Noticing the Names of God

For many years, I’ve read through the Bible each year, but last year, mid-year, I started doing something different. I began to highlight the occurrences of different words, e.g., righteousness, hope, peace, justice, love, etc., each in a different color. Something else I highlighted was each use of one of God’s proper (i.e., capitalized) names. The first thing that stands out from doing this is just how God-focused the Bible truly is. Of course, this shouldn’t be surprising. The Bible is by Him and is fundamentally about Him. But it is still striking to see the amount of color that pops out on the pages just from highlighting every time God is mentioned by name.

Because I started this practice midway through my Bible reading last year, I am just now beginning to highlight Genesis as I start another pass through Scripture. And in doing so, I’ve noticed something I had never noticed before, despite having read Genesis countless times…

Many people are familiar with the way the Bible begins: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth” (Genesis 1:1, ESV). Right out of the gate, God is the main actor and the focus of the account. This continues throughout chapter 1 and into chapter 2, each time with God being referred to as “God” (i.e., Elohim). In Genesis 2:4, however, things shift. Having summarized the whole of God’s creative acts, the narrative returns to the creation of humans and zooms in with more detail. And it is here that suddenly a different name for God is used: “LORD God” (i.e., Yahweh Elohim), the covenantal, relational name for God.

We see that “the LORD God”…

           ·           “made the earth and the heavens” (v. 4).

        ·           “had not caused it to rain” (v. 5).
·           “formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life” (v. 7).
·           “planted a garden in Eden” (v. 8).
·           “made to spring up every tree” (v. 9).
·           “took the man and put him in the garden of Eden” (v. 15).
·           “commanded the man” not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (v. 16).
·           “said, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone’” (v. 18).
·           “had formed [every creature] and brought them to the man to see what he would call them” (v. 19).
·           “caused a deep sleep to fall” on Adam and “took one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh” (v. 21).
·           “made [the rib] into a woman and brought her to the man” (v. 22).

For the rest of chapter 2, then, as the narrative details the creation of Adam, describes the garden in which he was placed and the mission he was given, and recounts the creation of his helpmate Eve, it is God’s relational name that is used. This literary shift emphasizes that God is not a Creator who merely brought the world and its inhabitants into existence and then left His creation to exist on its own without any involvement from Him, but rather He is intimately involved, especially when it comes to the pinnacle of His creation--humankind.

But that’s not the only thing I noticed when highlighting God’s names in Genesis 1-3. There is another sudden shift, this time when Satan comes on the scene in Genesis 3:1. As he tempts Eve to question God’s goodness, he asks, “Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden?’” (Genesis 3:1b, ESV). Notice we are back to “Elohim” instead of “Yahweh Elohim.”

Isn’t that just like our Enemy? To distract us from the relationship God wants to have with us? To minimize the covenantal care that God shows us? To paint Him as merely a lofty and detached Sovereign instead of the loving Creator who has our best interests at heart and who made us specifically to know and be known by Him in perfect love?

Interestingly, while the narrator continues to refer to God as “Yahweh Elohim” beginning again in Genesis 3:8, Eve copies Satan’s language and refers to God simply as “Elohim” when she is conversing with her tempter. It isn’t until after Eve and Adam give into temptation and after God has handed down the consequences of their disobedience, banned them from Eden, mercifully provided sacrificial coverings for them, and graciously helped Eve through the now-difficult process of conception, pregnancy, and birth that she refers to God as “Yahweh.” She failed God, yet God still covenanted with her. She rebelled in pride, yet God was merciful and still allowed her to draw near to Him. 

Of course, we cannot be sure how and at what point God revealed Himself as Yahweh to Adam and Eve, because Scripture doesn’t tell us. Perhaps Eve referred to Him as “Elohim” when conversing with Satan because that was all she knew Him by at that point. But at the very least, the Spirit-inspired choice of words by the author of Genesis in naming God throughout Genesis 1-3 causes us to reflect on God’s covenantal nature, how our Enemy would like nothing more than for us to doubt God’s all-loving and all-wise care for us, and how God’s covenant with us stands strong despite our failings, because it is based on His perfect character not on anything we bring to the table.

I hope you are encouraged today to know that the Sovereign God who created you is One who desires to be in a loving relationship with you both now and for all eternity, who gives you both place and purpose in life. I hope you choose to resist Satan’s lies that would have you believe that God is distant or that He doesn’t care about you. And I hope you find rest in the fact that God’s love for and promises to you are true and sure because of who He is--not just Elohim, but Yahweh Elohim. 

Photo credit: Betsy Traylor. Used with permission.

From Far to Near

Although the Bible was written over the course of more than a thousand years by different human authors, in another sense it forms a single work by a single Author, because each of those humans was inspired by the Holy Spirit. As such, we find a plethora of instances where themes emerging in one book are mirrored in another book written hundreds or over a thousand years later, and the more time we spend reading the Bible, the more quickly we recognize such reflections.

As I was reading in Exodus a few weeks ago, I came across a verse I had read many times before, but this was the first time I saw the echoes of another book from another time. The verse is in the passage where Moses and the Israelites are at Mount Sinai. In Exodus 19, God tells Moses to instruct the people to prepare themselves for the day when God will come down and speak to them from the mountain. He repeatedly warns them not to get close to the mountain or touch it. Because of the sheer power and purity of the holiness of God and the contrasting unholiness of the people, if they came near, they would die.

In Exodus 20:18-21 (ESV), we read, “Now when all the people saw the thunder and the flashes of lightning and the sound of the trumpet and the mountain smoking, the people were afraid and trembled, and they stood far off and said to Moses, ‘You speak to us, and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, lest we die.’ Moses said to the people, ‘Do not fear, for God has come to test you, that the fear of him may be before you, that you may not sin.’ The people stood far off, while Moses drew near to the thick darkness where God was.”

Does that last sentence make you think of any other part of Scripture? As soon as I read it this particular time, I immediately thought of Ephesians 2. In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul is reminding the Gentile believers of the state of their souls before coming to Christ. He reminds them that they were dead in sin but have been made alive because of God’s great love and mercy (see Eph. 2:1-5). He goes on to explain that when they were apart from Christ, they were “having no hope and without God in the world” (Eph. 2:12). Now, listen to verse 13: “But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.”  Do you hear the echo of Exodus?

