First Day: Recent Episodes
Patrick Cooley
Welcome to the First Day Podcast page.
We hope that you will find in each episode something that helps you grow stronger in your faith.
God is starting something new in you!
In Part 2 we will take a brief look at the Hebrew and Greek source material for the Old and New Testaments.
When the crowd hears John the Baptist warn that God was about ready to cut everyone off, "that the ax was at the root," they do what many of us do: They panic and try to find out what they need to do to stave off their imminent demise. Note that instead of saying, "Nothing," like Jesus does to Nicodemus who asks the Lord what he can do, John begins to tell the people how they can begin to repent.
I take a brief look at Mark 8 and Jesus' rebuke of Peter. Sorry if it's a bit rambling, but sometimes you just gotta say it.
I'm doing my best to start back on a committed publication schedule, and I think that Christ the King/Reign of Christ Sunday is a good week to start. I hope that you find this episode a blessing.
31 October 2020
As he was passing through a field of grain on the sabbath, his disciples began to make a path while picking the heads of grain. At this, the Pharisees said to him, “Look, why are they doing what is unlawful on the sabbath?” He said to them, “Have you never read what David did when he was in need and he and his companions were hungry? How he went into the house of God when Abiathar was high priest and ate the bread of offering that only the priests could lawfully eat, AND shared it with his companions?” Then he said to them, “The sabbath was made for humans, not humans for the sabbath. That is why the Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath.” (Mark 2:23-28)
In chapter 19, Job vocalizes to his friends his need for rest: rest from his pursuer—that would be God—rest from his pain and torment, from his isolation and estrangement, and, yes, rest even from his friends: “How long will you afflict my spirit, grind me down with words,” he asks at the very beginning. Have you ever given or received something that was meant to be helpful only to find that it had made things worse? If you recall, on Thursday’s podcast we looked at hopelessness and its effect on our choices and actions, and here in chapter 19, since Job sees no relief in this life he longs to just be done with it all: There is no use in even trying.
In funerary rites across the vast range of denominations and traditions, mourners have for millennia heard these five words: They rest from their labors (or variations thereof). It is the comforting thought that after the hard work of living, that the faithful will enter into the peace of God’s presence. I grew up visiting quite a few churches travelling with my dad’s Southern Gospel quartet. One of the things that I would do during their set—since I’d had heard it many times—is thumb through the hymnals in the pews. (You can learn a lot about what a church believes by what it sings.) During this long-term, highly unscientific study, I usually discovered page-after-page of songs of longing—not longing for lost love or the return of a sweetheart but one for rest, for a time when we may “shake this earthly coil” and all the suffering that it entails. It’s a longing to be with lost friends and family, to be in a place of peace and not war, a place of comfort and not strife. “Sometimes you want to go…” It is a longing for sabbath rest. Job says:
As for me, I know that my vindicator lives, and that he will at last stand forth upon the dust. This will happen when my skin has been stripped off, and from my flesh I will see God: I will see for myself, my own eyes, not another’s, will behold him: my inmost being is consumed with longing. (Job 19:25-27)
But when we consider Jesus’ final word’s to the Pharisee’s in our reading from Mark, is this something that we have to wait to receive, or is it available to us now?
“…the sabbath is made for humans, not humans for the sabbath.”
Notice that Mark tells us that the disciples aren’t just on a meandering weekend stroll nor are they merely hungry; they are in the process of making a path, and more specifically, a path for and with Jesus. “They can’t do that,” the Pharisees declare. Jesus’ response, in typical fashion, is something that they can’t really oppose, if they’re being honest. He says, “When David was in the midst of God’s unfolding will and was having to flee from Saul because of this, he and his companions actually ate the holy bread reserved for the priests. I assume you realize that God didn’t strike David dead.”
There’s a saying that is applied almost exclusively to a person’s occupation: Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life. But what if this is not just about a job but has a much larger implication and a far deeper meaning?
“…the Son of Man is lord of the sabbath.”
Sabbath rest is not something that is to be achieved; rest from one’s labors is not an objective or a goal. The Son of Man is the purpose of sabbath; the Son of Man is over and through the sabbath; the Son of Man is the sabbath, because what is done for and with Christ Jesus is not labor.
Later in Job, we learn from Elihu that Job is at fault because he’s making this all about himself. Even the bulk of chapter 19 in Job can be summed up: “Woe is me.” Or as Patrick Steward says in a current commercial, “Do you want some cheese with your whine?”
If we accept what Paul says to the Athenians on Mars Hill in Acts 17 to be the truth, “…for in God we live and move and have our being,” then why can’t our rest, our sabbath, be found in every moment of our lives, no matter what we are—or aren’t—doing, since Christ, who is our sabbath, resides with us as we live out our calling. Amen.
Bildad’s Second Speech. 1 Then Bildad the Shuhite answered and said:
2 When will you put an end to words?
Reflect, and then we can have discussion.
3 Why are we accounted like beasts,
equal to them in your sight?
4 You who tear yourself in your anger—
shall the earth be neglected on your account
or the rock be moved out of its place?
5 Truly, the light of the wicked is extinguished;
the flame of his fire casts no light.
6 In his tent light is darkness;
the lamp above him goes out.
7 His vigorous steps are hemmed in,
his own counsel casts him down.
8 A net catches him by the feet,
he wanders into a pitfall.
