I Determine to Know One Thing: The Heart of God

When Paul writes his first letter to believers in the city of Corinth, he recalls the fragile state he was in when he first arrived in their midst.  Before arriving in Corinth, he had been chased out of one too many towns, had been locked in one too many jails, and had endured one too many beatings.  He recalls, “I came to you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling.” 

In the face of such adversity and anxiety, Paul decided not to worry about peripheral matters but to focus his attention on the one thing that is most vital: the heart of God.

In 1 Corinthians 2:2, Paul writes, “I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.”  Christ crucified—Christ giving his life out of love for us—is the heart of God.  In verse 10, Paul speak of the Holy Spirit searching and revealing to us “even the depths of God.”  What is more fundamental to the “depths” of God than the very heart of God?    

I am drawn to Paul’s commitment not to be distracted by peripheral matters but to stay focused on the heart of God.  Here’s what it comes down to for me: I am not a brilliant person.  There is much that I do not understand.  But I do know the heart of God, and that is enough for me. 

I do not understand how this world came into being.  I don’t understand the complex scientific debates between the schools of creation and evolution.  But I do know that this world is not a mistake of the cosmos or a fluke of chance.  I know that there is incredible design and order and beauty to the world.  I know that I am here (and you are here) by the love of God.

I do not comprehend the nature of the trinity.  How can one God be in three persons?  How can one God hold the universe together while dying on a cross?  And I don’t understand how God Almighty can live inside my un-glorious soul.  But I know the heart of God, that there is a fullness to God that is beyond my comprehension but that is fulfilled in the Trinity.  I appreciate that the complexity of the Trinity reveals the complexity and depth of God’s love for us. 

I do not understand the problem of suffering in the world.  It bothers me that God allows people to do the kinds of horrible things that people sometimes do to others.  But I know the heart of God, that God did not make us like robots, that God honors the freedom of choice he built into us, and that he does not compel us to be good.  And I know that God cares about suffering more than I do.  God cares enough to have entered our world, subjecting himself to the worst of suffering so that earthly suffering can be transformed into heavenly glory.  And I know that God stands beside all of his children who suffer, and that God continually nudges our consciences to care and to make a difference for the good however we can.

I do not understand the mystery of prayer, how God can listen to everyone’s prayers, all around the world.  But I know the heart of God, that God loves his children and is committed to listening to us and caring for us.  And I know that something remarkable happens in the midst of prayer. 

I do not understand death.  I don’t know what it will be like to pass through the valley of darkness and to come out on the other side.  I don’t know what it will be like to journey from this world into the next.  But I know the heart of God.  I know that God loves us enough to have died himself and to have risen from the dead, conquering the power of death, so that death cannot destroy those who belong to the Risen Savior.  And I know that God has promised never to leave me to walk through the valley of the shadow of death by myself.  I know that Jesus has prepared a home for me in heaven, and when I reach that home, he will wipe away every tear from my eye.  And I know that I will live in the joy of God’s presence forever.

There is much that I do not know, but I know the heart of God, and I know that God will never leave me or forsake me, and that nothing will ever be able to separate me from his love. 

The Law that Sets Us Free

The emphasis of Psalm 112 is that living rightly leads to life’s deepest blessings.

The psalm begins, “Praise the Lord!  Happy are those who fear the Lord; who greatly delight in his commandments.  Their descendants will be mighty in the land; the generation of the upright will be blessed.  Wealth and riches are in their houses, and their righteousness endures forever.  They rise in the darkness as a light for the upright; they are gracious, merciful, and righteous.  It is well with those who deal generously and lend, who conduct their affairs with justice.  For the righteous will never be moved; they will be remembered forever.”

Living rightly is not a guarantee that everything will go well in one’s life, and problems in life are not evidence that a person has sinned.  There are many corrupt people who enjoy good health and great material prosperity, just as there are many godly people who struggle with ill heath, injustice and other problems. 

