Bible

Am I?

Does wisdom imply honesty? I guess it doesn’t imply anything, does it? We can know plenty of facts, but wisdom puts those facts to use. We might know how to build a nuclear bomb, have all of the information and skill, but it’s wisdom that keeps us from actually using it. Maybe wisdom could/should keep us from building it at all, but that might be a different question.

I’m asking that initial question, because Sunday morning, we discussed a passage in Ecclesiastes that was patently disingenuous. (Maybe it wasn’t technically a lie…) In chapter 4, verses 1-3, Solomon laments over the oppressed who didn’t have anyone to comfort them. If you are familiar with Ecclesiastes, you can probably guess that this is “meaningless.”

Now, this is an interesting observation from Solomon, as he had morphed into empire building, using slaves to build his palace and army. Essentially, he was the oppressor of a great many in Israel.

If I take my son’s cell phone away, can I lament his lack of a cell phone? Maybe it is terribly sad that he doesn’t have one, but if I’m the reason, then what? If this Teacher’s world is meaningless because there isn’t anyone to comfort the ones he’s oppressed, why isn’t he comforting them??? If I am heartbroken because my neighbor can’t cut his grass, and I don’t cut it for him (and I can), is my heart really broken??

So, I was angry with Solomon. Why are the people of God doing the oppressing? Why are they not comforting the oppressed, instead? Where are they???

I write another blog (lovewithacapitall.com), and there, I wrote about some Netflix documentaries. They were entertaining, (some very much so), but their root was the undeniable human impulse to act terribly to each other, if given the opportunity. I wrote: “These shows are pretty depressing, to be honest. Mirrors often are.” I’m thinking about that now, because I wonder if I was so angry with Solomon because he’s a mirror to my own capacity for 1. Hurting others, and 2. Ignoring my own hypocrisy.

If I had a country and unlimited power and resources, who is to say I wouldn’t build that country into an empire, even though most every word in the Bible says NO? Maybe I’d be so wise that I’d know every word of the Scriptures, know God would not want an empire of slaves and gigantic armies used to oppress, I’d know the right thing to do…and I’d take the other road anyway. And maybe I’d write books about how it’s so awful that there are oppressed people, my boundless wisdom would allow me to see every social ill clearly. As much as I’d like to say otherwise, I bet I would. Then what?

I know the right decisions to make in the kitchen, I am very aware what foods make me feel good and are healthy for my body. And I choose not to make them. I think I’m so frustrated with Solomon because, at least in this, he’s me and I’m frustrated with me. I see what’s wrong, I wonder why it’s happening, and I wonder why the Christians aren’t comforting the poor and broken, wonder why the Christians aren’t peacemaking… And then I realize, I am a Christian, aren’t I? Am I writing instead of comforting, posting instead of peacemaking? Am I a hypocrite?

The answer to all 3 of those questions is Yes. And this is not surprising. This kind of thing happens all of the time. The Bible opens us up in a million wildly uncomfortable ways, sends us running into the arms of Jesus, Who has already forgiven us, and Who sends us right back with a new (old) commission, call & focus. Take drinks, bring food, give shelter, visit, help. Love someone. Comfort. Make peace.

Am I? Yes, I am all of these things. I am oppressor and comforter, the idea is to be less and less of the first and more and more of the latter. Make more peace than we break. And sometimes seeing that in ourselves begins with outrage at another’s behavior.

I’m no longer mad at Solomon.

What Makes A Teacher?

This website hosting app, Jetpack or WordPress, has a prompt every day, a question that is designed to inspire (or at least to get us to write more often, ostensibly so that they can collect more advertising revenue. But I don’t care why, to be honest with you. I like this site, their prompts, and I think they should get paid for their service. But now that I think of it, in my head, people sit at desks and around tables brainstorming for these prompts, and I want them to get paid… but that’s probably hopelessly naive, it’s for sure an AI generator that’s creating them. Maybe the machines should be paid, too. Anyway.) Today’s prompt is: What makes a teacher great?

It’s interesting, right? Especially in light of our Ecclesiastes study, written by “The Teacher.” What makes him great? Is he great? Think about your favorite/best teachers (were the best your favorite? Maybe that’s a different criteria…), what made them special? I am a teacher, and I am constantly evaluating my methods, style, clarity, and on and on, looking for obstacles to remove and new, different possibilities to help the material print on our minds and spirits.

