Being Human

Learning to be thankful

I’m so thankful for the humanness of the humans in the Bible.

I haven’t always felt this way. For many years after being saved, I looked down on the shortcomings of those people. I could do better than that. I could be stronger, wiser, more faithful to my Lord than they were.

After decades of humbling and growth, becoming thankful for their examples, not as instructions in what not to do, but as illustrations of what to do. Be honest. Be real. Admit to my weaknesses before God, and even before other people. See myself as I am. Accept uncertainty.

Jehoshaphat

In 2 Chronicles chapter 20, the nation of Judah is being threatened by “a vast army.” King Jehoshaphat “resolved to inquire of the Lord.” He assembles the people at the temple and prays.

First he reviews God’s attributes and actions. “You rule over all the kingdoms of the nations. Power and might are in your hand, and no one can withstand you.” And yet Jehoshaphat feels helpless. He ends the prayer by saying, “We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you.”

Here’s God’s chosen leader, a direct descendant of the great King David. Shouldn’t he be reminding the people of how a lowly shepherd once defeated a fierce giant? Shouldn’t he be rallying the troops by proclaiming that they can do all things through God’s strength? Instead he confesses, in front of all those who are looking to him for leadership, “We do not know what to do.”

Maybe it’s okay if I say the same thing sometimes. Maybe I don’t need to feel pressured to have an answer for everything. Maybe it’s okay for me to admit to God, and in front of others who are depending on me, “I don’t know what to do.”

Always followed by, “But my eyes are upon You.” The Lord knows what’s happening. As a mere creature, I can’t possibly understand it all. Thank You, Father, for this example of Jehoshaphat’s humility and honesty and trust.

James and John

In Mark 10:35, the disciples James and John make the bold statement to Jesus, “We want you to do for us whatever we ask.” What cheek! What nerve! What audacity! Do they have any idea who they’re talking to?

And yet, how often do I have a similar attitude? How often are my prayers focused more on getting what I want than on seeking His will and His glory?

My 1985 NIV Study Bible comments that it shows “how spiritually undiscerning the disciples were.” I used to take this as saying, “Don’t be like them.” Now I see it as reassurance that even the greatest among the disciples could be completely foolish like me.

Reassurance, because Jesus doesn’t dismiss James and John as unworthy of His attention. He continues to love them and teach them and bless them. He uses them to do great things for His kingdom.

No one is hopeless. Not them. Not me. Thank You, Father, for sharing Your followers’ weaknesses in Your Word.

Peter

In Luke 9:28-36, Jesus’ appearance is transfigured in the presence of His top three disciples, Peter, John, and James. “His clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. Two men, Moses and Elijah, appeared in glorious splendor.”

Peter is caught completely off guard. But he can’t remain silent and still. He suggests building shelters for the three of them. Luke comments, “He did not know what he was saying.”

The great Peter, leader in the early church, author of two of the books in the Bible, and martyr for his Lord, says something stupid while witnessing the most incredible revelation anyone in the New Testament has seen up to that point. Thank You, Father, for demonstrating that I won’t be rejected and despised by You when I say stupid things.

A group of disciples

In Acts chapter 21, Paul is on his way to Jerusalem for the last time. He knows, and God has revealed to others, that something ominous awaits him there.

Through the activity of the Holy Spirit, the disciples are absolutely convinced that God wants them to talk Paul out of going, while Paul demonstrates his certainty that God wants him to go. They can’t both be right. 

In the end, “we and the people there pleaded with Paul not to go up to Jerusalem. … When he would not be dissuaded, we gave up and said, ‘The Lord’s will be done.’”

How often are Christian leaders willing to follow this example and simply give up the fight when there’s a conflict between two groups who both have good reasons for believing that God is on their side? How often am I willing to give up when I’m so sure that I’m right?