At Mount Sinai, “the people stood far off” and only Moses, functioning as the God-appointed mediator between God and the people, was able to draw near. This historical event serves as an illustration for us, showing us the predicament we find ourselves in when in our fallen natural state. (Note the absence of a comma between “fallen” and “natural,” signifying that “fallen” describes “natural” and not “state”—i.e., our natural state has become fallen; the natural state of mankind was not flawed in the Beginning, and it is to our natural state that God is restoring us in Christ.)

In language evocative of Exodus 20, Paul reminds the Ephesian believers (and us) that although we used to be far off, to be the ones who could not dare approach God without meeting death, we can now be close to God because Someone has made it possible for us to draw near and has Himself drawn us near. By shedding His own blood in a sacrifice sufficient to atone for all our sins, Jesus opened the path to the mountain, so to speak. Through faith in Him, we may now approach God and His throne of grace with confidence instead of fear (see Hebrews 4:16). We now “have access in one Spirit to the Father” (Eph. 2:18).

So instead of needing Moses or any other created man to mediate between us and God, we now have the eternal God-man as our perfect mediator and can commune with God directly. “Therefore he is the mediator of a new covenant, so that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance, since a death has occurred [his own] that redeems them from the transgressions [sins] committed under the first covenant” (Hebrews 9:15; see also 1 Timothy 2:5 and Hebrews 12:24). And instead of God having to speak to us through someone else, He speaks to us directly through His Holy Spirit. This is the gift offered to us, if we choose to accept it.[i] And what a priceless gift it is!

The Supreme Being, the Triune God, the Creator and Sustainer of each of our lives and of the entire universe was not content to keep us far off. In his great love, He desired to provide a remedy for our folly. He desired to remove the barrier we had erected by our own rebellion, immovable for anyone but Himself. He could have left us to our deserved fate of eternal distance from Him. But instead, He did not (and does not) “wish that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (2 Pet. 3:19), so He opened the way, and He draws us near. Oh the comfort, joy, peace, and rest that come from being near to the One who loves us most.

PC: Pam Coblentz. Used with permission.

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[i] In another echo of Exodus 19-20, the writer of Hebrews reminds us that we would do well to accept the gift offered and the One offering it instead of rejecting Him: “See that you do not refuse him who is speaking. For if they [the Israelites] did not escape when they refused him who warned them on earth, much less will we escape if we reject him who warns from heaven. At that time [at Mt. Sinai] his voice shook the earth, but now he has promised, ‘Yet once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heavens.’ This phrase, ‘Yet once more,’ indicates the removal of things that are shaken—that is, things that have been made—in order that the things that cannot be shaken may remain. Therefore let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire” (Hebrews 12:25-29; see Exodus 19:18).

 

A(nother) Model Prayer

When we turn to the Bible for examples of how we should pray, perhaps the first prayer that comes to mind is the one known as the “model prayer,” which Jesus taught His disciples when they asked for instruction in praying. Also known as “The Lord’s Prayer,” this prayer has been dissected, written about, preached about, and prayed innumerable times in the thousands of years since Jesus first uttered it. But it’s not the only prayer in Scripture from which we can learn.

Men and women of the faith throughout biblical history have offered prayers to God from a myriad of emotional states, and these prayers often serve as examples for us in how to pray. One of these is found in Genesis 32, and I think it could be considered another model prayer. If you’re not familiar with the life of Jacob, here’s a brief recap for the backstory.

Jacob and his older twin brother Esau were the grandsons of Abraham and the sons of Isaac and Rebekah. The twins were nothing alike, and through a series of events recorded in Genesis 25 and 27, Jacob managed to buy his brother’s birthright with a bowl of soup (yes, you read that right) and then deceive their father Isaac to steal Esau’s blessing at the urging of their conniving mother. Not surprisingly, Esau was furious when he learned of Jacob’s betrayal and vowed to kill him as soon as their father died. (Ironically, Isaac would live for over twenty more years, but they didn’t know that at the time.)

Again at his mother’s urging, Jacob fled to escape Esau’s wrath and journeyed to the home of his maternal uncle where he ended up marrying his two cousins, Leah and Rachel (see Genesis 28-29). Between Leah, Rachel, and their two servants, Jacob fathered eleven sons and a daughter (another son would be born later) and experienced his own share of deceit at the hands of his uncle/father-in-law Laban (see Genesis 29-30).

Eventually, Jacob had had enough of his father-in-law’s treatment and decided to move his family back to the land of his birth. After one last run-in with Laban (see Genesis 31), we come to Genesis 32 where Jacob sent word ahead to alert his brother Esau of his approach. When the messengers returned, they reported to Jacob that Esau was on his way to meet him, and he wasn’t alone—four hundred men were coming with him. The Bible doesn’t leave us to wonder how Jacob felt at the news: “Then Jacob was greatly afraid and distressed” (Gen. 32:7a, ESV). He proceeded to divide his family, servants, and livestock into two camps (Gen. 32:7b-8) and then turned to God in prayer:

“O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac, O LORD who said to me, ‘Return to your country and to your kindred, that I may do you good,’ I am not worthy of the least of all the deeds of steadfast love and all the faithfulness that you have shown to your servant, for with only my staff I crossed this Jordan, and now I have become two camps. Please deliver me from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau, for I fear him, that he may come and attack me, the mothers with the children. But you said, ‘I will surely do you good, and make your offspring as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude’” (Gen. 32:9-12, ESV).

I think there are several things to note in Jacob’s prayer. First of all, we see that he began by addressing God as the God of his father and grandfather (v.9a). Later in Genesis, he referred to God as his own shepherd (Gen. 48:15), but here he started with his ancestors’ connection to God. By stating the relationship God had with his forebears, Jacob was acknowledging that he was part of a legacy of faith and one in a line of men who had a personal relationship with God and experienced his faithfulness.

