The Lifter of My Head

When I took my first creative writing class in college, I remember the professor stating that writers write what they know.  I interpreted this to mean that my past and present, life experiences serve as the reservoir for ideas.  Another suitable image is that of a well dug deep in the earth.  Good writing evokes truthful portrayals of life’s most basic emotions and experiences: growing up, sorrow, love, betrayal, getting old, and death.  There are more that I could have stated, but those are enough to convey the point.  I cannot remember who said “if you want to write about mankind, write about a man.”  The point behind this statement has to do with being specific.

All of this brings me to the wonderful, Old Testament (OT) book called the Psalms.  These hymns, songs, and poems represent hearts poured out onto the page.  Someone took the time to write out his emotions without realizing that they would be collected together and canonized as divine scripture.  Most of the Psalms read like a personal diary that one keeps in his or her nightstand by the bed.  I am not sure that I would want any of my journal entries canonized as Holy Writ for all to read, sing, and study.  It feels like being completely nude in front of a stadium crowd.

Many of the Psalms spawned from the anguished life of King David.  Some were written by men before, during, or after the king’s life; however, those represent a tiny fraction.  King David contributed the lion’s share of the Psalms.  This suggests that this OT book functions like a memoir or diary of the king’s life.  Some Psalms convey King David at the peak of his rule and reign over the kingdom of Israel.  There are others that portray him at his lowest points.  A few of the Psalms illustrate King David expressing both of those extremes.  For example, the third Psalm seems to fit that bill.

The historical backdrop of Psalm three is a real pressure cooker.  King David flees the kingdom of Israel because his own son, Absalom, seeks his life and those of his mighty men.  Absalom has declared himself ruler and king right under his father’s nose.  He accomplished this through enlisting the support of disgruntled citizens who entered Jerusalem by its main gate (2 Samuel 15:1-12, ESV).  If things were not bad enough, one of King David’s most trusted counselors, Ahithophel, joined Absalom’s conspiracy (2 Sam. 15:12, 31, ESV).  Betrayal is a strong theme in the account recorded for us in second Samuel.  Ironically, that is not King David’s focus in Psalm three.

When reading through the third Psalm, it is important to notice that verses 1-2 and 7-8 function as bookends.  This pair relates by way of contrasting the wicked speaking lies that the Lord does not save and King David’s heartfelt plea for the Lord’s salvation.  Between the bookends lies two verse pairs: 3-4 and 5-6.  King David expresses profound faith, hope, and trust in the Lord for deliverance, preservation, and protection.  My main focus will be on the following verse pair:

“But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.  I cried aloud to the Lord, and he answered me from his holy hill” (Psalm 3:3-4, ESV).

Because this section starts out with the conjunction but right away, this reveals to the reader that these two verses contrast the preceding ones.  King David cries out to the Lord in verses 1-2 that his enemies are too numerous, and that they taunt him regarding his trust in the Lord.  Something reminds the king that the Lord is his protector or shield.  King David goes on to declare that the Lord is the lifter of his head.  This carries with it a notion of restoration or rejuvenation.  It suggests that prior to this lifting of the head King David had been in a state of emotional despondency, or like one who is cast down, defeated.  The very next verse reveals that the king cried out to the Lord for deliverance and he answered him.

Unlike King David, I am not experiencing a life-threatening situation brought about by a close family member.  It is clear to me that there are spiritual principles contained within the third Psalm that apply today.  This must be the case or else it is pointless for it to be Holy Writ.  One takeaway from verses 3-4 is the importance of speaking out the truth of the Lord in prayer.  It sounds simple at first, but it really grounds our prayers.  If I do not trust the Lord for who he is, then there is no reason to seek him for wisdom, protection, and deliverance.  Another point of application has to do with pouring out my heart to the Lord.  King David states that he cried aloud to the Lord.  I doubt that he maintained his composure and talked in a monotone voice.  It seems to me that the king lets it all hang out in the Lord’s presence.

If I bring Psalm three into the 21st Century, I could say that King David may have beat a pillow, screamed into it, or done both.  The main point here is the expression of raw emotions in the Lord’s presence.  King David exhibited the willingness to engage with his Lord in this way.  The king of Israel does not care how he looks and sounds.  He is desperate for the Lord’s salvation.  Am I bearing all of my heart to the Lord in prayer?  Do I exhibit something like desperation to the Lord over the dire circumstances in my life?  What will it take for me to cry aloud to the Lord like King David?  Should I even need to have circumstances develop to such an extent that raw and heartfelt prayers come out for the first time?