I’m thankful for these verses that illustrate a lack of understanding among those early believers, and their response to it. God didn’t send a clear revelation to confirm exactly what He wanted them to do. He left them in their uncertainty. Maybe I can be content with the ambiguity and confusion in my life and trust Him to do His will.

Not knowing

Thank You, Father, that these four passages tell me that it’s okay to be human, to stumble and fall and be uncertain. All of Your followers, even the greatest ones that we read about in Your Word, have the same problem.

One of the ties among these situations is that, in every case, the believers involved didn’t know. King Jehoshaphat publicly admitted that he didn’t know what to do. In Mark, Jesus tells James and John, “You don’t know what you are asking.” Peter didn’t know what he was saying. The disciples in Acts didn’t know what the Holy Spirit really wanted.

Sometimes I just don’t know. And that’s okay.

God promises to be with me, to lead me. Jesus promises that I’ll hear His voice. The Father gave me the Holy Spirit so that I’ll know what to do and what to say. And yet, like Jehoshaphat and James and John and Peter and a whole group of disciples, sometimes I just don’t know. Sometimes it’s because I’m being stupid, but sometimes God withholds information.

I can be thankful for these examples, though, and do as Jehoshaphat and the disciples did. Keep bringing my eyes back to Him. Keep praying that His will will be done.

One day I’ll understand it all. And my thankfulness for His wisdom and grace and kindness and love and truth will far exceed anything I can express in this life right now.

 

 

 

The Hammer and the Nail

The advantages of being a hammer

Would you prefer to be a hammer or a nail? In their song, “El cóndor pasa (If I Could),” Simon and Garfunkel say they’d rather be a hammer. Most of us would. It seems so obvious.

The hammer has a flashy job. It makes enough noise to attract attention. It has complete power over the nail. The nail can’t defend itself, beg for mercy, or talk back. All it can do is submit. The hammer is more valuable; one hammer costs more than many nails. Isn’t that what we want in this life? Attention, power, prestige.

The hammer’s role isn’t just one of pounding on the defenseless nail for no good reason, though. Its most common function is to build something new and worthwhile, like a shelter to protect vulnerable human beings. It can also help hang a picture on a wall, bringing beauty to an otherwise dull room. We want that sense of purpose and accomplishment, too.

The poor nail just keeps getting hit hard. Blow after blow after blow. It’s gotta hurt. Who would want that kind of life?

The advantages of being a nail

But the Bible often turns our natural human values upside down. We want power. Jesus came in meekness. We want to run the show. Jesus came to serve. We want to have our own way. Jesus always submitted to His Father’s will. (Matthew 11:28-30 KJV, 20:25-28, John 6:38)

We want so much to be the hammer in life. Jesus was more like the nail much of the time.

The hammer’s role might not be as fulfilling as it appears, though. It’s a solo job. No friends, no special relationships. Just domination. Even though it can be hard to admit it, that’s not a good life for any of us.

And, like the nail, the hammer is under the control of someone greater than itself. It has to wait for a human hand to pick it up and put it to use. Sometimes it suffers as that hand flings it away or the human mouth curses at it when it accidentally strikes the person’s thumb.

Still, the nail appears to have the less pleasant job. Being hit on the head. Cutting through hard wood until it’s forced down to where it will remain immobilized for many years. Sometimes being bent, wrenched back out, and thrown away as useless. Often being covered up where no one can see the hard work that it’s doing, as if it’s too ugly or worthless to look at.

But the nail isn’t just picked up occasionally for an odd job then put back on the shelf, like many hammers are. Once it’s in place, it renders a long, steady service behind the scenes. It binds things together that would otherwise fall apart. Sometimes it needs to work with other nails to do its job. It serves in a position that requires self-sacrifice, endurance, and cooperation. Kind of like the life God calls us to.

What are we to do?

Does that mean God doesn’t want any of us to be hammers? Is it wrong for a Christian to exercise power over others? On the job. In the home. At church. Within the community.

