Dropping the Jawbone

** This post has been heavily influenced by a teaching given by Rob Bell at Mars Hill Bible Church.

**** (this note added on 9/9/2015) As you will see from the comment thread below, I am feeling the need to add that when I say "heavily influenced", what I mean to say is that this teaching given primarily by Bell (in addition to some other teachers) was given in a sermon which can be heard here. The teaching had a profound impact on my life and settled in my consciousness. When I crafted this post, I did it from memory and after receiving the accusation below, I searched to find the teaching. Please know that I have no desire to take credit at all for Bell's work and claim it as my own.

****** (this note added on 9/29/2015) Just in the heart of full disclosure, it could/should be noted that Rob repeated this teaching yet again on a recent podcast ("RobCast" Episode 39) that was published today.

The last post summarized the walk through the book of Judges. Before we moved on, I did want to jump off on one brief tangent found in the story of Samson. It’s hard not to talk about all of the stories in the book of Judges; how does one skip the stories of Gideon, Deborah, Jephthah, or others? But, much like the author of Hebrews, we need to keep this conversation moving.

But there is one rabbit hole that’s worth jumping down. It really is a sidebar to the larger narrative we’ve been talking about; but every time I have spoke on this lesson, God does some incredible things.

The story of Samson gets complicated when Samson gets tied up with a Philistine wife. This causes tension with the people of Israel as he lives separated from her in the hills of Dan. One night, as he goes to visit his wife, he is told by his father-in-law that, since Samson is never around, he has given his daughter in marriage to another man. In a rage, Samson takes a hundreds of foxes, ties flaming torches to their tails and burns entire fields worth of grain.

Yeah, because that makes sense.

The Philistines come asking about why such an event has taken place and, after finding out the reason for Samson’s actions, kill the father and the daughter. Samson responds by killing “a multitude” of Philistines. Sheesh, this is getting complicated.

The Philistines respond by calling forth their army and marching against the tribe of Dan. The neighboring tribe of Judah brings their army out to see just what is going on. They find that the Philistines are looking for Samson and retribution. Their comment is, “We’re only doing to him as he did to us!” Samson, found hiding in a cave, responds to their accusations by saying, “I only did to them what they did to me.”

Because this is what retribution and revenge look like.

It started with a man and his wife. It then became about grain. Then people died. Then more people died. Now armies are involved.

Revenge always escalates. And revenge is always cloaked by a false conviction that “I’m only doing to them what they did to me.” (By the way, is the “eye for an eye” law making any more sense here? I hope so.)

So, in a sense, it seems to me that the story of Samson is a story about forgiveness.

Samson will be brought, bound by ropes, to the Philistines for judgment. But Samson breaks free from the ropes, grabs the jawbone of an ass, and slays a thousand Philistines.

The story keeps getting worse. And the story will not end will. Who will stop the madness?

Somebody needs to drop the jawbone.

The first step of forgiveness is simply being the one who stops the cycle of revenge. The one person who is willing to say, “No more. No more paybacks. No more killing. No more ‘they deserved it.’ Enough…” is the person who is willing to begin the process of healing. Because the cycle has to stop somewhere. Retribution will know no end until somebody is willing to forgive.

But far too often, we in the Christian world have spoken of forgiveness in similar terms and stopped there. But true forgiveness demands more.

The second step of forgiveness is making the choice that you are going to stop making that person carry that burden around anymore. You can’t just drop the jawbone; that isn’t forgiveness. You have to decide that when you see that person in your mind, you aren’t going to let them have the dark cloud of bitterness hanging over their head in your heart. You have to chase the dark clouds away and allow them to come into the light. Because really, that dark cloud isn’t about their freedom — it’s about yours. Ever since the day you decided to drop the jawbone, that dark cloud does nothing to the other person. It simply builds up in your heart like a cancer, eating away at your soul from the inside out.

Jesus tells this incredible parable in Matthew 18:21–35 about a king who goes to settle accounts and finds a man who owes him well over a lifetime’s salary of debts (which begs the question: What kind of a King lets a man rack up that kind of debt?). He calls the man in, only to have him fall at his feet and beg for forgiveness. In an amazing move, the king forgives the debt and wipes the slate clean. The man then does the unthinkable; he goes out of the presence of the king and runs into a man who owes him three months of wages. He demands payment, and when the man begs for leniency, he throws him in prison. Jesus closes the story by saying that this is how we should forgive our brother.

The king is willing to stop the cycle and drop the jawbone.

The king is not willing to let the debt follow the man around for the rest of his days.

But we’re still not done yet. One final question: In the story of the king, where did the debt go?

If you are like most people, you just said, “It went away. It disappeared.”

But that’s not correct. Debt just doesn’t go away. In order for a debt to be forgiven, the person that is owed the money must absorb the debt. The king had to absorb that massive debt that he was owed. And this is the painful truth about forgiveness. The forgiveness we never talk about — true forgiveness — comes at a hefty price.

And it’s not fair.