 

 

A Story to Tell Others

Yesterday I posted three stanzas from Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s masterpiece, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.  I read this amazing poem for the first time during my college years.  It blew apart my mind.  At the time, I concluded that Coleridge had crafted a redemption story in verse form.  Boy did he pull it off, too.  The Rime of the Ancient Mariner ranks as one of the best examples of the literary movement known as British Romanticism; consequently, it ranks among the finest works in all of literature.  Coleridge’s poem is the inspiration for the adage, “to have an albatross around one’s neck.”

I do not recall if my college peers picked up on the redemption message contained within Coleridge’s poem.  It seemed obvious to me back then, and it still jumps off the page each time I read The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.  Truth be told, no two readers see the same things in a poem, a novel, you name it.  This reminds me of the contract scene in A Night at the Opera where Groucho says to Chico, “I can read it, but I can see it.”  All joking aside, the idea of seeing in order to make art, or seeing in order to perceive art, is a topic for another discussion.  Space, time, and purpose prevent me from delving into the relationship between art and seeing.

Here is what I want to discuss, which does relate to The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.  Rather than quote the same stanzas like I did in yesterday’s entry, I will summarize their context.  Toward the end of the poem, the Mariner encounters an old hermit, who asks him what sort of man he is.  It is a simple question, but immensely pregnant with meaning.  Up to this point, the Mariner has been through hell and back so to speak; therefore, the last thing that he wants to do is relive the ordeal.  The irony here is that telling his story to the hermit is the very thing that frees the Mariner to move forward.  This is not unlike men and women today who find release, hope, and freedom from their past as they share their stories with others.

Back to Coleridge’s poem, the Mariner embarks on a new journey: sharing his tale with others along the way.   He cannot remain silent about it even though the memories are painful.  The Mariner’s motivation for teaching others about his tale stems from a burning desire in his heart.  Keeping silent only adds to the agony.  The story needs to come out.  It is no longer the Mariner’s to hideaway greedily.  He must give it away to others for their freedom and his:

“Since then, at an uncertain hour,

That agony returns:

And till my ghastly tale is told,

This heart within me burns.

“I pass, like night, from land to land;

I have strange power of speech;

That moment that his face I see,

I know the man that must hear me:

To him my tale I teach.”

(Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Book VII, revised version, 1817)

These two stanzas depict the inner drive of the Mariner to share his adventure.  He realizes that there is power behind his speech.  When the Mariner characterizes it as strange, this suggests that the power is not of his own making.  Someone or something else seems to be driving his actions.  Along the way, he gains discernment and insight into those individuals who are ripe for his message.  If I may venture out onto a limb at this point, it seems to me that Coleridge evokes a strong parallel between the Mariner and a few Old Testament prophets.  For example, take a look at these words spoken by the Jeremiah the prophet:

“If I say, ‘I will not mention him, or speak any more in his name,’ there is in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot.” (Jeremiah 20:9, ESV)

Nearly 2000 years before Coleridge, Jeremiah lived a rough life as God’s messenger facing the scorn and abuse from family, friends, fellow prophets, and priests.  He walked a path that set him apart from the surrounding culture.  His attempts at keeping silent about God’s message only stirred up the fire inside of him.  It is this last point that bears striking resemblance to the Mariner.  When he kept silent about his message, it burned inside of him like Jeremiah.  Both the Mariner and Jeremiah needed to speak their message.  Of course, these similarities hint toward Coleridge’s familiarity with the Old Testament.  According to the Poetry Foundation’s page, Coleridge immersed himself in the Unitarian church during the 1790s giving lectures and sermons.

It is also true that Coleridge’s father was a minister, so he grew up around the Bible, too.  I do not want to stretch the one-to-one comparison too much between the Mariner and Jeremiah.  What I will say is that there seems to be a strong undercurrent of it within those two stanzas.  In many ways, Coleridge does not portray anything new or earth shattering about the Mariner’s drive to share his story.  Rather, he provides the reader with a vivid and fresh expression to an old principle, Biblical one, too.  It could be that one aspect of Coleridge’s poem is akin to a sermon.  He is the Mariner who must convey his story or message to those around him.  Like the prophet Jeremiah, Coleridge walked an existence filled with hardship, which grounded and fueled his message.  His poem oozes with struggle and turmoil while holding out the reality of redemption.  Coleridge is like the Mariner who is like Jeremiah.