I do have a huge advantage over the teachers & coaches you may have had, I’m not teaching geometry or physics or 19th century poets, I am teaching The Gospel, a message we are hard-worked to search for and accept. Added to that, what could be more important?

But it just so happens I do have an answer for this AI’s question, and it’s fresh because it happened to me yesterday morning.

In the middle of our study of Ecclesiastes, chapter 3, we had a short discussion on hell. I didn’t jump all the way into these deep waters, just more of a passing glance, talking about words and cultural influences. Maybe it was effective and clear and gave you a whole new understanding. But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it made these waters even more muddy than they were before. Maybe I lost your focus, as you started thinking about lunch.

Then, after the service, as I stood in the narthex (one of my very favorite words) to say goodbye, a good friend walked right up to me and said, “I have a question…” And that’s it, that’s the answer.

Jesus, the greatest teacher who ever lived, answered questions with questions. It was pretty rare for Him to just give a straight yes/no and detailed explanation. It seems like He wanted each of us to dig deeper, to discover the answer. Now, that might be because the answer sometimes changes from person to person, and even at different seasons of the same person’s life. Or it could be that He wanted us to hold His hand for a little longer, or forever, never letting go. Maybe it’s all of those things.

I’m just me, I’m not the greatest teacher in Cleona, I’m probably not ever the best teacher in this house! But whatever happened in that church yesterday encouraged someone to want to continue to wrestle with concepts we too often…

Well, what do we “too often” do? Do we just accept what we’re hearing, take it as truth without thinking? Or are we disconnected, neither accepting or rejecting, indifferent to whatever, indifferent to everything?

What makes a teacher great isn’t always the teacher, certainly not only the teacher – of course, the teacher has a responsibility in communication, but it’s our posture as learners, our openness, it’s the words, environment, experience, space and mostly it’s the Spirit working in/through them, kneading them like dough in our minds and hearts. It’s the Truth that opens us up to look more closely, to not just be satisfied when the lesson ends, and keeps us going back to the well.

(A)PESTs

You know how a really great piece of art makes you feel like anything, like everything, is possible? It affirms your belief in God and that He is supremely good, that He loves us. I just had that, with a book I finished just now. I’ll talk more about that somewhere else, but I just wanted you to know how grateful and happy I am right now.

On a parallel track in my mind, I’m thinking about Ephesians, chapter 4, I think. (Yep, 4, verse 11.) “He is the One Who gave these gifts to the Church: the Apostles, the Prophets, the Evangelists, the Shepherds, and the Teachers.” If you like acronyms, it’s referred to as APEST, and you can understand it like this: Apostles say, “Let’s GO climb that mountain!” Prophets say, “Are you sure, that mountain?” and then discern if that’s the mountain we’re actually called to climb (or if we’re mistaken and want to climb that one, for another reason, whatever reason.). Evangelists tell all of their friends, “Come climb that mountain with us!!!!” Shepherds say, “What do we need? Will there be enough water for everyone, as we climb?” and make sure we all have comfortable shoes. Teachers say, “Climbing mountains requires some certain knowledge and skill. Here, let me show you.”

Everyone operates inside of their giftedness to do our task, in this case, climbing this (or another) mountain. It’s a perfect setup. Other places, Paul likens it to the parts of a body. No one does everything, everyone does something. And mountains get climbed together.

I say it’s a perfect setup, but it isn’t always comfortable or natural. Apostles think apostle-ing is what everyone should be thinking about (Let’s GOOOO), Evangelists wonder why everyone isn’t as excited about Evangelizing as they are (why aren’t you telling all of your neighbors??), and teachers think everybody is getting ahead of themselves (you can’t think about climbing a mountain until you know how to climb a mountain!)

I had a nice illustration/reminder of this, again, yesterday. Thankfully, life continues to send lots of lessons to finally get through my thick skull. It sometimes takes me a while to learn anything.