Next, he recounted a command and promise that God gave him specifically (v. 9b). Note he used the name “LORD” in all caps, which signifies the covenantal, relational name of God, Yahweh. He was claiming God’s promise to do him good as he had obeyed God’s command to return home, even as he next acknowledged that he was unworthy of such a promise (v. 10). He recalled “all the deeds of steadfast love and all the faithfulness that you have shown to your servant,” including blessing him exponentially with increased family and possessions, and after reading his track record in the preceding chapters of Genesis, we see that Jacob was right to show such humility. He wasn’t exactly the most upstanding human being.

After voicing his relationship to God, recalling God’s promise, and showing gratitude for his undeserved blessings, he uttered his request for deliverance (v. 11). And why was he making this request? Because he was afraid. He was afraid that Esau would still be as angry as on the day Jacob left two decades earlier and would attack him and his family, and he clearly stated his fear before God. But he didn’t wallow in it. He quickly turned his focus back to God’s promises, “I fear him […] But you said, ‘I will surely do you good […]’” (v. 12, emphasis added). He combated his fear by reciting the truth of God’s words and claiming once again His promise.

It was that very night that God appeared to Jacob in the flesh, wrestled with him, and blessed him. And God did indeed deliver Jacob and his family from Esau’s hand. Whether it was through giving Jacob wisdom to send gifts to Esau, softening Esau’s heart towards his brother, or some combination of the two, God brought it about that the estranged twins were able to reunite in peace (see Genesis 32-33).

So what can we learn from the content and structure of Jacob’s prayer? Just like Jacob, we would do well to approach God with an acknowledgement of who He is and who we are in relation to Him. Whether from our physical family or our spiritual one, as followers of Christ, we come from a long legacy of faith and can trace the faithfulness of God not only in our own lives but in the lives of those who have gone before us.

We also, like Jacob, are all God’s servants and are unworthy of the blessings He has given us precisely because as His beloved creatures we rebelled against Him and failed to live up to His good and holy intentions for our lives. And yet, His steadfast love and faithfulness pursued us even after we exalted ourselves above Him in our own estimation, and He has done immeasurable good to us.

When we pray, it is always a good idea, like Jacob did, to recount God’s commands and promises, not because God needs reminding, but because we do. We are so prone to forget or live as if we don’t believe what God has promised, so we must be diligent to keep telling ourselves the truth until we start living like it’s true—and then keep telling ourselves the truth some more. And when we come to our requests, we can couch them, like Jacob did, in a context of God’s enduring promises for our lives.

Notice, also, that Jacob did not shy away from honesty with God. He clearly stated, “for I fear [Esau].” How often do we hold back in admitting our feelings to God because we think they will present us as weak or even disobedient? We know God tells us not to be afraid, and yet when we are, instead of running to Him with our fear and asking Him to help us defeat it, we try to distract ourselves, numb it away, or hide it—as if we can hide anything from God. Instead, may we be like Jacob who bared his heart before the Lord, asked for help, and clung to the promises of God in the face of fear.

I hope this look at Jacob’s prayer has encouraged you as you examine your own prayer life. I hope you’ll join me in seeking to ground ourselves in the past faithfulness, present blessings, and future promises of God and will keep our eyes open as we read other prayers in Scripture, remaining aware of how they might be instructive as we seek to grow in our relationship with our Creator and Savior.

PC: Pamela Hollis. Used with permission.

Fresh Joy, Fresh Wonder

My one-year-old daughter plays with basically the same toys every day. She moves from stuffed animals to books to puzzles to balls and back again all day long unless she is eating or sleeping or we’re out of the house. And yet, every morning when she toddles into the living room to find the same doll, the same wooden fruit, the same finger puppets that she’s played with a hundred times before, her eyes get wide, she opens her mouth in a grin, and she exclaims with delight. It doesn’t matter how many times she’s seen them before; she greets them with the excitement of both a first encounter and a long-awaited reunion all in one.

As I was watching her expressions of joy one morning, it hit me: isn’t this how we should be with the Word of God, fully delighting in each opportunity to meet its pages? And yet so often it’s not. Perhaps we’ve read the Bible in its entirety countless times. Straight through, chronologically, or mixing it up with a combination of Old and New Testament sections each day, we’ve read the passages over and over again on top of hearing sermons preached about them, listening to Bible study lessons taught on them, and reading books referencing them. With such repeated exposure, it can be easy to tune out, gloss over, or miss the wonder that is God’s written Word. But it doesn’t have to be this way.

With the Psalmist, we can say, “Oh how I love your law, it is my meditation all the day!” (Psalm 119:97, ESV). We can find delight in the pages of Scripture, as mentioned on repeat in Psalm 119 (vv. 14, 16, 24, 35, 47, 70, 77, 143, 174). We can find fresh wonder and fresh joy each time we return to the familiar words, because they are not just any words—they are the very words of the living God written specifically to communicate with us and draw us into relationship with Himself. And for those who follow Jesus, being indwelt by the Holy Spirit, we have the very Author of the Bible inside of us to help us understand what we read and guide us into all truth (John 14:26, 16:13).

And yet, despite all this, we still too often fail to appreciate the depths of the magnificence that is the Bible. We find ourselves becoming bored with what we think are just outdated laws and stories instead of recognizing the Bible as the cohesive, dramatic account of the grand saga of the universe in which we play a role. This posture toward Scripture is not overly surprising, though. We are not in our fully redeemed state, after all; our weaknesses still abound.

But too often we allow ourselves to become content operating out of our weakness instead of from the strength that is ours in Christ Jesus. We let guilt and shame over our sin keep us from approaching the threshold of God’s revealed message of grace and mercy to us. We read the Bible without asking the Holy Spirit to illuminate its words to our minds and hearts. We tell ourselves that there’s nothing there we haven’t read or heard a thousand times before instead of coming expectantly to the living words that never return void, knowing that they will be effective in accomplishing God’s purpose in our lives (Isaiah 55:10-11). We treat the Bible as we would any other book instead of recognizing that God can and does use it to speak to us directly, not only about His grand plan for salvation but also regarding any number of situations particular to our personal circumstances.