I see bits of myself in Coleridge, the Mariner, and Jeremiah.  When it comes to writing, there is a fire that burns inside of me.  There is a story, a message, or truth, aching to be expressed in full.  Beyond the artistic work lies someone and something greater than the story or the message.  According to the Scriptures, the master storyteller orchestrates human history.  He is the author of any and all good in this life.  Now, his thoughts, ways, and means far exceed our ability to understand or to know them in full; however, the Lord has disclosed to his people that a day is coming when this will no longer be the case (1 John 3:2-3, ESV).  It is glorious, magnificent, and sobering.  I really am so ignorant about all that God does and continues to do for me.  Nothing can thwart his purpose of conforming the redeemed into the image of his son (Romans 8:29, ESV).

Inspired by the Old Testament

Two weeks ago, I sat with my bible and a cup of Assam tea while reading through the Old Testament (OT) book of Deuteronomy.  I am following a chronological reading plan by George Guthrie.  When I came across this verse, the wheels in my mind began turning:

“To the Lord your God belong the heavens, even the highest heavens, the earth and everything in it” (Deuteronomy 10:14, NIV).

I told myself that this passage sounds very familiar, especially the portion that I placed in boldface type.  My gut told me that there was a Psalm that used this wording.  One of things that I love about living in the Twenty-first Century is the accessibility of information over the internet.  Because I wanted to be sure about my hunch, I searched for the phrase “…everything in it” on the Bible Gateway website.  Sixteen verses came up, but only one fit the bill:

“The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it; for he founded it on the seas and established it on the waters” (Psalm 24:1-2, NIV).

Thus begins one of the most glorious Psalms about the majesty and holiness of the Lord.  Most OT scholars worth their salt attribute the twenty-fourth Psalm to King David.  His Spirit-inspired words sprang up from the pages of Deuteronomy penned by Moses, whom many in Judaism still view as Israel’s greatest prophet.  When David wrote the twenty-fourth Psalm, the only Bible in existence in his day was the Pentateuch or the Torah, also known as the five books of Moses.  Why is that significant?  Permit me to go one step further before answering that question.  I am a New Covenant, Gentile believer instead of an Old Covenant, Israelite like King David.  My Bible not only includes the Torah, but thirty-four additional OT books and twenty-seven that make up the New Testament (NT).

I have in my possession the fullest account of God’s divine revelation.  It is greater than what King David had in his day; however, rarely do I find an ounce of inspiration from the Torah like him.  Think about this for a minute.  King David wrote a worship song based on reading through the Torah.  I suppose that sounds like a miracle all by itself.  Here is more evidence that Israel’s greatest king drew inspiration from the Torah.  He begins the twenty-fourth Psalm with the independent clause, “the earth is the Lord’s.”  When one searches for it using Bible Gateway, the only other OT reference is in the book of Exodus.  This is what it says: “Moses said to [Pharaoh], ‘As soon as I have gone out of the city, I will stretch out my hands to the Lord.  The thunder will cease, and there will be no more hail, so that you may know that the earth is the Lord‘s'” (Exodus 9:29, ESV).

It is clear from the context of the Exodus passage that God’s majesty is on display to Pharaoh and all of Egypt in his restraint of the thunder and hail.  In fact, God’s purpose behind the ten plagues had been to demonstrate his sovereign control over creation to the nations of Israel and Egypt and its ruler, Pharaoh (Exodus 7:2-5, ESV).  King David saw God’s glory jump out at him as he read about Israel’s redemption and deliverance from the hand of Pharaoh and the Egyptians.  The first verse of his Psalm, “the earth is the Lord’s and everything in it,” is essentially a combination of the two references found in Exodus 9:29 and Deuteronomy 10:14.  King David is a remarkable poet, but he did not come up with that verse.  God spoke it first to Moses.  Has King David understood and seen more with less revelation than I have?  For me, large portions of the Torah are downright tedious, especially the tribal lists in Numbers or the details concerning the Levitical sacrifices.

