How would you summarize the message of the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Bible?
For our February teaching at Bethany Bible School on the theme of "Law", I chose five words.
1. Liberation. God rescued a people from slavery.
2. Provision. God led the people in the desert. God fed the people in the desert.
3. Covenant. God made a covenant with Israel, an agreement of mutual faithfulness.
4. Law. God gave Israel instruction on how to remain faithful to God.
5. Holiness. God set Israel apart as a witness before the nations.
I then summarized these five in two words.
1. Grace. God chose Israel, not because of its righteousness but because of God's love.
2. Justice. Israel responds to God's grace by practicing justice in all of its relationships.
And finally, one word:
Love. Israel's life flows from and is characterized by God's love.
Much more could be said. But this is one framework for telling the story.
-Joe
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
"peace be with you"
In the course of preaching the story of the risen Jesus' appearance to his disciples from John 20:19-31, I found what was for me a new interpretation.
The text begins with the disciples' fear. They have locked themselves inside the house "for fear of the Jews."
Suddenly, however, Jesus--not one of the Jewish authorities whom they fear--comes and stands among them. At this same point in Luke's gospel, we read that it was indeed the sight of Jesus that caused them to fear, thinking that they were seeing a ghost (Lk 24:37). John, however, while not including this editorial note, implies the same with the use of Jesus' greeting to the disciples, "Peace be with you."
Until he comes, the disciples are at enmity with their teacher. One, now dead, had betrayed him. Another, Peter, had denied him--three times. All had deserted him.
Now he comes to them, a ghost perhaps, bent on vengeance.
"Peace be with you," he says.
They thought they were seeing a ghost; they touched a flesh and blood human being (Lk 24:39).
They were expecting an enemy; they received a friend.
They feared wrath; they got peace.
As if the words of Jesus were too good to be true, he proceeds to show them his hands and his side, the marks of his crucifixion--and the bitter reminder of their having abandoned him to his enemies. If this is not cause for fear for the disciples--and in truth now they "rejoiced when they saw the Lord"--might it be a rallying cry to vengeance against the enemies of Israel?
Yet again they hear, a second time, "Peace be with you."
Having received his "peace" in his word, they now receive his Spirit through his breath, by which the disciples in turn become agents of peace to all the world: "If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained."
Having been forgiven much, they forgive. Their sin having been canceled, will they hold on to the sins of others?
"Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe" the gospel of peace.
-Joe
The text begins with the disciples' fear. They have locked themselves inside the house "for fear of the Jews."
Suddenly, however, Jesus--not one of the Jewish authorities whom they fear--comes and stands among them. At this same point in Luke's gospel, we read that it was indeed the sight of Jesus that caused them to fear, thinking that they were seeing a ghost (Lk 24:37). John, however, while not including this editorial note, implies the same with the use of Jesus' greeting to the disciples, "Peace be with you."
Until he comes, the disciples are at enmity with their teacher. One, now dead, had betrayed him. Another, Peter, had denied him--three times. All had deserted him.
Now he comes to them, a ghost perhaps, bent on vengeance.
"Peace be with you," he says.
They thought they were seeing a ghost; they touched a flesh and blood human being (Lk 24:39).
They were expecting an enemy; they received a friend.
They feared wrath; they got peace.
As if the words of Jesus were too good to be true, he proceeds to show them his hands and his side, the marks of his crucifixion--and the bitter reminder of their having abandoned him to his enemies. If this is not cause for fear for the disciples--and in truth now they "rejoiced when they saw the Lord"--might it be a rallying cry to vengeance against the enemies of Israel?
Yet again they hear, a second time, "Peace be with you."
Having received his "peace" in his word, they now receive his Spirit through his breath, by which the disciples in turn become agents of peace to all the world: "If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained."
Having been forgiven much, they forgive. Their sin having been canceled, will they hold on to the sins of others?
"Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe" the gospel of peace.
-Joe
Thursday, April 2, 2009
three tents or the tent?
"But Jesus talked to his ancestors."
