1 Samuel 20-21
Again, we have a story that seems familiar. This portion of the story of David reminds of the story of Joseph. Joseph rode a rollercoaster: great privilege with dad, sold into Egyptian slavery, prominence in his master's house, prison, second-in-command of all Egypt. David's star has been rising dramatically and now he is a fugitive, reduced to lying to a priest and living among his mortal enemies. Again, Joseph was deeply loved by his father, and David was deeply loved by Jonathan.
This is one of those patterns that is imprinted throughout the Scriptures: first, suffering and trial, then vindication and blessing. Ultimately, it's the pattern that shows itself in Jesus' life: first, the cross, then the empty tomb. Now, we want to walk carefully here. It's certainly not the case that God owes us anything. It wouldn't do to come out of a time of trial--unemployment, sickness, divorce--with a chip on our shoulder that says that God had better get busy making it up to us.
But it does mean that we continue to live lives marked by hope, because we believe that beyond it all, beyond trouble, beyond suffering, beyond death itself, God will set all things right in the resurrection. David lived a long time as a fugitive, and all he had to carry him through those years was a promise from his childhood. But that future promise sustained his present. Similarly our confidence in God's promise about the future of his world sustains us as we slog through a world that still reels under its brokenness.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Will the Real David Please Stand Up?
1 Samuel 18-19
You know, it's entirely possible to read too many books. A few years ago I did a sermon series on David, and one of the books I read wanted to point out how the 'real' David wasn't such a great guy, how he was self-serving and eager for power. I thought of that with this reading, because on the surface David sure comes across as humble. The story of 1 Samuel 18 is plainly put: "The Lord was with David and gave him success; David knew he was just a poor boy and that the Lord gave him victory."
So, which is it? Is David a conniving power-grubber who's building support systems in view of a future power grab, or is he a humble guy who always seeks the Lord first? I think he's probably both. I think that because I think most of us are both. We confess our sins each week, and we often say, "If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves." And true enough, we're each a mixed bag of old, self-serving, sinful motives, and the renewed motives of those who have been forgiven and regenerated by the Holy Spirit.
Honestly, it's really easy to read the stories about the young David and see a man who's making connection, doing favors, feeling people out, building his reputation. Frankly, no one ever said David was perfect. If you re-read the Goliath incident, you see a little greed in 1 Samuel 17:25-27: the men were talking about the reward and then suddenly David is asking about the reward. You can see a little, "Could you repeat that please?" in David. You can see him enjoying his reputation-making exploits. He might say, "Oh, I'm not worthy to be a king's son," but, when Saul asked for 100 foreskins, David delivered 200. Don't try to tell me he wasn't at least a little concerned with his growing fame!
On the other hand, we do have to take the Bible at its word. David slew Goliath not because of his great skill (though David did boast about that--17:34-36). He slew Goliath because the Lord gave the Philistine into David's hand--which David also acknowledged (17:37).
So, look, David was a bit of a mixed bag. So are we. No matter how mature we might become in our faith, let's hope we never lose sight of the fact that real spiritual maturity means recognizing just how far there is yet to go!
You know, it's entirely possible to read too many books. A few years ago I did a sermon series on David, and one of the books I read wanted to point out how the 'real' David wasn't such a great guy, how he was self-serving and eager for power. I thought of that with this reading, because on the surface David sure comes across as humble. The story of 1 Samuel 18 is plainly put: "The Lord was with David and gave him success; David knew he was just a poor boy and that the Lord gave him victory."
So, which is it? Is David a conniving power-grubber who's building support systems in view of a future power grab, or is he a humble guy who always seeks the Lord first? I think he's probably both. I think that because I think most of us are both. We confess our sins each week, and we often say, "If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves." And true enough, we're each a mixed bag of old, self-serving, sinful motives, and the renewed motives of those who have been forgiven and regenerated by the Holy Spirit.
Honestly, it's really easy to read the stories about the young David and see a man who's making connection, doing favors, feeling people out, building his reputation. Frankly, no one ever said David was perfect. If you re-read the Goliath incident, you see a little greed in 1 Samuel 17:25-27: the men were talking about the reward and then suddenly David is asking about the reward. You can see a little, "Could you repeat that please?" in David. You can see him enjoying his reputation-making exploits. He might say, "Oh, I'm not worthy to be a king's son," but, when Saul asked for 100 foreskins, David delivered 200. Don't try to tell me he wasn't at least a little concerned with his growing fame!
On the other hand, we do have to take the Bible at its word. David slew Goliath not because of his great skill (though David did boast about that--17:34-36). He slew Goliath because the Lord gave the Philistine into David's hand--which David also acknowledged (17:37).
So, look, David was a bit of a mixed bag. So are we. No matter how mature we might become in our faith, let's hope we never lose sight of the fact that real spiritual maturity means recognizing just how far there is yet to go!
David and Goliath
1 Samuel 17
All the obvious lessons have been made about David and Goliath. We note that David is but a child. We know this because he was not called up for military service. Now, in Numbers 1, everyone from 20 up was counted for military service. I don't think we can say that that rule held into David's day, but still, we have David who is at best a teenager. But this child is braver than the rest of the Israelite army. He at least has the confidence of his own abilities and even more of the Lord, who is with him. And we've probably all heard the sort-of 'Veggie Tales' approach to the thing: little people can do big things, too.
The bigger thing to see is the 'typological' sense of the story. It goes something like this: Israel faces an unbeatable foe and needs a champion, which they find in David, who uniquely relies on the Lord. But Israel's story echoes the much bigger story of humanity. Humanity, too, is faced with an unbeatable foe--death, the curse for sin, a corruption that no human endeavor will ever remove. We need a champion, and we find that champion in Jesus. Jesus fully relies on His heavenly Father in facing the terrible foes of sin and death. Unlike David, this combat costs Jesus His life. But His faithful obedience to the Father is vindicated on the third day when He rises from the dead, leaving death as dead as Goliath.