Yet Psalm 112 draws our attention to a vital truth about living: The more that we live in ways that are good, the more we experience the goodness of life.

Television news reporter Ted Koppel expressed it well, “There’s a harmony and inner peace to be found in following a moral compass that points in the same direction, regardless of fashion or trend.”  When we walk in the right way, we find ourselves naturally moving in the direction of harmony and inner peace. 

In contrast, H.H. Farmer points out, “If you go against the grain of the universe, you get splinters.”  When we go against the ways that God has ordained as good, we end up with pain in our souls and sores in our lives.

Holiness is to unholiness what whole is to broken, what clean is to impure, what healthy is to diseased, what fresh is to spoiled, what true is to counterfeit, what full is to empty, what abounding is to inadequate.  When we live rightly, we incline ourselves to a life that is whole and clean and healthy and fresh and true and full and abounding.

Jim Holm provides a helpful illustration: “When I was in third grade, I was condemned to live under a law—the law of near-sightedness.  My eyes went bad, and today I am considered legally blind.  I am not free.  I am in bondage to this law.  There is no escape.

“But one day I discovered an even greater law that can overcome the law of near-sightedness.  It is called the law of corrective lenses.  When I submitted myself to the law of corrective lenses, the law of near-sightedness was overcome.  Did it go away?  No, it is still there.  But it was overpowered by a greater law, which enabled me to see.

“Now here is the ironic thing: You would think if I want to be free, I’d throw the glasses away.  But that is not freedom.  Only by submitting to the law of glasses do I become free.”

As Psalm 112:1 puts it, “Praise the Lord!  Happy are those who fear the Lord, who greatly delight in his commandments.”

The Foolishness of the Cross

In 1^st Corinthians 1:18-31, Paul describes the message of the cross as “foolishness.”  To make sense of what Paul writes here, it helps to know something of ancient Greek history and culture.  One of the most well-known and beloved pieces of ancient Greek literature was the Funeral Oration of Pericles from the Peloponnesian Wars (between Athens and Sparta).  The Oration made heroes of those who died in war on behalf of Athens and sought to inspire others to give their lives for Athens as well.  Most of all, the Oration glorified Athens, stressing that Athens is worthy of their sacrifice. 

Wisdom demands that all energy and expense must go into protecting and preserving the greater entity—the great city of Athens.  Thus, the Oration exhorts the common soldiers to sacrifice their lives for the sake of Athens.

It would be foolish to expect the higher entity to sacrifice itself for the sake of the lesser elements.  But this is precisely the foolishness of the cross.  The message of the cross is that God in Christ laid down his life for us.  To this extent, the cross is foolish. 

And to the extent that the cross proclaims that God in Christ died for us the cross confronts us with the weakness of God—that God in Christ succumbed to death. 

But when you put it all together, the greatness of the cross is that the cross reveals to us the depth and magnitude of God’s love for us.

The Funeral Oration of Pericles exhorted Athenian soldiers to become heroes by laying down their lives for Athens.  Paul sets forward the cross of Christ as the true hero, for the cross of Christ saved our lives!

I love the way Ralph Barron expresses this: “In his passion to set right a disjointed universe, God broke open his own heart in love.  God’s center—the love between the Father and the Son—is now offered as our center; God’s heart breaks open so as to include even the worst and most hopeless among us…. Because of this questing and self-emptying love, we become friends of God, sharers in the communion of the Trinity.” (quoted by Larry Crabb in Fully Alive, p. 141)

Brennan Manning writes, “The same love yesterday on Calvary, today in our hearts, and forever in heaven.  Jesus crucified is not merely a heroic example to the church.  He is the power and wisdom of God, his love capable of transforming our cowardly, distrustful hearts into hearts strong in the trust that they are loved.” (Ruthless Trust, p. 178)

In his book Written in Blood, Robert Coleman tells the story of a little boy whose sister needed a blood transfusion.  The doctor explained that she had the same disease the boy had recovered from two years earlier.  Her only chance for recovery was a transfusion from someone who had previously conquered the disease.  Since the two children had the same rare blood type, the boy was the ideal donor.  “Would you give your blood to Mary?” the doctor asked.