Here’s a quote from Timothy Keller in The Reason for God:

“Forgiveness means refusing to make them pay for what they did. However, to refrain from lashing out at someone when you want to do so with all your being is agony. It is a form of suffering. You not only suffer the original loss of happiness, reputation, and opportunity, but now you forgo the consolation of inflicting the same on them. You are absorbing the debt, taking the cost of it completely on yourself instead of taking it out of the other person. It hurts terribly. Many people would say it feels like a kind of death.

“Yes, but it is a death that leads to resurrection instead of the lifelong living death of bitterness and cynicism. … No one “just” forgives, if the evil is serious. … Everyone who forgives great evil goes through a death into a resurrection, and experiences nails, blood, sweat, and tears. … Everyone who forgives someone bears the other’s sins. …

“Forgiveness is always a form of costly suffering.”

How true that is.

As a side note, it is probably worth noting all the things that forgiveness is NOT:

Forgiveness is not admitting that what they did was OK and doesn’t matter.
Forgiveness is not saying that there isn’t a place for boundaries.
Forgiveness is not always forgetting.
Forgiveness is not saying that there won’t be consequences.
Forgiveness is not ignoring the fact that some people are destructive (e.g., if he’s beating you, get out!).
Forgiveness is not saying that they won’t have to answer to the law.
Forgiveness is not calling good what God has called evil.

But forgiveness is letting the jawbone drop to the ground. It is refusing to let the bitterness take root in your heart. And it is deciding that you will shoulder the pain and absorb the debt.

Because it’s the only way that the world gets put back together.

And I believe it’s the truest form of trusting the story.

The Redemption Cycle

The last two posts describe the tension that plays out in the book of Judges. God has asked His people to partner with Him in putting the world back together. He has placed them in the crossroads of the earth (the shephelah of the earth?) in order to show the world that their God is different — their God is not angry, but loving. But in order for this mission to be realized, they are going to have to live in the shephelah, and living in the shephelah is dangerous.

This is a tension that God doesn’t seek to resolve. Not in the book of Judges and not in life. This is the partnership that God invites us into. The book of Judges is simply one place where we see this story play out. Sometimes we see people (like the tribe of Dan) run from the dangers, vowing a life of devotion in the mountains; however, this devoted life is also void of the mission of God. Other times we see the people of Israel in the book of Judges falling into the temptation of being swallowed up by the broken world they are seeking to redeem; we see this in the ruins of Beth Shemesh and numerous stories where the people take on the gods of the nations that surround them.

We even see this in the story of Samson. Samson is a man set apart for God from birth. Destined to be a Nazarite (see Numbers 6), Samson’s role in the community (the tribe of Dan, actually) is to remind the people that they are to be different than the nations that surround them in the shephelah. Samson is a walking billboard that advertises God’s mission to his brothers. However, the tragedy of Samson is two-fold. First, while Samson is a Nazarite (albeit not a very good one), he misses the calling on his life by being so influenced by the Philistines. Constantly tempted by lure of Philistine women, Samson will lose the potency of his calling. Second, Samson does all of this alone. You cannot impact the shephelah alone. The Jews have often pointed out that Samson has no community. He is in Philistia alone. He travels alone. He fights the Philistines alone. He is in the cave alone. This is a recipe for shephelah disaster.

God will eventually use the life (more accurately, the death) of Samson to rescue His people, but I would argue it was not the way it was designed to work. The idea is that the tribe of Dan would be positioned in the shephelah, led by a dynamic leader (Samson), called to impact the world of the Philistines and show them a better way — a better God. But they lose the gravity of their message by becoming lost in the culture of the ones they are seeking to influence.

And whether they are running away from their call or getting lost in the culture, we keep seeing the Israelites struggle throughout the book of Judges.

Scholars and Bible teachers have for ages described the book of Judges using the phrase “Sin Cycle.” The idea is that all throughout the book of Judges, we keep seeing the people go through the same cycle: things are going great, they start to rebel, they become oppressed, they cry out, God raises up a leader, God rescues the people — and the cycle starts all over again (see below).

I have always taught my students that this cycle (more or less) is completely accurate and obvious in the story of the Judges. However, the fact that we refer to it as the “Sin Cycle” betrays our initial assumptions about the truths that lie at the heart of the story. It presumes that the story is about the depravity and brokenness of humanity. But we have, since the beginning of this journey, insisted that the story is about God’s good creation, His insistence that we are accepted and loved, and an invitation to trust the story that God is telling and live in true “rest.”

But the “Sin Cycle”?  It would seem to me that we aren’t listening to God’s story.

Time and time again, we have encountered a God who insists that our sin doesn’t keep Him from loving and accepting us. Despite our failures, we are not defined by our deficiencies. We are defined by our identity as God’s creation, made in His image, created with incredible potential. No matter our past, we are invited in each moment to partner with God in His great Kingdom work.

So, is it about a “Sin Cycle”?
Or is it about a “Redemption Cycle”?

Is it about my brokenness or God’s goodness?
Do I read Judges and find myself amazed at the foolishness of God?
Or do I stand in awe at His unbelievable patience and faithfulness?