I once heard a former missionary in Africa narrate this response of members of an independent church.
The story, of course, that they had in mind was the transfiguration of Jesus (Mk. 9:2-8; Mt. 17:1-8; Lk. 9:28-36).
It seems a compelling point.
The gospel texts, however, do not exactly state that Jesus was talking with his ancestors, in the case of the story, Elijah and Moses. On the contrary, as Mark puts it, "there appeared to them Elijah with Moses talking with Jesus." That is, the action in the narrative flows from the great Jewish forefathers toward Jesus; they appear with him; he does not appear with them. The distinction is so subtle as to escape notice, yet may prove significant.
Regardless, what is of first significance in the gospel witness is not who appears alongside Jesus but to whom the vision appears.
"And there appeared to them . . ." It was to them, that is, to Peter, James, and John--Jesus' disciples--that Moses and Elijah appeared alongside Jesus. Moreover, it is to their response that the gospel witness clings.
Peter, for his part, musters a response to the revelation on behalf of those with whom--James and John--he is "terrified."
"Rabbi [or "Lord": Mt.: "Master": Lk.], it is good for us to be here; Let us make three tents, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah."
Even if, however, Peter, according to Mark and Luke (though not Matthew), "did not know what he was saying", he nonetheless stumbles upon the critical issue--though not the solution.
Peter is right: the revelation of Jesus "in glory" (Lk. 9:31, 33) with Moses and Elijah has everything to do with tents.
Surely, for example, the appearance of Moses alongside Jesus only confirmed for Peter that which it immediately succeeds: the change--the transfiguration--of Jesus' appearance, his face, as Matthew puts it, "shining like the sun, his clothes as white as the light."
For Peter, the appearance of Moses quite naturally seals the transfiguration of Jesus, for the face of Moses also used to shine "whenever he went in before the Lord to speak with him" (Ex. 34:29-35). Originally, of course, Moses' encounter with God on behalf of Israel took place on Mt. Sinai. Subsequently, however, the presence of God would descend "outside" the place wherever the wandering Israelites had encamped, to the Tent of Meeting where Moses would go to speak "face to face" with the Lord (Ex. 33:7-11).
Far from irrational, therefore, Peter's comments are more than rational. He sees the shining light in the face of Jesus. He sees Moses. He knows that God has descended upon the mountain. He offers, like Israel in the desert and later in Jerusalem, to set up a tent of meeting--a temple--wherein the presence of God might regularly speak for the sake of the people.
On the other hand, Peter is not yet convinced that God is really for the people; he, and the others with him, "are terrified." They, like their ancestors in the desert, cry to Moses, "you speak to us, and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, or we will die" (Ex. 20:19). For Peter, the presence of God is mediated through holy men in holy places.
As a result, when a cloud--and from the cloud a voice--overshadows them as Peter is still speaking, it is more rebuke than interruption: not more holy men (three, as Peter would have it) are needed, but One Mediator; not more holy places, but One Tent of Meeting.
"This is my Son, the Beloved. Listen to him."
But who is "this"? Who is "him"?
Until the cloud overshadows them, three men are visible to the disciples. One, Moses, established the pattern of prophethood in Israel. Of him it was once said, "I will raise up a prophet like you from among your own people. Listen to him" (Dt. 18:15). If, however, Moses was the original, Elijah could lay claim to the fulfillment; on him was bestowed a status not even Moses enjoyed: translation to heaven apart from death (2 Kgs. 2:11).
Yet neither of these is "the Beloved Son."
"Suddenly when [the disciples] looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but Jesus alone."
Jesus is the "prophet like Moses" whom God would "raise up"--though Moses could not have guessed how literally true that would prove. Jesus is the prophet unlike Elijah, if for the very reason prophesied by Moses: he would be "raised", that is, from--not apart from--the dead.
Thus we see, as the disciples before us, that Jesus did not approach Moses and Elijah. Moses and Elijah pointed to him.
Even the ancestors cry, "listen to him."
