Tremble before God

Psalm 99 opens with a curious warning to us: “The Lord is king; let the peoples tremble!  He sits enthroned upon the cherubim; let the earth quake!”

Why should we tremble and quake before God?

Many years ago, when our children were young, we took a family vacation to Yosemite National Park.  We took a short hike to the bottom of Bridle Veil Falls.  I remember well my youngest son leaping fearlessly from rock to rock around the stream.  His lack of caution didn’t bother me much, for I recognized that if he slipped and fell, he might scrape his skin or get wet in the stream, but that was the extent of the danger.  A few years later, we returned to the park, with the plan for my children and I to make the 16-mile hike to the top of Half Dome and back.  Debbie remembered our son’s fearless leaping upon the rocks at the bottom of Bridle Veil Falls, so she warned me, “If Peter falls from the top of Half Dome, you had better jump after him!”  She recognized clearly that there is far more reason for cautious behavior when you stand 5,000 feet above the Yosemite Valley floor than when you jump on rocks at the bottom of Bridle Veil Falls.  When we reached the top, Peter stood at the edge and looked 5,000 feet straight down to the valley floor beneath, and he did so with respect and delight, not with carelessness.

The hike to the top of Half Dome is amazing!  Climbing the cables to reach the top is thrilling!  The view of Yosemite National Park from the top of Half Dome is awesome!  It should be appreciated…and feared…for the unique wonder that it is.  We should tremble within. 

An encounter with the Creator of the Universe, the Conqueror of Death, the Lover of our Souls, the Second Person of the Trinity is no less thrilling than to stand atop Half Dome.  We should never treat an encounter with God as lightly as walking to our mailbox. 

In C.S. Lewis’ children’s book The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, a great lion, Aslan, represents Jesus.  The children (Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy) learn about Aslan from Mr. & Mrs. Beaver (actual talking beavers).  “‘Is—is he a man?’ asked Lucy.

“‘Aslan a man!’ said Mr. Beaver sternly.  ‘Certainly not.  I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea.  Don’t you know who is the King of Beasts?  Aslan is a lion—the Lion, the great Lion.’

“‘Ooh!’ said Susan, ‘I’d thought he was a man.  Is he—quite safe?  I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.’

“‘That you will, dearie, and no mistake,’ said Mrs. Beaver, ‘if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.’

“‘Then he isn’t safe?’ said Lucy.

“‘Safe?’ said Mr. Beaver.  ‘Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you?  Who said anything about safe?  ‘Course he isn’t safe.  But he’s good.  He’s the King, I tell you.’”

That’s how we should approach God—with the right amount of trembling and quaking, recognizing that the God we encounter is awesome!

Make Room for God’s Love to Reach All People

Mark 11:15-16 reports that Jesus “entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling and those who were buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who sold doves; and he would not allow anyone to carry anything through the temple.” 

How do you react when you come upon the fierce anger of Jesus?

In his book Freedom from the Performance Trap, David Seamands writes, “‘But,’ someone continues to protest, ‘I don’t understand this anger of God business—it scares me.’  Maybe it will help if we ask, What is the alternative to the anger of God?  The alternative is not a God of love, because…love and anger are two sides of the same coin, and you can’t have one without the other.  The alternative to anger is apathy, which would mean an apathetic God who is morally neutral and indifferent to the outcome of the battle between good and evil.  That would make him a God who sits on the moral fence of the world and says, ‘I don’t care what happens to them.  Let them sin if they want to, that’s their business.  I’m not going to interfere in their lives.’  So whenever the biblical picture of a holy God who gets angry about sin seems old-fashioned and frightening, try to imagine something a whole lot scarier—an apathetic God who doesn’t care.  Imagine what it would be like to live in a world like ours if God were personally indifferent and morally neutral.  That would be a terrifying nightmare.