But oh, how beautiful it would be if we cast aside our shame and guilt and ran to the pages of God’s love letter to us. How enlightening our time in the Word would be if we began each reading with a sincere request to the Holy Spirit to give us understanding and make us more like Christ, even if that means being diligent to press through difficult passages not knowing how or when the deposit of planting God’s Word in our minds will reveal its reward? How formative it would be if we read humbly and expectantly, alert to whatever God is wanting to teach us? How refreshing it would be if we found fresh joy, fresh wonder in each pass through the pages of Scripture.

With the Lord’s help and in His power, may we become people who greet the Bible like my daughter greets her toys—with pure delight in its goodness, excitement over the potential it holds, and wonder at the beautiful truth that it’s for us to have and to hold, in our hands and in our hearts.

PC: Eric Eanes. Used with permission.

The One Who Helps

There are many verses in the Bible that talk about the help that we receive from God. He gives us strength (Ps. 28:7, Is. 12:2, etc.), safety (Ps. 4:8, Ps. 55:18, etc.), and comfort (2 Cor. 1:3-4). He provides us with armor for spiritual warfare (Eph. 6:10-18) and a way out of temptation (1 Cor. 10:13). He gives us His righteousness (Is. 61:10, etc.), good gifts (Matt. 7:11), and spiritual blessings (Eph. 1:3). While all these things are true and amazing, each of these passages and many more focus on the nature of the help we are given, but there is another passage that takes a noticeably different focus.

We find it in Isaiah 41. In verse 10, God tells His people:

“fear not, for I am with you;

be not dismayed, for I am your God;

I will strengthen you, I will help you,

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” (ESV).

 

Here we begin to get a hint at where the emphasis lies. Strength, help, and upholding are the gifts received, but the repetition of the subject, “I,” should catch our attention. “I am…I am…I will…I will…I will.”

 

In verses 13 and 14, the point becomes more clear:

“For I, the Lord your God,
    hold your right hand;
it is I who say to you, ‘Fear not,
    I am the one who helps you.’

Fear not, you worm Jacob,
    you men of Israel!
I am the one who helps you, declares the Lord;
    your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel.”

 

Again, the support and help are mentioned, but this time the focus is on who it is that is giving the help rather than on the help itself. The all-caps “LORD,” indicating the name Yahweh, followed by the phrase “your God,” shows that God is referring to Himself as the covenantal God who enters into relationship with us and can therefore be claimed as “ours.” Once identifying Himself, He continues with, “it is I…I am the one…I am the one…your Redeemer is [Me].” Why is this significant? Because it reminds us of where our focus should be and fills us with a deeper understanding of the value of the gifts we receive.

 

So often we find comfort in thoughts of the help we receive from God. And certainly, there is comfort to be found there. If we’re anxious, we can find peace. If we’re afraid, we can find confidence. If we’re exhausted, we can find rest. But how often do we turn our thoughts to the Source of the help we seek? How often do we really contemplate that it is the Prince of Peace who calms us? It is the Rock of Ages who assures us. It is the Good Shepherd who restores us. It is the Creator who inspires us. It is the Lamb of God who saves us. It is the Friend of Sinners who intercedes for us. It is the Mighty God who arms us. It is the Wonderful Counselor who guides us.

 

How often do we take all that we know about the character and personality of God and apply it to our understanding of who helps us, recognizing that He is the One who will “graciously give us all things” (Rom. 8:32, ESV). How often do we remind ourselves, with the Psalmist, “From where does my help come? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:1b-2, ESV).

 

Just as we would value directions given from a local more than we would from a fellow tourist or have more confidence in a chair built by a carpenter rather than by a chef, in the same way, when we recognize the nature of our Helper, we can be assured that His help is of the utmost quality. The peace that comes from God is a deep, enduring peace that only He can give. The assurance that comes from Him is complete because He’s the One that made our salvation possible in the first place. The rest that He gives is the most satisfying because He is the One who designed our bodies, spirits, and souls. The ideas He gives are the most inspiring because He is the ultimate Creative. The salvation He gives is eternal because He was the only one able to live a completely holy life and pay the penalty that we owed for our unholy ones. The intercession He gives is perfect because He is both all-knowing and Love itself. The armor He gives us is the strongest there is because He is all-powerful. The guidance He gives is the truest there is because He is all-wise.

 

So the next time you’re in need of help—of any kind—be reminded as you pray of whom you are praying to. Remember that it is the LORD your God who holds your hand, that He is the One who helps you. Remember that He is the One who gives you everything you need and more. Remember all the things He has revealed to us about who He is, and revel in the wonder of it, for, after all, the greatest gift He gives us is Himself.

PC: Rose Creger Tankard. Used with permission.

Forsaking Vengeance, Trusting God

I’m currently reading a book that details the history of the relationship between Arabs and Jews in the Holy Land over the span of a hundred years.[i] I’m only up to the 1940s so far, but already I’m amazed at how many characteristics of the relationship today are exactly what they were a century ago and how often certain patterns have repeated themselves over and over and over again, like a broken record.

One of these patterns is that of vengeance. Someone from one side will kill someone from the other side, and in response people from that side will go out and kill random people from the first side as “pay back,” leading to an increasing exchange of violence that never resolves anything. Regardless of which side killed first in any given case, the pattern of vendetta is always the same.

And it’s against the context of this vicious cycle of retribution that the words of Psalm 52 stand out in stark contrast. This Psalm was written by David after the events described in 1 Samuel 22, when he was fleeing from King Saul and his hiding place was betrayed by Doeg the Edomite. Once Saul found out from Doeg where David was hiding, Saul pursued him and ended up killing not only the priests who had helped David but their entire town of Nob, including women, children, babies, and animals.

In the cycle of violence that characterizes the Holy Land in modern times and that is reflected in this ancient account as well, we would expect David to turn around and kill a whole town of Saul’s supporters or perhaps Doeg’s hometown, even those who had nothing to do with the atrocities committed at Nob, just as Saul and Doeg had killed those at Nob who had nothing to do with their quarrel with David. But that’s not how David responds.

