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.

 

Choose Life!

 The biblical meaning of “life”

“Choose life and not death!” (2 Kings 18:32).

Yes! This is what God calls us to do. It’s the choice that Moses encouraged the Israelites to make as they prepared to enter the Promised Land (Deuteronomy 30:19).

I’ve always been fascinated by the Bible’s concept of life. Man does not live on bread alone (Deuteronomy 8:3). Life is more important than food (Matthew 6:25). But food is necessary for my survival. How can life be more important than that which sustains it?

There’s a hint here of something bigger, something greater than my literal understanding of the word “life.” In each of these brief sentences, God sweeps away my human view that I need to be thinking every moment about the physical aspects of my existence. Focusing, planning, fretting, anticipating good food, good drink, nice clothes, today’s to-do list, tomorrow’s adventures.

Biblically, “life” means even more than all these things put together. Salvation isn’t just about the perfect bliss of heaven. God is also deeply concerned about my quality of life here on earth. What does that look like when I’m working, when I’m cleaning up after my dog, or when I’m hurting from a painful loss? How do I live as if this is true?

I’ve been trying to figure that out for decades. Don’t know that I’ll ever get there. But I think of the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). Rather than finding my greatest pleasure in consuming foods that are soon gone, God wants to produce fruit in me that continues to multiply. Fruit that not only nourishes me, but feeds others as well. That’s life.

I also recall the Bible’s reminders to be content (1 Timothy 6:6, Hebrews 13:5). To my human mind, contentment leans toward grudgingly accepting something that I don’t really like. How often have I thought with a sigh, I guess I’ll just have to be content? As if being content is some kind of burden. True contentment lightens my heart with joy and peace. Even when I’m cleaning up after my dog.

Other views

The world around me shouts the same message as the verse above: Choose life! But the biblical meaning is missing here. In this context, life means everything that Jesus said is less important. Eat the tastiest foods. Drink the most intoxicating beverages. Wear the latest styles. Have sex as often as possible, with as many different people as possible. Get high. Put your own needs and desires ahead of everyone else’s. That’s what life is all about.

Sometimes Christian groups urge me to seek the wrong kind of life, too. In our lists of prayer requests, most of them concern physical healing or material needs. They reflect a genuine compassion for those who are suffering, as Jesus displayed. But that emphasis can imply that the physical and the material are the most important aspects of our lives.

We tend to forget the greater blessing that comes with accepting His will in all circumstances, and the truth that affliction can bring bountiful spiritual riches. Comfort takes priority over spiritual growth. The prosperity gospel, with its emphasis on health and wealth, is the most extreme form of this kind of thinking.

A godly response

That desire for worldly goods and pleasures is actually the side of human nature that the “Choose life!” verse is appealing to. The speaker isn’t urging his listeners to reach for a higher goal. He’s using crafty words and references to the God of Israel in an attempt to persuade King Hezekiah and his people to give themselves up to the invaders from Assyria.

A large army is standing outside the walls of Jerusalem, ready to destroy the city. The field commander is taunting its inhabitants, intentionally speaking in their language, trying to turn them against their king, trying to persuade them to surrender. Otherwise, they’ll die.

A group has gathered on the wall. Their backs are turned to God’s temple as they gaze at the threat in front of them and listen to a voice promising a way to safety. They’re frightened and vulnerable and oh-so-tempted to choose the meager physical life that the Assyrians are willing to provide, rather than seeking the true life that consists of more than bread alone.

Isn’t that where I sometimes find myself? Standing on a wall with my back to God. Seeing only the vast army of the enemy. Hearing words in my own language offering me life, not death.

What do the people of Jerusalem do? They obey their king. They remain silent when the Assyrians demand an answer, because that’s what Hezekiah had told them to do. Their faces may be turned away from the temple, but their hearts remain firmly dedicated to their God.

Their leaders respond by tearing their clothes, a symbol of anger and sorrow (BibleGateway.com). They report to Hezekiah, who also rips his robes. He goes to the temple, while sending others to the prophet Isaiah to ask him to pray. Isaiah’s first words to these messengers are, “Do not be afraid.” He then describes how the Lord will miraculously deliver them.

God doesn’t expect me to stay sheltered in His house, protected from the seductive words of an enemy who urges me to choose life, not death. Words that can sound so reasonable and attractive, so much like God’s own words. He puts me up on that wall with my back to His temple, listening to appeals in my own language.

But if I’ve already chosen the life that He offers, I can depend on that life to nourish and grow me over time. I’ll develop the wisdom and the faith to obey my King even in the face of fierce opposition and tempting invitations. I can rely on that life to provide the resources that allow me to go to the King and His prophets and His temple with its torn curtain. I can trust in that life to relieve my fears as I ask for prayer for His guidance and strength.