To be fair, I’m beginning to see immense spiritual value in the book of Leviticus, which eluded me in the past.  The jury is still out on whether or not I could find enough inspiration like David to compose a poem in praise to the Lord.  Maybe I am being a little too hard on myself.  It is true that I live in a different period within redemptive history than King David.  He lived thousands of years before Christ, and I live thousands of years after him.  This partially explains my disconnect with the OT let alone the Torah; however, the simple fact is that both King David and me worship the same Lord.  One day we will sit together at the Lord’s table in the consummated Kingdom (Matthew 8:11, ESV).  It seems to me that I need to start seeing God’s glory in the Torah like my spiritual ancestor.  The apostle Paul states on two occasions in first Corinthians that the OT contains necessary instruction for believers in the New Covenant era (1 Corinthians 10:6 & 11, ESV).

Those thirty-nine books of the OT are as divinely inspired as the twenty-seven that comprise the new.  The Torah is every bit as inerrant, authoritative, sufficient, necessary, and clear as the gospel accounts of the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords.  Dr. Luke reminds all readers of his gospel that Jesus asserted the OT’s divine inspiration and disclosure of his life and ministry to two disciples on the road to Emmaus: “And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself” (Luke 24:27, ESV).  Before he ascended to the right hand of the Father, Christ reminded the eleven apostles of the same truth that he told the disciples on the road to Emmaus: “…everything written about me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled…” (Luke 24:44 & 46, ESV).

King David saw God’s glory in the Torah, which became the basis for his twenty-fourth Psalm.  The apostle Paul taught the Corinthian believers that the OT contained vital truths for their growth and life in the church.  Jesus revealed to his disciples and apostles that the OT proclaims him.  This brings to mind another key point.  When Jesus spoke his words to the apostles, the OT was all they had to read and study.  Those Corinthian believers most likely had access to some of the first books of the NT; however, their Bible was not complete as it consisted mainly of the OT.  It was their Bible for worship and study about their new lives in Christ.  Consider this statement for a moment.  The first Christians taught the gospel from the OT.  Does that sound strange?  I think it does, and it needs to be rectified.

Intro to the Kingdom Parables of Matthew 13

Nearly every biblical scholar believes that the purpose behind Matthew’s gospel is to portray Jesus as Israel’s Messiah.  This is one of the reasons for the genealogy found in Matthew 1:1-17.   It starts off with the foremost patriarch in Israel’s history, father Abraham. Then it focuses on the line of Judah, who was Israel’s fourth son, blessed with the right to rule over his brothers and from whom the future Messiah would come (Genesis 49:8-12, ESV).  Several generations after Judah, a shepherd boy became Israel’s greatest king.  He destroyed his people’s greatest threat in Goliath while establishing the most peaceful reign throughout Israel’s history.  King David occupies the highest position out of all of Israel’s earthly kings; however, his reign foreshadows a time to come where a future descendant of his would sit on his throne in splendor and might (2 Samuel 7:12-16, ESV).

The gospel writer meticulously navigates Jesus’ lineage from David down to his parents, Mary and Joseph.  Matthew’s efforts establish two things right up front: 1.) Jesus is a descendant of King David and of Judah, which is the kingly line; and 2.) Because Jesus descends from Judah, this makes him the son of Abraham, an Israelite by birth.  Basically, Matthew’s genealogy demonstrates that Jesus is of royal stock and a true Israelite.  This elaborate presentation of our Lord’s ancestry raises another key point, which bubbles underneath the surface of Matthew’s gospel.  The Jewish people are the gospel writer’s intended audience.  These are men and women who know their heritage and the Torah.  At the risk of pretension, I view the gospel of Matthew as a Jewish one, or a message steeped in Jewish history and culture.  I can hear the objection ringing in my ears.  “What does this have to do with the kingdom parables found in Matthew thirteen?”  It thrills me to no end that you asked this question.

In the original Greek, the word parabole translates into parables in English.  It has several uses depending upon the context.  When one examines a Greek concordance, the predominant use of the word parabole pertains to a story or narrative that illustrates a central truth.  Whenever the word parabole pops up in the four gospels, this word means that Jesus employs a story to convey a key truth either with respect to the kingdom of heaven or its king.  Because Matthew portrays Jesus as the Messiah, then it follows that his gospel narrative provides many examples of Jesus using parables to teach something about the nature of his kingdom and himself.  It is my view that the kingdom parables of Matthew thirteen do not provide instruction for how one lives in the kingdom.  Our Lord’s sermon on the mount in Matthew chapters five through seven serves as the believer’s manual for kingdom living.  Matthew thirteen offers Jesus’ most concentrated teaching on the Messiah and his kingdom.

