Passage: Micah 2:6-11
A few years ago I read a novel in which the main characters all employed a “family singer.” The singer’s job was to soothe people when they were stressed out or depressed. He would say pleasant things to them about their glowing positive attributes or the rosy state of the world. And they would calm down and feel good again. Of course it was all lies. But the singer made people feel so good about their lives that they kept him employed.
God repeatedly speaks to the kingdoms of Israel and Judah through prophets. Prophets are a generally accepted class of people whose job it is to deliver the all-important word of God. The problem is that the prophets consistently tell people stuff they don’t want to hear. God’s people circumnavigate this problem by hiring their own prophets – spin doctors who, for a fee, will remix God’s word so that it sounds nice.
Needless to say, God, and his legitimate prophets, have little patience for this practice. In Micah 2 the prophet confronts his people. He says, “You want I should stop prophesying? What good will that do you?” In the same way that a patient who disregards the doctor’s bad news is unlikely to last long, the people of Israel and Judah stop their ears to God’s word only to their great detriment.
It may benefit us to take stock of the “prophetic voices” informing us. Do you stick to commentators, preachers and pundits who say what you want to hear? Do you change the channel when someone confronts a habit that’s a little too close to your heart? Do you turn up the volume when the voice on the other end of the line gives you permission to do what you were hoping to do anyway?
Micah and God’s other prophets say, “Fine. Have it your way. Have your rent-a-prophet. It’s not going to help you when God comes calling.” What do we want? To feel good about ourselves, or to get right with God? We do well to choose our prophets carefully.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Never Look a Gift Fish in the Mouth
Passage: Jonah 1
Ever wondered what Jonah thought when the fish swallowed him? Whenever I swim in a large body of water, I try not to imagine some great marine creature making its way up from the depths. Try not to think about its great jaws encompassing me; its maw engulfing me and taking me down with it. I’m not always successful.
Did Jonah, in the moment, think, “Phew, I thought I was going to drown!”? I’m guessing not. The narrator puts it like this: Now the LORD provided a huge fish to swallow Jonah…Who knew? Jaws – a gift from God.
The Book of Jonah is a great illustration of God’s providence. In Jonah’s story we see God’s hand at work in every detail, bending all things inexorably toward his will. Start to finish God has a plan for Jonah, and will stop at nothing to bring it to completion.
Does God have a plan for you? Do you think anything can derail it? Hang in there. God’s taking you on a journey, and every big fish is just another part of his transit system.
Ever wondered what Jonah thought when the fish swallowed him? Whenever I swim in a large body of water, I try not to imagine some great marine creature making its way up from the depths. Try not to think about its great jaws encompassing me; its maw engulfing me and taking me down with it. I’m not always successful.
Did Jonah, in the moment, think, “Phew, I thought I was going to drown!”? I’m guessing not. The narrator puts it like this: Now the LORD provided a huge fish to swallow Jonah…Who knew? Jaws – a gift from God.
The Book of Jonah is a great illustration of God’s providence. In Jonah’s story we see God’s hand at work in every detail, bending all things inexorably toward his will. Start to finish God has a plan for Jonah, and will stop at nothing to bring it to completion.
Does God have a plan for you? Do you think anything can derail it? Hang in there. God’s taking you on a journey, and every big fish is just another part of his transit system.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Father
Passage: Hosea 11:1-4
By and large the prophetic books of the Old Testament are pretty harsh. Without exception they indict God’s people of infidelity and predict the dire consequences thereof. Hosea provides his own variation on this riff, using his personal life as a metaphor for the relationship between God and his wayward people. In Hosea God talks about Israel as a cheating spouse; in Hosea we get this juxtaposition between God’s anger and God’s heartbreak. God reacts to his people’s betrayal with, as Jars of Clay put it, “a rage of a jealous kind.” He loves them, and vows to win them back.