Johnny hesitated.  His lower lip started to tremble.  Then he forced a smile and said, “Sure, for my sister.”

Soon the two children were wheeled into the hospital room—Mary, pale and thin; Johnny, robust and healthy.  Neither spoke, but when their eyes met, Johnny grinned.  As the nurse inserted the needle into his arm, Johnny’s smile faded.  He watched the blood flow through the tube. 

With the ordeal almost over, his voice, slightly shaky, Johnny asked, “Doctor, when do I die?”

Only then did the doctor realize why Johnny had hesitated, why his lip had trembled when he agreed to donate his blood.  He thought giving his blood to his sister meant giving up his life. In that brief moment, he had made a brave and loving decision.

Fortunately, Johnny didn’t have to die to save his sister.  Each of us, however, has a condition more serious than Mary’s, and it required Jesus to give his blood and his life for us.  The cross of Christ reveals the depth and magnitude of God’s love for us!

Consider the Greatness of God

Psalm 111 is a psalm of praise that invites us to reflect on the greatness of God.  It begins, “Praise the Lord!  I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart, in the company of the upright, in the congregation.  Great are the works of the Lord, studied by all who delight in them.  Full of honor and majesty is his work, and his righteousness endures forever.  He has gained renown by his wonderful deeds; the Lord is gracious and merciful.”

What comes to your mind when you reflect upon the greatness of God?

In reflecting upon God’s greatness in his book I Was Just Wondering, Philip Yancey focused on the eternal enthusiasm of God: “A child kicks his legs rhythmically through excess, not absence of life.  Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged.  They always say, ‘Do it again’; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead.  For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony.  It is possible that God says every morning, ‘Do it again’ to the sun; and every evening, ‘Do it again’ to the moon.  It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them.  It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”

While reflecting on God’s greatness, my friend Mary Naegeli wrote in her blog about the fullness of God: “The God of the Universe dwells in and enjoys the beauty and bounty of all that he has created.  He resides in eternal and unlimited grace and power, blessing and provision.  God has never needed anything: he has always had enough time (eternity), knowledge (omniscience), power (omnipotence), and self-sustenance (provision) to get along.  I love how Dallas Willard described him: ‘God leads a very interesting life, full of joy.  The abundance of his love and generosity is inseparable from his infinite joy…. All of the good and beautiful things from which we occasionally drink tiny droplets of soul-exhilarating joy, God continuously experiences in fullness!’”

In reflecting on the greatness of God, Frederick Buechner delighted in the closeness of God: “For what we need to know, of course, is not just that God exists, not just that beyond the steely brightness of the stars there is a cosmic intelligence of some kind that keeps the whole show going, but that there is a God right here in the thick of our day-by-day lives who may not be writing messages about himself in the stars but in one way or another is trying to get messages through our blindness as we move around down here knee-deep in the fragrant muck and misery and marvel of the world.  It is not objective proof of God’s existence that we want but the experience of God’s presence.  That is the miracle we are really after, and that is also, I think, the miracle that we really get.”

In reflecting on the greatness of God, Belden C. Lane recognizes how much more of God there is than we can ever take in: “The distinctive character of this yearning for God, however, is that it’s never satisfied.  God is ‘the-Always-Greater.’  One never gets enough.  God is continually more than we can imagine.  A holy dissatisfaction is the norm for the lovers of God.”

In reflecting on the greatness of God, Psalm 111 concludes with a focus on God’s faithful care for us: “He provides food for those who fear him; he is ever mindful of his covenant.  He has shown his people the power of his works, in giving them the heritage of the nations.  The works of his hands are faithful and just; all his precepts are trustworthy.  They are established forever and ever, to be performed with faithfulness and uprightness.  He sent redemption to his people; he has commanded his covenant forever.  Holy and awesome is his name.  The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice it have a good understanding.  His praise endures forever.”