A helpful image might be to think of the great stories of the Old Testament as waves crashing on the beach, trying to wash away some foul thing that someone has carved in the sand. Some waves are small; some are huge; some come tantalizing close to washing that filth away. But Jesus is the great wave, the one that crashes well above the the foulness and erases every reminder of it. David's story is a pretty good size wave. We see a lot of Jesus in him. But Jesus is always the one we're looking for.
All the obvious lessons have been made about David and Goliath. We note that David is but a child. We know this because he was not called up for military service. Now, in Numbers 1, everyone from 20 up was counted for military service. I don't think we can say that that rule held into David's day, but still, we have David who is at best a teenager. But this child is braver than the rest of the Israelite army. He at least has the confidence of his own abilities and even more of the Lord, who is with him. And we've probably all heard the sort-of 'Veggie Tales' approach to the thing: little people can do big things, too.
The bigger thing to see is the 'typological' sense of the story. It goes something like this: Israel faces an unbeatable foe and needs a champion, which they find in David, who uniquely relies on the Lord. But Israel's story echoes the much bigger story of humanity. Humanity, too, is faced with an unbeatable foe--death, the curse for sin, a corruption that no human endeavor will ever remove. We need a champion, and we find that champion in Jesus. Jesus fully relies on His heavenly Father in facing the terrible foes of sin and death. Unlike David, this combat costs Jesus His life. But His faithful obedience to the Father is vindicated on the third day when He rises from the dead, leaving death as dead as Goliath.
A helpful image might be to think of the great stories of the Old Testament as waves crashing on the beach, trying to wash away some foul thing that someone has carved in the sand. Some waves are small; some are huge; some come tantalizing close to washing that filth away. But Jesus is the great wave, the one that crashes well above the the foulness and erases every reminder of it. David's story is a pretty good size wave. We see a lot of Jesus in him. But Jesus is always the one we're looking for.
From Humble Beginnings
1 Samuel 16
David was the eighth son. While 1 Samuel doesn’t make any big deal about that fact, there is the general biblical convention that 7 is the perfect number. David is one son too many. Even his father doesn’t count him when the prophet calls for the boys. In fact, all the seven older brothers looked like good candidates—tall and handsome. Of course, we know how well those criteria worked out with Saul!
But ‘the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.’ What a gift that would be! To see things as they really are instead of seeing them by the light of the fallen world!
We see things by the world’s measures: is the company profitable? How profitable? Is the girl pretty? How pretty? The world is always surprised when its measurements fail, too. Remember old Bernie Madoff? There was a success story—on the outside, at least. But when reality struck and we discovered it was all a house of cards and a scam, we asked, “Why didn’t anyone see this coming?” We don’t see it coming because we measure the wrong things. What the Lord values are faithfulness, integrity, humility (the list could go on).
So here’s David, of so little consequence that his dad doesn’t even bother to bring him in from the fields. But his heart is ‘like the Lord’s.’ When he faces Goliath, he doesn’t rely on the usual trappings of power—armor and swords, he relies on name of the Lord. And the Lord blesses the work of his hands.
In this David becomes a type, a foreshadowing of Jesus. Isaiah prophesies regarding the coming Messiah, “He will delight in the fear of the LORD. He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes, or decide by what he hears with his ears; but with righteousness he will judge the needy, with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth. He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth; with the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked” (NIV Isaiah 11:3-4). In the most unexpected way—as a crucified criminal—Jesus looks like he is of no account; but in becoming of no account, he does exactly the thing that the Father wanted.
A Little Note about Samuel and Saul
For a guy who supposedly retired in chapter 12, Samuel is sure getting around--haranguing on Saul, anointing new kings . . .
Notice that Samuel's appearance is not welcomed with open arms, though. "Do you come in peace?" Jesse asked. Apparently even at this early date, Saul is getting a reputation as a ruthless man. Samuel fears he will be killed if he's caught; Jesse is not sure what Samuel's appearance means for his little village. By the time of the Goliath incident, Saul is losing his nerve and devolving into dangerous mental instability. We're already starting to suspect that this man will be gripped by madness and paranoia. In Saul we have a cautionary, tragic tale. No wonder Jesus says, "Apart from me you can do nothing" (John 15:5).
A Little Note about Samuel and Saul
For a guy who supposedly retired in chapter 12, Samuel is sure getting around--haranguing on Saul, anointing new kings . . .
Notice that Samuel's appearance is not welcomed with open arms, though. "Do you come in peace?" Jesse asked. Apparently even at this early date, Saul is getting a reputation as a ruthless man. Samuel fears he will be killed if he's caught; Jesse is not sure what Samuel's appearance means for his little village. By the time of the Goliath incident, Saul is losing his nerve and devolving into dangerous mental instability. We're already starting to suspect that this man will be gripped by madness and paranoia. In Saul we have a cautionary, tragic tale. No wonder Jesus says, "Apart from me you can do nothing" (John 15:5).
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
The Rejection of Saul
1 Samuel 15
There's a certain dark humor in the exchange between Saul and Samuel over the spoil of the Amalekites. Saul 'dedicates to the Lord' all that is 'despised and weak,' but he is unwilling to destroy what was good. It's pretty clear that he is not reserving it as a sacrifice to the Lord; he is keeping the best for himself. That's why he keeps Agag alive: first, Saul doesn't want to set a bad example about killing kings (he's a king himself, after all), and second, Agag alive can be ransomed--dead he's valueless. So, Samuel calls Saul on it. Saul's all like, "Yay me! I did what God said." And Samuel's all like, "So what's with the sheep?" And Saul's like, "Um, saved them for sacrifice?" And Samuel's like, "So, why's the king still alive?" And Saul's like, "Um, sorry?" Like I said--a certain dark humor.