Now, I must include something about the purpose of the kingdom parables from Jesus’ perspective and Matthew, the writer.  Our Lord makes a crucial distinction between his disciples and the crowds.  He explains to his disciples that they have been granted to know the secrets of the kingdom instead of those in the crowd (Matthew 13:10-11, ESV).  At first glance this comes off as preferential treatment, but Jesus develops his response even further by pointing out that his parables and the crowds’ response to them fulfills Old Testament scripture (Matthew 13:13-15, ESV).  The difference between the disciples and the crowd has to do with the former’s relationship with Jesus.  This enables the disciples to have open hearts to the Lord’s message, which paves the way to receive his kingdom truths.  Their open hearts lead them to having the ears to hear his kingdom truths, and the eyes to see those truths.

When it comes to the crowds, they do not know Jesus.  He confirms this fact by citing the words of Israel’s greatest recorder of prophecy, Isaiah the prophet, which are found in Isaiah 6:9-10.  This particular passage resides within a larger section of scripture, which depicts God the Father calling for a prophet, Isaiah’s response to the Father’s call, and his being sent by the Father to prophesy to the nation of Israel.  From my perspective, the parallels between Isaiah and Christ are too obvious to miss.   Both men are sent with the Father’s message for an obstinate people.  History tells us that Isaiah died as a martyr.  The same thing takes place with our Lord.  I believe that Jesus knew these parallels, and intended to point them out to his disciples.  The striking thing to realize is that Isaiah penned his words about 700 years before Jesus uses them.  Apparently, nothing really changed among the people of Israel from Isaiah’s day to the time of Christ.

The apostle Matthew asserts that Jesus fulfills Old Testament prophecy by teaching in parables.  He comments “that [Jesus’ teaching] was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet: ‘I will open my mouth in parables; I will utter what has been hidden since the foundation of the world'” (Matthew 13:35, ESV).  Matthew’s citation comes from the book of Psalms in the seventy-eighth chapter and second verse.  He uses this passage to demonstrate that Jesus uses parables precisely for the purpose of revealing truths about the kingdom, which had been hidden or veiled by the Father.  The unique thing about Psalm seventy-eight is that it traces the Father’s guidance of Israel throughout history.  Toward the end of this Psalm, the writer references King David leading God’s people like a shepherd (Psalm 78:70-72, ESV).  I submit to my readers that this points to Christ himself as the one, true shepherd of Israel.

Finally, here are some quick hits about the thirteenth chapter of Matthew.  It contains seven parables, but a good argument could be made that Jesus’ account of the kingdom scribe is an eighth one (Matthew 13:52, ESV).  He delivers the first four parables to a mixed audience: the crowd and the disciples.  Jesus speaks the other three (or four) parables only in the presence of the disciples.  The Lord interprets only two of the seven or (eight) parables for them, which is a huge bummer.  There has been so much ink spilled over the ones left uninterpreted by Jesus.  Over the next week, I will examine these kingdom parables.  It is my sense that our Lord desires for us to see something about the nature of his king and his kingdom.

Always Seeing and Never Believing

Always seeing and never believing describes the people of Israel in the wilderness.  Out of the thousands initially delivered from bondage to Egypt, two men crossed the Jordan River into the Promised Land.  Joshua and Caleb led the nation of Israel into the land of Canaan.  Both men witnessed the Lord’s exacting judgment upon Israel’s unbelief.  At or around eighty years of age, Joshua and Caleb were far from being spring chickens.  They were old men, but God’s Spirit kept them young at heart.

Whenever I read through the book of Numbers, I wonder what unbelieving Israel makes of Joshua and Caleb.  The Lord declared through Moses that none of the adult generation would see the land of promise.  Immediately after this word of judgment, a plague struck down the ten spies who stirred up their brothers and sisters into unbelief and rebellion.  Because of this sudden act of judgment, the people hastily entered the land of promise only to be attacked and pursued by the Canaanites.  After this defeat, the harsh desert remained before them.