“It is the reality of a holy God who is irreconcilably opposed to all sin that makes life tolerable in a world like ours.  For this means that God cares enough to get angry when we sin, because he cares enough to want the very best for us.  It means, too, that we know which side God is on—he has declared himself on the side of right and righteousness.  That’s comforting—not scary!” (p. 76-77) 

Something happened in the temple that day that stirred up the fierce love and the fierce anger of Jesus.  What was it?

Jesus had arrived in Jerusalem just before Passover.  People from all over were arriving in Jerusalem to celebrate this great holy day.  For many, this was their yearly trip to Jerusalem, and was the time when they would pay their yearly temple tax.    But there was a problem.  Temple authorities would only accept Tyrian shekels, which had a higher silver content than the normal Roman currency.  Moneychangers set up tables at which they would exchange people’s common Roman coins for the temple-approved Tyrian shekels, and they would add to the transaction a profitable mark-up for themselves.  On top of that, temple authorities appointed inspectors to check the quality of every animal that worshipers hoped to present as a sacrifice, to certify that every gift to God was without injury or blemish.  These inspectors were inclined to spot “flaws” in the animals people brought with them, meaning that worshipers had to purchase a replacement from one of the temple’s merchants who sometimes would charge as much as 20 times more than what the same animal would be sold for outside of the temple.  Mark specifically mentions that Jesus overturned the seats of those who sold doves.  A dove was an acceptable sacrifice for those who could not afford to present a lamb or goat, and doves were the usual sacrifice by women for their purification, by lepers for their cleansing, and by the poor.  Jesus was fiercely angry because those whom he loved were being cheated and/or blocked in their attempts to worship God. 

Moreover, this activity was taking place in the Court of the Gentiles—the area of the temple that was available for Gentiles to draw near to God.  Obstructing Gentiles from being able to draw near to God also stirred up the fierce anger of Jesus.

Many years ago, when I was involved in youth ministry, I took a group of high school students backpacking in the Yosemite wilderness, above Tuolumne Meadows.  One night some bear cubs began to wander through our campsite, between the kids’ tents.  I quickly gathered the students together away from the campsite, because I knew that if the Mama Bear thought that anything was keeping her cubs from her, she would rush after them, and she would tear apart anything that stood between her and them.

Can we expect Jesus to feel any less passionate about us than the Mama Bear would feel for her cubs?

Jesus throws over the tables of the moneychangers and the seats of the temple merchants, chasing them out of the Court of the Gentiles, because Jesus is not willing to let anything obstruct people from being able to draw close to God.

Get Angry at Injustice

What do you consider to be the worst human trait?  Self-centeredness?  Arrogance?  Cruelty?  Impatience?  Self-righteousness?  Dishonesty? 

Rendered blind and deaf at nineteen months of age by an unknown illness, Helen Keller understood well the trials and tragedies of life, but as she contemplated the worst human trait, Helen Keller remarked, “Science may have found a cure for most evils, but it has found no remedy for the worst of them all—the apathy of human beings.”

The great scientific genius Albert Einstein agreed.  He commented, “The world won’t be destroyed by those that do evil, but by those who watch them without doing anything.” 

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines apathy as the “lack of feeling or emotion” or as the “lack of interest or concern.”  It comes from the Greek prefix a, meaning without,and the Greek word pathos, meaning emotion or feeling.  To be apathetic is to lack interest in or concern about something or someone.  “I couldn’t care less” is the rallying cry of apathy.

Apathetic is not the word to describe Nehemiah. 

Out of deep concern over the welfare of his homeland, Nehemiah petitioned the king of Persia to let him go to Jerusalem to rebuild the city.  When the builders he organized received threats from surrounding enemies, rather than giving up, Nehemiah armed half the workers with spears and appointed them to stand guard over those who were busy making repairs to the wall.  Suddenly, though, work came to a halt.  Nehemiah 5:1 reports, “Now there was a great outcry of the people and of their wives against their Jewish kin.” 

