Me and Misplaced Affections

I thank those who, like my pastor, not letting me forget the many Christian believers that are still being held in Middle Eastern prisons, the refugees still fleeing, along with those remaining who are experiencing the grotesque and tragic-rape, cutting off of heads, and torture of loved ones, friends and neighbors. I realize it's been over the last couple of years I've left myself wondering the reason for this perpetration by Islamic terrorist. Is it so horrible that I had buried my rumination when being confronted? But since a conversation with a friend and his suggestion of reading the Qur'an, I think an answer has dawned or is rising by reading numerous passages like this one of 8:12:  "Terrorize and behead those who believe in scripture other than the Qur'an."  I ask, have they no heart for "their god" or is it a irrational belief of such passages that such atrocities are committed?

Now, I open my precious Bible; the one that has comforted and been a blessing for sixty five years. I turn to the book of Judges and read all sorts of posing challenges as to any claims that I might have on it being a book of pleasant stories. I just finished reading Judges 19 where there was rape and a subsequent division of a division of the Levite's concubine into twelve pieces.  Then there is the undoing of mighty Samson, and other stories like Jephthah and his vow to offer up one of his own children as a burnt offering in Judges 11. I'm finding my Christian sensibilities being severely challenged!

On the other hand, despite these interpretive difficulties and challenges, the book of Judges is powerful in revealing the tragedy that ensues from misplaced affections. I think, perhaps it is the poignant story, in this regard.  He was born the youngest son of the smallest tribe of Israel, the half-tribe of Mannaseh. Gideon grows up in a land oppressed by the Midianites, the Amalekites and the "sons of the east." Judges 6 tells how these enemies were so numerous that they "would come in like locusts for number, both they and their camels were innumerable; and they came into the land to devastate it."

Aw! Here's where I find the reason for Gideon threshing wheat in a wine press. He's hiding from his innumerable enemy! Aw, but despite his fear, the angel of the Lord addresses him as a valiant warrior and appoints this young man as the deliverer of Israel. Sure enough, as the text informs me, Gideon and a mere three hundred men defeat the innumerable armies of their enemies. Gideon is the unlikely hero and the Israelites are so impressed by his military leadership that they seek to make him king in the eighth chapter. "Rule over us, both you and your son, also your son's son, for you have delivered us from the hand of Midian." Gideon rightly persuades these men that the Lord is their king and ruler. But the story doesn't end there. If it had, I would have never seen the weak knees of this story's hero.

I am never told why Gideon does what he does, but rather, than be rewarded by becoming king over Israel, he instead opts out for a monetary remuneration and exacts a spoil from the men who came to make him their ruler; a gold earring from each one totaling 1,700 shekels of gold. Inquisitively, I've found that amount to be roughly the equivalent of 3 million dollars. But these earrings were in addition to the spoils of war Gideon had already collected from the slain Midianites: crescent ornaments, pendants, purple robes, and even the bands from the camels' necks. And he uses this gold to craft a monument of sorts to himself—a golden ephod or decorative vestment—which he placed in his home city, Ophrah. What was he thinking? What am I thinking when I do stupid things? The text gives no hint as for the reasons for making this ornament, either. But, just like in the scenario of my dream, the other night, the outcome is disastrous. "Gideon made an ephod, and placed it in his city, Ophrah, and all Israel played the harlot with it there, so that it became a snare to Gideon and his household."

I'm tempted to chase a number of applications I think I can draw from this story, but what is most pertinent for me this morning is to recognize the warning about the perils of my misplaced affections.
Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, "A person will worship something, have no doubt about that. We may think our tribute is paid in secret in the dark recesses of our hearts, but it will out. That which dominates our imaginations and our thoughts will determine our lives, and our character. Therefore, it behooves us to be careful what we worship, for what we are worshipping we are becoming.” I've known in my mind for a long time that, eventually, what dominates my innermost thoughts and imaginations comes forth as that to which I will inevitably give my allegiance and worship. Long before I ever read Emerson, Jesus warned similarly that where my treasure is, I'll find my heart. 