He starts by criticizing Doeg, writing,

“Why do you boast of evil, O mighty man?
    The steadfast love of God endures all the day.
Your tongue plots destruction,
    like a sharp razor, you worker of deceit.
You love evil more than good,
    and lying more than speaking what is right. Selah
You love all words that devour,
    O deceitful tongue” (vv. 1-4, ESV).
 
Clearly, he is none too fond of Doeg and what he has done. We might imagine that David would continue by saying something to the effect of, “I’ll repay you for your treachery and violence. You think you can betray me and wipe out a whole town of my friends and get away with it? I’ll show you not to mess with me!” But instead, he writes,
 
“But God will break you down forever;
    he will snatch and tear you from your tent;
    he will uproot you from the land of the living. Selah
The righteous shall see and fear,
    and shall laugh at him, saying,
‘See the man who would not make
    God his refuge,
but trusted in the abundance of his riches
    and sought refuge in his own destruction!’” (vv. 5-7, ESV).

Who is the subject of each part of the first sentence? God. And who is noticeably absent from these verses? David. God is the one who will break down Doeg. God is the one who will snatch and tear and uproot. God is the one who will bring judgment, not David. Instead of obsessing over how he can make Doeg and Saul pay for what they did or worrying over how he can go on while these ruthless men are still hunting him, he focuses on the security he has in God:
 
“But I am like a green olive tree
    in the house of God.
I trust in the steadfast love of God
    forever and ever.
I will thank you forever,
    because you have done it.
I will wait for your name, for it is good,
    in the presence of the godly” (vv. 8-9, ESV).
 
Notice also that David speaks of God’s already having “done it” (past) while also saying that he “will wait” (present/future). God’s work is already sure, but sometimes we have to wait to see it brought to its full completion. We might not always see the wicked brought to justice, but we know that God’s justice will ultimately prevail, if not in this life, then in the next, and we can rest in the fact that God will either punish evil or have mercy if the evildoers turn to Jesus and accept His just payment for their debt of wrongdoing (i.e., His death on the Cross).

Perhaps you don’t live in a part of the world where revenge killings are the norm. Maybe you’ve never faced the question of how to respond when someone kills a person in your community. But I think it’s safe to say that we all have been wronged in one way or another. Maybe you’ve been slandered, betrayed, lied to, neglected, or stolen from. Maybe others have hurt you with their words, their attitudes, or their actions. Regardless of what form the wrong takes, we all have the same choice—do we retaliate in kind or do we leave the vengeance to God? As I’ve written about in another post, and as David knew well, God is fully trustworthy as the only completely just Judge to avenge evil in His own perfect way.

So instead of taking matters into our own hands when we have been wronged, may we be like David and give the wrongdoer over to the hands of God, acknowledging that He is the true avenger, not us. May we rest in the security that comes with our position of being in Christ, and may we, as David, choose to “trust in the steadfast love of God forever and ever.”

PC: Hannah Vazquez. Used with permission.

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[i] Black, Ian. Enemies and Neighbors: Arabs and Jews in Palestine and Israel, 1917-2017. [London]: Penguin Books, 2018.

Known by Name

Aside from Psalm 23, probably the most well-known passage that discusses the Lord being our Shepherd is found in John 10. It is here that in a lengthy metaphor Jesus distinguishes Himself from false shepherds (vv. 1, 8, 10), identifies the purpose of His coming (v. 10), reveals that His flock includes more than just the original group of sheep (v. 16), and foretells the sacrifice He will make on the sheep’s behalf (v. 15, 17-18). Each of these statements is powerful and meaningful in its own way, but today we’re going to focus on another small phrase that is nestled among these wonderful words of Jesus.

In verses 2-3, Jesus says, “But he who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. To him the gatekeeper opens. The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out” (ESV). Did you notice it? Jesus calls his sheep by name. To Americans reading this passage, that idea is easy to skim over without a second thought. We live in an individualized society where we are used to being primarily identified/understood by our unique name (rather than our family’s name). We’re so conditioned to revel in our uniqueness that we give our children middle names to distinguish them from others who might share the same first and last name. So in a society where we pride ourselves on being distinct as an individual and tend to think the world revolves around us, the statement that Jesus calls us by name isn’t that striking. But take a step back and think about it for a minute.

In Middle Eastern culture, both ancient and contemporary, collectivism rather than individualism formed the basis of identity. We see examples of this in the Bible where people were referred to as the “son of” someone else (e.g., “Simon, son of John” in John 21:15 and the “sons of Zebedee” in Matthew 26:37, ESV) and today in Arab cultures where people are called “Abu (or Em) so-and-so” (i.e., Father or Mother of so-and-so) rather than by their own names. Similarly, instead of receiving unique middle names, like those given in individualist cultures, Arab children are given their father’s first name and grandfather’s first name between their first and last names, highlighting the importance of their heritage and their place in the larger family group.

Reputation, also, was/is tied to one’s family. The goodness (or scandal) of a family name played a huge role in how an individual was perceived. Although this is lessening to an extent in some areas of the Middle East today, it is still common that people are judged by whether or not they come from an honorable family. Someone’s first name carries a lot less weight than his last name does, because it is the last name that reveals to what group he belongs, and his identity is viewed primarily through the lens of that group rather than his own personal merit or lack thereof.

So when Jesus says that He calls his sheep by name, it is actually somewhat revolutionary. He doesn’t view us as who we are in relation to anyone else besides Himself. In other words, when it comes to our relationship with God, it doesn’t matter whose earthly child we are, who our extended family is, who we work for, who our friends are, or who our pastor is. What matters is whether we are one of His sheep or we aren’t.

But there’s another sense in which Jesus’ calling us by name is remarkable. Despite our conviction that we are supremely unique, it’s also true that each of us is just one person among billions of other people who have lived and will live throughout the history of the world. Each of those people, as an image bearer of God, is of equal value. None of us is more special than another. And yet, Jesus not only knows each of our names, He calls us by them. He knows what makes us unique because He has designed and created us. He calls us personally by name because He desires a personal relationship with each of us individually. He does not call people by family group or by ethnicity or by nation; He calls us one-by-one by our names. And while He loves all of His sheep equally, He loves us each individually too.