What comes to your mind when you reflect upon the greatness of God?

Guard Against Divisions

I am convinced that the unifying theme in Paul’s first letter to believers in the ancient city of Corinth is a longing for love among the members of that church but a struggle to live it out. 

The reality of that longing and the reality of that struggle comes up early in the letter.  In 1^st Corinthians 1:10-17, Paul addresses the problem of divisions in the church, with some claiming, “I belong to Paul,” and others asserting, “I belong to Apollos,” and others stating, “I belong to Cephas,” and still others arguing, “I belong to Christ.”  They long for the love they might feel by being attached to Paul or Apollos or Cephas or even Jesus.  But that longing for attachment to one leader or another is causing them to be detached from each other and thus more devoid of the love they long for. 

Greek mythology tells the story of Cadmus, who came upon a dragon while he was searching for his sister.  The dragon blocked his way, so Cadmus fought and killed the dragon.  He pulled out the dragon’s teeth and buried them in a field.  The next time Cadmus traveled that way, he was alarmed to discover that each of those teeth had become an armed giant.  It seemed that it would be impossible for Cadmus to pass safely through them.  But he came up with an idea.  While hiding behind a tree, Cadmus threw a rock at one of the giants.  Assuming it was the giant near him who had hit him, the giant struck him.  Other giants began to take sides and quarrel.  Their fighting escalated.  Soon they pulled out weapons.  Before long, all the giants were dead or injured.  Cadmus was now able to walk through their midst without danger.

The church in Corinth might have been full of spiritual giants, but as long as they were fighting with each other, they could accomplish nothing of value. 

In May 1987, National Geographic included a feature about the arctic wolf.  Reporter L. David Mech described how a seven-member pack had targeted several musk-oxen calves who were guarded by eleven adult musk-oxen.  John R. White summarizes what happened: “As the wolves approached their quarry, the musk-oxen bunched in an impenetrable semicircle, their deadly rear hooves facing out, and the calves remained safe during a long standoff with the enemy.  But then a single ox broke rank and the herd scattered into nervous little groups.  A skirmish ensued, and the adults finally fled in panic, leaving the calves to the mercy of the predators.  Not a single calf survived.” 

When Christians in churches become divided, the most vulnerable become the most endangered.

But when Christians act in unity, wonderful things can happen. 

Some years ago, Joseph Mlaker shares, “Herman Ostry’s barn floor was under twenty-nine inches of water because of a rising creek.  The Bruno, Nebraska, farmer invited a few friends to a barn-raising.  He needed to move his entire 17,000-pound barn to a new foundation more than 143 feet away.  His son Mike devised a lattice work of steel tubing, and nailed, bolted, and welded it on the inside and the outside of the barn.  Hundreds of handles were attached.  After one practice lift, 344 volunteers slowly walked the barn up a slight incline, each supporting less than fifty pounds.  In just three minutes, the barn was on its new foundation.” 

No wonder Paul writes to the Corinthian believers, “Now I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you be in agreement and that there be no division among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same purpose.” 

The Messianic Psalm

Psalm 110 is the most quoted Psalm in the New Testament.  Jesus and Peter quote the first verse of the psalm to make the argument that Jesus is the rightful King (Matthew 22:41-46, Mark 12:35-37, Luke 20:41-44 and Acts 2:34-36): “The Lord says to my lord, ‘Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies your footstool.’”  The book of Hebrews quotes Psalm 110:4 repeatedly in setting forth the case that Jesus is the rightful high priest (Hebrews 5:6-10, 6:20, 7:17 and 7:21): “The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind, ‘You are a priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek.’”

Psalm 110 provides opportunity to reflect upon the wonder of who Jesus was and the wonder of who Jesus is.

Napoleon Bonaparte once commented, “I know men, and I tell you that Jesus Christ is no mere man.  Between him and every other person in the world there is no possible term of comparison.  Alexander, Caesar, Charlemagne, and I have founded empires.  But on what did we rest the creation of our genius?  Upon force.  Jesus Christ founded his empire upon love; and at this hour millions of men would die for him.”