9 A trap seizes him by the heel,
a snare lays hold of him.
10 A noose is hidden for him on the ground,
a netting for him on the path.
11 On every side terrors frighten him;
they harry him at each step.
12 His strength is famished,
disaster is ready at his side,
13 His skin is eaten to the limbs,
the firstborn of Death[a] eats his limbs.
14 He is plucked from the security of his tent;
and marched off to the king of terrors.[b]
15 Fire lodges in his tent,
over his abode brimstone is scattered.
16 Below, his roots dry up,
and above, his branches wither.
17 His memory perishes from the earth,
and he has no name in the countryside.
18 He is driven from light into darkness,
and banished from the world.
19 He has neither offshoot nor offspring among his people,
no survivor where once he dwelt.
20 Those who come after shall be appalled at his fate;
those who went before are seized with horror.
21 So is it then with the dwelling of the impious;
such is the place of the one who does not know God!
Bildad’s second speech trying to, in his way, save his suffering friend, Job. It is a plea for Job to reflect on his sins, admit to them, and stop trying to justify himself.
When will you put an end to words? Reflect, and then we can have a discussion.(2)
Bildad goes on to spare no detail in his description of the fate of those who stand apart from God; or should we say fall apart from God. Of course, we already know that his judgement of Job’s condition, like Zophar’s and Eliphaz’s, is faulty and based on a skewed and incomplete knowledge of God. But although this fate does not belong to Job, it is, nevertheless, worthy of consideration and does apply to those who are cut off from God: ever present danger, fear, traps, weakness, isolation, futility, and the list goes on. What a wonderful thing that through the good news of Jesus Christ we have been adopted into God’s people.
The Lord’s Wonders at the Exodus
1 When Israel came forth from Egypt,
the house of Jacob from an alien people,
2 Judah became God’s sanctuary,
Israel, God’s domain.
3 [b]The sea saw and fled;
the Jordan turned back.
4 The mountains skipped like rams;
the hills, like lambs.
5 Why was it, sea, that you fled?
Jordan, that you turned back?
6 Mountains, that you skipped like rams?
You hills, like lambs?
7 Tremble, earth, before the Lord,
before the God of Jacob,
8 [c]Who turned the rock into pools of water,
flint into a flowing spring.
Psalm 114 reminds us that God moved the earth and the waters for Israel, to free them from those fears described by Bildad. The psalm tells us why God has done all of this, for “Israel [is] God’s domain,” (2) so in them is found the kingdom. For with God, there is nothing to fear. This is reiterated in the final two chapters of Acts, as Paul faces both storms and a shipwreck as he journeys to Rome in response to the Lord’s call on his life. In the midst of the storms, as panic has begun to set in and cargo has started finding its way into the sea, Paul says everyone,
I urge you now to keep up your courage; not one of you will be lost, only the ship. For last night an angel of the God whom I belong and whom I serve stood by me and said, “Do not be afraid, Paul. You are destined to stand before Caesar; and behold, for your sake, God has granted safety to all who are sailing with you.’ Therefore [Paul says], keep up your courage; I trust in God that it will turn out as I have been told. We are destined to run aground on some island. (27:22-26)
Hymn: Be Strong in the LORD.
The Reader’s Digest version is this: Through it all (yet another hymn), Paul proves that Bildad is not talking about him. These storms and the deadly calamity that would have claimed all of their lives under different circumstances, in fact, actually save them and save all those that have been entrusted to Publius on Malta. Oh yeah, God wouldn’t even let a snake kill Paul. He goes on to spend two years in Rome, sharing the gospel with both Jews and Gentiles.
Now that that is out of the way, consider for a moment Paul’s encouragement to those on their sinking boat, examine what he does following them, and ask yourself what all of this means for us, for Christ’s apostles in the world today.
“God has granted safety to all who are travelling with you.” Why would God do this? Couldn’t and angel of the LORD have swooped down and carried the apostle all the way to Rome? Yet one doesn’t. Couldn’t the ship have been spared if they had just thrown some people on the dinghy? It would have lightened the load; probably a more sensible option than to have thrown all your wheat overboard. Why does God spare them from the chaos, and why would Paul prevent anyone from attempting to escape to safety? Let’s call it, vicarious blessing for now.
Why would God do this? Paul is the anti-Jonah, that’s why. He is responding to God’s command to head west by heading west. Christ told him that he wanted him in Rome, and Paul is going to let nothing stand in his way of getting to Rome, even a little thing like a shipwreck: which, by the way, brought healing and the gospel to the Maltese. But before their arrival on the island, Paul does two extraordinary things: He refuses to lose even one by cutting loose the dinghy, and he shares communion with them—he places a boatload of Gentiles and foreigners around the table with Christ. And not one of them is lost.
Great, but you said that this has something to do with us…Let me preface this with the fact that I was once asked what color the sky was in my world. But let me also say that I believe that what is impossible for us is possible for God.
Turn on the tv or log onto the internet; what do you see? How do you feel when you think about the state of the world, of the country? For that matter, what feeling arises in your chest when you think about the state of not just Christ’s Church but that of the United Methodist Church, specifically?
Now if God granted them all: pagan, heathen, and Christian alike, shelter in the eye of the storm (another hymn), because Paul was with them and had his heart set on his calling and his face toward Rome, why might our communities, our institutions, our countries, and even our world be in the midst of perishing? Hmm, I think there might be a hymn about that, too.