Of course not. We need bosses and parents and pastors and teachers and even political leaders.

However, like a good hammer, they’ll get the best results if they do the job right. Hitting the target accurately rather than striking wildly. Using only as much force as is necessary. Moving on when the job is done. Focusing on fulfilling their purpose to build something useful or beautiful, not on their ability to exercise power over others. Sometimes lying around for days or weeks waiting to be picked up. And just as there are many nails for one hammer, in any given situation God only calls a few to lead, while most of us serve.

Are we confined to one role or the other? Simon and Garfunkel’s lyrics make it sound like that’s the case.

Then I look at Jesus’ life. He spent much of it as a nail, submitting to God’s will in all things. He endured the opposition of the religious leaders of His day. He watched many lukewarm followers leave Him when His words offended them. He spoke and lived the Beatitudes. He washed His disciples’ filthy feet. He let Himself be nailed to a cross.

But He was more like a hammer when He cast out demons and cleansed the temple and rebuked the Pharisees. And when He rose from the dead.

Just like Jesus, most of us spend some time as hammers and more time as nails. A woman might act as a hammer to her children (choosing and enforcing the rules of the home in order to raise them to be responsible adults), then go to the office where she’s a nail.

There are powerful forces in our culture right now encouraging all of us to be hammers all of the time. Stand up for yourself. Demand your rights. Don’t let anyone take advantage of you. Seize whatever power you can and use it. Be an activist. Change the world.

Many politicians exemplify this attitude. How many presidents in recent decades have used their power hammering out executive orders that can be struck down by the Supreme Court or changed by Congress or the next president, rather than working together with senators and representatives to craft legislation that will hold together for many years?

These are our role models. They’re the ones we’ve elected to the highest office in the land.

What we really need, to counteract this destructive trend, is a whole lot of nails. People quietly serving without calling attention to themselves (1 Thessalonians 4:11). Holding things together rather than exercising blunt force. Working with others. Enduring the difficulties that come with their position. And understanding that this brings a different kind of power.

The power to contribute to greater peace in the world. To build stronger relationships and deeper community. To bring about greater justice and prosperity for more people. Jesus spent much of His life as a nail, but He’s had a more powerful influence on more people than anyone else in history.

 

 

Aging and Freedom

The freedom that comes with aging

Entering the Worship Center one Sunday morning. Looking around, greeting people, finding a seat.

I try not to focus on the externals when I’m with others, but I can’t help noticing the clothing, the jewelry, the hairstyles. And the freedom they represent.

More than half of the congregation is older than me. They’re well past the age where they worry about conforming to the fashions of the moment in order to be accepted. They’re comfortable wearing what they like. It’s a freedom that comes with aging.

Saying hi to Jane and Jim. Widow and widower. They’ve been sitting together every week for several years. But there are no rumors, no speculation about their relationship, no hinting in whispers that they must be more than just friends. They’ve reached an age where single members of the opposite sex are free to spend time together without triggering speculation and gossip.

As a teenager, I hated the pressure to conform to the latest styles, and the social norms that made it next to impossible for boys and girls to be friends without pursuing or assuming a romantic relationship.

In the few moments that it takes me to find a seat, I feel a tremendous sense of freedom. A freedom that comes with aging.

A few years later, this is reinforced by a brief comment on the news. (I don’t remember the source, and can’t find the comment online at this point.) The newscaster is interviewing a woman on her hundredth birthday. He asks, “What’s the best part of living so long?”

She immediately replies, “No more peer pressure.”

She’s outlived all her peers. She’s free to wear whatever she wants to wear. She’s free to sit with the same man every day without worrying about what other people are thinking. Or even about what he’s thinking.

Additional freedoms

There are other freedoms that seniors can enjoy.

*The freedom from all those big decisions that will determine the trajectory of our lives for fifty years or more. Where to live. Whether to go to college. What career to pursue. Whether to marry and have children. How to raise those children.