-Joe
I once heard a former missionary in Africa narrate this response of members of an independent church.
The story, of course, that they had in mind was the transfiguration of Jesus (Mk. 9:2-8; Mt. 17:1-8; Lk. 9:28-36).
It seems a compelling point.
The gospel texts, however, do not exactly state that Jesus was talking with his ancestors, in the case of the story, Elijah and Moses. On the contrary, as Mark puts it, "there appeared to them Elijah with Moses talking with Jesus." That is, the action in the narrative flows from the great Jewish forefathers toward Jesus; they appear with him; he does not appear with them. The distinction is so subtle as to escape notice, yet may prove significant.
Regardless, what is of first significance in the gospel witness is not who appears alongside Jesus but to whom the vision appears.
"And there appeared to them . . ." It was to them, that is, to Peter, James, and John--Jesus' disciples--that Moses and Elijah appeared alongside Jesus. Moreover, it is to their response that the gospel witness clings.
Peter, for his part, musters a response to the revelation on behalf of those with whom--James and John--he is "terrified."
"Rabbi [or "Lord": Mt.: "Master": Lk.], it is good for us to be here; Let us make three tents, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah."
Even if, however, Peter, according to Mark and Luke (though not Matthew), "did not know what he was saying", he nonetheless stumbles upon the critical issue--though not the solution.
Peter is right: the revelation of Jesus "in glory" (Lk. 9:31, 33) with Moses and Elijah has everything to do with tents.
Surely, for example, the appearance of Moses alongside Jesus only confirmed for Peter that which it immediately succeeds: the change--the transfiguration--of Jesus' appearance, his face, as Matthew puts it, "shining like the sun, his clothes as white as the light."
For Peter, the appearance of Moses quite naturally seals the transfiguration of Jesus, for the face of Moses also used to shine "whenever he went in before the Lord to speak with him" (Ex. 34:29-35). Originally, of course, Moses' encounter with God on behalf of Israel took place on Mt. Sinai. Subsequently, however, the presence of God would descend "outside" the place wherever the wandering Israelites had encamped, to the Tent of Meeting where Moses would go to speak "face to face" with the Lord (Ex. 33:7-11).
Far from irrational, therefore, Peter's comments are more than rational. He sees the shining light in the face of Jesus. He sees Moses. He knows that God has descended upon the mountain. He offers, like Israel in the desert and later in Jerusalem, to set up a tent of meeting--a temple--wherein the presence of God might regularly speak for the sake of the people.
On the other hand, Peter is not yet convinced that God is really for the people; he, and the others with him, "are terrified." They, like their ancestors in the desert, cry to Moses, "you speak to us, and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, or we will die" (Ex. 20:19). For Peter, the presence of God is mediated through holy men in holy places.
As a result, when a cloud--and from the cloud a voice--overshadows them as Peter is still speaking, it is more rebuke than interruption: not more holy men (three, as Peter would have it) are needed, but One Mediator; not more holy places, but One Tent of Meeting.
"This is my Son, the Beloved. Listen to him."
But who is "this"? Who is "him"?
Until the cloud overshadows them, three men are visible to the disciples. One, Moses, established the pattern of prophethood in Israel. Of him it was once said, "I will raise up a prophet like you from among your own people. Listen to him" (Dt. 18:15). If, however, Moses was the original, Elijah could lay claim to the fulfillment; on him was bestowed a status not even Moses enjoyed: translation to heaven apart from death (2 Kgs. 2:11).
Yet neither of these is "the Beloved Son."
"Suddenly when [the disciples] looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but Jesus alone."
Jesus is the "prophet like Moses" whom God would "raise up"--though Moses could not have guessed how literally true that would prove. Jesus is the prophet unlike Elijah, if for the very reason prophesied by Moses: he would be "raised", that is, from--not apart from--the dead.
Thus we see, as the disciples before us, that Jesus did not approach Moses and Elijah. Moses and Elijah pointed to him.