My spirit is broken, my days finished, my burial is at hand. (Job 17:1)
With COVID, politics, the economy, civic unrest, and uncertainly even in Christ’s Church, Job would surely find many kindred spirits in today’s world. Perhaps this bleak outlook contributes to our tendency to overreact. See yesterday’s podcast for more on that. So why not bring a gun to a knife fight if we’ve got nothing to lose? Or maybe if we push the others out of the boat, it can stay afloat just long enough for us to get rescued. This is the active side of Job’s hopelessness, of course, but there’s a passive one that we are familiar with, too. If our days are finished, then why bother at all. In the midst of his speech, Job has gone from anger to despondency in the blink of an eye, so why not believe that things can move in the opposite direction.
If I’m being honest, more times than I care to admit I have walked hand-in-hand with Job here in 17—not the mockers and provocateurs part—but the: If my only hope is dwelling in Sheol, and spreading my couch in darkness. If I am to say to the pit, “You are my father,” and to the worm “my mother,” “my sister, where then is my hope, my happiness, who can see it? Will they descend with me to Sheol? Shall we go down together into the dust? (13-16) part. Eeyore and Droopy were two of my childhood Muses. In fact, I have a political campaign window sticker on my car telling the world that I plan to vote next week for the Giant Meteor. Its campaign slogan is “Just End It Already.” I have it on my car’s window to maybe bring someone a chuckle—we can take ourselves a bit too seriously today—but sometimes I’m afraid there might be a kernel of desire lurking in the heart for Giant Meteor to win.
In today’s reading from Acts, Paul, like Job, finds himself surrounded by his enemies. We’re told in Acts 24 that the high priest, an advocate, and some elders prosecuted Paul before the Roman governor, Felix. Paul defends himself with the truth of the gospel and his calling; he does not lose hope; he does not attack and believes that there is hope—hope that the promise of Christ will be fulfilled.
Prior to his trial, before his to Caesarea, Paul had had an encounter with the risen Lord and was told, “Take courage. For just as you have born witness to my cause in Jerusalem, so you must also bear witness in Rome.” (23:11) This hope could explain why Paul refused to pay the governor a bribe following his first trial and what prompted his appeal to Caesar. The apostle, in fact, uses this as an opportunity to, yet again, declare the gospel both to Festus, the next governor and to King Herod Agrippa. Their final exchange is priceless.
The Agrippa said to Paul, “You will soon persuade me to play the Christian.” Paul replied, “I would pray to God that sooner or later not only you but all who listen to me today might become as I am except for these chains.” (26:28-29)
I remember the first time I that I read these chapters. I recall thinking, Paul, you should have kept your mouth shut and Agrippa would have ended your imprisonment: The king even says that he would have. Why not just pay the bribe or just ask? It’s obvious that Felix wants to let you go. But this isn’t hope, it’s maneuvering. It’s making the best of the situation for survival. It’s wits, savvy, and the silken tongue. There is no doubt that the apostle could have gotten out of this mess, found a way to be released, but that would not be trusting in God—it would, rather, have been for Paul’s benefit.
No. It is hope that allows Paul to keep his calling and to trust that his ministry will move from Judea to Rome, the center of his world. Hope is his choice, as it should be ours. Paul places his in God’s Spirit and not in his own ability to work a situation for his or another’s benefit.
Hope allows Paul to look beyond, to find meaning in midst of apparent chaos, to find meaning in the good new that Christ has died for the love all and that God’s Spirit can claim anyone.
I have three quick questions: When was the last time someone got you angry, really hot under the collar? Or when was the last time a situation nearly got the best of you—or did it get the best of you—and why do you think this happened? And lastly: Were your reactions justified? If our readings today are about anything, I think it is safe to assume that they are about how we tend to react to others.
Yesterday, we looked at Eliphaz’s second round of advice to his friend Job. Of course, his delivery was very questionable: a bit judgey and condescending, but, if you recall, I did say that it wasn’t entirely devoid of merit, since Eliphaz could have simply walked away after the first round of advice fell on deaf ears: No. He sticks with it—perhaps because he really wants what is best for Job; we’ve got to wait until Job chapter 32 to learn that this is quite possibly true, since Elihu—the youngster of the bunch—is mad at Eliphaz because he doesn’t condemn Job. He’s also made at Job for thinking that he is right and not God—but I’m sure you’ll hear more on this later.
Chapter 16 marks Job’s fourth reply and his rebuttal of Eliphaz’s second speech. We don’t have to stretch the imagination much to ascertain how Job takes this advice—as indicated by his choice of words: “troublesome comforters,” windy words,” “What sickness makes you rattle on?” (3) and “My friends it is who wrong me.” (20) They are “impious” and “wicked”—and these are his friend. And then Job lashes out at God, who has “given [Job] over…set [him] up as a target…pierces his side without mercy,” etc. Chapter 16 leaves little doubt how Job receives this word and explains Elihu’s later anger.
Of course, what Job faces is in a way unique. All that had led up to this chapter had occurred for a specific reason—and carried a cosmic, universal impact—like Adam and Eve making their fateful decision. Job is a story about blessing, salvation, and the nature of God and of all flesh. In Acts 21-23, on the other hand, we get to see the real-world effects of overreaction: violence, uncertainty, pain, and confusion.