*The freedom that comes from letting go of possessions. If we live long enough, many of us will be unable to keep up with the responsibilities of a house and yard. We’ll downsize.

It’ll be tough. It’ll be even tougher if we end up in a small assisted living apartment. It’ll help if other family members cherish the items we’ve invested with the greatest sentimental value. But the reality is that, even within our lifetimes, much of our stuff will go to the trash heap. We’ll need to grieve our losses. How can that be good?

We Americans tend to define our lives and our value by the things we possess. Letting go frees us to appreciate the far more precious things that we can never own. Like God. And people. When we’re not so focused on our manmade treasures, we’re free to pay more attention to the beauty of God’s world, the depth of His character, and the talents and wisdom of those around us.

*And even, in an odd way, the freedom that comes from knowing that nothing more can be done to improve our health or extend our lives. My mom’s been going through this in recent years.

In the past, she was somewhat obsessive about her health. She’d learn about the latest greatest preventive techniques. She’d become angry or bitter if a treatment didn’t work out perfectly. She lived with the anxiety of knowing that she, or her medical team, could make the wrong decision with potentially disastrous results.

Now she’s declining treatment. She knows that little can be done for her at this point. She’s made her peace with that reality. She’s free from the stress of having to research all her options and trust the medical professionals to do the right thing, free from the fear of missing out on the best treatment, free from the fear of her life ending early. She’s ready to go home.

Contentment

I don’t mean to make it sound like there aren’t any drawbacks to aging. It usually includes some loss of independence, and therefore loss of freedom, especially if a person’s life ends in assisted living or a nursing home.

But the world puts so much emphasis on youth that it can be hard to appreciate the intangible benefits of aging. If we see no benefits at all in our current situation, where does that leave us? What does it say about our trust in a loving God?

At the root of all these freedoms that come with aging is a powerful biblical value: contentment. The contentment that comes with reduced pressure from our peers and a reduced number of options for the future.

Paul writes in Philippians 4:12-13, “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” He was in chains (1:13), probably under house arrest (NIV intro to Philippians), awaiting trial, when he wrote these words. Not exactly enjoying many freedoms. Yet, through Christ, he had the strength to be content.

This isn’t an automatic response. Even Paul had to learn it. Fallen human beings have a natural bent to be dissatisfied. The ad industry, especially in America, aggravates our discontent. It may be that those who’ve spent sixty years or more grumbling and complaining will continue that lifestyle right up to the end.

But maybe, just maybe, the grumblers and complainers can learn to recognize the freedoms that come with aging. Maybe they’ll be able to enjoy the limited years they have left with contentment.

And maybe our young people can be more countercultural and find the freedom that comes with contentment. Why wait until you reach old age?

 

The Ridiculous and the Sublime

Ridiculous me

I’m embarrassed. I go to God in prayer and I think about the things I’ve asked for in the last few years and I wonder if my face is turning red with shame. How can I face this big, glorious, all-powerful God who is above and beyond all that exists and who created the universe out of nothing, when my prayers have been focused on the selfish, the trivial, and the mundane for so long?

There are people all over the world who don’t know where their next meal is coming from, who’re living in war zones, who’ve been sold into slavery, who’re being abused and tortured. And I’m begging God to take away the minor annoyances in my life?

How can I be so self-centered after all these years of following Jesus? Doesn’t God have better things to do than to micromanage all my little complaints? I’ve been praying to the sublime about the ridiculous.

(Had to look up the exact meaning of the word sublime. I like Wikipedia’s description the best: “the quality of greatness, whether physical, moral, intellectual, metaphysical, aesthetic, spiritual, or artistic. The term especially refers to a greatness beyond all possibility of calculation, measurement, or imitation.” That’s God.

While dictionary.com defines ridiculous as “causing or worthy of ridicule or derision; absurd; preposterous; laughable,” I’m using it more loosely here to mean trivial. But I imagine that some of my requests could seem absurd or laughable to God compared to the really important issues that He deals with every day.)