On the other hand, the issues are deadly serious. What does the Lord desire--sacrifices He hasn't asked for or obedience? Obedience, of course! That would have been a much more profound sacrifice anyhow. Similarly, Saul's repentance rings false. We might be able to fake repentance in front of each other, but there is not fooling the Lord.
So, lessons? Well, it's hard to miss the stewardship lesson: too often we're willing to give the Lord the
'weak and despised,' but not the 'good.' And it's hard to miss the lesson about deep obedience versus a sort of surface 'spirituality.' There is a certain hypocrisy with which we want to be known as Christians, but with which we're not terribly interested in letting the Lord have His way with all of our lives. And, similarly, it's hard to miss the lesson that sometimes our repentance isn't all that sincere. Sometimes we're just going through the motions as we are confessing our sins; sometimes we are 'attrite' instead of 'contrite.' (Contrition means a genuine sorrow because we have let the Lord down; attrition is a sorrow that we got caught or that we have to face consequences.)
The good news, of course, is Jesus, that the Father gave us His best, providing a substitute for us who is completely genuine in His devotion to the Lord, fully committed to His Father's ways. We might find ourselves uncomfortably like Saul, but Jesus takes those failures into His death and in His resurrection offers the possibility of true repentance and renewed dedication to the Lord.
There's a certain dark humor in the exchange between Saul and Samuel over the spoil of the Amalekites. Saul 'dedicates to the Lord' all that is 'despised and weak,' but he is unwilling to destroy what was good. It's pretty clear that he is not reserving it as a sacrifice to the Lord; he is keeping the best for himself. That's why he keeps Agag alive: first, Saul doesn't want to set a bad example about killing kings (he's a king himself, after all), and second, Agag alive can be ransomed--dead he's valueless. So, Samuel calls Saul on it. Saul's all like, "Yay me! I did what God said." And Samuel's all like, "So what's with the sheep?" And Saul's like, "Um, saved them for sacrifice?" And Samuel's like, "So, why's the king still alive?" And Saul's like, "Um, sorry?" Like I said--a certain dark humor.
On the other hand, the issues are deadly serious. What does the Lord desire--sacrifices He hasn't asked for or obedience? Obedience, of course! That would have been a much more profound sacrifice anyhow. Similarly, Saul's repentance rings false. We might be able to fake repentance in front of each other, but there is not fooling the Lord.
So, lessons? Well, it's hard to miss the stewardship lesson: too often we're willing to give the Lord the
'weak and despised,' but not the 'good.' And it's hard to miss the lesson about deep obedience versus a sort of surface 'spirituality.' There is a certain hypocrisy with which we want to be known as Christians, but with which we're not terribly interested in letting the Lord have His way with all of our lives. And, similarly, it's hard to miss the lesson that sometimes our repentance isn't all that sincere. Sometimes we're just going through the motions as we are confessing our sins; sometimes we are 'attrite' instead of 'contrite.' (Contrition means a genuine sorrow because we have let the Lord down; attrition is a sorrow that we got caught or that we have to face consequences.)
The good news, of course, is Jesus, that the Father gave us His best, providing a substitute for us who is completely genuine in His devotion to the Lord, fully committed to His Father's ways. We might find ourselves uncomfortably like Saul, but Jesus takes those failures into His death and in His resurrection offers the possibility of true repentance and renewed dedication to the Lord.
Another Foolish Vow
1 Samuel 14
What is it with people in the Old Testament and crazy vows? Remember Jephthah in Judges? He made a rash vow and sacrificed his daughter. Never mind that the Lord had some harsh things to say about child sacrifice!
Now, it's Saul. His vow is ridiculous on a couple of levels. First, does he know nothing about war? Why would you forbid your soldiers from eating? Sure, he doesn't want them distracted by plundering when they should be pursuing, but you need energy to pursue. Second, Saul bull-headed-ly (is that a word) goes ahead with it. It's like, "Well, Jonathan, I'm glad you got the ball rolling and chased off the Philistines and everything. I'm proud of you, son. Now, I have to kill you." Thank goodness the rest of the Israelites had better sense! "Um, Saul, the Lord kinda blessed Jonathan; probably He doesn't want you to kill him."
This is going to be a pattern with Saul. Bull-headed is a pretty good description of the man. And, really, we're not so much different. A lot of times we take counsel only with ourselves, or if we do take counsel with others, we often tend to think that our first idea was the best.
Where's the Jesus connection? I suppose it's in the figure of Jonathan, who is willing to submit to his father's demand, despite its injustice. In the same way, Jesus doesn't protest the miscarriage of justice that is His trial. Obviously, the chief priests are concocting charges on the spot, and even Pilate recognizes there's nothing to them. But still He's condemned. Likewise, while the injustice is not in the Father, it is the Father's will that Jesus should stand in the place of sinful humanity, and Jesus accepts that will of God, too.
What is it with people in the Old Testament and crazy vows? Remember Jephthah in Judges? He made a rash vow and sacrificed his daughter. Never mind that the Lord had some harsh things to say about child sacrifice!