(I won’t use names or examples, but know that the person and I are very close, and love each other to the moon. So, I’ll use an different, years-old example…)

A woman said to me, “I think God is deeply concerned about the environment, His Creation, and part of being a Christian is being good stewards.” Of course, I agreed. What she meant was that she thought we should not be using plastic silverware and paper plates, and as far as I can tell, she’s right. She wanted us to use real dishes and spoons and wash them each week.

That is her mountain, her letter. My mountain might be different, and, in fact, it is. I agree with her, but dishes aren’t my primary concern, even as I agree with her. I said, yes, of course, but that I wouldn’t be doing it. She would have to, because I had other mountains to climb. She was sort of frustrated, she thought her A list was, and should be, everyone’s A list.

She isn’t wrong, this is what passion looks & feels like, it’s part of why she’s so awesome. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and even if you don’t much care about silverware, after a conversation, you’d be willing to do anything she asks.

But I was more concerned with making sure the food was there. You see, my A list is telling you about the Gospel, it’s what everything I do is geared towards, and there are lots of obstacles to that. You need to be inside and comfortable, before you are able to listen. I think about that – how to effectively communicate the love of God – and, honestly, ancillary details can get lost.

Hers was also communicating the Gospel, and disposables are an obstacle for her. I was ignorant, oblivious, to that obstacle. And that is precisely why Ephesians 4:11 is so important. She’s necessary to see the obstacles that I don’t. We all communicate the Gospel in different ways, it isn’t a one-size-fits-all ministry, because we’re not one-size-fits-all.

If I spend my time on dishes, it takes from my actual calling – which was not on her A list – and Evangelists are Apostling while Prophets are bringing water, and nobody is doing what they’ve been wonderfully crafted to do. This is how burnout happens. When Evangelists evangelize, they are fully alive – this is not surprising, when you think about it. The One who gave the gifts is also the One who is calling us into spaces to use them.

What can easily happen to me, though, is frustration. Like all of us, I think my part is vital…and I’m right, it is…so why don’t you see it?!!? But in my myopia, I can miss that hers was vital, too. She is right, too, so why don’t I see it?!!?

One of the points of the Bible, and the beauty of the early followers of Jesus calling this The Way, is that it’s a process, we’re in motion, listening for His Voice, listening to His Voice, finding out who we are, and what we’re for, what our A list is – and it is also in learning who they are, what they’re for, and what their A list is. We discover where we fall on the APEST spectrum (we are all on it, somewhere), what parts of the body we are, and step into the reality that we only work the way we’re designed if we work together.

Sermons

As vulnerable as it can be, every week I ask my family for feedback on my messages. They are usually honest. They know who I am and what I’m called to do, and they (mostly) like me, so they aren’t looking to hurt my feelings or feed their egoist agendas.

Yesterday, one of them rightly observed that I used a lot of personal examples and stories. Maybe he knew why I did (It’s not AI-generated, I do make these sermons personal, but to use so many is out of character), but he stopped short of asking. I told him, though, and I’ll tell you.

It would be impossible for me to love the art form of the sermon more than I do. It’s immediate, vital, and very alive. When you watch one online, the teaching can be excellent, thought-provoking, and even life-changing, but the electricity is missing. At its best, a sermon has an undeniable power, in us soaking in the Gospel together. It’s tangible and obvious. You can feel it in your skin and your soul. The Scriptures transcend an intellectual lesson, context and interpretation, touching us in our hearts and imagination. A great sermon fills us with the hope/dream that this, THIS, truly can change the world. That we can change the world.

Any Bible study is funneled through the person teaching, hearing, and experiencing. We show up as we are, all of us, give what we have, we are faithful, take chances, and God takes our paltry everything and turns it into Heaven, pierces our hearts and lives, transforms us and everything else.

Sometimes, the form itself becomes the illustration, the medium becomes the message. The wild creative artistry of Creation is perfectly transferred in poetry. Nothing else could capture the indescribable beauty in quite the same way. Lamentations uses line numbers and first letters for its heart wrenching content – we don’t even know why we feel what we do, we don’t know first letters or Hebrew alphabets, we just know it’s wholly devastating.

I have played with this kind of thing before, in very shallow water.