The Lord doesn’t promise me a miraculous physical deliverance in every situation, but He gives me the ability to choose life—a life that’s far greater than mere food and drink and clothing and all the other pleasures that this world has to offer.

 

 

Dirty

 Staying clean

Two truths that I’m seeing during this coronavirus pandemic:

1. I can never be completely clean. (Or at least not for long.)

2. That just might be a good thing.

I get up in the morning, go to the bathroom, wash my hands. Get dressed, put on my shoes. My hands are obviously dirty again. Better wash them a second time.

Just making my way to the kitchen and preparing breakfast requires contacting many surfaces that could be harboring germs. Do I have to wash or use sanitizer every time I touch something? A year ago, when the experts were talking about flattening the curve, that seemed to be the implication. But my skin would shrivel and crack if I tried to stay completely clean all the time.

Spiritually, can I ever be one hundred percent clean? As in the physical realm, not for long, if at all. My spirit is always being exposed to the world, the flesh, and the devil. The dirt rubs off on me even if it doesn’t make me sick.

It reminds me of Jesus washing the disciples’ feet in John 13:1-11. He describes those who believe in Him as already having had a bath. All they need after that is to have their feet cleaned. But aren’t their arms and legs and faces dirty, too? And He only washed their feet once. Don’t we need it more often than that? I find it encouraging that He addresses both the necessity and the limits of our need for cleansing.

I try to make it a practice to confess and repent when I know I’ve sinned, but I can go to one of two extremes. I can get so hung up on my dirtiness and my need to seek out and confess every little detail of every little sin that I miss God’s calling to forget my self and reach out to others. And I miss the opportunity to turn my thoughts to His grace and power and love and glory in selfless worship.

Or I can call to mind the Bible verses that tell me how He’s forgiven and forgotten all my sin for all time, and ignore the ones that remind me of my need to confess and repent. In Jesus’ analogy, I’ve had my bath. Because I’m covered by the Son’s blood, the Father always sees me as clean. Isn’t that enough? No. Sometimes I need to have my feet washed. Not for my salvation, but to keep my relationship with God as intimate as it can be. I need to go to Him in humble repentance and acknowledge my sin. I need to stay as clean as I can.

Building immunity

But some dirt will still cling to me most of the time. Because of that, God in His wisdom created a world in which everything works together to sustain life as we know it. Including death. Including germs.

Limited exposure to germs builds immunity. Vaccines are made from the viruses that they protect us against. A few years after antibacterial hand soaps became popular, many doctors discouraged their regular use by healthy people. They argued that we need some bacteria in our lives to maintain a robust immune response.

I once read a magazine article about the polio epidemic of the mid-twentieth century. The doctor who wrote it said that the reason polio suddenly became a problem was because parents were keeping their children too clean. Anyone under two years old who’s exposed to polio develops a natural immunity. Older children and adults are more prone to contracting the disease once they come into contact with it. As American homes became more and more sanitized, no natural exposure was occurring before the age of two. The result was lower immunity and greater suffering.

What about in the spiritual world? Do I need exposure to temptation? Can I benefit from the dirt that rubs off on me from the world, the flesh, and the devil? My natural tendency is to say “No! Temptation is bad. I need to avoid or prevent as much exposure as possible.” Stay in my bubble. Hang out with Christian friends. Read books by Christian authors. Listen to Christian music. Watch Christian videos.

But if I’m honest with myself, I realize that each time I resist a little temptation I grow stronger,  more capable of resisting a bigger temptation. Sooner or later that big temptation will come. Will I be ready to resist it if I haven’t faced and defeated those little temptations? I also grow closer to God every time I rely on His Holy Spirit for the strength to overcome.

Jesus’ example

Did Jesus Himself experience this type of growth? The Bible says that He was made perfect through suffering (Hebrews 2:10), that His suffering included facing temptation (Hebrews 2:18), and that He learned obedience from what He suffered (Hebrews 5:8). I have a hard time wrapping my mind around this whole idea of Jesus—God—learning and growing, especially by means of the evils of temptation and suffering. I don’t hear a lot of teaching about this experience of His. But it’s a powerful example of how God brings good (strength) out of evil (temptation).

If Jesus could learn and grow as He was tempted, maybe it’s best for me to get out of my Christian comfort zone and allow myself to be exposed to the dirt of the world. How can I mature in my faith if I never face the challenges out there? (And how can I be a witness to those who need to hear the Good News if I stay huddled in my own little corner?)

Of course there has to be a balance. I have to follow the teaching of Scripture and the leading of the Holy Spirit to find that balance. I need to be out in the world getting my feet dirty and building my immunity, but I don’t need to take a mud bath.

New Creation

 What is this new creation?

    “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” (2 Corinthians 5:17). Sounds good. I like it. But what exactly does it mean?