Even the ancestors cry, "listen to him."
-Joe
Monday, March 30, 2009
"great suffering" (Matthew 24:1-31)
This post reflects my thinking in preparation for an upcoming lesson at the Bible school on eschatology, or "last things." A pastor friend here recently told me that "Israel is our clock." In other words, according to him, events that occur within the present-day nation of Israel hasten the day and hour of Jesus' coming again. Through a close study of such texts as Matthew 24:1-31, however, I hope to switch the emphasis--as I believe Jesus did--from the "when" in his disciples' original question to the "what": not "when" will these things be but "what" is the sign. Even that "what", however, was not what the disciples--still enamored of the temple (v. 1) and expectant of a messiah who would "suddenly come to his temple", increasing its splendor (Mal. 3:1; Hag. 2:9)--expected.
"When will these things be, and what will be the sign of your coming and the end of the age?"
(Mt. 24:3)
So the disciples asked Jesus.
Earlier he had told the scribes and Pharisees that "a wicked and adulterous generation asks for a sign" (Mt. 12:38-39).
Now his disciples ask for a sign.
Jesus, in his response, speaks of wars and rumors of wars, famine, earthquakes. He speaks of betrayal and the love of many growing cold (vv. 6, 7, 10, 12).
He also warns of false prophets and false christs (v. 11, 24).
It is his discussion around these false prophets that introduces the key words in the text.
First, the false prophets are those who "produce great signs" (v. 24). That is, the false prophets are those who produce the very thing that the disciples ask Jesus to give them.
Second, the false prophets perform their signs with the intent of "leading astray, if possible, even the elect" (v. 24). That is, those who have asked Jesus for a sign are themselves vulnerable to the deceitful signs of false prophets.
Third, as opposed to the false prophets who produce great signs, the disciples will experience great suffering, "such as has not been since the beginning of the world and never will be again" (v. 21). That is, just as the suffering of the Son of Man who, like Jonah in the belly of the sea monster, will be in the earth three days and nights, so the only sign given to the disciples is their inevitable suffering (Mt. 12:39-40).
Their great suffering (Greek: thlipsis, vv. 9, 21, 29) is not, however, pointless; it is for the sake of righteousness; it is the sign of blessedness (Mt. 5:10-11). In fact, "the one who perseveres to the end will be saved" (v. 13).
The disciples will be handed over to suffering and they will be killed, but for their sake--"for the sake of the elect"--"those days will be cut short" (v. 22). Moreover, just "after the suffering of those days," after "the sign of the Son of Man has appeared in heaven", "he will send out his angels to gather his elect" (vv. 29-31).
Though suffering is their lot, their mark, their sign, the Son of Man is coming for his own. "And remember," he says, "I am with you always, to the end of the age" (Mt. 28:20).
"Let the reader understand" (v. 15) what then is the cost--and the hope--of discipleship.
-Joe
"When will these things be, and what will be the sign of your coming and the end of the age?"
(Mt. 24:3)
So the disciples asked Jesus.
Earlier he had told the scribes and Pharisees that "a wicked and adulterous generation asks for a sign" (Mt. 12:38-39).
Now his disciples ask for a sign.
Jesus, in his response, speaks of wars and rumors of wars, famine, earthquakes. He speaks of betrayal and the love of many growing cold (vv. 6, 7, 10, 12).
He also warns of false prophets and false christs (v. 11, 24).
It is his discussion around these false prophets that introduces the key words in the text.
First, the false prophets are those who "produce great signs" (v. 24). That is, the false prophets are those who produce the very thing that the disciples ask Jesus to give them.
Second, the false prophets perform their signs with the intent of "leading astray, if possible, even the elect" (v. 24). That is, those who have asked Jesus for a sign are themselves vulnerable to the deceitful signs of false prophets.
Third, as opposed to the false prophets who produce great signs, the disciples will experience great suffering, "such as has not been since the beginning of the world and never will be again" (v. 21). That is, just as the suffering of the Son of Man who, like Jonah in the belly of the sea monster, will be in the earth three days and nights, so the only sign given to the disciples is their inevitable suffering (Mt. 12:39-40).