So the next time you get discouraged, feel invisible, or feel trapped in an identity constructed by the groups or systems of which you are a part, remember that Jesus, the Good Shepherd knows you intimately and calls you by name. Listen to His voice and let it drown out all the others, because He is the One who knows you best and loves you most.

PC: Yandle Multimedia Photography. Used with permission.

Our Wish for the Wicked

From an early age, we humans become well accustomed to the enduring theme of good versus evil. From the fairy tales and shows of our childhood to the books and movies we consume as adults, we learn to root for the good guy, to rejoice when good triumphs over evil, and to feel satisfied when the bad guy meets his demise or gets his just punishment.

We could spend much time diving into how this good-versus-evil dichotomy is a reflection of the deeper reality that pervades every part of the universe, how God, who is Goodness Himself, has defeated in an already-but-not-yet capacity the most profane Rebel of all time, known among many other things as the Evil one. But today, I’d like us to consider how the many fictional portrayals of the war between good and evil, from the cosmic scale to the inner-personal, might have trained us to think of evil people in the real world in a way that is not fully reflective of the mentality we are called to have as followers of Jesus.

In most, if not all, superhero tales, there is a clear and definite evil enemy. Sometimes this creature is in the form of a non-human; other times it’s a human who has achieved super-human abilities. These “bad guys” are clearly sensationalized, just as the superheroes are, meant to represent an idea—the existence of evil—and it’s not hard to exult in the destruction of a clearly fictionalized monster that represents evil itself. But in other tales, the “bad guy” is clearly an ordinary human—whether it’s someone who commits horrendous crimes or one who bullies, abuses, oppresses, or neglects others—and the way many of these tales are told is designed to make us similarly wish for the downfall of such wicked people and to celebrate when that downfall occurs.

Certainly, there is a biblical case to be made that we should be against wickedness in all its forms. Paul describes love (which is to be the hallmark of a Christian) as that which “does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth” (1 Corinthians 13:6, ESV). The Psalms are filled with pleading for and rejoicing over the defeat of enemies. As we saw in an earlier post, the certainty of God’s perfect justice is something we can be thankful for, and the demise of our greatest Enemy is certainly something we can celebrate. But does it follow that we should cheer when wicked people meet their end? We can celebrate the carrying out of justice and the punishment of evil deeds, but is it godly to be giddy when wicked people die?

Follow the thought process with me for a moment… God tells us in His Word that “none is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God. All have turned aside; together they have become worthless; no one does good, not even one” (Romans 3:10-12, ESV). In other words, left to ourselves, we are all wicked people. The only way to become good is to be given a new heart and a new spirit, to take on the righteousness of Jesus that He freely offers to those who accept His sacrifice and gift on their behalf. The villains of this world are those whose wickedness is simply on display more obviously than others, and it becomes easy for the rest of us to want these villains to pay, to be angry and vengeful in our attitude toward them, and to be happy when they meet their end, even though we know that dying apart from Jesus means an eternal prolongation of the separation from God that they experienced on earth.

But what does God say about the death of the wicked? He tells us in Ezekiel 18:23 and 32: “Have I any pleasure in the death of the wicked, declares the Lord GOD, and not rather that he should turn from his way and live? […] For I have no pleasure in the death of anyone, declares the Lord GOD; so turn, and live” (ESV). So while on the one hand, we know that vengeance belongs to God (see Romans 12:19) and that in His perfect justice He will certainly condemn the guilty, we see that because He is also Love, He has no pleasure in doing so. He is not vengeful without empathy. He is not wrathful without compassion. Time and time and time again, He calls us wicked people to take the way out, to turn from our wicked ways, put on the righteousness of Jesus, and live.

When we do this (become followers of Jesus and good instead of evil) we are called into a higher way of living—a way that seems counterintuitive to the world because it goes against the culture. Instead of hating our enemies, we are called to love them; instead of cheering for their ruin, we are commanded to pray for them (see Matthew 5:43-44). We are called to see that “we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12, ESV). In other words, evil humans are not actually the true villains, however heinous their crimes may be. Our fellow humans, even the most outrageously evil among them, are evil because they, just like we were, are enslaved by sin and the Evil one (see Romans 6; John 8:44; 1 John 3). Satan is the ultimate villain, not they. They are merely pawns in his futile game. 

The problem with fictionalized good-vs-evil sagas is that they make us forget this truth. They lead us to equate in our minds the concept of evil or Evil himself (Satan) with evil people (those in bondage to him) and to therefore wish for human perpetrators of evil to be destroyed when instead we should be praying for them to repent. We should bear the fruit of God’s Spirit, which includes His kindness—a kindness that we are told is meant to lead people to repentance (see Galatians 5:22 and Romans 2:4). While we can certainly rejoice when good triumphs over evil, we should be careful to separate in our minds evil itself from those who are enslaved to it.

Retraining our brains to hope and pray for the good of those who are “the worst” among us (i.e., for them to come to faith in Jesus) rather than to hope and pray for their present and eternal destruction can be a hard pill to swallow. But as we are called to become more like Jesus (i.e., God), we must face the fact that just as God’s greatest desire for those enslaved to evil is that they take the way He has provided to break out of that bondage, becoming free to be good, so our greatest desire for them should be the same.

May God give us the strength to look at the perpetrators of evil and injustice in this world not through eyes of hatred, anger, and vengeance, but with hearts of love, empathy, and compassion, recognizing that, but for the grace of God, we would still be in bondage just as they. And may we be able to say, as Paul said about the unbelieving Israelites, that “my heart’s desire and prayer to God for them is that they may be saved” (Romans 10:1, ESV).

PC: Hannah Vazquez. Used with permission.

Love Overflowing

Much has been said and written about the connection between language and culture, and while this connection is something I was loosely aware of on a cognitive level, it wasn’t until I moved to the Middle East that I began to understand it more experientially.

