Untamable

Posted on December 18, 2018 by Pete

I wonder if our familiarity with the Nativity doesn’t have, if not a damaging effect, sometimes a dulling one. That we can look in the manger, see the Baby, and subconsciously think to ourselves, “That’s a manageable God.”

We behold Him in His humanity and somehow think there’s a degree of equality. Having “emptied Himself” of His eternal majesty and power, “taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men” (Php. 2:7), because He presents Himself less than He really is, we think of ourselves more than we really should.

But a couple of readings this morning destroy that notion. Reminding me that my God is untamable.

One of those readings was in Revelation 19. There we see the heavens opened and the one called Faithful and True ready to make war against the enemies of God on earth.

His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on His head are many diadems, and He has a name written that no one knows but Himself. He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which He is called is The Word of God. . . . From His mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations, and He will rule them with a rod of iron. He will tread the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God the Almighty. On His robe and on His thigh He has a name written, King of kings and Lord of lords.

(Revelation 19:12-16 ESV)

Nothing silent about this night. Nothing calm. Nothing bright. Not so tender. Not so mild. The Babe in the manger is the Warrior of heaven. King of kings and Lord of lords.

But it was chewing on Job 41 this morning that really got me thinking about our untamable God. There God is addressing Job who has been begging to go toe-to-toe with the Almighty over his unfair circumstances (though, had Job really thought about the implications of going one-on-one with the “All Mighty,” he might have cooled his jets a bit). And God says, in effect, “Face off with Leviathan first.”

After God reminds Job that He is God of all creation, with power over every living creature, God draws Job’s attention to one creature in particular, Leviathan. Don’t know the exact identity of this beast, but think a cross between the biggest, meanest croc you can imagine and a fire-breathing dragon.

Not to be found in a merchant’s market because it’s next to impossible to trap, contain, or kill the beast. Its skin impervious to harpoons and spears. Its teeth a terror. When he raises himself up the most mighty of men shake in their boots. When he starts to thrash they are beside themselves.

“Can you put a rope in his nose or pierce his jaw with a hook? Will he make many pleas to you? Will he speak to you soft words? Will he make a covenant with you to take him for your servant forever? Will you play with him as with a bird, or will you put him on a leash for your girls?”

(Job 41:2-5 ESV)

Will you put him on a leash for your girls? That’s the phrase that caught my attention. (I wonder why?) That’s the thought that led me to read Job 41 over a couple of times.

Bottom line? You don’t mess with Leviathan. Lay your hands on him, it won’t happen again. To look at him will be to drop in dread. So fierce that no one dares even stir him.

“Who then is he who can stand before Me?” ~ God    (Job 41:10b ESV)

If a mere creature is so untamable, then what of its Creator? If what was spoken into being is beyond our power to domesticate, then what of the One who did the speaking?

It makes the wonder of Immanuel, God with us, all that more wondrous. The awe of the Christ child, in whom “all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell” (Col. 1:19), all that more awesome.

And while it makes Him, in a sense, all that more accessible, beware lest we think Him governable.

He is accessible not because He is any less God, but because of the steadfast love that compelled Him to pursue a wayward people, coming in flesh, coming to serve, coming to offer His life as a ransom for many, in order to provide us a way into His holy presence.

So, while our God has made Himself approachable, He is still untamable.

O, let us enter into the holy of holies by the blood of Jesus. And let us worship Him in the splendor His might and power.

And this, by His grace alone. And this, for His glory alone.

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The Fault Line

Posted on December 17, 2018 by Pete

It would seem there are some lines you just don’t cross. Some boundaries you might walk up to the edge of but best go no farther. Some things that might be fair game but you better know when you’re out of bounds. As I’m getting to the end of the book of Job, I think the Spirit has shown me one of those lines.

Fact: Job was righteous unlike anyone around him. Three times in the opening scenes which set up the drama of Job vs. his friends, it’s stated that Job was “a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil” (1:1, 8; 2:3). Twice that fact is testified to by God Himself who adds a big exclamation point to the assessment by also stating “there is none like him on the earth.”