Dr. Luke Bobo explains that three distinct groups cried out for justice:

• “First group (5:2): Large families whose husbands and fathers or the primary breadwinners were attending to the wall for no pay.  This meant they had no time for their usual work to earn money to buy grain to feed their large families.  The first group’s problem was life-threatening; they were starving.
• “Second group (5:3): Some had to sell their assets or mortgage their fields, their vineyards, and their houses to acquire food or grain for their families.  This meant, sadly, that the second group was on a trajectory to insolvency.
• “Third group (5:4): Many had to borrow money from their Jewish brothers to pay the Persian king’s tax on their assets.  However, on top of this loan, the wealthy Jewish brothers were charging interest.  Property might be taken in a pledge pending repayment of a loan; however, taking interest from a fellow Israelite who borrowed out of poverty and need was a major no-no (Deuteronomy 23:19-20).  Some were so behind in paying their debt that they were selling their sons and daughters into debt-slavery.  While this practice was legal, it nonetheless hit these financially strapped families quite hard and simply added insult to injury.” (from “God-Fearers Respond to Economic Injustice Properly” in The Washington Institute for Faith, Vocation and Culture) 

Verse 1 reports that there was “a great outcry” from the people over what they were facing.    

The Hebrew word used here for “outcry” is ze’akah.  Ray Vander Laan explains the significance of this word: “Ze’akah, one of the most impassioned, power-filled words in Hebrew, communicates intense emotion.  Usually translated as ‘cry’ or ‘outcry,’ the depth of suffering that causes such a cry is not conveyed by English words.  Ze’akah implies a heart-wrenching, wailing; though there are no recognizable words, when you hear it you know what it is.  Such an outcry rises out of great pain, suffering, and despair caused not simply by impersonal suffering but by the brutality and cruelty of other people.  Scripture reveals that God never fails to hear ze-akah, and his response against those who cause it is frightening…. Nahum Sarna, the great Exodus scholar, notes, ‘Ze’akah is one of the most powerful words in the language.  Pervaded by moral outrage and soul-stirring passion, it denotes the anguished cry of the oppressed, the agonized pleas of the helpless victim.’” (Fire on the Mountain Discovery Guide, p. 107-108)

Verse 6 records Nehemiah’s un-apathetic response: “I was very angry when I heard their outcry.” 

If Nehemiah had been governed by apathy, he would have felt nothing, and he would have done nothing.  But because he was governed by the passionate care of God, he got angry, and he thought it over (verse 7), then he called together the leaders of the people, and he confronted them over the injustices going on.  He called for the immediate release of all the Jewish debt-slaves (verses 8-9), the end of usury against their fellow citizens (verse 10), and the restitution of fields, vineyards, olive groves and houses that were stripped from them through usury (verse 11). 

As with Nehemiah, God calls us to get angry at injustices that leave our fellow countrymen and women impoverished, disenfranchised or homeless.  Perhaps the prayer our country needs most desperately at this time is the Franciscan Benediction:

May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom and peace.

May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, and war, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done. 

Righteousness & Justice: The Foundation of God’s Throne

I am intrigued by something in Psalm 97.  Verses 3-5 speak of the extraordinary acts of God that would captivate people’s attention: “Fire goes before him, and consumes his adversaries on every side.  His lightnings light up the world; the earth sees and trembles.  The mountains melt like wax before the Lord, before the Lord of all the earth.”  These verses match the sentiment in other psalms, like Psalm 8:3-4 (“When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?”) or Psalm 19:1 (“The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.”), that the force and wonders of creation give testimony to the Creator.  Similarly, Robert Boyle, who is considered the father of modern chemistry, remarked, “[When] I study the book of nature I find myself oftentimes reduced to exclaim with the Psalmist, ‘How manifold are Thy works, O Lord!  In wisdom hast Thou made them all!’”

When we behold the force and complexity and cohesiveness and beauty of creation, our minds and souls are drawn to our Creator. 

But what intrigues me in Psalm 97 is the second half of verse 2: “Righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne.” 

We often look for flashy displays from God, like the fire and lightnings and melting mountains of verses 3-5.  We are like Elijah in 1 Kings 19:11-13, looking to find God in a great wind or in an earthquake or in a fire, whereas God chose to speak to Elijah in the silence. 