Now, it's Saul. His vow is ridiculous on a couple of levels. First, does he know nothing about war? Why would you forbid your soldiers from eating? Sure, he doesn't want them distracted by plundering when they should be pursuing, but you need energy to pursue. Second, Saul bull-headed-ly (is that a word) goes ahead with it. It's like, "Well, Jonathan, I'm glad you got the ball rolling and chased off the Philistines and everything. I'm proud of you, son. Now, I have to kill you." Thank goodness the rest of the Israelites had better sense! "Um, Saul, the Lord kinda blessed Jonathan; probably He doesn't want you to kill him."
This is going to be a pattern with Saul. Bull-headed is a pretty good description of the man. And, really, we're not so much different. A lot of times we take counsel only with ourselves, or if we do take counsel with others, we often tend to think that our first idea was the best.
Where's the Jesus connection? I suppose it's in the figure of Jonathan, who is willing to submit to his father's demand, despite its injustice. In the same way, Jesus doesn't protest the miscarriage of justice that is His trial. Obviously, the chief priests are concocting charges on the spot, and even Pilate recognizes there's nothing to them. But still He's condemned. Likewise, while the injustice is not in the Father, it is the Father's will that Jesus should stand in the place of sinful humanity, and Jesus accepts that will of God, too.
Monday, May 20, 2013
The King-Trap
1 Samuel 13
Saul fell into the 'king-trap' almost immediately. Israel's kings were supposed to rely on the Lord for their military victories. Saul had raised an army of 3000 men, saw it dwindle to 600, and panicked. He seems to have forgotten Gideon who faced a much larger force with only 300 men. His reaction is understandable; he was at a distinct technological and numerical disadvantage. His army had no iron weapons, and the Philistines had as many chariots as Saul had total soldiers. Seeing things deteriorate, Saul was decisive and made the sacrifice. In contemporary leadership literature, he would be hailed for his boldness and initiative. In Samuel, it's just the kind of thing he ought not have done.
So, the Lord planned a change of regime. He would find someone after His own heart. Eventually, we'll learn that that meant David, one of who's defining moments was his confrontation with Goliath, during which David trusted the Lord for victory, not man's armor of war.
Lessons abound. There's this constant theme just under the surface of a lot of the Old Testament that God doesn't things in unexpected ways, and the crucifixion of Jesus is the center around which all that radiates. I mean, who would have ever suspected that God would win His greatest victory by having His Son die? By every measure of the world, that seems a great deal like losing. The cross was a victory, though, is demonstrated when Jesus was vindicated in His resurrection.
And frankly, I've wondered different times how caught up I am in the 'king-trap.' I love to measure things in ministry. Was this year's attendance higher or lower than last years? Is the budget growing? When things are going the wrong direction, am I willing to take bold action to try and reverse it? I'm not fully willing to say those things are wrong; sometimes I think the church ought to look a little more closely at their metrics. and ask what they ought to do differently. Yet, there is this nagging doubt, "Am I relying on myself or on the Lord?" I don't think we'll ever be free of that struggle, because we live in a world fallen from God's design. But I do think the struggle itself is good, because it means that we're thinking through our assumptions with humility.
Saul fell into the 'king-trap' almost immediately. Israel's kings were supposed to rely on the Lord for their military victories. Saul had raised an army of 3000 men, saw it dwindle to 600, and panicked. He seems to have forgotten Gideon who faced a much larger force with only 300 men. His reaction is understandable; he was at a distinct technological and numerical disadvantage. His army had no iron weapons, and the Philistines had as many chariots as Saul had total soldiers. Seeing things deteriorate, Saul was decisive and made the sacrifice. In contemporary leadership literature, he would be hailed for his boldness and initiative. In Samuel, it's just the kind of thing he ought not have done.
So, the Lord planned a change of regime. He would find someone after His own heart. Eventually, we'll learn that that meant David, one of who's defining moments was his confrontation with Goliath, during which David trusted the Lord for victory, not man's armor of war.
Lessons abound. There's this constant theme just under the surface of a lot of the Old Testament that God doesn't things in unexpected ways, and the crucifixion of Jesus is the center around which all that radiates. I mean, who would have ever suspected that God would win His greatest victory by having His Son die? By every measure of the world, that seems a great deal like losing. The cross was a victory, though, is demonstrated when Jesus was vindicated in His resurrection.
And frankly, I've wondered different times how caught up I am in the 'king-trap.' I love to measure things in ministry. Was this year's attendance higher or lower than last years? Is the budget growing? When things are going the wrong direction, am I willing to take bold action to try and reverse it? I'm not fully willing to say those things are wrong; sometimes I think the church ought to look a little more closely at their metrics. and ask what they ought to do differently. Yet, there is this nagging doubt, "Am I relying on myself or on the Lord?" I don't think we'll ever be free of that struggle, because we live in a world fallen from God's design. But I do think the struggle itself is good, because it means that we're thinking through our assumptions with humility.
An Awkward Position
1 Samuel 12
Samuel sure seems to be in an awkward spot in 1 Samuel 12. The leaders of Israel have told him that he is getting old; they have said that they don't want his sons to lead them; and they've asked for a king. Yet, Samuel is going to be around for a long time. (His death isn't recorded until 1 Samuel 25.) It sure seems like Israel is putting him into retirement early. Further, his sons are no great shakes, but Samuel sees very clearly the negative consequences of a kingdom--forced labor, a military draft, and high taxes.
Samuel comes across a little bitter in the opening verses of the chapter. For this reason, his words of judgment and the thunderstorm that threatens the wheat harvest comes across as a little self-centered and petulant--the prophetic equivalent of 'I'll take my ball and go home.' Yet, at the end of the chapter, he announces good news to them: God is faithful to His promises and will preserve Israel for His own name's sake. And he refuses to sin against the Lord by refusing to pray for them.