In Hosea 11 the prophet introduces a new metaphor that sheds a more tender light on the love of God. Here God talks about nursing his people to health, reaching for them, and lifting them to his cheek. God says, “I raised you from infancy. But it was so long ago that you’ve forgotten the look of my face and the sound of my voice. Don’t you realize? It was me! I protected you. I fed you. I held you close and rocked you to sleep. It was me.”
God has been with you from the beginning. The psalmist says, “You knit me together in my mother’s womb.” He is the one who breathed life into you; imprinted you with his DNA. He’s the one watching over you and guiding you. Stop wondering. Stop pretending he’s not there. Hear his voice and be caught in his embrace.
By and large the prophetic books of the Old Testament are pretty harsh. Without exception they indict God’s people of infidelity and predict the dire consequences thereof. Hosea provides his own variation on this riff, using his personal life as a metaphor for the relationship between God and his wayward people. In Hosea God talks about Israel as a cheating spouse; in Hosea we get this juxtaposition between God’s anger and God’s heartbreak. God reacts to his people’s betrayal with, as Jars of Clay put it, “a rage of a jealous kind.” He loves them, and vows to win them back.
In Hosea 11 the prophet introduces a new metaphor that sheds a more tender light on the love of God. Here God talks about nursing his people to health, reaching for them, and lifting them to his cheek. God says, “I raised you from infancy. But it was so long ago that you’ve forgotten the look of my face and the sound of my voice. Don’t you realize? It was me! I protected you. I fed you. I held you close and rocked you to sleep. It was me.”
God has been with you from the beginning. The psalmist says, “You knit me together in my mother’s womb.” He is the one who breathed life into you; imprinted you with his DNA. He’s the one watching over you and guiding you. Stop wondering. Stop pretending he’s not there. Hear his voice and be caught in his embrace.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Love or...
Passage: 1 John 3:11-24
At a certain point in the novel The Kite Runner, the narrator, Amir, recounts a speech his father used to give about theft. “Every offense you commit against another man,” he says, “is some kind of theft. If you take from a man, you’ve stolen his property. If you cuckold a man, you have stolen his wife. If you murder a man, you have stolen his life.”
In his first letter, the Apostle John talks a lot about love. John mirrors the rhetoric of Amir’s father when he speaks of acts not committed in love. But he takes his argument to a different extreme. John says, “Any time you commit an offense against another, you murder him.” In John’s mind there are only two ways to respond to God and neighbor: love or hate. There’s nothing in between. And, says John, if your actions are guided by anything but love, they’re tantamount to murder.
Here’s how it works. If you steal from someone, you’ve taken a bit of their livelihood. On a fractional level, you’ve taken their life. If you slander someone, you’ve chipped a piece off their reputation. You’ve killed them, just a little. If on any level you are motivated to knock someone down a peg or hurt them in any way, you are responding, if at a reduced amplitude, to the desire to kill them.
Choose your actions and words carefully, says John. Anyone who wants anything to do with Jesus must choose love. If your conduct toward anyone else is motivated by something other than love, you have no place with Jesus, the perfect expression of the love of God.
At a certain point in the novel The Kite Runner, the narrator, Amir, recounts a speech his father used to give about theft. “Every offense you commit against another man,” he says, “is some kind of theft. If you take from a man, you’ve stolen his property. If you cuckold a man, you have stolen his wife. If you murder a man, you have stolen his life.”
In his first letter, the Apostle John talks a lot about love. John mirrors the rhetoric of Amir’s father when he speaks of acts not committed in love. But he takes his argument to a different extreme. John says, “Any time you commit an offense against another, you murder him.” In John’s mind there are only two ways to respond to God and neighbor: love or hate. There’s nothing in between. And, says John, if your actions are guided by anything but love, they’re tantamount to murder.
Here’s how it works. If you steal from someone, you’ve taken a bit of their livelihood. On a fractional level, you’ve taken their life. If you slander someone, you’ve chipped a piece off their reputation. You’ve killed them, just a little. If on any level you are motivated to knock someone down a peg or hurt them in any way, you are responding, if at a reduced amplitude, to the desire to kill them.