Their great suffering (Greek: thlipsis, vv. 9, 21, 29) is not, however, pointless; it is for the sake of righteousness; it is the sign of blessedness (Mt. 5:10-11). In fact, "the one who perseveres to the end will be saved" (v. 13).
The disciples will be handed over to suffering and they will be killed, but for their sake--"for the sake of the elect"--"those days will be cut short" (v. 22). Moreover, just "after the suffering of those days," after "the sign of the Son of Man has appeared in heaven", "he will send out his angels to gather his elect" (vv. 29-31).
Though suffering is their lot, their mark, their sign, the Son of Man is coming for his own. "And remember," he says, "I am with you always, to the end of the age" (Mt. 28:20).
"Let the reader understand" (v. 15) what then is the cost--and the hope--of discipleship.
-Joe
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
our great high priest
This is the summary content of the Bible Study portion of our February teaching at Bethany Bible School.
Leviticus 14:1-9 details the cleansing of one who is to be cleansed of his leprosy. He will be "brought to the priest", who will "go outside the camp" to "make an examination" to determine whether the "stroke of leprosy is healed" in the person. If the disease has indeed abated, the priest will command that two birds, cedarwood, two red cords, and hyssop be brought to him. Then the priest will slaughter one of the birds over a clay vessel filled with clean water. The blood of the slaughtered will mix with the water. Then the priest will take the living bird, together with the cedarwood, the cords, and the hyssop, and dip them in the mixture of blood and water. With the latter elements he will dash the mixture seven times upon the one who is to be cleansed of his leprosy. The living bird, carrying the blood of its slaughtered counterpart, he will release to the open field. Following this, the one who is to be cleansed will shave off all his hair, wash his clothes, and bathe his body. Then he can reenter the camp.
Upon reentry, however, the law dictates that he will "stay outside his tent" for seven days. On the seventh day, he will again shave, wash his clothes, and bathe his flesh, after which he shall be definitively, finally, clean.
Mark 1:40-45 also describes a scenario involving one who is to be cleansed of his leprosy. For his cleansing--"that which Moses commanded"--he was instructed to "show himself to the priest." The one who gave him such an instruction, however, had already cleansed him.
"If you want," the leper, begging and bending the knee, says to Jesus, "you are able to make me clean." "Moved with compassion and stretching out his hand to the leper," Jesus responds: "I do want, be made clean." "Immediately the leprosy left him."
Ignoring through his joy Jesus' warning to him not to tell anyone but to "show himself to the priest as a testimony to them", the cleansed one embarks to spread the word broadly, to the effect that Jesus is no longer able to move about freely in the city, so great is the demand on his time by the many who seek healing for their afflictions. Instead, Jesus finds himself "outside, in the desert place."
Taking upon himself the disease of the afflicted, the one who was so able to make the afflicted one clean, is himself now unable, cast outside of respectable society to dwell in the desert place. Like the bird contaminated by the blood of its slaughtered counterpart, Jesus is expelled to the field carrying the diseases of the people. In fact, like the bird which was slaughtered, Jesus too will be crucified outside the city, with the consent of the chief priests of his religion.
Yet the one who was cleansed will no more be able to return to the priests of his religion, so complete is his healing by the compassionate touch and loving words of the One who is able to make him clean.
For his sake--for ours--the Able One has been disabled. The Healthy One has become sick. The Just One has become a sinner: "God made him who knew no sin to be sin for us in order that we might become the righteousness of God" (2 Cor 5:21).