J. Sidlow Baxter pointed out, “Fundamentally, our Lord’s message was himself.  He did not come merely to preach a Gospel; he himself is that Gospel.  He did not come merely to give bread; he said, ‘I am the bread.’  He did not come merely to shed light; he said, ‘I am the light.’  He did not come merely to show the door; he said, ‘I am the door.’  He did not come merely…to point the way; he said, ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life.’”

S.D. Gordon expresses the great truth about Jesus in a simple way: “Jesus is God spelling himself out in language that people can understand.”

An anonymous piece of writing declares the paradoxes of Jesus:

He was the Light, yet he hung in darkness on the cross.

He was the Life, yet he poured out his soul unto death.

He was the Rock of Ages, yet he walked upon the water.

He was the Son of God, yet he died a felon’s death.

He knew no sin, yet he took our place and suffered in our stead.

He invited the weary to come to him for rest, yet on earth he could find none for himself.

He was the Mighty God, yet he became a servant.

He spoke, and it was done, yet he humbled himself and became obedient unto death.

He was the Desire of All Nations, yet he was despised and rejected.

He was the Fountain of Life, yet upon the cross he cried, “I thirst.”

He experienced death, yet through his resurrection he brings us life full and eternal.

The Healing Nature of Confession

John Trent shares, “As World War II raged in Europe, the Pacific, and North Africa, there were encounters with the enemy on our home soil, too.  Like the one at my Aunt Dovie’s assembly plant.  She worked at Allison Engine, near Indianapolis, making spare engine parts for the famous Flying Fortress bombers.  She was posted at the assembly line’s end, where they packed silver-coated pistons to be shipped to England. 

“Something was going wrong, though.  When the pistons arrived in England, they were covered with pin-sized holes, rendering them useless.  So the plant workers were brought together and told the problem—there was a spy among them!  Someone was splashing acid on the pistons before they were crated.  Soon FBI agents arrived to scrutinize the process.  Yet new lots arriving in England still had holes.

“Then one day my aunt left the factory lunch room and stood face-to-face with the saboteur—a salted-peanut machine outside the cafeteria.  Workers were eating peanuts and returning to work without washing their hands.  The salt granules created tiny holes on the pistons.”

In 538 B.C., the prophet Daniel encountered something similar.  The people of his nation had been taken away into captivity in Babylon (which then fell to Persia and the Medes).  Daniel longed for his people to return to their homeland, to Judah and to Jerusalem.  But when Daniel assessed the problem, he recognized that there was still an acid—like the salt remaining on unwashed hands—that was endangering his people: Unconfessed Sin.  As much as the workers needed to wash the salt off their hands before packing the pistons, the people of Judah needed to confess the sins that led to the demise of their nation.  Things would not be set right until they took appropriate steps to wash away their sins.  Therefore, Daniel made confession to God with fasting, sackcloth and ashes, praying, “Ah, Lord, great and awesome God, keeping covenant and steadfast love with those who love you and keep your commandments, we have sinned and done wrong, acted wickedly and rebelled, turning aside from your commandments and ordinances.  We have not listened to your servants the prophets, who spoke in your name to our kings, our princes, and our ancestors, and to all the people of the land” (Daniel 9:4-6).

Abraham Lincoln came to the same conclusion concerning the United States of America, when he called for a National Day of Fasting, Humiliation and Prayer, on April 30, 1863, in the midst of the War Between the States: “We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of heaven.  We have been preserved, these many years, in peace and prosperity.  We have grown in numbers, wealth and power, as no other nation has ever grown.  But we have forgotten God.  We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace, and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us; and we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own.  Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us!  It behooves us, then to humble ourselves before the offended Power, to confess our national sins, and to pray for clemency and forgiveness.” 