Choose your actions and words carefully, says John. Anyone who wants anything to do with Jesus must choose love. If your conduct toward anyone else is motivated by something other than love, you have no place with Jesus, the perfect expression of the love of God.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Appalled
Passage: Daniel 8
The Book of Daniel is a bit of an anomaly. Though Daniel is classified as one of the prophetic books of the Old Testament, his prophecy is unique. Rather than speak directly to the people of Israel and their immediate circumstances, Daniel’s prophecy is focused on world events in the near, distant, and ultimate future. It is therefore more appropriately labeled an “apocalyptic” book, that is, predictive of the end of the world.
Typically people who consider themselves “doomsday prophets” pursue their task with relish. There’s a certain gleam in their eye when they tell you that you and your world are going to burn. There’s a certain self-righteousness in the way they inform you your actions will lead to your undoing. There’s a certain smugness in the way they strap on that sandwich board, or slap those religious bumper stickers on their Econolines. They just seem a bit too happy that the end is near.
Not Daniel. God peels back the curtain, and he catches a glimpse of what’s coming. Then God says, “This is for your eyes only. Seal it up in your heart.” Daniel sees the well-deserved upheaval and cataclysm in store for the unbelieving world. And it makes him sick. The world as he knows it is going to end, and there’s nothing Daniel can do. We don’t know why. Is Daniel sick at heart for the innocent people who are going to get caught in the crossfire? Is he terrified of what will happen to him and his loved ones as the world around them gets theirs? Is he simply awestruck at the magnitude of God’s judgment? Maybe all of the above.
And maybe this should be our reaction when cataclysm hits. Not, “See, the sinners are finally getting theirs” but, “Lord have mercy.” Maybe instead of hoping for judgment to fall we should be appalled that it’s coming at all. Maybe we’re too sickened by other people’s sins and not sickened enough by their suffering. Compassion, “being moved in one’s guts,” is what led Christ to the cross. Thank God he had compassion for us. Our response? Compassion. Being sickened by the plight of those enslaved by sin. Wanting more than anything to see our friends, neighbors, and enemies transformed not by disaster but by the scandalous love of God.
The Book of Daniel is a bit of an anomaly. Though Daniel is classified as one of the prophetic books of the Old Testament, his prophecy is unique. Rather than speak directly to the people of Israel and their immediate circumstances, Daniel’s prophecy is focused on world events in the near, distant, and ultimate future. It is therefore more appropriately labeled an “apocalyptic” book, that is, predictive of the end of the world.
Typically people who consider themselves “doomsday prophets” pursue their task with relish. There’s a certain gleam in their eye when they tell you that you and your world are going to burn. There’s a certain self-righteousness in the way they inform you your actions will lead to your undoing. There’s a certain smugness in the way they strap on that sandwich board, or slap those religious bumper stickers on their Econolines. They just seem a bit too happy that the end is near.
Not Daniel. God peels back the curtain, and he catches a glimpse of what’s coming. Then God says, “This is for your eyes only. Seal it up in your heart.” Daniel sees the well-deserved upheaval and cataclysm in store for the unbelieving world. And it makes him sick. The world as he knows it is going to end, and there’s nothing Daniel can do. We don’t know why. Is Daniel sick at heart for the innocent people who are going to get caught in the crossfire? Is he terrified of what will happen to him and his loved ones as the world around them gets theirs? Is he simply awestruck at the magnitude of God’s judgment? Maybe all of the above.
And maybe this should be our reaction when cataclysm hits. Not, “See, the sinners are finally getting theirs” but, “Lord have mercy.” Maybe instead of hoping for judgment to fall we should be appalled that it’s coming at all. Maybe we’re too sickened by other people’s sins and not sickened enough by their suffering. Compassion, “being moved in one’s guts,” is what led Christ to the cross. Thank God he had compassion for us. Our response? Compassion. Being sickened by the plight of those enslaved by sin. Wanting more than anything to see our friends, neighbors, and enemies transformed not by disaster but by the scandalous love of God.
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