Yesterday, for Ecclesiastes 3 (“a time for… and a time for…”), we went through each one, in the same way, the same format, with the same main point. Of course, we did. The passage is repetitious and monotonous – 40 minutes talking about it were equally repetitious and monotonous. Is it over yet??? We get it already! Right?!!?

And at the same time, to do almost exactly what Solomon is doing in this book, I taught one thing through its opposite. The poem is completely absent of any humanity. Buildings rise and fall, big deal. And he’s right, without God or the His image, His Spirit, His animating energy, a building is simply a building. So, we talked about the buildings we spent time in, made memories in, loved. In that context, he couldn’t be more wrong, those things absolutely do mean something.

I told lots of stories of a full life. How do you do marriage? A marriage can just be a piece of paper in a drawer, OR, it can be God’s revolutionary gift that He’s given to bless us all. It’s all in the Hows and Whys. And NOT the Whats. I gave a message overflowing with hows, whys, personal detail and gratitude, to contrast with their absence in the text.

My son knew it was different. And it stuck with him. They usually say things like, “too long,” or “it was good.” This day, something was different. And I’ll take that. What I did wasn’t great, it probably wasn’t even particularly good, it was a risk. Maybe you thought it was boring or that I was too self-obsessed with my own story. Getting to do what we get to do (teach the Gospel in any/all circumstances, to everyone, all the time) carries an enormous responsibility, but it’s also a wonderful opportunity. We get to jump into this river that has flowed since the beginning of time, the Story of our Creator, Savior, Redeemer, Father, and all words in between. And we get to use the gifts He’s given us to worship & witness to His life, not in the way everyone else has done, but in the way we do.

I don’t take these messages lightly. I take them so seriously, in fact, that I’ll risk “boring” or “self-obsessed” to get through in new ways, to do my part to help The Most Valuable Story we will ever hear stick.

Trouble

Listen to this verse (28) in 1 Kings 12: So on the advice of his counselors, the king made 2 gold calves. He said to the people, “It is too much trouble for you to worship in Jerusalem. O Israel, these are the gods who brought you out of Egypt!”

The king, in this passage is Jeroboam. Israel had split into 2 (north and south), after Solomon’s death, due to Solomon’s unfaithfulness and increasing transgressions. Jeroboam and 10 of the tribes, became the northern kingdom, while Rehoboam, Solomon’s son, formed the southern kingdom with the 2 remaining tribes. (The fact that Rehoboam – and Solomon’s line – got anything is due only to the mercy of God and His loyalty and love for David.)

Jeroboam’s fear was that his people would go south, to Jerusalem, for worship, and stay there, I guess. Or leave him and pledge themselves to Rehoboam? It’s just “too much trouble” to worship God, in His way, the way He’s prescribed. This guy, right? You can see the writing on the wall a million miles away. He’s choosing comfort and ease over anything & everything else. Can you believe that???

The thing that is so maddening about these Israelites is their propensity to live such destructive loops. They cry out, lean into God, God rescues, they turn away from Him, make a mess because of this idolatry, then cry out, move towards God, God rescues, they turn away from him, make a mess because of this idolatry, cry out, lean towards, God rescues, turn away, make a mess, and on and on and on. We read this and tear our hair out, exasperated, screaming, “Again!??! How many times do they have to do this??!!??” We’re right to do this, it is frustrating. And it’s confusing – why do they keep doing it? Why don’t the ever remember? Why do they keep getting bitten by the same animal, banging their heads against the same wall?

On a completely unrelated note, what I am learning about me is that I can sometimes have an amazing lack of self-awareness. When Nathan confronted David about his Bathsheba situation, he painted a picture of a “man” that sent David into a rage. He ranted at the “man’s” transgression, only to be told, “You ARE that man!!” I am just like David, sometimes.

Anyway, back to Jeroboam and the 2 calves…

Can you believe that guy, choosing convenience and power, moving in fear and self-protection instead of faith, trust, and obedience??? He’s a perfect illustration of the idolatry of these Israelites, who continue to be seduced by their own pride and self-reliance, or just to simply follow easy, wide paths in service of their own selfish pleasure.

