagery that proves to be the prophet’s signature throughout the book. Ezekiel prefaces his prophecy with the account of how he received it. Rob Bell says, “The message of this chapter is simple: ‘Kids, this is why you never do drugs.’” Ezekiel 1 reads like a bad acid trip.
And it’s easy to get distracted by the details of Ezekiel’s heavenly vision. For centuries scholars have picked apart each image and each character from the vision, claiming each to be a metaphor or symbol for something else. Whereas some of these analyses have more merit than others, they all run the risk of distracting from the main focus of the passage.
The key point to take from Ezekiel 1 is this: Ezekiel has caught a glimpse of the throne room of Heaven. He has encountered the living God. And here is what Ezekiel has seen: that God is overwhelming in majesty and power; that God is attended and worshiped by the most amazing and majestic creatures in Heaven and Earth; that therefore God is Lord of all Creation. In other words, says Ezekiel, I saw God, and God is everything he says he is. Ezekiel’s prophecy is given credibility because his vision is beyond even what he can describe. It’s truly a glimpse into the realm of God and the angels. Ezekiel bears witness that God is real, and God is who he says he is. Furthermore, God is the one who has commissioned Ezekiel to speak. Anything Ezekiel says henceforth is God’s word, given by God’s authority.
Here’s why this is important. Ezekiel has been commissioned to bring God’s word to the Israelites living in exile. They believe either that God has been a myth all along, or that God has abandoned them. Ezekiel comes to them and says, “God’s real. How do I know? I have seen him.” Ezekiel comes to them and says, “God hasn’t forgotten you. How do I know? Because he gave me this message specifically for you.” Finally, most importantly, Ezekiel says, “God is with you. How do I know? Because here I am.” Here’s the connection. Way back in Deuteronomy, God gave this promise. It was early on in the life of the Israelites, so they may not have been paying attention. But now all of a sudden it’s more important than ever. Here’s what God said, through Moses, way back then:
The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your fellow Israelites. You must listen to him. For this is what you asked of the LORD your God at Horeb on the day of the assembly when you said, “Let us not hear the voice of the LORD our God nor see this great fire anymore, or we will die.” The LORD said to me: “What they say is good. I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their fellow Israelites, and I will put my words in his mouth. He will tell them everything I command him.” (Deuteronomy 18:15-18)
God promised always to provide his people a human representative – someone to act as a go-between; someone to speak to his people on his behalf. Here, even though they’ve been ripped from their homeland and placed among pagans, God’s people have God’s voice speaking in their ears. Who is Ezekiel? God’s prophet. God’s mouthpiece. The physical reminder of God’s constant presence.
The Book of Ezekiel opens with vivid and elaborate imagery that proves to be the prophet’s signature throughout the book. Ezekiel prefaces his prophecy with the account of how he received it. Rob Bell says, “The message of this chapter is simple: ‘Kids, this is why you never do drugs.’” Ezekiel 1 reads like a bad acid trip.
And it’s easy to get distracted by the details of Ezekiel’s heavenly vision. For centuries scholars have picked apart each image and each character from the vision, claiming each to be a metaphor or symbol for something else. Whereas some of these analyses have more merit than others, they all run the risk of distracting from the main focus of the passage.
The key point to take from Ezekiel 1 is this: Ezekiel has caught a glimpse of the throne room of Heaven. He has encountered the living God. And here is what Ezekiel has seen: that God is overwhelming in majesty and power; that God is attended and worshiped by the most amazing and majestic creatures in Heaven and Earth; that therefore God is Lord of all Creation. In other words, says Ezekiel, I saw God, and God is everything he says he is. Ezekiel’s prophecy is given credibility because his vision is beyond even what he can describe. It’s truly a glimpse into the realm of God and the angels. Ezekiel bears witness that God is real, and God is who he says he is. Furthermore, God is the one who has commissioned Ezekiel to speak. Anything Ezekiel says henceforth is God’s word, given by God’s authority.