A nation does well when it takes an honest look at the acids that create holes in the integrity of the nation and when we take appropriate steps to wash our hands of such acids. 

While serving as Chaplain of the Senate, Peter Marshall once prayed, “We have disguised selfishness as patriotism; our arrogance has masqueraded as pride.  We have frittered away time and opportunities while the world bled.  Our ambitions have blinded us to opportunities.  We have bickered in factory and business, and sought to solve our differences only through self-interest.  Lord God of Hosts, forgive us!  O God, by Thy guidance and Thy power may our beloved land once again become God’s own country, a nation contrite in heart, confessing her sins; a nation keenly sensitive to all the unresolved injustice and wrong still in our midst.” 

Leonard Ravenhill once commented, “The self-sufficient do not pray; the self-satisfied will not pray; the self-righteous cannot pray.”  That observation is even more accurate when applied to the matters of remorse and confession: “The self-sufficient do not confess; the self-satisfied will not confess; the self-righteous cannot confess.”

Yet, to walk humbly with our God is to face our sins with remorse and confession. 

Psalms of Imprecation

One of the reasons why I love to read the psalms is that the psalms challenge me to embrace the full gamut of human emotions—even those that are uncomfortable to me.

I grew up with a conviction that anger is wrong, that “good” people don’t get angry, that it is ungodly to get mad.  When I felt anger, I tried hard to ignore it, deny it, or suppress it. 

The psalms make no such attempt to ignore, deny or suppress anger.  In Psalm 109, David rants angrily about those who have slandered him: “May his days be few; may another seize his position.  May his children be orphans, and his wife a widow.  May his children wander about and beg; may they be driven out of the ruins they inhabit.  May the creditor seize all that he has; may strangers plunder the fruits of his toil.  May there be no one to do him a kindness, nor anyone to pity his orphaned children.” (verses 8-12)

Psalm 109 challenges me to address the truth that there is a godly place for anger in our lives and that I live a more complete life when I honestly face all that stirs within my heart.

Janet Fitch remarks, “A lot of people think they should be happy all the time.  But the writer understands you need both.  You need the whole piano: the richness of the whole human experience.  Depression, suffering and anger are all part of being human.”  Nikos Kazantzakis asserts, “One of man’s greatest obligations is anger.”

Interestingly, the ancient world surrounding Israel was quite familiar with similar writings (known as “Imprecations”).  The Archaeological Study Bible documents, “Egyptians practiced an execration rite whereby they would inscribe names of figures of their adversaries on terra-cotta or pottery, after which they would pronounce a curse upon the enemy and ritually smash the pottery…. Mesopotamian tablets contain rituals meant to call down destruction upon enemies…. From the Greco-Roman world, archaeologists have discovered magical papyri that called down curses upon all kinds of enemies.  For example, there are texts that invoke curses against adversarial parties in lawsuits, as well as those that curse business competitors.” 

Yet the Archaeological Study Bible points to differences between the Imprecation Psalms and the Imprecation Writings from nations surrounding Israel: “Biblical imprecations have no tie to magic.  In magic, a person seeks to manipulate supernatural powers with ritual words and actions in order to achieve his or her desire.  The Bible provides no rituals to bring about the destruction of enemies.  God’s people could only call upon the Lord to punish the enemy and then leave it to him to decide whether or not to act.  Biblical imprecations were based upon belief in the righteousness of God.  When making an imprecation, a psalmist appealed to God’s justice in a tacit acknowledgment that God punishes only because it is the right thing to do—not simply in response to a psalmist’s anger.  By contrast, in magic-based rituals justice was not an issue.  Biblical imprecations were never used for personal jealousies and ambitions.  Biblical imprecations ultimately sought to give glory to God.”  Thus Psalm 109 concludes with: “With my mouth I will give great thanks to the Lord; I will praise him in the midst of the throng.  For he stands at the right hand of the needy, to save them from those who would condemn them to death.”

Ephesians 4:26-27 summarizes well how we should address anger: “Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil.”