    For my first ten years or so in an evangelical church, the implication seemed to be that when we accept Christ everything changes so dramatically that we don’t need to deal with the past. It’s been erased. We’ve been made new. We need to forget what’s behind us and strain toward what’s ahead (Philippians 3:13). This idea wasn’t usually explicitly stated, but the assumption was always there. And it always bothered me.

    Then I met a man named Cory who was a dedicated believer, but who constantly questioned evangelical correctness. God used him to open my eyes to the flaws in evangelical thinking and the shallowness that it encourages.

    Cory helped me to see that we come to Christ with many false beliefs that aren’t just wiped away at the moment of conversion. We come with a heavy load of painful experiences, grudges against those who’ve hurt us, anger, bitterness, and misunderstanding about who God is. Being a new creation doesn’t mean that He just magically makes all our baggage disappear, as so much evangelical teaching implies.

    Then what does it mean? What is the old that’s gone and the new that’s come? Who am I now?

    After struggling with this question for decades, the best explanation I’ve heard goes something like this: what’s gone is the old inability to understand the truth revealed in God’s Word, the inability to develop the fruit of the Spirit, the inability to see and believe and obey.

    And what’s new is our capacity to grow, to overcome the pain of the past, to become more like Christ. We have this capacity because we’ve been given a new spiritual life. We also have the Holy Spirit within to enable us to see where we need to change, to prompt us to want to change, and to strengthen us to persevere so that those changes can happen. We never do this perfectly. We still have a tendency to rebel against our Lord’s attempts to grow us into something better. But this is a truly amazing newness well worth celebrating.

Two models

    Another aspect of the evangelically-correct view of becoming a new creation is the implication that at the moment of salvation I had perfect faith, which led to God’s forgiveness for all my sins. This is what I think of as the “new car” model of the new creation: the new me is like a shiny new car that runs smoothly, looks pretty, and even has its own special smell. It’s perfect.

    I don’t know about anyone else, but at the moment of my conversion, even my faith was warped by my sinful nature. If I’d had to depend on it alone, I wouldn’t have been saved and I wouldn’t be writing these words. It was God’s grace that saved me. He worked through my faith (Ephesians 2:8), but He didn’t sit around waiting until it was perfect, or it never would have happened.

    I’ve heard some people teach that while we’re still sinners, God miraculously creates in us a perfect faith so that we’re able to turn to Him and believe. But that sounds kind of cruel to me. Would a kind and loving God give me such a precious gift, then snatch it away again after I’ve entered His kingdom? It obviously doesn’t last. And yet, if I believe in that perfect faith, I expect myself to live as if it should.

    Life becomes a constant struggle and disappointment. I’m a new creation. I shouldn’t be subject to the old thought patterns and behavioral habits. They’re supposed to be gone. But they’re not. I watch helplessly as my new car ages and rusts and falls apart. Life can never be as good as it was in that moment of my salvation. Is this the resurrection life that Jesus promised me?

    What happens if we change our thinking from a shiny new car to a new baby model? The new creation is like a baby who has a lot to learn and who will make a lot of mistakes as she stumbles along trying to figure out this thing called life.

    A baby isn’t expected to be perfect. She’s expected to mess up, to need direction and correction. Parents don’t give up on their child the first time she falls down as she’s learning to walk. They don’t kick her out of the house the first time she says no to their instructions. Some parents even continue to demonstrate their love to their child when she flaunts God’s standards for sexual purity, when she becomes addicted to drugs, or when she’s arrested for some terrible crime.

    This is how God loves us. He doesn’t expect us to remain a shiny new car day after day. He doesn’t reject us or disown us the first time we stumble. He knows that we started the Christian life as a tiny baby with certain in-born capacities that we didn’t have before, but also with the one-hundred-percent likelihood that we would still sin, still cause Him grief, still hurt ourselves and all of those around us.

    But in His unconditional love, He promises that He will never leave us or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5). We have the capacity to resist the draw of worldly comforts and pleasures. But when we give in to them, like a perfect parent He will always be there for us, forgiving us and helping us to overcome those temptations.

Freedom and joy

    How does this impact our everyday lives? Instead of constantly feeling defeated and disappointed in ourselves, we can rejoice in His love and in our small steps of progress. Instead of focusing on the dent in the door or the chip in the paint or the funny sound under the hood of our once-new car, we can marvel in our first words, our first steps, our developing understanding.

    We can witness the changes He’s bringing about in us and live lives of gratitude and praise. We can be certain of His compassion and forgiveness no matter how many times we give in to that same pet temptation. We can be free of the shackles of our own weaknesses even when those weaknesses have not yet been overcome.

    This is the joy of the resurrection life. This is the freedom Jesus promises. He never intended for His followers to live lives of weariness and discouragement, as in the new car model. Instead, He offers us an easy yoke and a light burden (Matthew 11:28-29), as in the new baby model.

Delight or Despair?