Thus, when Job is defending his righteousness before His accusers . . . ahem, excuse me, I mean “comforters” . . . I’m thinking he’s got a leg to stand on.

So, where’s the line Job crossed from being put on a pedestal by God in the opening chapters of the book, to being put in his place by God in the final chapters of the book? Seems it’s the fault line.

And the Lord said to Job: “Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty? He who argues with God, let him answer it. . . . Dress for action like a man; I will question you, and you make it known to Me. Will you even put Me in the wrong? Will you condemn Me that you may be in the right?”

(Job 40:1-2, 7-8 ESV)

Faultfinder. That’s the word that caught my attention. That’s what I’m chewing on this morning. That’s the line I think Job crossed.

When everything Job possessed or held precious was stripped away, he blessed the name of the LORD and “did not sin or charge God with wrong” (1:20-22). Even when he was struck with “loathsome sores from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head” and his wife counseled him to “Curse God and die!” he did not sin with his lips (2:7-10). But as time wore on, as his despondency at having ever been born deepened, as his confusion over how life for the righteous could go so wrong, he did charge God with wrong. And, it would seem, he did sin with his lips. He became a faultfinder. And he crossed the fault line.

Job found himself taking the place of God’s reprover. God’s great contender. Becoming far too familiar with God as His faultfinder. Ready to enter the courts of heaven to present his case, confident God would be weighed in the balance and come up short with any sort of justification for Job’s unjust circumstance.

Job’s pain and suffering pushed him to questioning God’s person and sovereignty. His confusion led him to impugn God’s character. His righteous reputation, true as it was, tripped him up as He questioned God’s righteous nature. Job assessed God’s behavior in the context of his circumstance rather than placing his pain within the context of God’s promises. His physical suffering was a catalyst for a spiritual battle.

Not judging Job. Relating. Realizing the reality of the fault line and how easy it could be to cross it. Seeing how close I can be to becoming a faultfinder. Assessing my propensity to start with my situation and fit God onto it, rather than taking every thought into captivity and considering my circumstance in the light of what I know to be true concerning God’s holy, righteous, loving, and faithful character.

O that I might be kept from any temptation to contend with God. That I wouldn’t even think of reproving Him. Don’t wanna be a faultfinder. Don’t wanna cross the fault line.

Instead, being conformed increasingly into the image of the One who was the only truly upright and blameless Man, that I would, in every circumstance, always know that God is faithful. That His purposes are pure and His promises are sure.

By His grace. For His glory.

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Cloths — In Birth and In Burial

Posted on December 14, 2018 by Pete

Met with a friend yesterday, a buddy I try to connect with regularly to talk about what he’s been reading in the Word. Yesterday we spent a few minutes on 1Corinthians 15 and the resurrection. If Christ has not been raised from the dead, then our faith is in vain (1Cor. 15:14). And though there have been those who have tried to put forth a theory that Christ didn’t really die on the cross, but just swooned and later revived, from John’s testimony in His gospel, I’m pretty sure the One who hung on the cross that day did so until all were satisfied that He was dead.

Jesus said Himself, “It is finished” and bowed His head and gave up His spirit (Jn. 20:30). His executioners, well versed in how to kill a man by crucifixion, saw that He was dead and so determined no reason to break His legs to hasten the process (20:31-33). One of them, for good measure and to provide empirical proof, (kind of like cutting into a roast to make sure it’s done), pierced Jesus’ side with a spear “and at once there came out blood and water” — further proof that the man on the middle cross had breathed his last (20:34).

And should there be any doubt, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus came and took the body, slathered it with 75 pounds of burial spices and wrapped it in linen cloths. Any life left would have been smothered. But they too knew He was dead and so they prepared His body for burial and laid it in a tomb.

Jesus was dead. It was over. All that was left, or so most thought, was for Him to return to the dust. And so, that He was seen three days later by the disciples, that He was seen by hundreds over the next few weeks before His ascension, was glorious proof that truly the work was finished. Sin atoned for. Death defeated. Our faith so not in vain!

And this morning I continue to chew on the juxtaposition of His death with His birth. This morning’s focus? My Savior wrapped in cloths.