I can think of any number of pastors who have felt like they're caught in a similarly awkward position, and I'll admit that I've felt like it from time to time over the years. They feel like they've worked diligently, preached truthfully, warned and consoled. And they feel like no one has listened or like they are getting blamed for things that aren't their fault. But the ministry doesn't leave room for petulance. No matter how bad a pastor's week may have been, the weekend comes and one must preach good news and pray.
A pastor's work might be awkward sometimes, but there's a blessed necessity in it. Paul once said, "Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice" (Ephesians 4:31). Pastors can't nurse grudges because their calling doesn't have space for it. Every Christian should take that to heart. After all, Jesus tells every Christian to pray for his enemies. It is an awkward thing to do, especially when one is feeling ill-used. But it's an eminently Christ-like thing to do, because 'while we were still sinner, Christ died for us' (Rom. 5:8).
Samuel sure seems to be in an awkward spot in 1 Samuel 12. The leaders of Israel have told him that he is getting old; they have said that they don't want his sons to lead them; and they've asked for a king. Yet, Samuel is going to be around for a long time. (His death isn't recorded until 1 Samuel 25.) It sure seems like Israel is putting him into retirement early. Further, his sons are no great shakes, but Samuel sees very clearly the negative consequences of a kingdom--forced labor, a military draft, and high taxes.
Samuel comes across a little bitter in the opening verses of the chapter. For this reason, his words of judgment and the thunderstorm that threatens the wheat harvest comes across as a little self-centered and petulant--the prophetic equivalent of 'I'll take my ball and go home.' Yet, at the end of the chapter, he announces good news to them: God is faithful to His promises and will preserve Israel for His own name's sake. And he refuses to sin against the Lord by refusing to pray for them.
I can think of any number of pastors who have felt like they're caught in a similarly awkward position, and I'll admit that I've felt like it from time to time over the years. They feel like they've worked diligently, preached truthfully, warned and consoled. And they feel like no one has listened or like they are getting blamed for things that aren't their fault. But the ministry doesn't leave room for petulance. No matter how bad a pastor's week may have been, the weekend comes and one must preach good news and pray.
A pastor's work might be awkward sometimes, but there's a blessed necessity in it. Paul once said, "Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice" (Ephesians 4:31). Pastors can't nurse grudges because their calling doesn't have space for it. Every Christian should take that to heart. After all, Jesus tells every Christian to pray for his enemies. It is an awkward thing to do, especially when one is feeling ill-used. But it's an eminently Christ-like thing to do, because 'while we were still sinner, Christ died for us' (Rom. 5:8).
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Weird Juxtapositions
1 Samuel 11
I don't quite know what to make of this, but there is a strange juxtaposition in 1 Samuel 9-11. I commented on the choice of Saul that he was from Gibeah (1 Sam. 10:26). Gibeah was the site of a horrible crime in Judges 19, a crime worse even than the crimes of Sodom. So, one is led to wonder about Saul from the very beginning.
Now, in 1 Samuel 11, Saul goes to rescue Jabesh Gilead, a city that also plays in the story from Judges. Recall that all of Israel gathered to punish the tribe of Benjamin (Gibeah was in that tribe). Having dealt Benjamin a terrible military defeat, the Israelites mourned the loss of their brother Benjamin and looked for a way to preserve them. Since no one from Jabesh Gilead had made war against Benjamin (and so, presumably, hadn't taken the vow the rest of them had taken), the Israelites went there and seized 400 virgins to give to the Benjamites as wives.
So, is this a story about the redemption of Gibeah? Maybe. They do return the gift of life that Jabesh Gilead had at one point unwillingly given. Perhaps we're to see in this that Israel is moving past old animosities. Given Saul's later history, it's also just possible that we're being set up for a further rebuke of Gibeah, namely, that finally they won't do the right thing.
I suppose if I had to write a sermon on this chapter (it never comes up in our usual readings), I'd focus on the first idea, and my sermon would go something like this: "Forgiveness is such an amazing gift that it can reverse the fortunes of an entire city, an entire tribe. Forgiveness is such an amazing gift that it can reverse the fortunes of the entire human race."
I don't quite know what to make of this, but there is a strange juxtaposition in 1 Samuel 9-11. I commented on the choice of Saul that he was from Gibeah (1 Sam. 10:26). Gibeah was the site of a horrible crime in Judges 19, a crime worse even than the crimes of Sodom. So, one is led to wonder about Saul from the very beginning.
Now, in 1 Samuel 11, Saul goes to rescue Jabesh Gilead, a city that also plays in the story from Judges. Recall that all of Israel gathered to punish the tribe of Benjamin (Gibeah was in that tribe). Having dealt Benjamin a terrible military defeat, the Israelites mourned the loss of their brother Benjamin and looked for a way to preserve them. Since no one from Jabesh Gilead had made war against Benjamin (and so, presumably, hadn't taken the vow the rest of them had taken), the Israelites went there and seized 400 virgins to give to the Benjamites as wives.
So, is this a story about the redemption of Gibeah? Maybe. They do return the gift of life that Jabesh Gilead had at one point unwillingly given. Perhaps we're to see in this that Israel is moving past old animosities. Given Saul's later history, it's also just possible that we're being set up for a further rebuke of Gibeah, namely, that finally they won't do the right thing.
I suppose if I had to write a sermon on this chapter (it never comes up in our usual readings), I'd focus on the first idea, and my sermon would go something like this: "Forgiveness is such an amazing gift that it can reverse the fortunes of an entire city, an entire tribe. Forgiveness is such an amazing gift that it can reverse the fortunes of the entire human race."