Joshua and Caleb do not make an appearance until near the end of Numbers.  One by one, they watch their fellow brothers and sisters die in the wilderness according to the word of the Lord.  Some of their countrymen raise themselves up against Moses and Aaron such as Korah, Dathan, and Abiram.  These three men gathered their families and allies to head back to Egypt.  The very next day, the earth opened up beneath the tents of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram.  Many of the people screamed in terror at the sight of the earth swallowing up their countrymen.  It was a harrowing display of judgment.

Nevertheless, the people grumble and oppose Moses the very next day, which leads to a plague breaking out over the camp.  In the midst of this severe judgment, the Lord demonstrates great mercy toward the Israelites as Aaron heads out into the camp with a censer to halt the plague.  Nearly 15,000 people lost their lives.  Once again, the Lord proves himself and his word true to all.  No doubt these various incidents may have confirmed to Joshua and Caleb their standing before the Lord.  It seems like the people suffered from severe short-term memory loss.  Always seeing and never believing…much of the Israelites’ experiences in the wilderness could have been avoided by simple faith in God.

Nowhere in the book of Numbers does the writer indicate the musings or ruminations of Joshua and Caleb.  Everything I could say is pure speculation.  Did Joshua and Caleb experience affirmation and confirmation of their union with the Lord each time he distinguished between those for him and against him?  Each time these judgments took place, did the unbelieving Israelites ever second guess their decision?  These questions intrigue the mind and heart, but the biblical narrative remains silent.  For all I know, the rebellious Israelites probably did not care at all about God or Moses or their conscience.  The sad fact remains that most of them failed to live by faith (Habakkuk 2:4, ESV).

The Big Picture View

Thomas Schreiner is a professor of New Testament at the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky. He is well regarded in all circles for his scholarship. Through Baker Publishing, Schreiner published The King in his Beauty in 2013. This is on my ever increasing book list, especially on the subject of biblical theology. In this video clip, Schreiner gives a brief plug for understanding how the sixty-six books fit together into a cohesive whole. There is a relationship between the Old and New Testaments. The question always comes down to the extent of that relationship.

The Messiah’s Portrait in the Old Testament

“If any one of the prophets had conceived the whole idea of Messiah’s character, and all the circumstances of his birth, passion, and death, although improbable, it might perhaps have been possible to sketch an outline so like real life in its ordinary phases, as to find a fulfillment in some individual of the people amongst whom he lived.  Sagacity, combined with study of the national character and circumstances, might enable an acute observer to conjecture the rise of some illustrious individual, and his influence upon the world. But no skill in poetic portraiture, no acuteness of observation, or power of human forecast, can enter into the details of family, birthplace, place of education, and all the unusual circumstances of a strange and violent death and burial, such as we see in the history of Jesus, nor even offer a conjecture concerning them.  But that many individuals, living at different periods of time, all professing to be prophets, should offer conjectures as to the life of one and the same individual who was to appear hundreds of years after their decease, and should succeed by a number of independent conjectures in forming a prophetic portrait of that individual’s history–each giving some circumstance that the other omits, is totally beyond the limits of possibility.

“The ordinary course of events might fulfill some of the conditions of the prophecy, but a complete agreement in so many and unlooked-for particulars proves design as certainly as a perfect similitude between a picture and a human being would prove that the one was the original of the other.  And here it is particularly to be remarked that the fulfillment is not mystical.  It is not by a doubtful interpretation of dark enigmas, or a skillful adaptation of symbolic imagery, that the likeness is obtained.  The coincidence between the prophecies of a Messiah and the history of Jesus of Nazareth is obvious to the view of the most careless, and rests altogether upon the plain grammatical sense of the prophecies, so that in some cases it can be evaded only by a departure from the simple meaning, and a mystification of the prophetic declarations.”

 

(Alexander McCaul, “The Messiahship of Jesus,” Lecture III, p6, 1852)

 

Racing against Horses

Here’s the scene. The King has given you a message to proclaim to those in the surrounding country (Jeremiah 1:4-5, ESV). He warned you in advance that the citizens of this country and your family would persecute you, beat you, imprison you, but they would not overcome you (Jer. 1:18-19, ESV). Why is that the case? The King promised to be with you wherever you go. In fact, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the King called and commissioned you for this mission (Jer. 1:4,9,11,13-14, ESV).