Just as in Philippi, Paul’s presence causes such a negative reaction that the Roman authority must to respond. We also discover in today’s reading that anyone—and anything—can contribute to the chaos. One week after his arrival in Jerusalem, “Jews from the province of Asia” discover that Paul is in the city. His mere presence causes them to stir up a mob against him, a mob that would have surely killed him if it were not for the Romans. Again in chapter 22, the mob and its leaders react violently when Paul includes the Gentiles in God’s family. In response to this and to his credit, Claudius Lysias, the cohort’s commander, is able to accomplish what his peers in Philippi could not: He doesn’t overreact. Well, to be fair, he almost does at the end of chapter 22 when he sends Paul off for a pre-interrogation, Roman beating; but after reversing this decision the Roman commander seems to take a breath before making any subsequent decision—weighing Paul’s rights as a Roman against maintaining order against any dissatisfaction among the religious elites and the people.
In chapter 21, he doesn’t simply react to the mob. Sure, he arrests Paul, but before making an example of the apostle, he seeks to understand the cause of the fuss. In the next chapter the commander then tries to defuse any future problem by giving Paul and the others a chance to work it out. Of course, when this goes sideways, he almost overreacts. Chapter 23 has Claudius Lysias essentially trying one more time to get to the bottom of things and to smooth this situation out: Paul’s deflection of bringing up the resurrection and causing the Sanhedrin to fall into chaos didn’t help matters; in fact, it made them worse, because from this is hatched the plot to kill the apostle. Lysias’ final decision to transfer Paul out of the city to Caesarea follows this choice to listen to a child as opposed to do the leaders of the people.
Our lives today are hemmed in on all sides by trouble, opposing beliefs, and even those who would seek to do us harm. No matter our position, we are encouraged to take offense and to act as the aggrieve in any confrontation—even if we’re the ones who have instigated it. In any case, our reaction to others will invariable impact more lives than just our own, and our reaction will reflect upon others, too. It’s funny how Claudius Lysias appears to be Luke’s example to any Christian who wants to know how deal with others in our topsy-turvy world.
I will show you, if you listen to me; what I have seen, I will tell. (Job 15:17)
If there is, perhaps, a kernel of truth in what we find in Eliphaz’s second speech, this may be it; although its presence by no means straightens-out its generally skewed picture of Job nor its judgementalism. Nevertheless, there is something to be learned from verse seventeen, something that we members of God’s family, we members of the Church, have seemed to have forgotten. This truth isn’t found in the content of the Eliphaz’s speech but can be gleaned from his motivation.
Eliphaz is wrong about Job when he counts him as a scoffer—as wicked. We have known this from the very beginning—and we have the advantage of pondering Job’s meanings through the lens of the gospel; but Eliphaz has neither of these. He can only speak in accordance with what he has been taught and/or upon his experience. Regardless, when exhorting and teaching others, there is no need for condescension:
There are gray-haired old men among us, more advanced in years than your father, (10)
And we learn from God’s exchange with Job toward the end of the book that just because a person has had much experience, that doesn’t mean that they necessarily get it right. The point is, Eliphaz does appear to have Job’s best interests in mind, even when he seeks to do so while raising himself up.
Because of the busyness and anxiety of modern life—both in the world at large and also within a church in transition—there can develop the tendency to trust others to God, and it goes something like this: you’ve been given everything you need. So long and hope to see you in glory. Eliphaz and his friends—even though most of what they say isn’t the way to go—they don’t leave Job to his own after their first engagement. In fact, Job 15 is the beginning of the second cycle of speeches; they appear to be genuinely concerned with resolving Job’s situation. How easily they could have all thrown up their hands and walked away.
Take a moment and reflect upon you journey to and with Christ. For some of you this next part may be easy, and for others of you this task a bit more difficult: Who are the individuals that have had the greatest impact upon your faith and/or your discipleship? A safe assumption is that another person acting as God’s appeal, that’s how I think Paul puts it, helped you approach the throne of grace. And even though we’ve all had encounters with gurus and sages and learned much from them, the most impactful and life-changing parts of our faith have likely come through those who have shared their lives with us—from those who aren’t only sharing their wisdom. How does that saying go: “There’s ministry to others and then there’s ministry with others”?
In a recent bible study, we were taking a deep-dive into the parable of the good Samaritan. After several sessions I felt that it was time for us to wrap it up and move on to another parable when one of the participants asked, “Why does the Samaritan come back, since he says, ‘When I come back’? What’s Jesus’ point?” “I never thought about it,” I responded. “We’ll,” she said, “let’s think about it.” Earlier I had shared with the class my belief that every detail of Luke’s gospel has been shared for a reason—based on its opening verses explaining Luke’s motivation—so the question wasn’t totally unexpected, I guess. Watch what you say, I guess, is the point.
We came to the conclusion that the Samaritan’s future return to the inn means that the ministry God desires is a ministry that doesn’t end: It’s a relationship and not a one-and-done. We’re asked not to simply hand out bibles nor to just shake hands and welcome visitors—although these are important, no doubt—but we have been asked to return to the inn, to not leave well-enough alone. Afterall, just before sharing this parable Jesus tells the 70/72 to remain in the towns that will welcome them.