My life started falling apart in 2019. The stresses just kept coming until, by the end of 2021, I was pretty well wiped out, physically, mentally, and emotionally. All I could think about, all I could pray about, was how to take the next little baby step. My prayers became self-centered and small.

The healing began in 2022. Today I’m much better than I had been, even though I’m not completely back to “normal.” I can look beyond my self. I can deal with the minor challenges in life without feeling overwhelmed and sending up panicky pleas to God.

I thank Him frequently for this improvement. But as I sit down to pray I’m embarrassed by my immature thoughts and requests over the last few years.

I have to wonder how God sees me. Has He been rolling His eyes and sighing with impatience every time I’ve prayed about the problems that a really big God might consider ridiculous? It’s easy to imagine that He might have been. But then I turn to the Bible for a better understanding of who He is.

The depth of God’s compassion

In Matthew chapter 6, Jesus encourages His followers to stop focusing on all their physical necessities. Sounds like maybe He’s telling me I shouldn’t be praying the way I have been. But why does He say not to worry? Because He doesn’t care? Because all those things are too small for Him to even think about?

No. He tells us to relax because He’s so deeply concerned about our needs that He’ll provide for them. God feeds the birds of the air. We’re much more valuable than birds. He clothes the lilies of the field. We’re much more precious than lilies.

The spiritual aspect of our lives is far more important than food and clothing, and yet He has so much compassion for our material side that He gladly gives us nourishment and protection. The most sublime Being in the universe really cares about even the most ridiculous things.

Jesus says in Luke 12:7 that the very hairs on our heads are all numbered. That’s not just a specific count that He can learn once and tuck away somewhere in His vast mind while He moves on to more important issues. How many hairs have I lost in the time that it’s taken me to write this article? How many new ones have begun growing in? And God’s keeping track of all of them? How trivial is that?

Jesus’ point isn’t that the God of the universe lets Himself get distracted over unimportant details (like I do). It’s that He knows me so well and loves me so much that He’s fully aware of even the most minute, ever-changing facts about who I am.

Peter writes that “with the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day” (2 Peter 3:8). In God’s eyes, a little thing that we all experience (the ridiculous day) is no different than a span of time that goes well beyond our life expectancy and our comprehension (the sublime thousand years).

According to dictionary.com, either Napoleon or Talleyrand made the famous comment, “From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step.” Quora.com explains the quote as referring to “a sudden negative change in condition.” The fall of the mighty.

But maybe it’s also true in another way. The sublime God, who is great beyond all possibility of calculation, measurement, or imitation, by His nature is but a step from things that are trivial, absurd, and laughable, things like me and my minor concerns. Not that He could ever fall to my level, but that He chooses to meet me there.

And so I realize that I don’t need to feel ashamed. Yes, my prayers were selfish and mundane. But I’d been battered by so many stresses that my body, mind, and emotions were in a bad place, where the ridiculous overwhelmed me and it took a great effort to catch a glimpse of the sublime.

If God knows the number of hairs on my head at this very moment (oops, there goes another one; now He has to revise His count), then surely He understands my weakness at those times when I can’t see beyond all my little problems. Our sublime God stoops to embrace the ridiculous.

 

 

What Does God Know?

The problem

There's something that's always bugged me about the theology that I’ve heard over the years. (If you’ve read many of my articles, you know there’s more than one something. I just want to address one in particular here. But don’t worry—I still stand firmly on the foundational beliefs of the faith. All my questions relate to the details of the theologies that have been built on that foundation.)

In my last post I said, “There’s a sense . . . in which God actually hurts.” (I should have added a reference to Genesis 6:6 here, but I didn’t think of it at the time.) “Because of that, He understands our pain more deeply and completely than we can ever imagine” (italics added). That’s what I’ve been taught. I’ve heard it from many wise sources. I’m willing to accept that there’s some sense in which it’s true, so I was okay with saying that in my article. But if we take it too far it can lead to serious errors in our view of God.