Father, God, Your child approaches You this morning, humbled and asking for Your forgiveness and continued conviction as to my desire for honor becoming a snare for my family, friends and acquaintances and perpetuating their propensity towards idolatry? Subtleness and seemingly innocuousness has rocked my desires into entities I worship. I ask for Your forgiveness. May I be more mindful, during these remaining years, in rehearsing: What are my great desires, and what do they tell me about what I love?  Amen

Disappointment vs Holy Discontent

I had an occasion to ask a fella his reason for choosing the path of Christianity, when I learned he had been raised from infancy walking a total hedonistic religion. His answer, “being a Christian and going to church beats the alternative,” sent me racking my brain as to the pivotal point in my Christian worldview where I had come very uncomfortable with the hint in that line of thinking that Christianity offers favorable qualities. As we talked a bit deeper and openly about struggles and benefits of our journey experience, I discovered him to be a true brother in Christ and not unlike many other believers, held captive to the irrational and stringent (new word)  belief that a life of a believer should be void of disappointment, hurt, anger and sorrow. That thought that sometime rears it's ugly head to temp me into believing that there is something wrong with my relationship with God if discontent is dominating in this journey with Christ. Puzzling on it, I am convinced that, though the sources of my disappointment continue to very, they all have played an important role in my journey as a believer. The fact is that nothing has brought this more home to roost than the reading of Tim Keller’s book:  Walking with God through Pain and Suffering, where he relates the experiences of the earlier followers and how God makes good use of disappointment in the lives of those God loves.

In the Old Testament, God speaks of the disappointment in the hearts of the people of Israel as a signpost to truth. When I’ve wandered away from my first love, when I’ve settled for something less than God's promises, disappointment has invariably shown me the way back home. God identified the dissatisfaction among the people of ancient Israel as an indicator that all things apart from his presence will always fall short of filling their hearts. I continue to find the second chapter of Jeremiah to be filled with the imagery of inevitable disappointment for me as I seek to supplement the love of God with other pursuits:

"Now why go to Egypt

to drink water from the Shihor?

And why go to Assyria

to drink water from the River?

Why do you go about so much,

changing your ways?

You will be disappointed by Egypt

as you were by Assyria.

You will also leave that place

with your hands on your head,

for the LORD has rejected those you trust;

you will not be helped by them" Jeremiah 2:18, 36-37

I’ve been learning over the years, without exception, when I face a  disappointment I am faced with a choice. I’m tempted to be lead into futile pursuit for fulfillment or I can let it be the signpost that causes me to turn around or take a firmer grip of the Father’s hand.  I confess, though, I haven’t always allowed Him to use disappointment in my believing life.

But this type of disappointment is far different from what I might fudge and call holy discontent, the unsatisfied hunger that reminds me that I have been ushered in to a great banquet, but the feast has not fully been served. In the hands of God, this has often been an equally powerful signpost.

I often have to remind myself of Saint Augustine’s words about restlessness and dissatisfaction. There, on the very first page of his Confessions, he begins to summarize the story of his life in a single confession to God: "You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You." How many times has this line been the quality that distinguishes me as a believer from my darkened unbelieving heart from my restlessness. Yet, I don’t think this is what Augustine intended, nor do I think it is a helpful place to draw the line. Since confessing Christ I’ve not ceased to experience disappointment, drought and hints of despair. Moreover, I’m not able to read Augustine's Confessions without realizing that he saw himself as a restless soul! He saw all people this way, and for good reason, I think. As a believer, I still struggle with sin and disappointment. I’m hoping not, but tomorrow I’ll probably find myself as restless as driving away from Quiet Rest this past week. I’ll probably still long for something down the road.  I know I’ll be hungry for this or that again, discontent where I’m at or what I’m doing.  My thirst is partially satisfied this moment because I’m partially sanctified. I have, in the Spirit, a taste of what is to come. But the table of God is not fully here yet, and at times I confess I’m full of discontent at the thought of it. With all of creation, I am still groaning for restoration, reconciliation, redemption—to sit at the table that has been prepared for me and recline with the One who's prepared it.   This was vividly brought back yesterday when we viewed the movie: Let There Be Light.

I believe the rest that Augustine is talking about is eschatological rest—and of course I’m not there yet. I recognize my journey there is going to be of longing, filled with discontent that the world is not as it will be, marked by the difficulty of waiting, and the hunger for more than I have or now taste and see. But how beautiful this longing is! On the other hand, I’m seeing my disappointment as a testimony to the promise that I will rest in God, and such a signpost is an unlikely blessing in the midst of my need. I believe this is why Jesus declares throughout the beatitudes that those on the verge of disappointment, those in the grasp of pangs for something more—these are the blessed among us. Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are those who mourn, and those who are meek. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

Father, God, thank You for such hunger because I find it as a declaration that I am indeed on my way to a great banquet and You are truly reconciling all things so that I—and my enemies—have a place at the table. Thank you for showing me through Your Word and the writings of Your servants, like Augustine and Keller that restlessness can be deeply devotional, my discontent a constant confession that I anticipate nothing less than redemption and restoration, a place at the great table of eternity. Thank You for the blessing for hungry Bill.  Amen