 God’s revelation

    Recently read through Psalm 119. All 176 verses. Normally, when I read it, I can relate to Sam Williamson’s initial thoughts in his blog post about this “dreaded psalm,” especially the “dull repetition.”

    But God has been changing my perspective on His Word and His commands in the last few months (as He changed Sam’s). Sometimes when I open my Bible in the morning, I have a sense of awe that this is the very Word of God! Not just another book. Not just a bunch of stories and sayings that I’ve heard a hundred times. Not just something fallible written by a variety of human authors expressing their own opinions.

    The actual Lord of the universe, He who created all that exists, is communicating with us in this book that I’m touching with my own hands and seeing with my own eyes. He’s revealing who He is and how we can have a relationship with Him. What kind of God would make such a privilege available to so many? He didn’t have to do it. But He gave us this amazing revelation because of the intensity of His love for us.

His answer to my prayer

    So when I came to Psalm 119, I was praying that this time I wouldn’t see it as a repetitive compilation of praises for a legalistic lifestyle or as a list of unrealistic expectations, like in the first few verses: “Blessed are they whose ways are blameless, who walk according to the law of the Lord. Blessed are they who keep his statutes and seek him with all their heart. They do nothing wrong; they walk in his ways. You have laid down precepts that are to be fully obeyed” (italics added). Somehow, that just doesn’t describe me. But, in answer to my prayer, here’s what I realized: I can and should delight in His law. Not just His love and His grace, but His law.

    He gives us that law as both a guide to the best possible life in this world of suffering and a revelation of His character.

    Does God say “You shall not commit adultery” (Exodus 20:14) to cruelly forbid us the excitement of multiple partners? No! He issues that command so that we can have the deeper pleasure and fulfillment of a good and lasting marriage. Marriage at its best gives a man and woman a hint of the joyful intimacy that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit experience among themselves through all eternity.

    Does God say “You shall not steal” (Exodus 20:15) to deny us the pleasure of owning something without the pain of paying for it? No! Stealing destroys trust. Our personal relationships are far stronger and more satisfying when we can trust each other. If my friend can’t depend on me to respect his private property, will he share with me the things that really matter? We can better understand and rejoice in the trustworthiness of God when we experience a less perfect form of it in our human relationships.

    Does God say “Remember the Sabbath” (Exodus 20:8) so that once a week we have to sit back in boredom and worry about all the things that we’re not getting done? No! He’s removing the burden of laboring seven days a week, He’s reminding us that everything we have ultimately comes from Him, and He’s providing time for us to draw nearer to His kind and loving presence without the distraction of a to-do list.

    Every command that God has given us has an equally good and valid reason behind it. It leads to a happier, more fulfilling life. It helps us to better understand and appreciate His character.

    It’s incredibly hard to obey His law because I’m so self-centered. I want what I want and I want it now. But it’s well worth the sacrifice to aim for Jesus’ high goal of being perfect (Matthew 5:48), even though I know I won’t reach it in this life. As I grow in my relationship with Him, He will develop within me a greater ability to love my neighbor as myself, to step back from that little voice inside that insists on having my own way, to understand that the fruit of obedience today is greater joy and peace and contentment tomorrow.

    Modern research supports the idea that following God’s law is good for us. Recent studies have shown that “deaths from despair” (suicide and deaths related to drug and alcohol abuse) are significantly less common among those who attend religious services on a regular basis than among those who don’t. These religious people experience better overall physical health and better psychological well-being. Whether they’re Christians or not, they’re the ones most likely to be attempting to obey God’s commands.

    Contrary to the promise of the 1960s that freeing ourselves from the restraints of traditional moral values would bring greater happiness, that “freedom” has led to a decrease in life expectancy, largely due to an increase in deaths from despair. Happiness has declined. Despair has grown.

My new prayer

    I’m nowhere near the point of approaching my Bible reading with eager anticipation every day, especially the Old Testament. Seeing God’s law as something negative and dread-full is too prevalent in our evangelical culture with its emphasis on grace. We’ve forgotten that the law was given to draw people nearer to Him. We see it as a harsh relic of the past. All that matters now is that God loves me. As a result, we’ve lost the sense of the beauty and joy and delight in His law that the writer expresses in Psalm 119:

    “I rejoice in following your statutes as one rejoices in great riches. . . I delight in your decrees.”

    “My soul is consumed with longing for your laws at all times.”

    “Your statutes are my delight.”

    “Direct me in the path of your commands, for there I find delight.”

    My new prayer is the same as the psalmist’s in verse 18: “Open my eyes that I may see wonderful things in your law” (italics added).

That's Not Fair!

The suffering of two faithful servants

    “After all that Hezekiah had so faithfully done, Sennacherib king of Assyria came and invaded Judah” (2 Chronicles 32:1, italics added). Wait a minute. Isn’t this the Old Testament? Isn’t this one of those books where God repeatedly says that Israel’s and Judah’s ups and downs are directly connected to their degree of faith and obedience?