Arabic and English are very different languages, from sentence structure to the way words are formed and even to the direction of reading and writing. In many ways, the two could not be more different. As I’ve mentioned in another post, these differences shape (or are shaped by, depending on your argument) the very way that people think. But they also are related to the way people express their thoughts. For example, as I pointed out in yet another post, the English language and English-speaking cultures tend to be very direct, while the Arabic language and the cultures that utilize it tend to be more circular in communication. But there is another major difference between these languages/cultures: one related to the expression of emotion.

Since living in the Middle East, I’ve learned that Americans are often thought of as “soft” (as we would say in English), i.e., that we have a low tolerance for suffering and hardship and that we tend to complain about minor things. (When you compare the average life experiences of an American to those of someone from the Middle East, you begin to understand why this opinion is formed.) In other words, Americans are thought to be much more emotive than Arabs, even melodramatic, when it comes to dealing with inconvenience, suffering, or pain.

But there is another way in which Americans are much less emotive than Arabs, and that is in expressing affection—and I’m not just talking about romantic affection. I’m talking about every level of affection that can be felt by a human being. By way of example, though, here’s a humorous take on what this looks like when it comes to romantic affection:

To an English speaker, the number of words, breadth of descriptive vocabulary, and intensity of the all-caps in this example convey an over-the-top expression of affection. But to an Arabic speaker, the verbosity, descriptiveness, and intensity are all perfectly normal—normal even to the point that such expression is only mildly modified when the affection is something less than romantic, e.g., between friends.

Not long ago, my husband and I were in a men’s clothing store in our city and were being helped by the owner. Shortly after we arrived, another customer came in who obviously knew him. I wish I had had the presence of mind to record or at least write down the conversation between the two men because they went back and forth multiple times exchanging expressions of greeting before ever getting to the point of why the customer came in the store in the first place. The length alone of that introductory exchange, while completely normal in Arab cultures, is still disorienting to my American, English-speaking self, but what made the exchange, and others like it, even more disorienting were the actual words and expressions used. It’s not just a “Hi, how are you?” “Oh, hi, I’m well, how are you?” repeated over and over. It’s more like:

Man 1: “Hello, My Dear! Welcome!” [Those familiar with Arabic even a little will recognize that “my Dear” is “Habibi.”]

Man 2: “Hello, My Age! What’s new?”

Man 1: “My Eyes, praise God, all is good, My Dear. All is well?”

Man 2: “My Dear.”

Man 1: “My Heart, welcome.”

Man 2: “My Precious One. How is the family?”

Man 1: “Well, well, My Life, thank God.”

Etc.

This effusive mode of expression is not just limited to greetings, however. The Arabic equivalent of “Happy Birthday” literally translates to “Every year and you are healthy,” which is a way of wishing prolonged good health upon someone. Instead of “Congratulations,” which translates “Mabrook,” it is more common to say “Alf mabrook,” i.e., “a thousand congratulations,” (or even “alf alf alf mabrook”). When you post a picture of your meal on social media, comments are less likely to be about how delicious the food looks (which is typical for American responses) and instead are more likely to be of the “bon Appetit” variety but that literally translate to, “Health and total wellness” or “Two health.” And when that Arab equivalent of “enjoy the food” is said to you, the appropriate response literally translates to “On your heart,” which is a way of heaping the blessing back on the one offering it. And of course, it is not uncommon for each of these to be followed—or surrounded—by one or more of the “my life, my heart, my eyes, my precious one,” type of phrases.

As an American, I am not used to this overflowing expressiveness, and my manner of communication reflects that. But as much as I am unaccustomed to offering such effusive expressions, I am even more unused to receiving them. I find myself completely at a loss as to how to respond to words that to my ears seem to convey a depth of feeling only reserved for those most romantically in love with each other. A simple, “Thanks” or “You too,” never seems sufficient in the face of such outpouring, and yet I never quite know what to say, so I usually end up resorting to a smile and nod and feeling the weight of my inadequacy to reciprocate such apparent depth of emotion.

Of course, in some ways, these expressions are merely part of the culture and have just become what people say without really thinking about it. But even still, the fact that these deep and flowery phrases are part of normal communication reflects an emotiveness inherent in Arabic-speaking cultures that English-speaking cultures lack.

To be honest, at times, this cultural difference can be incredibly frustrating. It can leave me feeling awkward or like a terrible person for not feeling rushing swells of emotion at every turn. It makes me think I come across as rude or insensitive or shallow for not being easily able to roll expressions of adoration off my tongue. But in another sense, I’ve come to see that this cultural difference, like so many others, is yet another opportunity to learn more about God.

Numerous times, the Bible speaks of God delighting in those who follow Him. And in one of the most beautiful verses, we read:

“The Lord your God is in your midst,

    a mighty one who will save;

he will rejoice over you with gladness;

    he will quiet you by his love;

he will exult over you with loud singing” (Zephaniah 3:17, ESV).

 

It wasn’t until I moved to the Middle East that I began to get a glimpse of what it really must be like for God to delight in us, to rejoice over us, to exult over us. His love is not just an “I love you” kind of love. It’s a “My adoration for you cannot be quantified nor expressed merely by the written word. The death of a thousand suns can’t match the energy of My love for you. I didn’t just face death, I met and defeated death to prove my commitment to you, o beloved one, my precious child” kind of love.

 

The Creator of the Universe, the All-Powerful God, is an emotive God who is overflowing with love (not to mention being Love itself) and who expresses that love by rejoicing over us with gladness and exulting over us with loud singing. He is effusive in His expression of affection toward us. And that’s something that I think our Arab brothers and sisters in Christ can understand on a deeper level than we Americans can.

 

As I continue to adjust to communicating in a different cultural dynamic, I pray that God uses my exposure to this more emotive manner of expression to enlarge my capacity for grasping and receiving His overflowing love for me. And for my American family of faith, I pray that you likewise “may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:18-19, ESV).

PC: Mais Salfiti. Used with permission.

Perfect Justice

The concept of justice is a hot topic in America these days. From debates over the existence of systemic injustice in the justice system and what the best solutions are to injustice experienced in our society to television dramas with plot lines depicting corrupt judges, tampered juries, and unreliable witnesses, we’re inundated with miscarriages of justice both in fiction and in reality.