From what I understand, this idea is at least partly based on two passages in Hebrews.

Hebrews 2:17-18: For this reason, he [Jesus] had to be made like his brothers in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people. Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.

Hebrews 4:15-16: For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

These verses seem to imply that the Son of God, a full-fledged member of the Trinity, was only able to sympathize with our weaknesses and become merciful by taking on human flesh and seeing what it was like to suffer from temptation. If God, as the Son, had not experienced being human, the Godhead as a whole (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit) would be unable to really understand us.

The greatness of God

But God is GOD. He knows all. He understands all. He created all there is out of nothing. He created the full potential range of our emotions and thoughts. Even before the beginning, He knew us, not just intellectually, but deeply, richly, intimately, completely (Psalm 139).

The mistake we make is to think that if God hasn’t experienced something for Himself, then He can’t really understand it or sympathize with those who go through it. That tends to be true for us. We usually need to live through something ourselves before we can really understand how it feels to someone else. But I don’t see how it can possibly be true for an all-knowing God.

So maybe there’s something different about this concept of Jesus’ learning to sympathize with our weaknesses than what I’ve generally heard. Maybe it’s not that He absolutely had to have some kind of human experiences in order for God to really understand these strange creatures who have physical bodies, who feel pain, and whose lives end in that bizarre event called death.

Maybe the reason Jesus took on human flesh was because of our weaknesses and our needs, not God’s. Maybe it’s so that we can understand Him better, not the other way around. Maybe we desperately need the reassurance and confidence that comes from knowing that He’s been through everything that we go through. Maybe we wouldn’t believe that He could ever “get” us otherwise (even though He always has).

So what about those passages from Hebrews? What are they trying to tell us?

I’m not an expert on Scripture. I don’t understand it all. But I wonder if the teachers I’ve heard have been looking at it from the wrong angle. Maybe the author of Hebrews is talking about the Son’s perspective during the thirty-some years of His incarnation.

Jesus was both fully human and fully divine. (Another mystery that we’ll never fully understand.) God never changes (Malachi 3:6), but as a human being, Jesus learned and grew. Luke 2:52: “And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and men.” (This boggles my mind. How does God the Son grow in favor with God the Father???)

Maybe the passages from Hebrews mean that as a human being Jesus developed into a merciful and faithful high priest. As part of the Trinity, even prior to the incarnation He was merciful and faithful beyond anything we could ever deserve or imagine. (But maybe He didn’t take on His specific high-priestly role until after the resurrection?)

It was certainly as a human being that He made atonement for us. He sacrificed His own human flesh.

It was definitely as a human being that He suffered from temptation. James 1:13: “God cannot be tempted by evil.”

Resisting temptation has never been something that we can do all on our own. God has always been capable of helping those who are being tempted. David was asking for God’s help with it—and expecting a response—when he prayed in Psalm 141:4, “Let not my heart be drawn to what is evil, to take part in wicked deeds with men who are evildoers; let me not eat of their delicacies.”

So the idea that He can now help those who are being tempted can’t mean that God had to learn how to come to our aid through Jesus’ experience. Maybe it means that we can now relate to a human Jesus, who suffered when He was tempted. This change in our perspective gives us a powerful tool for resisting the temptations that we face. A tool that people who lived before Jesus’ time didn’t have.

The kind of teaching that I’ve heard tends to foster the misconception that God was somehow lacking in His understanding of us mortals until Jesus came along and discovered what we’re really like. That does a great disservice to our great God.

Whether or not God changes in some very limited ways, such as when Jesus experienced being human, is one of the big unanswerable questions of the Christian faith. But I suspect that the deeper relationship between God and people as revealed in the Hebrews passages means that we’ve been given the great privilege of being able to come closer to understanding Him, not that He needed to become human in order to fully understand us.