    How could God do this to Hezekiah? How could He follow Hezekiah’s faithfulness with a vicious attack? Doesn’t that go against everything the chronicler has been illustrating? Isn’t God being totally inconsistent with His teaching throughout the Old Testament?

    Why would God allow this?

    It reminds me of poor David (1 Samuel 16-31). Anointed as king while Saul is still reigning. Serving under him as both a musician and a warrior. Arousing Saul’s jealousy as David slays his tens of thousands, while Saul only slays his thousands. Spending years fleeing from Saul’s vengeful attempts to kill him.

    And yet David was a man after God’s own heart, while Saul defied God’s clear directions and lost His favor (1 Samuel 15). It’s not supposed to work this way. The good guy is supposed to be rewarded with an easy life, while the bad guy faces judgment.

    So why did God allow Saul to torment David, and Sennacherib to attack Hezekiah? It’s only a theory, but I have to wonder if there’s such a thing as preventive suffering. Even though David was more committed to God and followed Him more faithfully than any other Old Testament king, at one time he allowed his lust and his pride to drag him down into committing rape and murder (2 Samuel 11).

    He had his neighbor’s wife, Bathsheba, taken from her home and brought to him for sex. Could she have turned him down? Could she have resisted him? Could she have called out for help? Her life was in his hands, and they both knew it. As king, he had the power to do with her as he pleased, whether that meant sleeping with her or punishing her if she refused. He used her and he sent her home.

    And she got pregnant. Her husband, Uriah, was off at war, fighting Judah’s enemies, as David should have been. Uriah couldn’t possibly be the father of Bathsheba’s baby. David tried to cover his tracks by sending for her husband, but Uriah refused to enjoy the pleasures of home while the rest of the army was on the battlefield. Desperate to save his reputation for righteousness, David had Uriah killed and married his widow.

    I read these chapters in my Bible with pain and horror and anger. How could he do such a thing?

What if . . .

    And then I wonder, could it have been even worse? What if David had had an easier life? What if Saul had died and David had become king shortly after Samuel had anointed him? What if he’d never had to flee in terror from Saul’s jealousy and rage? What if he hadn’t spent years trusting God to fulfill His promise?

    Would his sin have been even worse?

    Would he have let his talents and his power and his popularity go to his head, raping women, murdering men, eventually turning completely away from the God that he’d worshipped in his youth? It’s possible. The Lord may have used David's suffering at the hands of Saul as preparation for the great temptations that he would face as his power multiplied.

    The same could be true of Hezekiah, whose reign prior to the attack by Sennacherib is described in 2 Chronicles 29 through 31. He purified the temple. He encouraged the people of Israel to return to the Lord and to celebrate the Passover in ways that hadn’t happened in years. He gave generously to the restoration of God’s design for worship. He did what was “good and right and faithful before the Lord his God. In everything that he undertook in the service of God’s temple and in obedience to the law and the commands, he sought his God and worked wholeheartedly. And so he prospered.”

    Then came the invasion by Assyria. Some time after that, “Hezekiah’s heart was proud and he did not respond to the kindness shown him [by God, in healing him of a deadly disease]; therefore the Lord’s wrath was on him and on Judah and Jerusalem. Then Hezekiah repented of the pride of his heart” (2 Chronicles 32:25 and 26).

    What if Hezekiah hadn’t been forced to depend on God during Sennacherib’s siege? What if he hadn’t been humbled by his helplessness? What if he hadn’t experienced the prayerful support of the prophet Isaiah as they awaited God’s action in defeating the enemy? What if he hadn’t grown in his faith as a result of his suffering?

    Would his downfall have been even worse? Would the Lord’s wrath on him and his people have been even more devastating? Would the suffering have been greater without the invasion by Assyria than it was with it?

Strengthening for hard times

    I don’t like the verse that I quoted at the beginning of this post. I want to read here, as elsewhere in the Old Testament, that God rewarded Hezekiah’s faithfulness with peace and prosperity.

    But on the other hand, it can be reassuring to me when I’m going through hard times, as so many of us are today, to know that even His most faithful servants can face a vicious attack. To know that painful suffering can come even in the times of consistent obedience. Then I’m better able to resist the negative thoughts telling me that if I’d just prayed a little more, if I’d just had a little more faith, if I’d just spent more time reading His Word, these bad things wouldn’t be happening to me.

    “After all that Hezekiah had so faithfully done, Sennacherib king of Assyria came and invaded Judah.” Maybe some of the invasions in my life come, not as a result of sin and disobedience or a failure to discern and follow His will, but after all my faithfulness to God. Maybe they come to grow me and strengthen me, to prepare me to face temptations that would otherwise overpower me somewhere in the unknown future. Temptations that might lead to greater suffering for others as well as for myself. Maybe life is better with the painful, unwanted, undeserved attacks than it would be without them.