And while they were there, the time came for [Mary] to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn Son and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths and laid Him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

(Luke 2:6-7 ESV)

So [Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus] took the body of Jesus and bound it in linen cloths with the spices, as is the burial custom of the Jews.

(John 20:39-40 ESV)

In birth and in burial my Lord was wrapped in cloths.

Cloths to keep the Baby warm. Cloths because the Man was dead. Lovingly swaddled by a mother full of wonder as to what His miraculous birth should mean. Quickly sheathed by disillusioned disciples trying to delay the stench of death, wondering what His life had been for.

Immanuel, God with us, wrapped in cloths because He was born into His creation’s world. Jesus, the Son of God, wrapped in cloths because He had been put to death at His creation’s hand.

The first, a scene which through the ages has evoked a sense of peace, hope, love, and joy. The second, a scene of confusion and apparent defeat.

But then came the morning. When the cloths were shed and the Savior rose again.

The morning which fulfilled the hope of that first Christmas morning. The morning which points to another dawn breaking when He returns in glory, majesty, and power. Another morning when of cloths. When “He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which He is called is The Word of God” (Rev. 19:13 ESV).

And we shall behold Him!

See Him in cloths in the manger. Remember Him in cloths in the tomb. Anticipate His return in cloths of righteousness and redemption.

O come let us adore Him!

Because of grace. For His glory.

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Woman, Behold Your Son

Posted on December 13, 2018 by Pete

It’s an annually occurring juxtaposition. Every December I wrap up my reading plan chewing on the death of Jesus at a time of year when so much around me draws my attention to His birth.

Solomon said that “for everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven” and that one of those things is “a time to be born, and a time to die” (Eccl. 3:1-2). True for every man and woman. True too for the One who divested Himself of His heavenly glory and power, and determined to fully enter into the human experience. There was a time for Jesus to be born. And, by the Father’s will, a time for Jesus to die.

Though it was the same Jesus, and though the two events were only 33 years apart, in so many ways so many things had changed so dramatically. The anticipation of that silent night giving way to the condemnation of an angry crowd early one morning. The loud song of an angelic host before lowly shepherds, giving glory to God and declaring the birth of a Savior in the city of David, silenced by shouts of “Crucify Him, crucify Him” by stiff-necked chief priests and officers before the most powerful man in Jerusalem.

The Son of God lying in a manager receiving gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh from worshiping wise men, a faint memory as the Lamb of God hung on a cross and was offered but sour wine by indifferent soldiers who just wanted to get the job over with.

But one thing hadn’t changed. One thing is strikingly similar between the idyllic scene around the manger and the chaotic circus around the cross. The mother of Jesus was nearby.

When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took His garments and divided them into four parts, . . . This was to fulfill the Scripture which says, “They divided My garments among them, and for My clothing they cast lots.” So the soldiers did these things, but standing by the cross of Jesus were His mother and His mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw His mother and the disciple whom He loved standing nearby, He said to His mother, “Woman, behold, your son!”

(John 19:23-26 ESV)

Oh the contrast between the image evoked by the multiple nativity scenes set up in my home and the picture formed in my mind’s eye as I read in John this morning. The first of a peace filled virgin. Cradling her son as she meditates on angel declared prophecies and shepherd delivered messages. Treasuring up all these things, “pondering them in her heart” (Lk. 2:19). The other of a distraught mother, looking with horror on her derided, naked, and beaten son. Trying to make sense of everything He had told them as she watched Him die.

“Woman, behold, Your Son!”

See Him as the Light of the world come to deliver men from darkness. But know that, though He came to His own, His own received Him not. Marvel that the King of kings should come into the world in such lowly manner, and then try and make sense of the darkness that compelled His people to declare they would have no king but Caesar.

Wonder at the Savior born that night, lying in a manger, the hope of the world. Try and comprehend Him suffering as He hung on a cross, the Lamb of God, slain as the final sin offering, the once for all Atonement for the world.

Woman, behold, Your Son!

She was there that holy night. She was there that horrific morning.

And Jesus saw her. And He knew her.

Born by her, He would die for her.

The grace of God incarnate. The glory of God manifest.

Hallelujah! What a Savior!