-Joe
Leviticus 14:1-9 details the cleansing of one who is to be cleansed of his leprosy. He will be "brought to the priest", who will "go outside the camp" to "make an examination" to determine whether the "stroke of leprosy is healed" in the person. If the disease has indeed abated, the priest will command that two birds, cedarwood, two red cords, and hyssop be brought to him. Then the priest will slaughter one of the birds over a clay vessel filled with clean water. The blood of the slaughtered will mix with the water. Then the priest will take the living bird, together with the cedarwood, the cords, and the hyssop, and dip them in the mixture of blood and water. With the latter elements he will dash the mixture seven times upon the one who is to be cleansed of his leprosy. The living bird, carrying the blood of its slaughtered counterpart, he will release to the open field. Following this, the one who is to be cleansed will shave off all his hair, wash his clothes, and bathe his body. Then he can reenter the camp.
Upon reentry, however, the law dictates that he will "stay outside his tent" for seven days. On the seventh day, he will again shave, wash his clothes, and bathe his flesh, after which he shall be definitively, finally, clean.
Mark 1:40-45 also describes a scenario involving one who is to be cleansed of his leprosy. For his cleansing--"that which Moses commanded"--he was instructed to "show himself to the priest." The one who gave him such an instruction, however, had already cleansed him.
"If you want," the leper, begging and bending the knee, says to Jesus, "you are able to make me clean." "Moved with compassion and stretching out his hand to the leper," Jesus responds: "I do want, be made clean." "Immediately the leprosy left him."
Ignoring through his joy Jesus' warning to him not to tell anyone but to "show himself to the priest as a testimony to them", the cleansed one embarks to spread the word broadly, to the effect that Jesus is no longer able to move about freely in the city, so great is the demand on his time by the many who seek healing for their afflictions. Instead, Jesus finds himself "outside, in the desert place."
Taking upon himself the disease of the afflicted, the one who was so able to make the afflicted one clean, is himself now unable, cast outside of respectable society to dwell in the desert place. Like the bird contaminated by the blood of its slaughtered counterpart, Jesus is expelled to the field carrying the diseases of the people. In fact, like the bird which was slaughtered, Jesus too will be crucified outside the city, with the consent of the chief priests of his religion.
Yet the one who was cleansed will no more be able to return to the priests of his religion, so complete is his healing by the compassionate touch and loving words of the One who is able to make him clean.
For his sake--for ours--the Able One has been disabled. The Healthy One has become sick. The Just One has become a sinner: "God made him who knew no sin to be sin for us in order that we might become the righteousness of God" (2 Cor 5:21).
-Joe
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
the snake of God
I was reflecting on Paul's line to the Corinthians that "knowledge puffs up, but love builds up."
It occurred to me that in South Africa we have a very poisonous snake: the puff adder. When provoked, it puffs up.
Did Paul have a snake in mind when he turned that phrase? After all, it was precisely a kind of "knowledge" that the snake offered the woman in Genesis 3.
When the woman was given to the man as his helper, the text says that they were "naked together and unashamed." Following the snake's deception, however, the woman and the man sew clothes as a barrier between them. Moreover, the helper becomes a subject to a husband who will act as lord over her. Nakedness turns to hiddenness, intimacy to estrangement, mutuality to dominance.
But God is more clever than the snake. God uses the snake to accomplish God's purposes. When a deadly plague of poisonous snakes broke out against the Israelites in the wilderness, God commanded Moses to make a snake of bronze. Whenever anyone who had been bitten looked upon the snake, they were healed. Jesus applied the story to himself. "Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up so that all who believe in him might have eternal life." And just as Aaron's staff-turned-snake swallowed up those of Pharaoh's magicians, so the knowledge of Christ overcomes the knowledge of the world.
Consuming the knowledge of the world breeds selfishness. The man and the woman, different one from the other according to the Creator's design, willingly enter into covenant as one flesh. "For this reason," for the sake of being joined to another in love, "a man shall leave his father and mother." Together they are naked, sharing all things. But confronted with the knowledge of the world, they seek to satisfy desires peculiar to their creatureliness. "When the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired in order to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate." As each pursues his or her own desires, the woman and the man erect between themselves a "dividing wall of hostility", sew "clothes of fig leaves" to hide from one another.