When this world makes our hearts ache

In 1972, Jackson Browne recorded a song that laments, “Doctor, my eyes have seen the years and the slow parade of fears without crying.  Now I want to understand.  I have done all that I could to see the evil and the good without hiding.  You must help me if you can.  Doctor, my eyes, tell me what is wrong.  Was I unwise to leave them open for so long?”

Centuries earlier, a prophet in Judah wrote something similar: “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen?  Or cry to you, ‘Violence!’ and you will not save?  Why do you make me see wrongdoing and look at trouble?  destruction and violence are before me; strife and contention arise.  So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails.  The wicked surround the righteous; therefore judgment comes forth perverted” (Habakkuk 1:1-4).

Jackson Browne and Habakkuk both found that it hurts to look upon the sorrows and injustices of this world.  Indeed, Habakkuk goes so far as to define the book that bears his name as “the oracle that the prophet Habakkuk saw.”  The Hebrew word translated in Habakkuk 1 as oracle is massa, which is used in other passages of Scripture to refer to a heavy load.  For example, Exodus 23:5 states, “If you see the donkey of someone who hates you fallen down under its massa, don’t leave it there, be sure you help him with it.”  Such massa turns out to be a load that is so heavy that a donkey—a “beast of burden”—collapses under its weight.  That’s the kind of weight that is bearing down on Habakkuk’s heart as he watches the sorrows and injustices in Judah at that time. 

The name Habakkuk comes from the Hebrew verb habbak, meaning “to embrace.”  The name Habakkuk is, therefore, commonly understood to mean “Embraced,” and is generally considered to refer to Habakkuk as being embraced by God. 

To embrace someone implies that you wrap your arms around a person whom you love dearly.  Embraced is a wonderful name.  Every time someone called out this prophet’s name, Habakkuk received a reminder that he was embraced and cherished by God.  For a prophet dealing with painful issues of life and complaining to God about such issues, it helped to have as one’s own identity the assurance that you are embraced and cherished by God.

Yet the meaning of the name reached further.  Not only is Habakkuk embraced by God, Habakkuk embraced the people of Judah to his own heart.  Martin Luther suggested that Habakkuk should be known as the Heartener, arguing that Habakkuk was one “who takes another to his heart and to his arms, as one soothes a poor weeping child.”  In the midst of a dark time for the nation, with the people facing deep turmoil and heartache, it was vital that the people knew that the prophet who brought such dire news to them cherished them dearly.  Every time Habakkuk’s name was called, he was reminded to hold the people of Judah close to his heart.    

Indeed, because Habakkuk knew that he was cherished by God, and because he held the people of Judah close to his heart, we have the book of Habakkuk.  Because he knew that he was cherished by God, he had the boldness to pour out his complaints to God over the tragedies in his nation.  And because he held the people of Judah close to his heart, he felt compelled to protest to God on behalf of the people’s heartaches. 

Walking humbly with God does not preclude pouring out one’s complaints to the Lord.  In fact, genuine intimacy with God requires us to open up our hearts to God fully and honestly.  Laurie Ruth Wheeler writes, “Christians have, for some reason, stopped protesting to God.  Jews protest.  At some synagogues around the world, it is still a custom that during a Saturday Sabbath worship, if a person has a complaint against God, he can interrupt the service to walk to the front and scream it into the ark, until the rabbi gently leads him away and worship continues.  For Jews, faithful worship includes protest.  Chaim Potok was telling this to a group of Norwegian pastors, and they were very uneasy with the idea that one would scream at God.  They discussed it for quite some time.  Finally, one after another, these pastors approached Potok and said that they wished they’d known this a year ago.  A year before, there was a terrible ferry disaster.  A number of people had been killed.  ‘When our parishioners came to us with their anger and their questions, we didn’t know what to do.  We wish we would have known.  We wish we could have told them to remain before God and protest.’” 

To walk humbly with our God is to welcome God’s embrace of us, and, in turn, to hold close to our hearts those who are troubled and hurting.