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It Wasn’t Enough

Posted on December 12, 2018 by Pete

Give them blood, he thought, and that should appease them. A good beating, flayed so they can see muscle. Surely that would satisfy their illogical, unjustifiable animosity. And then add some mockery for good measure. Thinks He’s a king? Then we’ll present a king–a crown of thorns driven into His brow, a purple robe draped over His beaten body. That should be enough.

It wasn’t.

Then Pilate took Jesus and flogged Him. And the soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on His head and arrayed Him in a purple robe. . . . Pilate went out again and said to them, “See, I am bringing Him out to you that you may know that I find no guilt in Him.” So Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe. Pilate said to them, “Behold the Man!” When the chief priests and the officers saw Him, they cried out, “Crucify Him, crucify Him!”

(John 19:1-6a ESV)

That Pilate didn’t want to crucify Jesus is evident. Three times he pronounces his verdict to the mob, “I find no guilt in Him” (Jn. 18:38; 19:4, 6). Not that Pilate was overly constrained by truth. After all, what is truth? Not that he believed right and wrong out-ranked self-protecting power. But hey, why crucify someone who’s innocent if you don’t have to?

So it seems like, rather than punishing Jesus for some alleged crime, Pilate was more interested in trying to placate the priests. Give them enough destruction that they’d forget about demanding death. Enough gore that maybe they might even feel a twinge of guilt. Enough blood so that they’d back off. But it wasn’t enough.

And as I chew on this showdown in Pilate’s court, I’m reminded afresh that it really wasn’t enough. That, had Jesus only suffered at the hands of men, His mission would have come up short.

For it wasn’t about appeasing a maniacal mob. Instead, it was all about satisfying the wrath of a holy and just God. And, for that, Jesus would need to die.

. . . without shedding of blood there is no remission. . . . so Christ was offered once to bear the sins of many.   (Hebrews 9:22b, 28a ESV)

What wages were owed for my sin? What price needed to be paid for my redemption? What sacrifice would be required for my deliverance?

The humiliation of the One by whom all things were created wouldn’t do it. The flogging of the Father’s beloved and well-pleasing Son couldn’t do it. But only the Lamb of God, offered once for all for the transgressions of all people, could make atonement for sin and a way of reconciliation for sinners.

“The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.”  ~ Jesus

(Luke 9:22 ESV)

That day wasn’t about some despot’s lame attempt at subduing a crowd’s bloodlust. It was about a vessel of God, being compelled to make an offering to God, to satisfy the wrath of God, that we might know peace with God. And this through the death of the Son of God.

It was about Jesus, come as a babe in the manager, dying for my sin. And it was enough!

What wondrous grace! To God be the glory!

Amen?

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Our Peace

Posted on December 11, 2018 by Pete

I wonder if, as the world seems to get crazier, we don’t find ourselves peering a bit deeper into the manger scene this time of year to try and find some of that illusive peace on earth that was announced the night of the Savior’s birth. If, while we believe He is the Prince of Peace, we also wonder where is that peace. Certainly doesn’t seem to be around us. And, if we’re honest, often it’s hard to detect within us. There’s a lot of churn in our world — both in the outer world and, all too often, in our inner world.

And while we should keep on pursuing now that peace which passes understanding (Php. 4:6-7), my reading in the prophet Micah reminded me of a day when truly He shall be our peace.

But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, who are too little to be among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for Me One who is to be ruler in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days. . . . And He shall stand and shepherd His flock in the strength of the LORD, in the majesty of the name of the LORD His God. And they shall dwell secure, for now He shall be great to the ends of the earth. And He shall be their peace.

(Micah 5:2,4-5b ESV)

A reminder to me that the One who came forth from Bethlehem to be ruler is the same One who, one day, shall stand and shepherd His flock as ruler. And then, there will be peace on earth. Absence of conflict. All at rest.

On that day when Jesus rules in power. His majesty evident. His name known before all.

There is coming a day. And on that day, He shall be our peace.

There should be something about celebrating His first advent that renews the anticipation of His second advent. Something about the promises of a King born in Bethlehem that causes us to long for the King who’s coming again in glory. Something about the wonder of Immanuel, God with us, that ignites the longing to be absent from the body and present with Him. And perhaps in that longing and anticipation, we can find that He is, even now, our peace.