What can return two human beings, infected with the venom of divisiveness, sated on the desires of the self, "puffed up" with the knowledge of the world, to their primal nakedness?
Perhaps it is the sight of One who was lifted up from the earth, naked before the world on a cross: the vision of One who has not withheld, but given himself for love of another.
-Joe
Texts referred to or quoted in this entry: 1 Cor 8:1; Gen 2:25; Gen 3:7; Gen 2:18ff., 3:16; Num 21:4-9; Jn 3:14-15; Ex 7:8-12; Gen 2:24; Gen 3:6; Eph 2:14
It occurred to me that in South Africa we have a very poisonous snake: the puff adder. When provoked, it puffs up.
Did Paul have a snake in mind when he turned that phrase? After all, it was precisely a kind of "knowledge" that the snake offered the woman in Genesis 3.
When the woman was given to the man as his helper, the text says that they were "naked together and unashamed." Following the snake's deception, however, the woman and the man sew clothes as a barrier between them. Moreover, the helper becomes a subject to a husband who will act as lord over her. Nakedness turns to hiddenness, intimacy to estrangement, mutuality to dominance.
But God is more clever than the snake. God uses the snake to accomplish God's purposes. When a deadly plague of poisonous snakes broke out against the Israelites in the wilderness, God commanded Moses to make a snake of bronze. Whenever anyone who had been bitten looked upon the snake, they were healed. Jesus applied the story to himself. "Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up so that all who believe in him might have eternal life." And just as Aaron's staff-turned-snake swallowed up those of Pharaoh's magicians, so the knowledge of Christ overcomes the knowledge of the world.
Consuming the knowledge of the world breeds selfishness. The man and the woman, different one from the other according to the Creator's design, willingly enter into covenant as one flesh. "For this reason," for the sake of being joined to another in love, "a man shall leave his father and mother." Together they are naked, sharing all things. But confronted with the knowledge of the world, they seek to satisfy desires peculiar to their creatureliness. "When the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired in order to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate." As each pursues his or her own desires, the woman and the man erect between themselves a "dividing wall of hostility", sew "clothes of fig leaves" to hide from one another.
What can return two human beings, infected with the venom of divisiveness, sated on the desires of the self, "puffed up" with the knowledge of the world, to their primal nakedness?
Perhaps it is the sight of One who was lifted up from the earth, naked before the world on a cross: the vision of One who has not withheld, but given himself for love of another.
-Joe
Texts referred to or quoted in this entry: 1 Cor 8:1; Gen 2:25; Gen 3:7; Gen 2:18ff., 3:16; Num 21:4-9; Jn 3:14-15; Ex 7:8-12; Gen 2:24; Gen 3:6; Eph 2:14
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
living the story: culmination
This is the final of a four-part series in which I narrate how I have sensed recent events in my life reenacting the story of the Bible, particularly around the relationship between the primary commitments of God, family, and ministry.
If I have been recently tested as to whether my commitment to family is indeed before ministry, I had not yet undergone the trial of God before family. Many people, I suppose, confuse the commitment to God with that to ministry; so what might a distinction between the two actually look like?
It looks like Genesis 22, the story of Abraham's "sacrifice" of Isaac, "his beloved son."
I also have a beloved son named Isaac.
Throughout our time in Africa, I have been particularly worried about how Isaac--not his two younger brothers--is doing in relation to our ministry. My worries about how he might react to some of our more intense efforts to engage with the local population have prevented me from pursuing some of those "ministry" relationships as much as I might otherwise. Still we often wondered whether God did not want us to do something more radical in reaching out to the people with whom we work: move to a rural area, for example, where we would have no choice but to use more of the Xhosa language, thereby deepening relationships. We had no clear word regarding this matter; we resolved to stay put until we had an unmistakable revelation.
That revelation came in the form of an eviction from our home of three years. Yet it did not result in the scenario I have outlined above.
When our landlord informed us last December that she would not be renewing our lease, we thought that maybe this was the door we needed to move out of town. We pursued the decision with our church in Mandela Park, a former informal settlement outside Mthatha--just the kind of place to which we had an itch to move.