After spending years in Ephesus, growing and strengthening the church there, Paul departs the city for Macedonia and Greece. Circumstances eventually prompt the apostle to begin making his way back to Jerusalem, hoping to arrive there before Pentecost. To do this, he intentionally bypasses Ephesus and journeys to the town of Miletus, instead. How easy it would have been for Paul to not give a second thought to the Ephesians—after all, they got years of his life and ministry. How easy it would have been for him to say that they knew enough, had had enough encouragement. Of course, as you’ve read already, he doesn’t. Yes in 21:32 he commends them “to God and to the gracious word of his that can build” them up, but this closing word arises out of a shared life.
In every way, I have shown you that by hard work of that sort we must help the weak, and keep in mind the words of the Lord Jesus who himself said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”
Paul shares with the Ephesians more than doctrine and the Samaritan provided with his neighbor with more than wine, oil, and money—even Eliphaz, misguided as he was, gave Job more than advice—each provides in the deepest hope that they can make a difference in the life of another.
It has been said that there are two certainties in life: death and taxes. But I’d like you to consider for right now that at some point—maybe involving death and or taxes—you will feel overwhelmed at some point in your life—perhaps at many points. I guess this is why Job’s story still entertains our thoughts and stirs our spirits to this day. Usually it’s his patience that gets all the attention, and although seeing tough times through to their conclusion is usually of great benefit, there are situations where Job’s other, often overlooked qualities could be of great usefulness.
Yesterday we heard Zophar advise Job to get his act together, to make himself innocent, and then to attempt to approach God to find hope in his direst of circumstances. “First, lay aside your burdens, Job, make yourself worthy, and then go to God.” Job’s response to this advice begins in chapter twelve and continues through the following two chapters. In twelve, Job refutes Zophar’s belief that prosperity and blessings are signs of a right relationship with God, and he goes on to question the belief that any human being has the ability to earn a place in the divine presence. Afterall, “God raises nations and beings them down.”
In this rebuttal, Job does something that we often are afraid to do, he questions the nature of suffering and blessing and God’s role in them. “The thugs still rule and provoke God, and yet they remain in power while in the hand of God; thieves keep their wealth while the righteous suffer.” We usually equate Job’s patience with quiet submission—a stiff upper lip—but during his speech in chapters 12-14, he is anything but. Although he admits that he doesn’t understand why some suffer while others are blessed, nevertheless, chapter twelve is about Job’s confession that God is always God, in good times and in the bad. What can Job possible do in the face of this reality? Well, he can keep on questioning.
In chapter thirteen, Job asks God the question that we rarely ask in other’s company: why is he going through this. Job wants to know why this incredible and awesome God should even bother with a man such as he, “a leaf being tossed about…[or] a fleeting shadow.” He wants to know what the Almighty has against him. “What are my faults and my sins? My misdeed, my sin make known to me!” (15) But Job continues:
Will you harass a wind-driven leaf or pursue a withered straw? For you draw up bitter indictments against me, and punish in me the faults of my youth. You put my feet in the stocks; you watch all my paths and trace out all my footsteps. Though I wear out like a leather bottle, like a garment the moth has consumed. (26-28)
Humility, it appears, is not one of Job’s growing edges. He confesses here who he is when compared to God and in the next chapter the nature of his—and all—human life. To give you’re the Reader’s Digest version, it’s kinda’ bleak—very Ecclesiastes:
For a tree there is hope; it is cut down, it will sprout again, its tender shoots will not cease, even though the root grows old in the earth and its stump dies in the dust, yet at the first whiff of water it sprouts and puts forth branches like a young plant. But when people die, all vigor leaves them. When mortals die, where then are they?
Yet God prevails, Job says. God overcomes where all else, especially flesh, fails.
What Job teaches us here is that it is okay for us to ask God the hard questions in the midst of pain and loss. (But don’t be surprised when you hear a hard answer in reply.) That is, as long as our question is preceded by a honest assessment of ourselves and the recognition that we are not God and are in no way deserving. Take that Zophar. For what rises from this is a humility that saves, a humility that rests in God’s mercy and grace. Job declares this when he states the no one “can make the unclean clean:” no one can make oneself holy and innocent. And why is that? Because we are “like a flower that springs up and then fades.”
In his willingness to ask the question, Job is admitting that he hasn’t any answers and cannot possibly solve his problems. He is giving it all to God. But he doesn’t quietly acquiesce to what is happening to him, he doesn’t simply throw his hands up and say, “It’s God’s will.” No, Job rages against that which would overwhelm him. Slumped shoulders and the words “Oh well” never cross his mind.
As children, my parents would take the family to Gulf Shores every year. Although I hate the sand today, back then I might as well have had gills. While other kids were busy building sandcastles and sunning, I was in the water fighting the waves—trying to keep my balance and footing as wave after wave threatened to push me under. I knew it was a battle that I would not win, and would have probably been freaked out if I did, yet I would stay at it until my parents told me to come in.
Job 13:15 reads, “Slay me though he might, I will wait for God; I will defend my conduct before God.” Through his honest self-assessment Job puts himself into a place where he can God and respond. And I think this is what allows Paul to remain faithful in every circumstance.