It’s too much trouble to get out of bed to travel all that way to to the Temple. It’s too much trouble to follow God, to put Him before us, to put others before us. It’s too much trouble to confront our bad decisions, reflect, and learn. Faithfulness is too much trouble. It’s too much trouble to delay gratification. It’s way too much trouble to take our hands off the wheel and give up our imaginary sense of control. It’s just too much trouble.

I’m happy we’re not like them.

Reputation Management

Mark Manson wrote this, in today’s mass email, “Your actions reflect who you really are. Your words are simply reputation management.” Reputation management?!!? That’s as perfect of a phrase as I have ever heard, and one I think I’ll use until everyone think is it’s mine, and mine alone. I’ll never give him credit again, after this post.

In Sunday’s message, we discussed honesty, authenticity, and the overwhelming temptation to create images of shiny, perfect people who have everything together. Social media is the only logical extension of this, it had to go this way. We finally made a place where we only show the parts of us we decide you can see. There are no missed shots on Instagram. There are no zits or awkward pauses, no bad lighting, no pictures where we aren’t looking. It’s awesome. When the aliens come, they’ll know that we have achieved the pinnacle of human evolution.

Of course, that conclusion will be as honest as we are. This has always been an obstacle of ours. We like to think the Bible isn’t too relevant, anymore, but it is. Solomon wrote to ancient people, and may have been writing to us, now, here, today. Actually, Genesis 3 is just as on-the-nose as it ever was. We will seek to find our worth in our work and/or relationships, to our own assured destruction.

Over and over, God addresses this, explicitly, in words, and implicitly. in which books were included in His collection of holy works. He doesn’t want empty ritual or mindless routine. He doesn’t want pretense or masquerade. He wants us. Me & you & your neighbor. He wants all of us, as we are, the worst parts as well as the ones we like. He wants the burned, ruined meals alongside the ones we post. I think He probably likes the hundred thousand missed shots even more than He celebrates the ones on Dude Perfect.

So, yes, it’s all over the Scriptures, and we still try to avoid looking out of control or imperfect. I wonder why??? We say things and do others. I want to lose weight, and this morning, I bought a box of Pop Tarts. Those things don’t live together in loving peace and harmony. When I tell you I want to lose weight, I think I am managing my reputation. I want you to think I do. I want you to think that is important to me. I think I want me to think that, too. But my actions say something else altogether.

Hm. I really love this discussion. I guess I now really love uncomfortable conversations, and I bet I know why. Uncomfortable conversations really only happen when we set aside our fears (at least a little), sit in our vulnerability, and begin to talk about who we really are and what that means. What do we really value? What do we really want? I often hear that word in my head, when I speak or write… really????

“I really love this discussion.” Really? You really like to think about the parts of us that hurt and make us want to run and hide? That make me want to run and hide? Really?

Maybe.

But that word reminds me of my other favorite question, “What now?” They both lead us into dimly lit rooms and dark paths where we have to trust that we might not actually be lost, at all. We might just have our eyes closed as we follow Our Creator, like it’s our birthday, and when we open them, we’ll have to deal with a whole new reality. What could be more exciting and hopeful and terrifying?

It’s very good we’ve been given each other to hold onto when we open our eyes, isn’t it?

To Pause

Today is Good Friday. When I was young, most stores were closed. Good Friday was a holiday. (At least, that’s what I remember.) Sundays were, too. Nothing happened, really. We’d eat meals together, watch a game on tv together, or go outside together.

[I just wrote “Nothing happened, really,” and then I proceeded to describe the most important things in our lives. Nothing happened? Anyway.]

These days when business (and much of everything else) paused forced us to pause, as well. We could breathe, rest, be renewed.

I used to deliver medical equipment, and then I did that and what I’m doing now (being the pastor of a faith community), then I left that job to focus solely on the Bridge. I found, at the delivery job, that I had time on and time off of work. It was a difficult transition, because now there was no “time on.” I worked from home, when I did, answered phone calls when they came, met with people when they could. There was no “time on,” which meant there was no “time off,” which meant all time was equally appropriate for work.

Sundays were our “time off,” and now, there is no “time off.” No time to unplug and go outside, no time to read books or play. There’s also no time to think.