We told them our sad story. The pastor said, "Must we find a place for you?"
"Please," I replied, "even in Mandela Park."
That was a big moment for me. I had never been able to express to that point my willingness to move to such a place. I still had too many fears--founded or not--related to my children.
The morning after, we went to the beach with the children of the church. The pastor said that one of the members had already found us a place. It was in Southridge Park--decidedly not a place like Mandela Park.
We checked the place out. I was convinced that it was the place God had prepared for us. Anna had doubts.
On Sunday I told the people that we "were serious when we said we could live in Mandela Park."
"We can do it," I pleaded, giving them another chance to find us a place among them. "Do you believe we can?"
Heads shook around the room.
"I have a response to that," said the pastor. "Because we also love you, we will not let you live here. The crime of this place is too bad, and it is a burden that only we of this place must bear."
After a week of intense anxiety, forced to make a decision about living arrangements in a city with few options, I was relieved simply to have clarity. We would take the place God--and indeed the local church--had given us. Yet we did not take it before God had tested me.
Like Abraham, I had to decide whether God was more faithful than my fears, wiser than my wisdom. Did God love the beloved son more than I did? God was waiting for me to say so.
In that moment, when "even Mandela Park" rolled off my tongue, I laid Isaac bound upon the altar.
And God gave Isaac back. With more blessings to follow.
-Joe
If I have been recently tested as to whether my commitment to family is indeed before ministry, I had not yet undergone the trial of God before family. Many people, I suppose, confuse the commitment to God with that to ministry; so what might a distinction between the two actually look like?
It looks like Genesis 22, the story of Abraham's "sacrifice" of Isaac, "his beloved son."
I also have a beloved son named Isaac.
Throughout our time in Africa, I have been particularly worried about how Isaac--not his two younger brothers--is doing in relation to our ministry. My worries about how he might react to some of our more intense efforts to engage with the local population have prevented me from pursuing some of those "ministry" relationships as much as I might otherwise. Still we often wondered whether God did not want us to do something more radical in reaching out to the people with whom we work: move to a rural area, for example, where we would have no choice but to use more of the Xhosa language, thereby deepening relationships. We had no clear word regarding this matter; we resolved to stay put until we had an unmistakable revelation.
That revelation came in the form of an eviction from our home of three years. Yet it did not result in the scenario I have outlined above.
When our landlord informed us last December that she would not be renewing our lease, we thought that maybe this was the door we needed to move out of town. We pursued the decision with our church in Mandela Park, a former informal settlement outside Mthatha--just the kind of place to which we had an itch to move.
We told them our sad story. The pastor said, "Must we find a place for you?"
"Please," I replied, "even in Mandela Park."
That was a big moment for me. I had never been able to express to that point my willingness to move to such a place. I still had too many fears--founded or not--related to my children.
The morning after, we went to the beach with the children of the church. The pastor said that one of the members had already found us a place. It was in Southridge Park--decidedly not a place like Mandela Park.
We checked the place out. I was convinced that it was the place God had prepared for us. Anna had doubts.
On Sunday I told the people that we "were serious when we said we could live in Mandela Park."
"We can do it," I pleaded, giving them another chance to find us a place among them. "Do you believe we can?"
Heads shook around the room.
"I have a response to that," said the pastor. "Because we also love you, we will not let you live here. The crime of this place is too bad, and it is a burden that only we of this place must bear."
After a week of intense anxiety, forced to make a decision about living arrangements in a city with few options, I was relieved simply to have clarity. We would take the place God--and indeed the local church--had given us. Yet we did not take it before God had tested me.
Like Abraham, I had to decide whether God was more faithful than my fears, wiser than my wisdom. Did God love the beloved son more than I did? God was waiting for me to say so.
In that moment, when "even Mandela Park" rolled off my tongue, I laid Isaac bound upon the altar.
And God gave Isaac back. With more blessings to follow.
-Joe
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