That in the hope of one day seeing the Great Shepherd stand and care for His flock, we find a sense of security. That in the promise that He is preparing a place for us so that we might be with Him, there can be a present calm even amidst the storm. That in the witness of an empty tomb, we can know again that because He lives He truly is the resurrection and life, “and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die” (Jn 11:26). That the craziness and churn of this world are but temporary while He is eternal. And thus, His peace is our peace.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.”   ~ Jesus

(John 14:27 ESV)

He shall be our peace. He is our peace.

Let’s look deep in the manger and know the peace given. Let’s keep an eye to the sky and anticipate the peace to come.

By His grace. For His glory.

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To What Lengths Would God Go?

Posted on December 10, 2018 by Pete

There’s an irony in Jonah that has a way of making me smile. For example, Jonah self-identifies as a “a Hebrew, and I fear the LORD, the God of heaven” (1:9). Yet, when told by the God of heaven he “fears” to go east, Jonah goes west. On the other hand, his pagan cruise mates who are open to calling out to any god who might benefit them, when they hear of Jonah’s God, they “feared the LORD exceedingly, and they offered a sacrifice to the LORD and made vows” (1:16). Funny . . . not ha ha, but weird. Kind of ironic.

And then there’s Jonah’s pouting. After having exited Tarshish Cruise Lines and being redirected to Nineveh via Big Fish Excursions; and after obeying God’s command to call the wicked Ninevites to repentance; and after seeing them actually repent; Jonah’s bummed because he thought they deserved judgment. And here’s the other make-me-smile part:

But it displeased Jonah exceedingly, and he was angry. And he prayed to the LORD and said, “O LORD, is not this what I said when I was yet in my country? That is why I made haste to flee to Tarshish; for I knew that You are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relenting from disaster.”

(Jonah 4:1-2 ESV)

“I knew it!” says a spitting mad Jonah. “I just knew that if I obeyed, and they believed, then You’d relent. That’s just the sort of thing You’d do because You are gracious, merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. Aaargghh! I just knew it!” Funny. Maybe even “ha ha” funny. Definitely weird funny. Kind of ironic.

You pause and noodle for a minute after reading Jonah and you can’t help but think, to what lengths will a gracious, merciful, abounding in love God go to so that He might rescue a people in need of rescuing?

And then I turned to my reading in John’s gospel and realized I hadn’t seen anything yet.

The high priest then questioned Jesus about His disciples and His teaching. Jesus answered Him, “I have spoken openly to the world. I have always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret. Why do you ask Me? Ask those who have heard Me what I said to them; they know what I said.” When He had said these things, one of the officers standing by struck Jesus with his hand, saying, “Is that how You answer the high priest?”

(John 18:19-22 ESV)

One of the officers standing by Jesus struck Him.

What was it for the Father to see that dust ball strike His eternal Son? Did the crack of that man’s hand on the Creator’s face reverberate into heaven? Did it require the hand of God to restrain the holy angels from instinctively swooping down and exacting some justified tit-for-tat? On earth the Savior’s face started to welt. But in heaven did they begin to weep?

To what lengths would a gracious and merciful God go to in order to redeem people of darkness? How far would a slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love God allow Himself to be pushed so that He could rescue enemies enslaved in the bondage of sin?

The Son was struck by a sinner. The King of kings was mocked by a mob. He for whom the crown was destined, first endured the cross. The Lord of heaven was birthed into our world to be the Lamb of God to take away the sin of the world.

Nothing funny about that. But only that which invokes awe and adoration.

Jesus, the greater Jonah. Perfectly obedient to the Father’s will. Heralding good news. Despising the shame for the joy that many would believe. Even if it meant being in the heart of the earth for three days (Matt. 12:39-41).

Jesus, the personification of the lengths to which God would go to show mercy and grace. His last hours before the cross declaring what it looks like for God to be slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

Oh come let us adore Him!

Because of grace. For His glory.