We may find that God actually chooses to speak to us less often in flashy displays but most deeply through his goodness and justice.  And we may find that God draws people into deeper relationship with him through his goodness and justice than through flashy displays of his power.

A letter from the second century A.D. to “his excellency, Diognetus” (which may be a code name since Diognetus means “God-born”) seeks to explain the rise of the Christian faith in the Roman world.  The author of the letter writes to Diognetus, “I understand, Sir, that you are really interested in learning about the religion of the Christians…. You would also like to know the source of the loving affection that they have for each other.  You wonder, too why this new race or way of life has appeared on earth now and not earlier.”  The author goes on to point out how similar Christians are to everyone else: “They live in Greek and barbarian cities alike, as each man’s lot has been cast, and follow the customs of the country in clothing and food and other matters of daily living.”  But when the author of the letter gets to what makes Christians different, he writes, “They marry, like everyone else, and they beget children, but they do not cast out their offspring.  They share their board with each other, but not their marriage bed.  It is true that they are ‘in the flesh,’ but they do not live ‘according to the flesh.’  They busy themselves on earth, but their citizenship is in heaven.  They obey the established laws, but in their own lives they go far beyond what the laws require.  They love all men, and by all men are persecuted.  They are unknown, and still they are condemned; they are put to death, and yet they are brought to life.  They are poor, and yet they make many rich; they are completely destitute, and yet they enjoy complete abundance.  They are dishonored, and in their very dishonor are glorified; they are defamed, and are vindicated.  They are reviled, and yet they bless; when they are affronted, they still pay due respect.  When they do good, they are punished as evildoers; undergoing punishment, they rejoice because they are brought to life.”

In essence, the “Letter to Diognetus” asserts that “righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne.” 

Where does this leave us?

An anonymous poem expresses it well:

            Yours are the hands of God.  How did you use them today?

Did they crush or caress?  Did they ruin or bless?  How did you use them today?

Yours are the hands of God.  The hands that he lent you to use.

Did they reach out in greed, or meet someone’s need?  Did you use them to heal or abuse?

Yours are the hands of God.  Use them well as you travel life’s way.

Turn with love to each task, for one day God will ask, “What did you do with my hands today?

Speak Truth to Power

In 1887, Lord John Acton wrote to Bishop Creighton, “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.  Great men are almost always bad men.” 

Lord Acton’s warning is true even of great persons in Scripture.  King David was a person of guts and bravado and skill in battle.  From early in his life, he had learned never to back down—not from the lion or the bear that attacked his father’s sheep, not from the giant Goliath who mocked Saul’s soldiers, not from King Saul who chased David around the Judean wilderness, and not from the Philistine armies that David defeated to establish his throne in Jerusalem.  He had so proven his mettle that women from the towns of Israel sang, “Saul killed his thousands and David his ten thousands.”  But later in his life, David stayed home from battle and sent his soldiers out without him.  Restless and unsettled in this role, David walked about on the roof of his house.  His focus was drawn to a woman who was bathing.  She was doing only what was required by the legal code for cleansing following her menstruation.  But David had something other than the law in mind as he watched her go about her private business.  Abusing his power as king, David ordered Bathsheba to be brought to his room, and he had his way with her sexually.  When David learned that she had become pregnant, he set about trying to cover up his crime, which only led to more crime.  Eventually he arranged for Bathsheba’s husband Uriah to die in battle.  David now assumed that he had escaped from trouble.  But what David had done did not escape the eyes or the heart of God.  God sent the prophet Nathan to speak truth to power. 

The first known use of the phrase, “speak truth to power,” was written by African-American Quaker civil rights activist Bayard Rustin, asserting that it is the role of religious leaders to “speak the truth to power” to advocate for the civil rights of all Americans. 

“Speak the truth to power” is a wonderful phrase and a wonderful concept, but it is easier said than done.  Speaking truth to power—particularly when there is a tendency for power to corrupt—can be extremely dangerous.