Here’s why this is important. Ezekiel has been commissioned to bring God’s word to the Israelites living in exile. They believe either that God has been a myth all along, or that God has abandoned them. Ezekiel comes to them and says, “God’s real. How do I know? I have seen him.” Ezekiel comes to them and says, “God hasn’t forgotten you. How do I know? Because he gave me this message specifically for you.” Finally, most importantly, Ezekiel says, “God is with you. How do I know? Because here I am.” Here’s the connection. Way back in Deuteronomy, God gave this promise. It was early on in the life of the Israelites, so they may not have been paying attention. But now all of a sudden it’s more important than ever. Here’s what God said, through Moses, way back then:
The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your fellow Israelites. You must listen to him. For this is what you asked of the LORD your God at Horeb on the day of the assembly when you said, “Let us not hear the voice of the LORD our God nor see this great fire anymore, or we will die.” The LORD said to me: “What they say is good. I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their fellow Israelites, and I will put my words in his mouth. He will tell them everything I command him.” (Deuteronomy 18:15-18)
God promised always to provide his people a human representative – someone to act as a go-between; someone to speak to his people on his behalf. Here, even though they’ve been ripped from their homeland and placed among pagans, God’s people have God’s voice speaking in their ears. Who is Ezekiel? God’s prophet. God’s mouthpiece. The physical reminder of God’s constant presence.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Lamentations
Passage: Lamentations 1
The Book of Lamentations has historically been attributed to the prophet Jeremiah. Whereas the most recent scholarly consensus is that the book was composed by a group of authors, the assumption is that it was written at a time concurrent with Jeremiah’s ministry. That is, shortly after the fall of Jerusalem and the exile.
Whether these are Jeremiah’s words or those of a group of his contemporaries, the book itself communicates devastating sentiments that are the only fitting response to devastating circumstances. These are the words of the witnesses – the survivors. These are the words of those who escaped only after having taken in the sights and sounds of foreign invaders ruthlessly slaughtering their neighbors and friends. Who escaped only to witness from a distance the flames rising from their homes. Who stood back and saw the Temple – the last symbol of God’s presence with his people – pulled down stone by stone. We cannot begin to imagine the trauma of the survivors. What we’ve been given are these echoes of their cries of agony and despair. This chorus of the horror, the pain and regret of a people whose God has left them to fend for themselves.
Lamentations consists of five sections. Each is itself a work of art: the first four sections are acrostic poems, their successive verses beginning with one of the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet. The third, or center, section, consists of sixty-six verses, with three verses devoted to each of the twenty-two letters. The fifth section mirrors the structure of the other four, consisting of twenty-two verses, but lacking the acrostic format. The themes of the five sections are, in order: the misery of the forsaken city; the sin that brought judgment to God’s people; hope for the people of God; the connection between sin and the destruction of the city; a prayer that God will respond to the people’s repentance with mercy. A distinctive of Hebrew poetry, exemplified by Lamentations, is that the structure of a poem serves to amplify its theme or message.
At the apex of the book – its center section – is hope. God’s people have seen first hand that God is true to his word. He has always promised that if they abandoned him, they would experience life without him. However, God has also promised, again and again, that if his people change their ways, he’ll take them back every time. So, in the aftermath of their destruction they confess their sins, and throw a desperate prayer into the heavens. They hope against hope that God will hear their prayers, and redeem them like he promised.
The Book of Lamentations has historically been attributed to the prophet Jeremiah. Whereas the most recent scholarly consensus is that the book was composed by a group of authors, the assumption is that it was written at a time concurrent with Jeremiah’s ministry. That is, shortly after the fall of Jerusalem and the exile.
Whether these are Jeremiah’s words or those of a group of his contemporaries, the book itself communicates devastating sentiments that are the only fitting response to devastating circumstances. These are the words of the witnesses – the survivors. These are the words of those who escaped only after having taken in the sights and sounds of foreign invaders ruthlessly slaughtering their neighbors and friends. Who escaped only to witness from a distance the flames rising from their homes. Who stood back and saw the Temple – the last symbol of God’s presence with his people – pulled down stone by stone. We cannot begin to imagine the trauma of the survivors. What we’ve been given are these echoes of their cries of agony and despair. This chorus of the horror, the pain and regret of a people whose God has left them to fend for themselves.
Lamentations consists of five sections. Each is itself a work of art: the first four sections are acrostic poems, their successive verses beginning with one of the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet. The third, or center, section, consists of sixty-six verses, with three verses devoted to each of the twenty-two letters. The fifth section mirrors the structure of the other four, consisting of twenty-two verses, but lacking the acrostic format. The themes of the five sections are, in order: the misery of the forsaken city; the sin that brought judgment to God’s people; hope for the people of God; the connection between sin and the destruction of the city; a prayer that God will respond to the people’s repentance with mercy. A distinctive of Hebrew poetry, exemplified by Lamentations, is that the structure of a poem serves to amplify its theme or message.
At the apex of the book – its center section – is hope. God’s people have seen first hand that God is true to his word. He has always promised that if they abandoned him, they would experience life without him. However, God has also promised, again and again, that if his people change their ways, he’ll take them back every time. So, in the aftermath of their destruction they confess their sins, and throw a desperate prayer into the heavens. They hope against hope that God will hear their prayers, and redeem them like he promised.
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