God's Purpose among Questionable Characters
1 Samuel 9-10
Saul’s such a great choice for a king. After all, as Kenny Mayne used to comment on SportsCenter, “He’s tall.” Also, his dad’s rich. He must be a good choice.
On the other hand, he takes direction from a servant, he’s from Gibeah—infamous from the end of Judges—and, when the lot falls to him, they find him hiding among the baggage. (In Saul’s defense, there is a long history of avoiding office among God’s people: Moses famously tries to talk God out of it; St. Augustine (early 5th century) was corralled into priesthood almost against his will and very reluctantly became bishop. I’ve often commented that if my primary concern was my own spiritual well-being, I would have avoided the Ministry.) Then, having been anointed, he returns to his home.
The monarchy is off to a grand start, and to make it worse, Samuel goes all Richard Nixon on the people of Israel: “You won’t have old Samuel to kick around anymore!”
Reading Israel’s history makes life in the church a little easier. After all, it’s pretty clear that there’s no golden age for Israel. They’re as much God’s problem as the means for His solution. The same thing holds in the church. At any given time, it is populated by reluctant leaders, questionable choices, and prickly personalities. But, through all that, the Church is still called to be the instrument by which the Lord shares His good news with the world.
We Want a King!
1 Samuel 8
1 Samuel 8 is a fascinating chapter. First off, it’s fun to speculate about the character of Samuel. Samuel is presented as this great paragon of faithfulness. He is committed to the Lord’s service by his faithful mother. He listens to God’s words. God does not ‘let any of Samuel’s words fall to the ground’ (3:19). He subdues the Philistines and Amorites. He judges Israel ‘all the days of his life’ (7:15). But, he tries to establish a dynasty, setting up his sons after him. In this he is no better than old Eli, and you could make the case that he’s worse: Eli, at least, was a priest; his sons were supposed to follow him! Further, Samuel gets all bent out of shape when Israel asks for a king, and it’s hard to tell exactly why. The Lord reminds him, “It’s me they’ve rejected, not you,” and one gets the impression that Samuel’s pique is more about the rejection of his sons than about the request for a king. When he recounts all the abuses a king will bring—high taxes, forced labor, military conscription—he seems a little too eager, as if he’s trying to say, “You’ll see. My boys aren’t so bad!” All of that may be unfair to Samuel, but it’s fun to speculate about. . . .
What’s more important is that 1 Samuel 8 records Israel’s demand for a king. The Lord nails it. “It’s me they’ve rejected.” After all, the way that Israel was constituted at Sinai, the Lord was to have been their king. And one of the huge underlying points of the Sinaitic laws was that Israel was to be God’s specially chosen people, living out of step with the world, but living as a shining example of what it means to be in the right relationship with the Lord. So, the “like the other nations” bit is a rejection of their own unique place in God’s purposes. We have seen the pressure throughout Joshua and Judges to be like the other nations; here Israel completely caves in and embraces it.
If you’ve ever heard me talk about the problems of Israel, if you’ve ever heard me preach about Jesus’ proclamation of the kingdom of God over against the way that Israel perceived what that phrase meant, you’ll know that this request for a king sets Israel on a path that will influence and distract that for the next thousand years until Jesus finally demonstrates in His suffering and death what it really means to be Israel!
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Not as Beat as You Think
1 Samuel 5-6
Here’s an insight from The Lutheran Study Bible: when the idol of Dagon falls face down before the ark of the Lord and his head and hands are lying cut off—this is a lot more than a little oopsie with the furniture. Falling facedown before the ark suggests that Dagon had submitted himself before one who was more powerful, namely, Yahweh of Israel. When the next morning his head and hands are cut off—not broken off, mind you, cut off—we are looking at the military defeat of the Philistine god. (Dismemberment was absolute proof of death, and David cut off the head of Goliath.) So whether the Philistines prefer to think that their god was whupped by the God of Israel or whether they prefer to think that he voluntarily kowtowed to Him, the point is rather the same: your god doesn’t stand much of a chance, so don’t read too much into having captured Yahweh’s ark.
As a matter of fact, the Philistines wouldn’t have defeated Israel with the Lord’s allowance. He’s the one who raises up and casts down; He’s the one who disciplines His people like a father. And to prove the point, he afflicts the people in 3 of the 5 Philistine cities. The message seems clear: you didn’t win; I taught a lesson.
I find it helpful in times of trouble to remember that ultimately God’s enemies don’t win. He may allow them the upper hand—sometimes for a lot longer than I’m comfortable with. (Maybe that’s the case because I’m a slow study.) But ultimately they don’t win. I think that’s a big part of the Easter message: you can kill the Son of God, but death can’t hold him; and if death can’t hold him, it can’t hold me, either. I know it’s hard to live with that confidence in ultimate, end-time victory. We would naturally appreciate the occasional taste of victory, but even in the absence of that, we are called to live as ‘more than conquerors’ (Rom. 8).
Without Glory
1 Samuel 4
Three interesting bits in today’s reading. First, completely unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but 1 Samuel 4 gives us the origin of the name “Ichabod.” (You remember Ichabod Crane, from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, right?) Literally, the name means “No glory,” i-chabod. The capture of the ark is one of the real low points in Israel’s history. The ark is the seat of God’s glory, His gracious presence. So, the capture of the ark literally means that the glory of god has left Israel. Not to mention that such an ignominious defeat at the hands of the Philistines stole even Israel’s human glory!
Second, a comment might be necessary about the Philistines and how they knew about Israel’s history from several centuries prior. The best guess is that the Philistines were a sort of combination of Semitic people who had originally lived on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea and generally Greek peoples who had migrated in the 13th and 12th centuries BC. So, they would have had historical, cultural memory of the Conquest by Israel, and they would have had the more advanced technology of a people who entered the Iron Age ahead of the Israelites.