Poor Little Rich People

Prosperity leads to suffering

    Came across yet another Christian pundit scratching his head and trying to explain what went wrong with America. How could a culture so grounded in biblical values do such a u-turn to become one of the most secular communities ever, promoting entertainment and sexual freedom above all else?

    What happened? Where did Christianity fail? As with other pundits, he tries to pinpoint the key decisions and events that took us down the wrong path. If only church leaders had said and done just the right thing at just the right time, all this could have been prevented. If we had only trained up our youth in just the right way, they would all have remained faithful to God.

    Got news for you, guys: This is normal. This is how human beings respond to prosperity. It happens every time. There is no prevention, no cure. Affluence leads to arrogance and the illusion of self-sufficiency and to more time and opportunity to indulge in our lusts. We then abandon God’s ways for what we think will be the much more pleasurable ways of man.

    Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God” (Matthew 19:23-24, emphases added). This concept isn’t just true of individuals; it’s true of nations. Wealthy countries rarely follow God.

    In addition to Jesus’ teaching, we have the Old Testament record. The Israelites went through multiple cycles of being obedient to God, becoming affluent, rebelling against Him, losing their abundance as a result of His judgment, and returning to obedience. In ancient Greece and Rome, prosperity led to abandoning the values that gave them their strength in favor of pleasure and corruption, which triggered the collapse of their cultures. Money also tends to become concentrated in the hands of the few, who neglect or oppress the majority as their greed and pride blind their eyes to other people’s needs. In the end, great riches produce suffering, not utopia.

Obedience leads to prosperity

    Why don’t we as Westerners recognize this fact? Somewhere back in our history, we bought into the ideas that humans are smart enough to solve all the problems in the world and that material abundance is the highest goal, providing the greatest good for the greatest number of people. We dove wholeheartedly into the project of creating paradise on earth.

    Science was our biggest hope. New discoveries and inventions would cure all our diseases and provide all the physical goods every human being could ever need. I think it was C. S. Lewis who observed that one of the obstacles to preaching the gospel in the early twentieth century was the belief that modern medicine would soon conquer death. Why worry about the next life if this one was going to last forever?

    Even today, most Americans think that more money means a happier, more fulfilling life. Never mind the endless stories of those who have it all and yet feel empty. The alcoholism, the drug addiction, the suicides among the wealthiest. The lack of long-term, meaningful relationships.

     In Proverbs 30:8, Agur prays, “Give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread.” Americans recognize the obvious—poverty leads to suffering. But we’ve missed the boat in thinking that riches will solve all our problems. Both lead to worse conditions than we experience when we have just enough.

    Making things more complicated, following God faithfully often leads to greater affluence. Under the Old Covenant, this link was made explicit, as many of the promises in that agreement involved material blessings (for example, Deuteronomy 28:2-13). God clearly said, “Obey Me, and I will give you a good life on this earth.”

    He also set up the world so that those who submit to His values will be more likely to succeed. Lying and cheating and stealing might have their temporary advantages, but people who frequently resort to these tactics earn a reputation for not being trustworthy. When others don’t trust you, it’s harder to get ahead.

    Some young people would point out that many actors and musicians succeed because they flaunt God’s standards for sexual purity and sobriety in their lives and their roles and their lyrics. They think anyone can follow this same path and get the same results. But these celebrities are an extremely small percentage of the overall population, who happen to be incredibly talented. They’re the rare exceptions, not the rule.

    In addition, a biblical lifestyle contributes to better physical and emotional health, increasing earnings and reducing expenses. Those who are committed to loving God with all their heart, soul, mind, and strength (Mark 12:30) will avoid drunkenness, addictive drugs, smoking, overeating, sexual immorality, and taking foolish risks just for the thrill of it. They will build strong, loving relationships with each other and support each other through the tough times. They’ll learn to trust God more and more, instead of stressing out over the cares of this world.

Slowing the decline

    Western wealth is a direct result of our Christian heritage. But self-centered materialism is a result of that wealth. And meaningless lives are a result of that materialism. Just as Israel’s initial faithfulness to God ultimately led to their abandoning Him.

    The decline may be inevitable, but maybe we’re being too critical and too negative. Maybe the behavior of previous leaders and previous generations delayed the process in ways that we don’t recognize. One example: My generation assumed that marijuana would be legalized in this country by the end of the 1970s. Forty years later, it’s just beginning to happen, state by state. Was the unavoidable postponed by the behind-the-scenes prayers and actions of Christians? Can my prayers and actions today have a greater impact than those pessimistic pundits seem to expect?

Bad Boy!