Beaten, imprisoned and let down by the system in Philippi for doing good; persecuted in Thessalonica by its religious leaders, its government, and the mob because he presented a persuading case for the gospel; and hounded by these same religious elites in Beroea, how easily Paul could have chosen to walk away from Jesus’ calling—after all, as Job and Tanya Tucker would agree, he’s just a man. But as he says to the philosophers on Mars Hill:
The God who made the world and all that is in it, the Lord of heaven and earth, does not dwell in sanctuaries made by human hands, 25 nor is God served by human hands because of any need. Rather it is God who gives to everyone life and breath and everything. 26 God made from one the whole human race to dwell on the entire surface of the earth and fixed the ordered seasons and the boundaries of their regions, 27 so that people might seek God, even perhaps grope and find that God is not far from any one of us. For ‘In him we live and move and have our being…’
To paraphrase: No matter who we are, where we are, or what we are going through, like Job, we can reach out and find God is already there. And because of Christ, we know that although God is infinite and eternal, and we are but a fleeting shadow, a leaf tossed about in the wind, and like the dust of the ground often disregarded and beaten down, we may approach God in any situation or condition to find grace and help in the times of our needs.
Job 12:5-6
The undisturbed esteem my downfall a disgrace such as awaits unsteady feet; yet the tents of robbers are prosperous, and those who provoke God are secure, whom God has in his power.
This is from Job’s reply to his friend Zophar’s first speech in Job chapter eleven—when the hero is told to go and make himself worthy so that he may be able to hope in relief from God. How does that expression go? You know, the one about God helping those who help themselves? In 11:13-15 Zophar says:
If you set your heart aright and stretch out your hands toward him. If iniquity is in your hand, remove it, and do not let injustice dwell in your tent, surely then you may lift up your face in innocence; you may stand firm and unafraid.
Worded another way, Zophar tells Job to get his ducks in a row and then approach God. Mind you, this is dissimilar to Jesus’ teaching to make amends with others before you attempt to make amends with the Almighty. Put down your sin, sober up, block those internet sites, push back from the table, stop wasting money and get out debt…then come before God and approach the mercy seat, because, as Zophar says in verse eleven, “God knows the worthless and sees iniquity” and will not ignore it!
Sadly, Zophar’s way of thinking about the things of God—about faith—isn’t easy to miss today in congregations all across the fruited plain. And it’s understandable why this is so, since we live in a staunchly meritorious society. Growing up, I remember seeing commercials for Smith Barney: “We will sell no wine…” Sorry, wrong company, same spokesperson. “At Smith-Barney, we earn it.” “We earn it.” Three words—and such a simple sentence—that sum up an attitude of success and satisfaction. Drinking a cold beverage following a day of working in the sun—eating a meal with friends after giving the hours of your day to your boss—“These people appreciate me.” “I’ve done that, so I can get to do this.” Clearly, we earn it culminates in, “We deserve this.”
In Job’s day—as well as in ours if we’re being honest—worldly success was the mark of blessing. It was a sign to all that you were favored by God, that you were something special, someone to look up to, and to emulate. Job had been one of those, but now, he was downfallen, disgraced, and a “laughingstock.”
“Through your effort, Job,” explains Zophar, “you can stand tall again. But if you don’t do this, you are lost.” Zophar is expressing here that most ubiquitous of human practices: self-justification—the hallmark of the meritocracy. We reckon ourselves the masters of our own fates and that we are deserving because we have made the correct choices. And because of this, we deserve our blessings. But those who don’t make the same choices, what about them—about the ones that are prosperous and living “guilt free”—well, that just proves that the world is unfair and that everyone—except of course for those like us—will one day get their comeuppance. Zophar is undoubtedly happy that Job was getting his, I think.
This doesn’t sit well with Job, though, and in chapter twelve he raises a serious challenge to Zophar’s meritorious faith and what is said to result from it: robbers prosper, thugs rule with impunity, rich and poor are treated differently by those charged with impartiality…And they all do this in the presence of God in whose power they reside. Essentially, Job is asking Zophar here if worldly “blessing/comfort” is truly the sign that he thinks it is.
Job goes on to say that every animal, all nature, and the whole earth knows that God has created all things and is present in all circumstances: through drought and times of plenty, through ease and difficulty, though injury and health, God is God, and what God has decided to do, who can withstand?
“In his hand is the soul of every living thing and the life breath of all mortal flesh,” Job says. “He makes nations great and destroys them, spreads people abroad and abandons them. He takes understanding from the leaders of the land, makes them wander in a pathless desert. They grope in the darkness without light; he makes them wander like drunkards.” (Ahem) No matter what Job does, no matter what befalls him, God is still who God is. I AM.
Is Job calling God capricious? Are we merely pawns in divine game of chess? No. Job is simply reminding Zophar and all the rest of us who tend to forget that God is the hero of this story. God is the cause and the effect. The Alpha and the Omega. The beginning and the end. And because of this, no matter the circumstance, God is always God, and God will always save: It is the nature of love, to meet each of us wherever we are, no matter the state that we are in, so that we can live in hope. Perhaps that’s why James tells the church in Acts 15:19 and 21 that they “ought to stop troubling the Gentiles who turn to God…For Moses, for generations now, has had those who proclaim him in every town, as he has been read in the synagogues every sabbath.” Their story is not our story; their encounter is not ours; but their God and our God are the same, and in God, we are one people.
In Acts 14 we hear Paul teach that, “it is necessary for us to undergo hardship to enter the kingdom of heaven.” And later in todays reading from Acts, in chapter 16, the apostle is on the receiving end of a serous beating, mistreatment, and incarceration for daring to free a slave girl from the power of a demon. And what results from this hardship? The kingdom of heaven grows with the salvation of the jailer and his house.