Third, and probably most important, is one little word—“it.” In verse 3, the Israelites say that “it,” that is, the ark, will save them. Not the Lord, whose ark it is and whose presence the ark represents, but the ark itself. Pretty clearly Israel has fallen into superstition and idolatry. The ark has become for them a talisman, a good luck charm. Truly the glory has left Israel!
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Samuel as Type of Christ
1 Samuel 2-3
Luke clearly had the beginning of Samuel in the back of his mind when he wrote his Gospel. Consider the way that Mary’s song (Luke 1:46-56) echoes Hannah’s song. Here are two woman, each of whom experiences a miraculous pregnancy, each of whom bear a son uniquely dedicated to the Lord, and each of whom sing about the saving power of God and the way that brings a reversal of fortunes—filling the hungry, sending the rich away empty; bringing down princes, raising the lowly. Consider that Samuel serves the Lord from youth at the tabernacle and that Luke alone records the stories about Jesus’ circumcision and about his 12-year old encounter in the temple. Consider that Samuel grows with the Lord with him and that Jesus grows in wisdom and stature with God and men.
What’s Luke up to? I’d suggest that he wants us to see Jesus fulfilling the story of Israel. In Samuel’s day, you have chaos, disorder, Israel almost completely ‘off-mission.’ In Samuel’s day, you have a dearth of visions from God. In Samuel’s day you have corrupt leadership. Over the course of Samuel’s book, Israel will eventually discover her one great king, David, the shepherd-king, who has a heart like God’s (1 Samuel 13:14). In Jesus’ day, all those conditions pertain, too: corrupt leadership centered in the temple, Israel living ‘off-mission,’ a long time (400 years) since there was a writing prophet. And as the Gospel progresses, we’ll discover the one great king, Jesus, the shepherd king, who will lay down His life for the sheep. And He won’t just restore Israel’s earthly fortunes, He will fulfill her purposes for the whole world, beginning the establishment of the merciful reign of God over the earth. 1 Samuel 1-3 are important foreshadowings of the work of the Messiah.
Misunderstood Hannah
1 Samuel 1
Poor, misunderstood Hannah! Her husband comes across as a bit of an oaf. He knows that she grieves her lack of children. He even gives her a double portion of the sacrifice to make up for it. But there’s never a word that he rebukes or reprimands Penninah for continually mocking Hannah, and he makes a comment that just completely doesn’t fit his context: “Aren’t I worth more to you than 10 sons?” Look, that sentiment flies in the modern world, in which we value children differently than in the ancient world. (Sometimes moderns talk about children as if they’re an accessory—not the outfit itself, but just something to make the outfit look better.) Of course Hannah’s going to say, “No, you’re not better than 10 sons. Get over yourself.”
(It turns out the ancient world was of two minds about children: on the one hand, they had no social value; all their worth was tied up in their parents. On the other hand, children (especially sons) were a sign of posterity, that one's name would carry on for another generation. So, the ancient world was capable of some real evil towards children. Consider that the Romans would leave unwanted children, especially daughters, in the city dump to die of exposure, and even Jesus' disciples tried to keep children away from Him. On the other hand, a lack of children was a major problem and widely considered a sign of God's displeasure.)
(It turns out the ancient world was of two minds about children: on the one hand, they had no social value; all their worth was tied up in their parents. On the other hand, children (especially sons) were a sign of posterity, that one's name would carry on for another generation. So, the ancient world was capable of some real evil towards children. Consider that the Romans would leave unwanted children, especially daughters, in the city dump to die of exposure, and even Jesus' disciples tried to keep children away from Him. On the other hand, a lack of children was a major problem and widely considered a sign of God's displeasure.)
Then, there’s the other woman, Penninah, who has lots of children and loves to rub Hannah’s nose in it. The whole thing is clearly reminiscent of Rachel and Leah. One wonders if perhaps the same dynamic is at work, if Elkanah favors Hannah more than Penninah. Given the way the story unfolds—that the child of the barren woman becomes a great figure for the deliverance of Israel—it seems we’re supposed to have Jacob’s story in mind.
And, there’s the priest, Eli. In the ancient world, you prayed out loud, not silently. In the same way, you read out loud, not to yourself. (This is exactly opposite of how we typically do it in the modern world.) So, because Hannah is weeping and praying silently, Eli accuses her of drunkenness. A more insightful man would have observed that Hannah was grief-stricken, not drunk.
But all Hannah wants is the Lord’s affirmation of her that comes with a child. She is even willing (and does!) give the child back.
In that way, I suppose, Hannah isn’t all that different from us. I think that of all the things we value, unconditional affirmation is one of the top ones. For Christians, that affirmation is found on the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus, which are the Triune God’s great declaration, “This is how much I value you.”
Ruth
Ruth 1-4
Given its location in the Scriptures, the book of Ruth shines like gem. After all, after the horrors of Judges, this wholesome little story is like sunshine after a week of storms.
Judges ends on the lowest of all notes: there has been inter-tribal warfare, sexual sins in Gibeah that echo (loudly) the depravity of Sodom, idolatry, duplicity, and violence. And that doesn’t account for the fact that a lot of the judges were a little . . . shady. Ehud began in deceit, concealing his sword and striking the king of Moab in secret. Barak hid behind Deborah’s skirt. Samson—well, what are you going to say about a man dedicated to the Lord from before birth who loves all manner of pretty Philistine girls and has a temper to rival Al Capone?