The effects of sin

    “No, Charlie! No!” Swat. “No chewing on Kleenex!” Usher him outside. Close off the doggy door so he can’t get back in.

    Charlie is the best dog in the world. Rarely misbehaves. Loves me. Protects me. Has patience with me when I forget to feed him.

    But once in a while, maybe a couple of times a year, Charlie gets in trouble. His favorite sin is to pull a Kleenex out of the trash and tear it up. I try to keep every wastebasket above dog-nose height, but somehow, occasionally, a tissue will end up within his reach. He can’t seem to resist it. Then comes the punishment.

    But Charlie knows that it will quickly be followed by forgiveness. He waits happily by the back door, knowing that I’ll be there soon to let him in again and reassure him that I still love him. Is his faith in me greater than my faith in God?

    When I get in trouble with God, what do I expect? Displeasure, judgment, discipline. A greater distance between us that doesn’t just evaporate when I repent. Feeling like I have to work hard, to prove my sincerity, to demonstrate that I am really, really sorry.

    Don’t I know God better than that? Haven’t I read about and experienced His abundant grace over and over again? Yes and no. I’ve grown. I’m far more willing and able to accept His forgiveness and renewed relationship now than I was as a new believer. At that time it could take me weeks or months to understand that I didn’t have to continue in sorrow and contrition day after day. I was forgiven as soon as I admitted that I was wrong (1 John 1:9).

The effects of guilt

    But I’ll never be perfect in this area any more than I am in all those other areas involved in living the Christian life. That’s why I appreciate the illustration that Charlie provides.

    Charlie faces temptation. Does he struggle, as I do, with his conscience? Does his internal good dog remind him of the suffering that will follow if he gives in, as his internal bad dog urges him on? I’ll never know whether he makes any attempt to resist, because he only misbehaves when no one is looking. But at some point his desire outweighs his memory of past discipline for this same transgression, and he tears up the tissue. As my desires outweigh my memory of the consequences of my sin, and I give in to temptation.

    Fear strikes Charlie’s heart when I enter the room and find the evidence. If he’s right there, he’ll get that guilty expression on his face and refuse to look me in the eye. If he’s elsewhere and I call him cheerfully enough, he’ll come, but not too close, tucking his tail between his legs and hanging back as he realizes that he’s been caught.

    Kind of like me after the pleasure of sin wears off. Knowing I’ll have to face a just and righteous God. Guilty. Fearful. Hanging back. Like Adam and Eve hiding in the garden (Genesis 3:8) or David waiting months after sinning with Bathsheba before confessing and repenting (2 Samuel 11 and 12).

The effects of forgiveness

    But my mercy toward Charlie doesn’t trigger more bad behavior on his part. Knowing that I’ll forgive him and love him no matter what doesn’t lead to his seeking the best of both worlds—enjoying both the fleeting pleasure of sin and a loving relationship with one of his favorite humans. He rarely misbehaves.

    Unlike me. How often am I tempted to go ahead and break God’s laws because I know His forgiveness awaits me on the other side of repentance? Why not indulge? It won’t really cost all that much in the end.

    So how does this whole thing work? Why does Charlie trust me to forgive him every time? Why doesn’t he take advantage of my kindness?

The effects of love

    Because we have a relationship based on mutual love. A relationship that brings us both joy. I love Charlie. I show it by helping meet his needs for food and water and exercise, by smiling and talking to him, by petting him and playing with him. Not because I have to, but because I enjoy it.

    He loves me back. He demonstrates it by getting excited every time I come home, by wagging his tail when I look his way, by following me from room to room even when I’m ignoring him, by threatening to eat anyone who endangers me.

    But we’re not equals. I enforce the rules. Charlie is dependent on me. Because I love him, I don’t abuse my authority. I’m responsible for training him, for setting boundaries, but because I love him I want what’s best for him. Because I love him, I’m happy to feed him. I don’t do it grudgingly. I enjoy his pleasure as he scarfs down yet another bowl of the same old food that he’s been eating for years.

    Because he loves me, Charlie rarely challenges my authority. Because he loves me, he trusts me to feed him. When I occasionally forget, he doesn’t complain or tear up the house. He waits patiently, knowing that I’ll remember soon enough. Because he loves me, he doesn’t want anyone to harm me.

    This is a model of what my relationship with God should look like. Mutual love that leads to joy, even though it’s not a relationship of equals. Because He loves me, God takes pleasure in meeting my needs, in interacting with me, in protecting me. But unlike my relationship with Charlie, my Lord never forgets to take care of me. He never ignores me as He attends to the other necessities in life. He never leaves me to run a few errands.

    Because I love Him, I spend time with Him in prayer and worship and reading His Word. Because I love Him, I’m eager to obey Him. Yet I question God’s authority more often than Charlie questions mine. I don’t trust Him as completely as Charlie trusts me. When God “forgets” to answer my prayers, I rarely just wait patiently.