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Doesn’t Have To Be the Loneliest Number

Posted on December 7, 2018 by Pete

One . . . One . . . One! So the bell peals as I read this morning. So the drum beats out the rhythm. The repetition unmistakable.

And the band of my youth had it wrong. One doesn’t have to be the loneliest number.

“I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in Me through their word, that they may all be one, just as You, Father, are in Me, and I in You, that they also may be in Us, so that the world may believe that you have sent Me. The glory that You have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as We are one, I in them and You in Me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that You sent Me and loved them even as You loved Me.”   ~ Jesus

(John 17:20-23 ESV)

On the night Jesus was betrayed, not only did He speak last words to His disciples, but He prayed a great prayer to His Father for His disciples. He prayed for those the Father had given Him “out of the world.” For those who kept His word. Those who Jesus called “mine.” Those the world would hate because they were no longer of the world. Those who Jesus would sanctify, and sanctify in the truth.

And what would be their greatest protection against the world? What would be the vehicle of their sanctification in truth? How would they make known to a lost world the reality of a living Savior? By being one.

Three times in my reading today, another time in John 17:11, Jesus, when praying to the Father for His own, prays that “they may be one even as We are one.”

So I’m chewing on the wonder of Christian unity this morning. Noodling on the fact that, of all the things Jesus could have asked His Father for to protect His own; to enable His own to go and make disciples; and to use His own to make His name known; what Jesus asks for repeatedly is that “they may become perfectly one.”

Three parties becoming one. The Father in the Son. The Son in the Father. His disciples in Them through the Spirit. Oh, that makes four parties. Father, Son, Spirit, and Saved.

How foreign, in so many ways, to our individualistic culture. A culture where one really is the loneliest number. A culture where the needs of the one are often paramount. Where the schedule of the one often takes priority. Causing the coming together of a bunch of ones to create tension and struggle as their solo focus competes rather than compliments. Community becoming secondary . . . or even tertiary . . . or even voluntary . . . to one’s calendar.

And so Jesus prayed for those who believe, let them be one. Perfectly one. Complete in unity. Trinity type unity.

And, how come? That the glory Jesus is ready to manifest through us, the same glory the Father gave Him, might be known. So that, in seeing something of that perfect glory through imperfect people who love one another, the world might know that the Father has sent the Son. Evidenced through His people. Seen in their one-ness.

One doesn’t’ have to be the loneliest number. One can be the holiest number. The holiest number, one.

Oh that God’s people would be moved to prioritizing God’s people. Not that we would be insular. Not to retreat into our own religious community centers. But to be one, as the Father and Son and Spirit are one, so that the glory of the one God in us would be manifest through us.

“By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” ~ Jesus

(John 13:35 ESV)

By His grace. For His glory.

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Jehovah-Asah

Posted on December 6, 2018 by Pete

What’s in a name? A lot when it comes to the name of Jehovah. The Jehovah names of God . . . been years since I studied them. But I think I recognize most of them most of the time when I encounter them.

Jehovah-Jireh – the LORD will Provide (Gen. 22:14)
Jehovah-Rapha – the LORD who heals (Ex. 15:26)
Jehovah-Nissi – the LORD is my banner (Ex. 17:15)
Jehovah-Shalom – the LORD is peace (Ju. 6:24)
Jehovah-Raah – the LORD my shepherd (Ps. 23:1)
Jehovah-Tsidkenu – the LORD is our righteousness (Jer. 23:6)
Jehovah-Shammah – the LORD is there (Ezek. 48:35)

But there’s one (I think) that I encountered this morning in Amos which I don’t think I’ve ever seen included in any list.

Now, I’m no Hebrew scholar, or even a student of the original languages, I just go by what the lexicons in my bible program tell me. So don’t know for sure that linguistically it fits. But sure sounds like it could.

“In that day I will raise up the booth of David that is fallen and repair its breaches, and raise up its ruins and rebuild it as in the days of old, that they may possess the remnant of Edom and all the nations who are called by My name,” declares the LORD who does this.

(Amos 9:11-12 ESV)

The LORD who does this. Jehovah-Asah (pronounced aw-saw). That’s what I’m chewing on this morning.