Now frankly, Ruth doesn’t start off so well, either. The prime Israelite in the story is Naomi, but her faith has been so frayed and tried that she changes her name to “Bitterness,” “Mara.” It’s the foreign girl, who faithfully casts her lot with her former mother-in-law, who demonstrates the best things that God’s people are supposed to be. “Where you go, I will go; your people will be my people; your God will be my God.” If only the Lord’s own chosen people had had that same sense of dedication to Him and to one another!
There is a faithful Israelite here, too. That is Boaz, who shoulders the responsibility of his kinsman’s family. (Ruth is less a love story than it is a story about accepting family responsibility.) The point, I suppose, is that while the majority of the people are doing what is right in their eyes, the humble few—Boaz, Ruth, Naomi (when she comes to her senses)—are remaining faithful.
Finally, there is the closing announcement that Ruth and Boaz are the ancestors of David. David is not explained in Ruth, but the alert reader is supposed to know where the story is going, that David is the great king of Israel, the high point of their history. While there is no king in the land, the Lord is working to rectify that condition by preparing the way for the one who has His own heart (1 Sam. 13:14).
Light in the darkness, a faithful remnant in the land—that’s the way the Lord works. He works that way a thousand years before Jesus, in the life and ministry of Jesus, and two thousand years after Jesus.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
"Israel Had No King," pt. 2
Judges 19-20: http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Judges%2019-20&version=NIV
Judges 21: http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Judges%2021&version=NIV
The book of Judges begins with Israel's descent into failure: Judah accomplishes its purposes and drives out the Canaanites, then there is a long list of the remaining tribes who don't get the job done. The middle and most familiar portion of the book tells the story of Israel's repeated failure to follow the Lord. And in chapters 19-21, the book ends with an incident reminiscent of the story of Sodom--only it is Israelites who behave as Sodomites, and there is no one to intervene to save the proferred young lady, who dies from the attack she endures. By the end of the book, Israel has fallen so far that she is worse than Sodom! In addition, the response is a bit of a muddled mess. The tribes unite against Benjamin and treat the Benjaminites as if they were Canaanites themselves, looking to exterminate them. Consider that irony: they couldn't/wouldn't drive out out the Canaanites, but--holy cow!--are they determined to exterminate their fallen brothers!
So, I find two things to reflect on: the first one is how easy it is to 'slip' until the church is unrecognizable from the world around it. For a long time, the church assumed that the world would support our values. The problem with that is that the church didn't see the ways that world was actually shaping the church. It would take a long time to explain what I mean by that, but just reflect on this: there are huge swathes of American Christianity that assume God would vote Democratic, and there are equally huge swathes that assume He would vote Republican. The interplay of Christian faith and the world's politics of power suggests that we have been as much conformed to the ways of the world as the world has been shaped by the ways of God.
The second thing I think we should reflect on is how easy it is to turn on one another. I've often told the story of the week that I attended a church voters' meeting and a township board meeting. The point of the story is my conclusion that an outsider would not have been able to tell they were two radically different organizations. The church meeting was every bit as hostile and cutting as the township meeting. This weekend, I quoted Markus Barth's commentary on Ephesians, to the effect, "If she [the church] failed to proclaim with words what she is given to know, or if she condoned division and sin, she would deny her essence and function, and she would grieve ‘the holy Spirit of God’ from which she lives." It's easy to criticize ancient Israel; it is a much harder--but more profitable--thing to reflect on our own divisions and to work to heal them.
After all, the church ought not be indistinguishable from the world around here. She ought to shine with the light of Christ and "be a public exponent of grace and unity" (Barth).
Judges 21: http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Judges%2021&version=NIV
The book of Judges begins with Israel's descent into failure: Judah accomplishes its purposes and drives out the Canaanites, then there is a long list of the remaining tribes who don't get the job done. The middle and most familiar portion of the book tells the story of Israel's repeated failure to follow the Lord. And in chapters 19-21, the book ends with an incident reminiscent of the story of Sodom--only it is Israelites who behave as Sodomites, and there is no one to intervene to save the proferred young lady, who dies from the attack she endures. By the end of the book, Israel has fallen so far that she is worse than Sodom! In addition, the response is a bit of a muddled mess. The tribes unite against Benjamin and treat the Benjaminites as if they were Canaanites themselves, looking to exterminate them. Consider that irony: they couldn't/wouldn't drive out out the Canaanites, but--holy cow!--are they determined to exterminate their fallen brothers!
So, I find two things to reflect on: the first one is how easy it is to 'slip' until the church is unrecognizable from the world around it. For a long time, the church assumed that the world would support our values. The problem with that is that the church didn't see the ways that world was actually shaping the church. It would take a long time to explain what I mean by that, but just reflect on this: there are huge swathes of American Christianity that assume God would vote Democratic, and there are equally huge swathes that assume He would vote Republican. The interplay of Christian faith and the world's politics of power suggests that we have been as much conformed to the ways of the world as the world has been shaped by the ways of God.
The second thing I think we should reflect on is how easy it is to turn on one another. I've often told the story of the week that I attended a church voters' meeting and a township board meeting. The point of the story is my conclusion that an outsider would not have been able to tell they were two radically different organizations. The church meeting was every bit as hostile and cutting as the township meeting. This weekend, I quoted Markus Barth's commentary on Ephesians, to the effect, "If she [the church] failed to proclaim with words what she is given to know, or if she condoned division and sin, she would deny her essence and function, and she would grieve ‘the holy Spirit of God’ from which she lives." It's easy to criticize ancient Israel; it is a much harder--but more profitable--thing to reflect on our own divisions and to work to heal them.
After all, the church ought not be indistinguishable from the world around here. She ought to shine with the light of Christ and "be a public exponent of grace and unity" (Barth).
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