“Zophar,” Job says, “how can I possibly arrange my ducks in any formation that would earn me a blessing?”
In Acts 14 we see Paul and Barnabas returning to Jerusalem in great success from their mission to the Gentiles. Countless souls have been shown salvation and have accepted the love of God into their lives. Countless souls saved for the sake of victorious kingdom. And none of them had ever followed the law—most had likely not even heard of the law of Moses. Yet in spite of this, they had experienced the Spirit of God firsthand. To the self-justifiers in the Jerusalem’s church, this could not stand.
“Have them do this, and they will be saved—be blessed by God.” So many millennia later, Zophar lives! “Those Gentiles can’t have a life with God, they just can’t be saved by grace, they have to do something.” They can’t even celebrate the ever increasing victory of the cross because they have to win the point.
Peter and James come to the rescue here, both explaining that God’s initiative to save the Gentiles cannot be thwarted. What God does, God does. This diving action, as confusing as it may appear, is the grace that goes before; this is the grace that justifies; and this is the grace that shapes our lives into the image of Jesus Christ.
For God who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to bring to light the knowledge of the glory of God on the face of Jesus Christ. But we hold this treasure in earthen vessels, that the surpassing power may be of God and not from us.
We are afflicted in every way, but not constrained; perplexed but not driven to despair; persecuted but not abandoned; struck down but not destroyed; always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our body. 2 Corinthians 4:6-10
What a simple thing it is to tell it like it is—to keep it real. “I’m just being realistic” is usually code for, “I don’t want to because it’s going to fail.” “And even if we succeed, it’ll be meager and temporary.” “Honestly, why should we even try because we are nothing but ‘earthen vessels,’ so there’s nothing special about us.” “We’ve failed at that in the past.” Good stewards wouldn’t waste resources but would keep them for a rainy day.” But where would we be if Paul had shared this attitude?
How easy it would have been for him to have given up on the Corinthians as the weight of his life and ministry grew heavier and heavier: Yet he doesn’t. In fact, the apostle tells us that the weight can never be too heavy. It will never constrain, never lead to despair, never isolate, and never destroy him. And even though “death is at work in” him, life is at work in the Corinthians and in others. As he diminishes, they increase.
For Paul, this is possible because he remembers one thing that we often forget: God’s glory has been revealed in our hearts through Christ, even though we are but dust, so that the power of heaven might be made known through us; he remembers that he is not his own.
In this new, COVID shaped landscape, many of us have discovered that the church has already changed. This is not a new reality that is taking shape—one that has the potential to be—that may arise in our near future. No. It is already here. In fact, why shouldn’t this new reality have come into existence in a relative blink of the eye, since our shared and personal worlds usually experience upheaval long before we have a chance to prepare it. This is the way.
We can react to this change: giving the church up for dead because it was already on life-support or choosing to fight in the attempt to maintain our hold on it or to reclaim it—or we can choose to share the apostle’s perspective.
What we face is bigger than we are, irregular and unpredictable, and it always threatens to overwhelm us. Most of time we attempt to plan in the hope that we can mitigate our losses so we don’t have to rebuild from scratch…But how does that saying go: “the best laid plans of mice and men”? Or when your watching out for the bears, it’s the moose that get you.
Regardless of history’s lessons, though, we begin every endeavor convinced that this time, through careful, meticulous management and planning—by the force of our will and the strength of our conviction, this time it will be different in our family, personal, church, and work lives. A new day is coming; we will make it ours!
James tells us in response:
Come now, you say, “Today or tomorrow we shall go into such and such a town, spend a year there doing business and make a profit”—you have no idea what your life will be tomorrow. You are a puff of smoke that appears briefly and then disappears.
“Wow,” some of you may be thinking, “what a downer the week of annual conference and in light of all the denomination is going through. And from someone being elected to foster church health, no less.”
I know. I know. But hear me out.
Paul realizes that all of this earthly life—as scripture repeats over and again—will neither pass the test of eternity nor survive the presence of God’s glory. Things simply fall apart, and they cannot measure-up to the divine. And in 2 Corinthians 4:6-7, the apostle embraces this fact. Paul says that the ultimate futility of our choices and actions, those that are grounded in our own strength, will, and reckoning, that futility is a good thing. But he is not saying that this results in a meaningless life, quite the contrary: What results from our weakness makes our lives and ministries fruitful, life-affirming, and, most ironically, lasting.
“But we hold this treasure in earthen vessels, that the surpassing power may be of God and not from us.”
The apostle’s weakness and the futility of his actions and choices, the failure of his plans to materialize the desired outcomes fail to discourage him as they would and so often does to many of us.
Paul accepts that he is but beloved dust, a mere clay vessel, and by accepting this reality, he comes to realize that he already contains something wonderful, powerful, and eternal. Something not of his own creation but given to him by grace: the life of Jesus Christ. Because of this realization, Paul is able to live in each moment, no matter what befalls him with the absolute certainty that the light will shine in others’ hearts as a result of his present darkness—no matter how close he is to death, life will be ever present in them.
By embracing the fact that he is from the dust of the earth, the apostle frees himself from the burden of having to have all the answers and from the weight of personal success; it frees him to look within his own heart and to find that God has already revealed there the solution to every problem.
Do we as disciples want what Jesus wanted? Do our churches, faith communities, and traditions share God's desires for others, for the world, and for ourselves? Join us as we begin our search for the answers.