Today is Good Friday. With the exception of Resurrection Sunday (and perhaps Christmas), there’s not a more significant day in the life of a human being, each created in the image of this loving, gracious God. This is the day of His selfless sacrifice, the exchange of His life for ours. One perfect, divine life given for all the lives. What does that mean? Have we ever stopped to truly think about the weight of today?

Tomorrow is the Saturday In Between. The day after the horrific drama of the crucifixion. It’s like the Sundays when I was a kid, nothing is going on. With nothing to do but think and reflect, can you imagine the overwhelming hopelessness? Everything they thought was true, turned out not to be true, at all. The One they thought would fix everything was broken, murdered in the most public of executions. He was their Teacher, Mentor, their Friend. Now what???? What could they do now? Where could they go? Sadness isn’t a strong enough word to describe their despair. Their probably isn’t a strong enough word to describe their despair.

…But Sunday is coming… The day when everything changes.

I’m only writing to ask, to encourage, us to pause. We don’t get to do that in our world where there’s no “time off,” only the oppressive march of time. The beautiful rhythm of Genesis has been replaced with the breakneck speed of modern progress and productivity.

To reflect on today, on the tremendous, unthinkable sacrifice of Jesus Christ is to celebrate our lives. Before today, the story was a story of separation & death. Now, it’s one of reconciliation and LIFE, real life. Each breath, kiss, taste, flower, orange, tree, breeze, photo, song, slice of pizza, laugh, smile – they’re all proofs of life, the life He gives.

The Life He gave, today.

So. Pause. Feel the hurt of Jesus, crucified. And feel the exhilaration of our redeemed lives. Practice gratitude, because that’s all there is to do, this Easter season. And then do it all again, every season, because that’s all there is to do, then, too.

Resurrection

The homework this week was, essentially, to pay attention. Pay attention to our lives, the small, subtle, seemingly insignificant prompts and choices that bombard us on a moment-by-moment basis. These prompts usually skate by, unnoticed, as do the choices, which we will often ignore. Then, we wake up and it’s days, months, years later and we ask, “How did I get here?” as if we’ve been blown by the wind to spaces we never meant to go.

It’s sometimes hard to see any ability to steer our own ships. We can feel out of control, swept along in the endless ticking of the clock, as the world batters us with circumstance and situations we didn’t ask for and don’t particularly like. We’re in a consistent state of fear – our internal fight-or-flight mechanism is always triggered, reacting, never ever acting out of intention. We put out the fires that spontaneously erupt.

The homework is an invitation to investigate if all of those fires are truly ‘spontaneous.’ If we really aren’t asking for the circumstances and situations, and if we don’t actually like them. Are we blown about by the wind, or are we simply acquiescing to the wind, without anchors or roots? Have we forgotten to wake up? Forgotten to lean in and engage?

Resurrection means coming back to life after death, and now is a great time to talk about what that means. Jesus Christ was killed, crucified, and, 3 days later, was resurrected. In His sacrifice and empty tomb, we are given new life. Through Him, and Him alone, we are reborn.

Now, what does that mean in our lives? Can the lives we’ve allowed to exist on life support, each day the same monotonous loop, live again? Can our relationships, our marriages, friendships, families, which have grown stagnant and distant, rise from the grave? Are we really this powerless, or is it the delusion that accompanies a death of hope? Are we made to be this afraid, constantly stressed, anxious, overwhelmed? What if the world (nations, communities, etc) needs us to show up, fully present, and we can’t, because we’re numb, checked out, fully sedated by comfort, convenience, inside bubbles of self-interest?

Everything. YES. YES. NO. NO. Then the world is missing something/someone absolutely vital and will not be whole, until we do.

The homework is my way of asking us to look around. But it’s not mine, at all. I believe the question is built into every book, chapter, verse, and word of the Bible, asking us to acknowledge our design to live, and live again. To love again. To refuse to accept death as “just what it is.” To hold a revolution against the world that continues to lie, telling us that if the tomb was empty, it has nothing to do with us, our lives, our relationships, our hearts, today. The world that lies, telling us that there are no prompts or choices, and that, instead, we are the insignificant.

The homework in the Scriptures is to open our eyes, wake up, and see them, and us, for what they are, and to see God for who He is. The homework is to see the question crackling all around us. Who is He? Who are we? And what will we do now? The homework, I suppose, is to say YES, and see that we can be resurrected, too.