    But that’s okay. He loves me even when I fail Him. And because He loves me, He teaches me and leads me into greater growth, greater trust, greater obedience. Not in a legalistic or domineering manner, but in a relational way, a way based on joyful interaction, a loving and gracious way founded on knowing and wanting what’s best for me. A way that provides illustrations (like Charlie) that help me to understand Him better.

Forbidden Fruit

Suffering through temptation

    “Because he himself [Jesus] suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted” (Hebrews 2:18). Temptation is a form of suffering. Even Jesus, even God the Son, experienced temptation as suffering. He didn’t just breeze through it like a piece of cake and walk away unscathed. He suffered when He was tempted.

    Temptation is perhaps the only form of suffering that we’re guaranteed to face almost constantly in this life. There are likely to be times when I’m free from any medical conditions. There are likely to be times when my loved ones are healthy and happy. There are likely to be times when I’m financially secure. Those of us in more prosperous countries tend to have reprieves from many forms of suffering for much of our lives. But not temptation. It hangs in there. Day in and day out.

    This is my typical thought process when temptation is gnawing at me:

    That sounds like fun. Maybe I’ll do it again. It won’t hurt anyone.

    No, no, no. It’s wrong. It does cause harm. It’s not God’s best for me or for others. God has a good reason for everything that He forbids.

    But it feels so good. I enjoy it so much. It’s so hard to resist.

    No. God’s gotten me through this before. I can fight it with His strength. Help me, Lord.

    Maybe just a baby step in that direction. I don’t have to go all the way to where I’m actually sinning. Just enjoy the pleasure of getting closer and closer. Then back out.

    This is too hard, God! I want it too much! Why aren’t You helping me more? Why do You make it so attractive and then say no, don’t do that?

    Maybe just another little baby step. . . .

    Generally, if it gets this far, I end up giving in. I’ve suffered through the struggle of wanting to resist and trying to resist, but also wanting the pleasure. The internal wrestling is tearing me apart. Better to give in and end the suffering than to continue to fight.

Blaming God

    One day I recognize a harmful tendency—to reach the point in my mental skirmish where I resent God. He makes the rules. He created me to find pleasure in something that He forbids me from doing. Then He sets that pleasure right in front of my face and dares me to turn away from it.

    Like Eve in the Garden of Eden. The forbidden fruit was “good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom” (Genesis 3:6). Why did God have to go and make it that way? Couldn’t He have created something bad for us, ugly, and with no power beyond ordinary food—and then forbidden it? This is all His fault. He could have prevented Eve’s suffering, and mine, if He would have designed a slightly different world.

Remembering that God is on my side

    But recently the truth hit me: God is not my enemy. Why has it taken me so many years to realize this? Can I really be that stupid about such a basic thing after decades of following Him? I guess so.

    God wants only what’s best for me. He gives me His commandments so that I can have the most fulfilling life (Deuteronomy 30:15-16). He sends His Holy Spirit to live in me, to guide and strengthen me (Romans 8:13-14). He never tempts me (James 1:13). Every time I’m tempted He provides a way out (1 Corinthians 10:13). He has made available everything I need for life and godliness (2 Peter 1:3). How can I get so angry with Him when I’m suffering from temptation? He wants to see me succeed in resisting it.

    So how do I do that? If I knew how to do it every time without fail, I could make millions selling the secret. Unfortunately, I don’t. But I’ve learned a couple of things about prayer that have been helpful.

    Jesus taught His disciples to pray, “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil” (Matthew 6:13, RSV). Years ago, in a study of Kay Arthur’s book Lord, Teach Me to Pray in 28 Days, I was given a pattern to follow based on this verse. First, “Lead us not into temptation.” The suggestion was to name a particular sin and pray for God’s protection from temptation in that area. Then, “Deliver us from evil.” Pray that if I am tempted by this sin, He will provide the strength to resist it.

    This strategy was an eye-opener for me. The idea was to present these requests during my regular prayer time each day, rather than waiting until the temptation was overwhelming me. I hadn’t ever thought of that. I never prayed until I was deep into the struggle with temptation, and then it was usually too late.

    God is good. He answered my prayers in a more powerful way than I had thought was possible. Unfortunately, over time, I drifted away from this habit. I’m trying to get back into it again.

    The other prayer that’s helped me is to remember His promise to provide a way out. Sometimes, early in the temptation process I can turn my mind to this promise and ask that I would find that way out. Maybe all I need to do is get up and move to another room in the house. Or call a friend. Or change activities. There will always be a way out.

    I don’t know how to resist temptation every single time, every single day. But this I know: God is on my side. His power to protect me is greater than I can imagine. He’s given me resources for taking advantage of that power. The fruit that I crave is forbidden for a reason. And He can use even my temptations and failures for His good purposes (Romans 8:28).