In England in 1521, Thomas More was knighted and appointed as under treasurer for King Henry VIII.  In the following years, he served as the king’s secretary and confidant.  He welcomed foreign envoys on behalf of the king; he delivered official speeches on behalf of the king; he even answered letters in the king’s name.  But in 1527, when Henry wanted to divorce Catherine of Aragon because she had failed to produce a male heir and because Henry’s eye had been taken by Ann Boleyn, Sir Thomas More spoke out against what the king was doing.  For this, Thomas More was sentenced to death for treason against the king.  As he mounted the scaffold on July 6, 1535, Sir Thomas More said to the executioner, “See me safe up, and for my coming down let me shift for myself.”  He told the onlookers that he was dying “in the faith and for the faith of the Catholic Church, the king’s good servant, and God’s first.” 

Speaking the truth to power can be dangerous. 

Nathan knew that David had already arranged for Uriah’s death to cover up his crime with Bathsheba.  What might David do to one who would willfully confront him for his sin?

So Nathan approaches this confrontation cautiously.  Remembering the years David had spent tending his father’s flock when he was young, Nathan tells David a story of a poor man who dearly loved a “little ewe lamb.”  But when company arrives at the home of a neighboring rich man, that rich man, who owned many sheep, took the only and well-loved ewe lamb from his poor neighbor, slaughtered that well-loved lamb, and served it as dinner for his guest.  David erupts in anger over the injustice and heartlessness of that rich man.  He blurts out that the man deserves to die, but that he would settle simply for the man reimbursing his neighbor four times the cost of the lamb.  Nathan takes a deep breath, and says to David, “You are the man!”

Nathan’s story pierced David’s heart.  He confessed to and repented of the wrongs he had done.  Following his repentance, David wrote in Psalm 51:10-12, “Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.  Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.  Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me.”

To do justice is to speak the truth to power, and see what God might do.  In David’s case it led to confession, repentance, and restoration. 

Sing to the Lord a New Song

Psalm 96 is a fascinating psalm.  Much of the psalm is lifted from 1 Chronicles 16, which records the song that was sung in celebration of the Ark of the Covenant being bought to Jerusalem.  Yet Psalm 96 begins with the words, “O sing to the Lord a new song.”  We are commanded to sing a new song while singing a song whose words were already quite old.

Psalm 96 is an interesting mix of the past (borrowing from a song that was written in the past, reminding us of a great event that took place in the past) and of the present (most of the verbs are present tense verbs, commanding us to praise God right now and reminding us of God’s presence with us right now) and of the future (verses 10 and 13 look ahead to the Lord coming to set all to right in the world).  This mix of past, present and future is the very nature of the life of faith.  We look back upon great things that God has done.  Those things of the past are the foundation and the guarantee of our faith.  Moreover, they assure us that since we know what God has done in the past we can be confident of what he will do in the future.  And we celebrate that God is with us in the present.  God is always surrounding us, always beside us, always with us, and always in us.  God’s presence with us is our abiding source of strength and peace and comfort and encouragement.  And we look forward to what God will do in the future.  We look forward to God taking us to the home he has prepared for us in heaven where we will enjoy the fullness of God’s love and goodness forever, and we look forward to God restoring this broken world and setting all to right.

Three times in the first two verses of Psalm 96, we are commanded to sing to the Lord.  Singing is core to who we are as human beings.  There is no culture in the world that does not sing.  Anthropologists assert that singing predates the development of spoken language.  Indeed, Psalm 96:11-13 suggests that when we sing to the Lord we are joining in with all of creation: “Let the heavens be glad, and let the earth rejoice; let the sea roar, and all that fills it; let the field exult, and everything in it.  Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy before the Lord; for he is coming.”

Derek Kidner remarks, “Where God is, there is singing.  At the creation ‘the morning stars sang together;’ at his coming, the earth will at last join in again.”