The Security of Inadequacy

This is the 2nd post this week, and that’s fairly unusual, but so is the Bible passage I read this week. These posts are like the concept of tithing for me. Give 10%, but you can give more. It isn’t a ceiling, it’s more like a floor. I post once a week. I only have one entry on my to-do list that says “Bridge Post,” but that doesn’t mean the internet police will break down my door if I open this app for the 2nd time. (Actually, it’s quite the opposite, the internet – and especially this app – wants me to post EVERY DAY!!! We’ll call this a compromise.)

In 1 Chronicles 13, David tries to transport the Ark of the Covenant, in the way he figured was appropriate (but was not according to the specific laws of the Torah.) The Ark teeters, Uzzah reaches out to steady it, and is immediately struck dead. David is angry, and very afraid. Now what? In chapter 15, they transport it again, according to law, without incident. He even says, “we failed to ask God how to move it in the proper way.” No excuses, no blame. This was a natural consequence of transgression. There was punishment, but not from an unhinged, wrathful God, this punishment was meted out by the sin itself.

Sometimes, I eat lots of cake and, as I’m doubled over with a vicious belly ache, wonder why God is so mad at me.

When my boys were small, I’d say, “If you hit your brother again with that bat, you’ll lose it and have to have a timeout.” Inevitably, they’d lose the bat and have timeout and ask why I was so mad at them, why I wanted to punish them. It wasn’t really my decision, it was theirs, wasn’t it?

David is called a “man after God’s heart,” and that is always such an interesting conversation, because it’s not like he was perfect. The Scriptures are very clear about his shortcomings and poor decisions, and remain clear about his standing as a faithful follower/friend/person of God. We often think God is holding a clipboard in His arms, noting our missteps, looking for reasons to be mad at us, when the Bible seems to show a very different God; One who has destroyed the clipboard and is, instead, easily forgiving, and filling His arms with us.

What made David so extraordinary is obvious in this Ark situation. His heart is contrite in his error, he’s humble, repentant, teachable. He offered no justification. Yes, he was angry, but he never pretends to be more than human. I wonder who/Who he was angry with, God or himself? Maybe even Uzzah. Anger’s best characteristic isn’t it’s logic. David was angry when he was angry, afraid when he was afraid, then did the next right thing. How do we move this Ark? Then, he did that.

The Angel and I used to have arguments, BIG arguments, and I’d forget the beautiful picture we were painting. I’d only be able to think of the piece in front of me. I couldn’t apologize, I had to win. I’d show her. You would not have used words like “humble, repentant, contrite, teachable.” You also wouldn’t have used careful, patient, or particularly loving. You wouldn’t have called me a man of God. You wouldn’t have called me a man, at all.

You WOULD have used stubborn, prideful, myopic, small.

So, we still have arguments, but we now aren’t so caught up in proving our right-ness, that we can’t write a chapter 15, “I’m sorry. I am/was wrong. We/I failed.” What a cool, free-ing place to be. Where we no longer have to build our résumé’s to defend our worth. Where we can simply rest in who we are, put it down, and take the next step, do the next right thing.

I heard a sermon once where the big phrase was, “you don’t have to live like that anymore.” We don’t have to live with the insecurity of inadequacy. The Bible (in this story of David, and countless others) testifies to the peaceful security of inadequacy. There is a bigger masterpiece at work. We don’t have to be right, or do it our way. We just have to move the Ark.

What About The Prayer of Jabez??

1 Chronicles 4:9-10 9 Jabez was more honorable than his brothers. His mother had named him Jabez, saying, “I gave birth to him in pain.” 10 Jabez cried out to the God of Israel, “Oh, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain.” And God granted his request.

I have always found this Jabez passage (2 verses in the middle of chapters and chapters of genealogies in the 1st book of the Chronicles) to be a little selfish and short-sighted. To me, it sounded like, “give me more money and stuff.” God agreed and granted his request, which only added to my confusion. 

This passage is one of the birthplaces of the prosperity gospel (along with the incomplete reading of Jeremiah 29:11 that is so popular.) The prosperity gospel is NOT The Gospel. It is, instead, the polar opposite of The Gospel.