At some point in your ministry, you cry out to the King over the widespread injustices taking place all over the land (Jer. 12:1-2, ESV). You observe the wicked thriving and prospering at the expense of their neighbor, the animals and nature (Jer. 12:4, ESV). These wicked men openly blaspheme the King you serve wholeheartedly (Jer. 12:4b, ESV). Instead of bringing them to justice, you observe the King testing your character, proving your faithfulness to him (Jer. 12:3, ESV).

Deep within you comes a cry for justice, for the King to act in accordance with his righteousness (Jer. 12:1, ESV). You’re his servant, his messenger to the surrounding people. The King grants you an audience with him for this particular complaint. He waits until you finish. You breath in deeply and notice that your emotions settle. The King peers at you with his piercing eyes full of grace and truth. He speaks the following gentle, but firm words straight to your heart:

“So, Jeremiah, if you’re worn out in this footrace with men, what makes you think you can race against horses? And if you can’t keep your wits during times of calm, what’s going to happen when troubles break loose like the Jordan in flood” (Jeremiah 12:5, MSG)?

“If you have raced with men on foot, and they have wearied you, how will you compete with horses? And if in a safe land you are so trusting, what will you do in the thicket of the Jordan” (Jeremiah 12:5, ESV)?

Now you’re mind spins like a top. You know that it is rude to reply to a question with a question; however, this one unnerves you. After all, he is the King. He knows all and sees all. You can feel your chest tighten inside while your breathing becomes a little more rapid. Maybe you’re experiencing the onset of a panic attack. You think to yourself, “did I just hear my King say that it’s going to get worse before it gets better?” Right after that thought crosses your mind, your loving King leans forward a bit. He means business, but you see love staring at you. He has your attention as he speaks:

“Those closest to you, your own brothers and cousins, are working against you. They’re out to get you. They’ll stop at nothing. Don’t trust them, especially when they’re smiling” (Jeremiah 12:6, MSG).

“For even your brothers and the house of your father, even they have dealt treacherously with you; they are in full cry after you; do not believe them, though they speak friendly words to you” (Jeremiah 12:6, ESV).

The King and you trade glances for a bit. There is something about his face, his presence, that comforts you. His words might have felt like iron, but at least they came from him. He took the time to warn you…he told you what to expect rather than sugarcoat things. The tension and anxiety within your chest has subsided completely. You realize that the burning sensation in your chest is your love for the King. His mission for you hasn’t changed. You must proclaim his message to the surrounding lands. You must do this even if it means racing against horses.

Heralds of the King (aka Forerunner Messengers)

John the Baptist’s birth and life announced the coming of the Messiah. The angel Gabriel told Zechariah that his son would “…go before [the Lord] in the spirit and power of Elijah,” which referenced Old Testament prophecies found in Isaiah 40:3 and Malachi 3:1 and 4:5-6 (Luke 1:17, ESV). In each of those passages, the prophet connected the messenger or John the Baptist with the coming of the Lord. When John began his baptizing ministry in the Jordan River, several religious leaders asked him if he was the Messiah or the Prophet, but he answered a firm no (John 1:19-21, ESV). In fact, John the Baptist refused to receive any veneration or praise or acclaim, he redirected the people and the religious leaders back to the Messiah, who he exclaimed was mightier than him (Matt. 3:16; Mark 1:7; and Luke 3:16).

If John the Baptist went before the Lord to announce his coming, to prepare the way for the Lord, then it stands to reason that he accomplished his mission. The apostle John recorded such an admission by John the Baptist, who said about the Messiah that “he must increase and I must decrease” (John 3:30, ESV). Unfortunately, John’s life ended in a most harsh way as King Herod had him beheaded over a promise made to his daughter (Matt. 14:10, Mark 6:27, & Luke 9:9). King Herod stopped the King’s messenger, but not before he delivered his message. Each of the writers of the synoptic gospels recorded Jesus’s high praise of John the Baptist as being more than a prophet and the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy (Matt. 11:9-11 & Luke 7:26-28). I would love to have such a glowing endorsement from the Lord.

When the Holy Spirit came upon the apostles and the disciples at Pentecost, the church became a herald of the King like John the Baptist. The Bride of Christ became her groom’s forerunner messenger of his second coming. According to Jesus’s words in John’s gospel, he would go ahead of us in order to prepare a place for us; consequently, he later prayed to the Father about not removing the sheep from the world (John 14:3, 17:15). He left us in order to send the Holy Spirit for the capability of preaching the gospel (Acts 1:8, ESV). Peter’s sermon in Acts 2 confirmed the church’s proclamation of the gospel message to the lost. By the time the apostle Paul entered the scene, he described the Corinthian believers and by extension the church universal as ambassadors for Christ (2 Cor. 5:20, ESV).