When you stop to think about it, it’s a marvel that true justice is ever accomplished in this world. How do we know evidence hasn’t been tampered with or planted? How do we know witnesses aren’t lying or simply misremembering what they saw? Even with the purest of motives and best of intentions, witnesses, judges, and juries are subject to the realities of living in a fallen world. Things might not be as they appear—or they might be exactly as they appear. There are times when we simply have to take someone at their word—or decide not to. We might be certain we remember exactly what happened—until we start having doubts about what we actually saw or heard.

All this uncertainty and the limitations of human perception and understanding can leave us with a fairly pessimistic view of even the best justice systems around the world. But we can find great encouragement and reassurance in the fact that human justice systems are not all there is. There is a higher system of justice, presided over by a Judge who is perfect in wisdom, perfect in knowledge, who perceives all and understands all completely.

The prophet Isaiah, living in an ancient society where injustice was pervasive, prophesied of One to come who would be altogether different in His capacities for judgment:

“There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse,

and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit.

And the Spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him,

               the Spirit of wisdom and understanding,

               the Spirit of counsel and might,

               the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the LORD.

And his delight shall be in the fear of the LORD.

He shall not judge by what his eyes see,

               or decide disputes by what his ears hear,

but with righteousness he shall judge the poor,

               and decide with equity for the meek of the earth;

and he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth,

               and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.

Righteousness shall be the belt of his waist,

               and faithfulness the belt of his loins” (Isaiah 11:1-5, ESV).

 

In this description of Jesus Christ, notice how many qualities He has that make Him the perfect, infallible judge. He bears the Spirit of Yahweh (the relational, covenantal name for God), and this Spirit includes wisdom, understanding, counsel, knowledge, and the fear of God (v. 2). Unlike human judges who can only go by what they observe with their limited senses, He does not judge based on sight or hearing but with perfect righteousness and equity because He knows all, even man’s very thoughts (v. 3). And not only is He characterized by righteousness, but He is faithful (v. 5). His perfect justice is not a conditional or flaky thing—it is constant and sure.

 

When compared with other parts of Scripture, there are clues in this passage that also speak to Jesus’ divinity because the same types of descriptions are used for God the Father:

 

“God is a righteous judge,

and a God who feels indignation every day” (Psalm 7:11, ESV).

 

“But the LORD sits enthroned forever;

               he has established his throne for justice,

and he judges the world with righteousness;

               he judges the peoples with uprightness” (Psalm 9:7-8, ESV).

 

“The heavens declare his righteousness,

               for God himself is judge!” (Psalm 50:6, ESV)

 

“Let the nations be glad and sing for joy,

for you judge the peoples with equity

and guide the nations upon earth” (Psalm 67:4, ESV).

 

“‘At the set time that I appoint

               I [God] will judge with equity’” (Psalm 75:2, ESV).

 

“Say among the nations, ‘The Lord reigns!

Yes, the world is established; it shall never be moved;

he will judge the peoples with equity. […]

He will judge the world in righteousness,

and the peoples in his faithfulness” (Psalm 96:10, 13b, ESV).

 

“I know that the LORD will maintain the cause of the afflicted,

               and will execute justice for the needy” (Psalm 140:12, ESV).

 

“But, O Lord of hosts, who judges righteously, who tests the heart and the mind, let me see your vengeance upon them, for to you have I committed my cause” (Jeremiah 11:20, ESV).

 

“And if you call on him as Father who judges impartially according to each one's deeds, conduct yourselves with fear throughout the time of your exile,” (1 Peter 1:17, ESV).

 

“When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly” (1 Peter 2:23, ESV).

 

That last verse is speaking of Jesus, God the Son, entrusting himself to God the Father. As I’ve discussed in another post, one of the most amazing things about Jesus’ behavior during His unjust trial and execution is that He had the self-control to endure all the injustice when He had the power to stop it. As Peter said, He did not retaliate or make threats; He knew that God was a just judge. He knew that God saw His complete innocence, and He also understood that in willingly taking on the sin of the whole world He would experience punishment at the hand of the Father but that the Father would ultimately give Him vindication in the Resurrection and Ascension and would punish those who were unjustly accusing and sentencing Him if they did not repent. He didn’t have to avenge Himself because He knew the Father was completely Just.

 

Just as Jesus “entrust[ed] himself to him who judges justly,” so too can we find peace and consolation when we experience injustice in this world because we know that the matter is ultimately in God’s hands. No one who wrongs us can escape His notice. Even if they seem to be getting away with it here on earth, they stand before a Perfect Judge, one who says, ““Vengeance is mine, I will repay,” (Romans 12:19, ESV). We don’t have to plot our own revenge. We don’t have to live thinking that evil deeds will never come to light. This can give us great comfort, especially when we feel helpless to bring about justice in this world. We can be sure that God always renders an accurate, just, perfect judgment, correctly identifying the evildoer and exonerating the innocent.

 

But of course, when it comes to standing before a holy God, none of us is truly innocent. We all fall short of His righteous standard (see Romans 3:23). And in this case, His perfect Judgment should make us tremble if we think that we in any way can pretend to be unguilty before Him. All our faults, our rebellions, our shortcomings are laid bare under His gaze, and our only hope for pardon is in Jesus. Because God is perfectly just, He cannot let the guilty go free without a consequence being paid. But because Jesus took the consequence for us, experiencing the full wrath of the Just God against our sin, which He took on Himself, all of us who turn from our rebellion and believe in what He did on our behalf can experience full pardon from God. The demands of justice have been met in full, and because of that, God in His perfect judgment can offer us the verdict of abundant life in His presence forevermore.

 

Praise God that He in all His fullness—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—is impartial, faithful, righteous, equitable, perfect in wisdom and knowledge and understanding, always rendering perfect judgment. He cannot be bribed or mistaken or prejudiced. He sees and hears and knows all completely. What a beautiful, wonderful, marvelous God!

To read the Arabic translation of this post, click here.

.لقراءة الترجمة العربية لهذا المنشور إضغط هنا

PC: Eric Eanes. Used with permission.