Matt Lantz points out, “Singing is essential to the Christian life because it is both a valuable and vulnerable way for us to express our worship to God.  Music is valuable to us because it is able to express our praise, thoughts, hopes and fears in ways that spoken words cannot convey.  When we sing, we are able to express a deeper part of our hearts than we would have ever been able to otherwise.  Singing is a vulnerable thing to do because our hearts cannot hide.  If we are heartbroken, a song helps us cry.  If we are overjoyed, a song projects it from the rooftops.  If we are thankful, singing is our offering of praise.  Singing is meaningful; it is motivational; it is powerful.  It reminds us, guides us, shapes us and gives our hearts a voice beyond the spoken word.  That’s why God’s people sing.”

No wonder the Scriptures describe songs or command singing 303 times.

“Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth.  Sing to the Lord, bless his name; tell of his salvation from day to day.”

Compassion: Stand With

Compassion.  The word derives from two Latin words com (meaning “with”) and pati (meaning “suffer”).  To have compassion is to suffer with another person, to feel with others the hurt they are feeling. 

Is compassion a good thing or a bad thing? 

In the movie Downfall, about Adolf Hitler’s last days, the Fuhrer argues, “Compassion is a primal sin.  Compassion for the weak is a betrayal of nature…. I have always obeyed this law of nature by never permitting myself to feel compassion.  I have ruthlessly suppressed domestic opposition and brutally crushed the resistance of alien races.  It’s the only way to deal with it…. Apes for example, trample every outsider to death.  What goes for apes goes even more for human beings.” 

If you base your ethics on Hitler or on apes, you may choose to reject compassion.  But if you look to Scripture for your ethics, you need to embrace compassion, for compassion is the heartbeat of the Bible.  Brennan Manning writes, “Scripture suggests that the essence of the divine nature is compassion and that the heart of God is defined by tenderness.”

Compassion is also the foundation of justice, for when we open our eyes to the struggles of others and begin to feel their hurt with them, we begin to take steps to make a difference.

In the book Beautiful Souls: The Courage and Conscience of Ordinary People in Extraordinary Times, Eyal Press tells the story of Paul Gruninger who was dismissed from his job as captain of the police in St. Gallen, Switzerland, on April 3, 1939, when it was discovered that he had falsified hundreds of documents to allow Jewish immigrants fleeing from Nazi Germany to enter Switzerland.  Two days later, in a letter to the Swiss government, explaining himself, Gruninger wrote, “Whoever had the opportunity, as I had, to repeatedly witness the heartbreaking scenes of the people concerned, the screaming and crying of mothers and children, the threats and suicide and attempts to do it, could…ultimately not bear it anymore.”

When you open your eyes to behold the pain others are enduring and when you open up your heart to feel their suffering with them, you are changed and you effect change.

Exodus 2:23-25 tells us of God’s compassion for the people of Israel: “The Israelites groaned under their slavery, and cried out.  Out of the slavery their cry for help rose p to God.  God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  God looked upon the Israelites, and God took notice of them.”

God heard their cry.  God felt their suffering with them.  That’s compassion!  From there, God began to put into motion the rescue of the people from their slavery in Egypt.

Interestingly, just before these verses, Exodus 2:15-22 tells a story of Moses at a well, seeing shepherds bully seven daughters of Reuel.  In this instance, Moses sees their struggle, and he feels with them the hurt of the injustice thrust upon them, and he steps in to defend them and to help them. 

Before sending Moses to Egypt to set the slaves free, God gave Moses an opportunity to grow in his compassion for others.  Hooria Jazaieri points out, “Contrary to what many may believe, compassion is considered to be like a muscle that, as any other muscle, can be strengthened with relevant exercises—or can deteriorate and atrophy.  In other words, your capacity for compassion can expand, if you choose.” (“Six Habits of Highly Compassionate People,” published in the Greater Good Science Center at UC Berkeley) 

As with Moses and as with Paul Gruninger, God will give us opportunities to develop the muscle of compassion or to let it atrophy.  May we choose to exercise that muscle rather than letting it atrophy.