What is an ambassador? It’s a person who represents a people or nation to others with all of the authority of that nation. The church announces the soon coming king and kingdom. She houses many heralds, many ambassadors, who carry the authority of Christ by the indwelling person and work of the Holy Spirit. Like John the Baptist, we may be lone voices crying in the wilderness. We may deliver a message that offends many. Our appearance may offend many, but that’s not our concern. Our task is to obey the Great Commission. We are to prepare the way for the Lord, and to prepare a people for the Lord. The King is coming, and he’s bringing his recompense with him. Are we ready to give our lives if necessary like John the Baptist? Do we want to hear from our master, “well done good and faithful servant?”

Celebration in the Old

Yesterday I wrote about celebrating my engagement to Charity with a portion of our family and friends. I ended the post with a passage from Jeremiah 30:19a where it says “Out of them shall come songs of thanksgiving, and the voices of those who celebrate.” The inaugurated reality of that verse took place at the party. Did we sing songs? No. Did voices celebrate in praise with words? Yes. When the wedding takes place next March, many who attended the engagement party will have their opportunity to sing praises. The mirth of that day will be glorious.

Now, it seems to me that our little party this past weekend hinted at similar gatherings in the Old Testament. In the book of Leviticus, Moses records several feasts in the twenty-third chapter. The Lord called these feasts holy convocations or worship celebrations. Each of the feasts had been spelled out by the Lord in order to give him the honor due his name. These Old Testament worship celebrations coincided with the agrarian calendar. What this means is that the celebrations were to be held at specific times throughout the year. Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthday festivities are the closest modern-day equivalents in the United States to those worship celebrations in Leviticus chapter 23.

Because the engagement party is only a one-time event Charity’s life and mine, we will have an anniversary date for our marriage. It will occur every calendar year on March 1st. For the lack of a better word, this is the appointed time or season to commemorate our union. When we reach particular anniversary, milestones in our marriage, the gathering of family and friends will take place. Those milestone moments will resemble the old testament feasts. There will be laughter, prayer, singing, food and fellowship and solemn moments. Most importantly, these celebratory moments require God at the center because he would be the reason for our union and its benefits. The same held true for the people of Israel in the Old Testament.

If the very first feast or celebration was the Passover meal, then God had a purpose for them in remembering what was done. Despite their great numbers, the Israelites had no power in themselves to break free from Egypt’s grip. In fact, the Lord told Moses and Aaron that he would harden Pharaoh’s heart prior to setting them free. God called Moses and Aaron to perform all of his words to the letter before Pharaoh and his people. When the time came for Israel’s deliverance, the Lord instituted the Passover celebration in order to remind his people of who he is and his works among them. One can only imagine the joy of freedom for God’s people. Shortly thereafter, more feasts had been added to Israel’s calendar.

Why do I mention all of this? I’m seeing the Lord orchestrate events within Charity’s life and mine, which require celebrations to remember who God is and his work in our lives. Just like the Israelites, Charity and I are powerless to affect true change in our lives. We have experienced spiritual growth and healing precisely because of God’s amazing work in Christ by the person and work of the Holy Spirit. He chose to bring us together, to deliver us from bondage to sin…He did those things for his glory and honor. It’s only right to celebrate what God has done. It’s only right to set aside time to give God the honor due his name. The best part about this is that certain events in Charity’s life and mine occur every year during the same month and day. This removes all decision stress for those particular celebrations.

During this Thanksgiving holiday, take the time to read over the twenty-third chapter of Leviticus. This Old Testament book has garnered a bad rap over the years. Because of the intense detail in performing the law, the sacrifices, and the feasts, it’s customary to skip over Leviticus due to sheer boredom. Let this time around be different. When reading over the feasts in Leviticus twenty-three, reflect on the Thanksgiving feast in your home. Will you set aside time to worship, to pray, to feast, to fellowship and to proclaim who God is and what he has done? And remember, each time anyone of those things is done over the course of this weekend, your family is doing something old, something ancient, something that goes back thousands of years…