Amos wraps up with a promise. A promise that after the judgment of Israel there will be the restoration of Israel. That after God tears down, He will raise up. After He has destroyed, He will rebuild. A promise spoken by Jehovah, the LORD. The LORD who does this. Jehovah-Asah.

Reminding me that our God is a God of doing. A God of making. A God of accomplishing.

He creates a world. He chooses a people. He redeems those in bondage. He changes hearts of stone into hearts of flesh. He translates souls from darkness into light. He clothes with robes of righteousness. He restores those who go astray. He even sets a table for those He invites to attend His Son’s marriage supper. He is the LORD who does this.

While He is patient, He is not passive. While He is longsuffering, He is not lifeless. Though seated in heaven, He is not sitting on the sidelines. Our God is not slack concerning His promises (2Pet. 3:9). He is Jehovah-Asah, the LORD who does this.

And knowing that about our God, we can rest knowing the work He has begun in us HE WILL complete in us, for He is Jehovah-Asah. That if He says His power will be manifest in our weakness, then IT WILL. ‘Cause He’s Jehovah-Asah. That if He says He has gone to prepare a place for us and will come again for us, IT’S GONNA HAPPEN. How can we know that with such certainty? It’s who our God is. He is Jehovah-Asah, the LORD who does this.

Add whatever other promise of God comes to mind, and then rejoice. For He will do it! It’s who He is!

How great is our God? Pretty . . . .

Jehovah-Asah. Gonna chew on that for bit.

Because of grace. For His glory.

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No Delight in Going Through the Motions

Posted on December 5, 2018 by Pete

I’m chewing on a few verses in Amos this morning.

Don’t recall having ever put fingers-to-keyboard concerning something in Amos’s prophecy before so I went and did a search in my e-journal. One entry back in December 2010. So it’s been awhile.

Maybe these verses in Amos have caught my attention because, as I’m also reading in Revelation, the church of Laodecia, the church of the lukewarm, is still fresh in my mind. Or, maybe it’s just because the Spirit is having me pause over this divine reality this morning: there’s no delight in going through the motions.

“I hate, I despise your feasts, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them; and the peace offerings of your fattened animals, I will not look upon them. Take away from me the noise of your songs; to the melody of your harps I will not listen. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”

(Amos 5:21-24 ESV)

Aye yai yai!

Or should I say, I, I, I!

That’s what caught my attention–what I learn about God. The God who says, “I hate, I despise. I take no delight. I will not accept. I will not look upon. I will not listen.” And what is the object of God’s seemingly visceral negative reaction? His people going through the motions.

I think I sometimes forget that during the latter days of Israel and Judah, though many, many had turned their backs on their God, they hadn’t stopped “going to church.” They still celebrated the feasts. They still assembled together on the Sabbath. They still “obeyed” with burnt offerings, grain offerings, and–crazy to even say it–were still bringing peace offerings. All the while they continued to strike up the band and sing songs of worship. Somehow thinking that going through the motions was going to move God.

Well, in a sense it did. God was moved to indignation. Even using the “h” word (hate). By day they were in bed with the world, lusting after its idols, pursuing its pleasures, marching to the beat of its drummer. And then, somehow thinking they could “come home” each night (or once a week . . . or a few times a month) as long as they continued, to some degree, walking through God’s given rituals. Ah . . . no!

And I shudder at the thought that sin can so deceive, that idols can so desensitize, that somehow God’s people think that, if they but go through the motions, God is somehow placated concerning their unfaithfulness. That we mistake His patience for His approval. We presume on His grace and see it as the go ahead to keep doing what we’re doing. When in fact, He takes no delight . . . He will not accept . . . He will not look upon . . . He will not listen . . . to us simply going through the motions.

Thinkin’ that’s why Jesus said to Laodicea, “So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth.” (Rev. 3:16).

Instead, God wants religion that’s real. Justice rolling down like waters. Righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.  Righteousness, not of our own making or produced by our own efforts, but righteousness that comes from real abiding in His finished work and an authentic response of obedience to His call to follow Him. Feasts held, assemblies assembled, offerings offered, and songs sung with hearts devoted and attuned to the God in our midst.

And that, by His grace. And for His glory.

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