This is a brief episode to start the podcast going again in this extraordinary time. Are we going to allow what has happened change our priorities, or are we just taking back up the status quo?
If a sacrament is an ordinary action or substance through which the grace of God flows to those that are in need, those that are hurting, then by living as a disciple our very lives become sacramental. As we live the life that Jesus describes in Luke 6, we bring blessing, and the power of God's Spirit and grace flows through us.
The life that leads to blessings is a life that is predicated upon reacting to those who hate you in the same way that Jesus does. The disciple doesn't seek to have it his or her way but instead is willing to consider other's needs as more important. The disciple will be blessed by giving freely to those who would take; disciples will be mocked and rejected by others when they choose to respond in love rather than retribution. They may be called cowards for praying for their enemies, but Jesus will call them friends.
The beginning of our journey into discipleship begins when we decide to share in God's desire for all the world to be reconciled in Jesus Christ; it is when we decide to love rather than to be right. The disciple can be content because discipleship is about living, about being a blessing to those who are hurting.
Are we living as disciples of Christ or are we merely churchgoers? Christian teaching is necessary, but it cannot be the only source of spiritual truth in the believer's life. There are times that Christian teaching doesn't quite match up with Jesus' teaching and times when belief is not being put into action, perhaps because what Jesus describes as the expected life of his followers may be too uncomfortable for us. At these times, it is easy to default to what we have been told, rest in our arguments, than to live the life of love. This is the introduction to a closer look at Jesus' teachings about discipleship found in Luke 6.
There is no way that any one person can navigate this thing called life successfully alone: Cooperation and mutual concern are demands. When we start to see ourselves as part of a whole, serving a purpose far greater than any one we would devise on our own, perhaps we will start to be able to experience the fullness of God's blessing.
The dry, barren times in our lives can very well be the best times to see God doing amazing things. In these time, if we would but look up from our routine, we might catch a glimpse of the burning bush and hear God's invitation to be a part of something wonderful.
God desires that none should perish and, also, promises that there will come a day when all people and nations will seek to live righteous and holy lives. Do we share in God's desire and are we prepared to help make this day come to pass?
Often times we have our attentions and hearts focused on the wrong things. When we do, we can miss the point of our relationship with God; even worse, we can actually end up working against it even when we don't mean to so so. If the point is to draw nearer to Christ in this life, to respond to others in the way that he did, then there is never really an end to our journey: if we are trying to reach God. However, if our focus is on the wrong thing, if it is upon ourselves and our attempt to overcome death, if it is not on living in the present, we run the risk of becoming complacent and failing in our calling to be a blessing to the people that we meet. How does this complacency come about? How do we get beyond it and yearn for the things of God?
The things that we cherish most will be the things that determine if we react to overwhelming events in our lives or if we respond to them. Will we react in fear or respond in hope? When it's all over, will we be broken, or will we be changed?
Trust is the key to escaping the entanglement that results from being judgemental. As we choose to hold on to our distrust, we increase the likelihood that we will point out the specks in others' eyes while more easily ignoring the beams in our own. This distrust and its ensuing judgementalism will prevent us from living freely in the life that God has ordered around us, a life of grace and hope, and will bring us only isolation and ever increasing anxiety. As we learn to trust more deeply in the things that are cherished by God, we discover that we can actually make the choice to release into God's care those who have inflicted upon us even our most pernicious hurts.
(But how do you feel?)
It takes time to develop trust, be it in God, others, or in ourselves. We can begin to cultivate trust if we make the choice to seek it, to spend time focusing our attention upon the excellent and the honorable. As we remain present in the lives of others and seek the best in and for them, even though at times it is rather difficult to find the good in some people, we may very well some to see and trust in God's presence in our own lives more clearly. To get to this point, however, will require us to look just a little deeper than the surface. We'll take a look at Philippians 4:8 and Romans 12:1-2.
The foundation of every relationship that we have, be it with God, other people, institutions and even our stuff is trust. Our ability to trust indicates how effectively we will be able to participate in God's blessing for ourselves and for others. Fortunately, trust is choice; unfortunately, trust often requires us to choose against our own immediate self-interests in the hope of a better future.
We have all been equipped to see others through the same eyes as God does. We can align our motivations and inclinations with our Creator's because we have been blessed with glory and honor. See Psalm 8 for more details. "The Majesty and Glory of Your Name" is by Tom Fettke and is intended to inspire this needed change in all of us and to remind us of what we were actually created to be.
Why does God want us to have the fullest life that we possibly can have? What's God's angle? The short answer that we most often get is love. Ok. But there's a problem here: People have very different experiences of love; many definitions of this, dare I say overused, word exist. Yes, God does indeed desire our wellbeing because of love, but that reality does not get as to why God desires us to receive grace, comfort, hope, inclusion and forgiveness. What is God's purpose for ministry to creation? God's why and our raison d'être are spelled out rather explicitly in Genesis 12:1-4.
You can start becoming a newer, better you when you begin the sometimes difficult process of renewing your mind as you make the choice to view others and yourself in a different light.
The wonderful news is that God desires to enter into a relationship with us just as we are. Divine love then transforms us into something new, so we can receive all the blessings that God wants to share. If God welcomes us, warts and all, knowing that where the Spirit moves change comes, we Christians should try to follow suit.