So, how & why is this prayer of Jabez and its Divine affirmation here at all?

That was my question. It sounds different to me now.

Jabez is “honorable” (the adjective also translates as distinguished, significant, valuable)… and named after the worst part of his life: his painful birth. He had been given a negative brand, and lived an upright life, worthy of his God. (As much as a human being can be worthy – maybe a better word is ‘pleasing’ to his God.)

Honorable, or distinguished, implies a good/great reputation. People may have looked at him with respect. Maybe they wanted to model their lives after him. A pillar of society, in many ways. 

This is all before his prayer. His is a life of service, obedience & worship, ostensibly without regard for reward. His comfortability was not the end he was seeking with his life, his life lived for God was the end, in itself. He seems to have followed God, and then (perhaps incidentally) offered his prayer. 

He asked for 3 things: 1. To be blessed. 2. To have his territory (or borders) enlarged (or his lands extended). And 3. To be kept free from harm and pain (or trouble). 

He asked for blessing. This is a righteous blessing from a humble heart. We can, and should, all ask for blessing, for ourselves and others.

The next 2 are my problems, or have been, beginning with “free from trouble or pain.” First, we have all prayed that, right? It’s a very human prayer: keep me safe and sound, why is this so hard?, open doors, grease the wheels of what I want and how I want to live. Only the fact that he received a YES makes this noteworthy, and that is not his fault at all. It is no reflection of him. It IS a comment on the grace of God to say YES and give it to him.

The only special thing about Jabez is that he believed in God. He believed on His love, goodness & authority so much, that he would ask his Father for a gift only He could give. Jabez was not the answer to his own prayer, he was not powerful enough, he was not the center of this world. The Creator, his Sustainer, his Father, was. 

Now, the last and most concerning. 

“Enlarge my borders/territory, extend my lands.”  On the surface, this can be seen as a child wanting “more, more, more.” So, it has to be asked, more of what? What is the land for? Or, what does the land represent?

To make this a bit more personal, what/where are our borders?

Land, or borders, refer to our sphere of influence, places where we live, where we make, set, and carry out the rules.

[It is possible that he simply desired more land for the increase in net worth, but based on what we already know, that doesn’t seem likely. More plausible is the desire for wider lands to devote to God, more people living lives of purpose and obedience, like his. How do you define wealth?)

Is this a different society, a new context, essentially a rephrase of apostles Paul & Peter’s exhortations that we are an example to the world around us? We increase our circles so that a bigger section of people can, and will, live honorable, distinguished, significant lives under the authority, grace, and love of our Creator. This, I think, is the opportunity where God says YES to Jabez. 

If this were simply an ask for $1,000,000 and an easy, comfortable life, maybe the answer would have been different, and it wouldn’t be written in the holy Scriptures.

[Of course, maybe it would have. Ultimately, God’s ways are unfathomable to us. The only right answer here, at the end of the study, is to say, “Your will, not mine.” We do not discard the items or passages we don’t like or understand. We submit to His will and keep knocking.]

This is important, vital, for us because, as The Church, we have been so conditioned to cower from any hint of pride. Jabez’s prayer has that hint, and our prayers for extended borders certainly do. BUT maybe this passage tells us that His followers, His Bride, are exactly the kind of people who should be asking for, and receiving, bigger, wider lands. We might not get the answer Jabez got, but maybe he didn’t, either, the first thousand times he asked. 

If we build our lives as walking, talking, “honorable” temples of gratitude to Him, under His authority and will, then we are free-er and free-er to ask away! [Again, just a reminder about helmets… Our behavior doesn’t ‘make’ God love us, or accept us, He already does. We can ask, seek, and knock. The point is, as we offer our lives to Him, begin to live for Him, with the guidance of the Spirit living in us, our desires begin to reflect His. That’s what makes me guess that Jabez didn’t just want a bazillion dollars to “build new barns” to store all of it. We don’t know why he wanted extended territories, but we can be fairly certain that he didn’t intend them as geographical altars to himself.]

This passage is an invitation to honestly present all of our petitions to him (no matter how small, personal, and seemingly insignificant they are) and allow Him to do what He will…with them…and with us.