I continue to assert that God is inviting us to trust a good story. As I said before, I believe God has endless, bottomless patience for the person who is trying to walk the path of life well. We will encounter God’s wrath when we start to see people crush the marginalized and downtrodden.

But God has better things to do than let your sin get in the way of what He has in store for you. And the book of Judges proves it.

And I’m glad.

Because I’ve found that the story of the Israelites is my story. I find that as I examine that diagram of the “Sin Cycle,” I see a pretty good representation of what my life looks like. There are days when I feel like the worst chapter of the book of Judges could be a journal entry about my day.

But thankfully, the cycle keeps coming around.

And you’re right, Mr. Bible Teacher — it is about my sin.

But apparently, it’s not.

Because the wheel in the sky keeps on turning (to quote Journey) and God’s rescue keeps coming around.

So at the end of the day, what amazes me is not my stupidity, but God’s bigger, better reality. His amazing grace. His profound patience.

I’m going to call it the “Redemption Cycle.” It’s a truer true.

No Pig Bones

While some folks struggle with the idea of having to interact with the shephelah, preferring instead to take a more separatist approach to the culture around us (this is my struggle, by the way), others will have the opposite struggle.

As for the folks who are more missional, they started back down the mountain and into the hills of the shephelah before they even finished reading the last post. And this is a good thing, because God needs His people in contact with the broken world around them — He needs them to be shining light in dark places. As one of my co-workers put it the other day: “You cannot be a rotem if you aren’t in the desert.”

Well said.

The dig at Beth Shemesh in 2008

But those who are rip-roaring to find themselves an adventure will need to take heed of the findings at the archaeological site of Beth Shemesh. The ancient city of Beth Shemesh sits down in the shephelah at the edge of the Soreq Valley. If you were to look at a topographical view of the land of Israel, you would notice that you cannot penetrate the land of Israel from the coastal plains without traveling through the many valleys that head up into the mountains. This meant that the people who lived there had to establish fortified cities to protect the vulnerability of the valleys of the shephelah.

Beth Shemesh was one of these fortified cities guarding the way into the Soreq Valley. Archaeological excavations have made some very interesting discoveries. As they uncovered the remains, they would often run into evidence of the diet of the people who lived in the city of Beth Shemesh — according to the Text, a city inhabited by the Israelites. Excavations of the time period of the Judges revealed that their meat diet consisted primarily of pork.

And yes, for an Israelite city, this is a very telling problem. They are letting the culture around them influence their walk, rather than the other way around.

One would expect that in David’s day this problem would be much less of an issue, but excavations showed that, while improving, about 20% of the bones in the food waste were pig bones. But the Text will end up telling us that a king named Hezekiah leads reforms in the land of Judah, from boundary to boundary. As it was told to me in 2010, they have yet to find a pig bone in the excavations from Hezekiah’s era.

Because it’s hard to live in the shephelah without the shephelah living in you.

It’s going to be difficult to live in the chaos and bring shalom. So you better remember the desert. And you better remember to take a community with you. But you have to be there in order to partner with God’s great project. You have to be a kingdom of priests for the people of the shephelah.

But you can’t have any pig bones.

The rabbis teach that you don’t defend Jerusalem at the gates of Jerusalem; you defend Jerusalem at Beth Shemesh. And they mean this as a metaphor. If you think you’re going to fight the hard battles of your life and of your will when it gets to the heart, you are a fool. You don’t wait to fight the work of evil when it finally arrives at your door; you fight evil with all of the small decisions you make every day.

To say it another way: Jerusalem falls when you have pig bones at Beth Shemesh.

But it’s hard to live in the shephelah. It’s dangerous and full of temptations. But you can’t run off to the mountains of Ephraim, either. Because God is not interested in abandoning the people of the coastal plains.

The call to be a priest is not without cost, discipline, adventure, and peril.

The Mountains of Ephraim

The first side of the tension mentioned in the last post is deciding whether or not we are going to heed the call of God to be people of the shephelah. There is a great tendency to want to completely separate ourselves from “the world.” We are to be different — to be holy — and that requires an utmost devotion to God and His ways.

There’s a temptation to see the coastal plains as a place of danger, something that will only tear us down, tempt us to sin, and corrupt our souls. We begin to think that the coastal plains must be avoided at all costs.

It is too dangerous. It’s so much easier to be devoted when I separate myself from the darkness.

One of the stories in the Bible that illustrates this most clearly is the story of Dan. It is actually a collection of stories that take place in the backdrop of the story of the Old Testament. When the Israelites entered the "crossroads of the earth,” God gave each tribe a piece of ground and told them to bring shalom to their portion. Each tribe had a different piece of ground and each tribe had a different calling from God — to play their own part in God’s great project.

And Dan has always had a tough call from God.

In the book of Numbers, Dan gets the job of bringing up the rear as Israel travels through the wilderness. This couldn’t have been a fun task, but one that was essential in taking care of God’s people.

And then, when Israel finally makes it “home,” Dan is assigned their plot of ground. The map below shows you where’s Dan’s piece lies:

If you remember the geography, you have probably already noted that Dan lands smack dab in the shephelah. Their land butts up against the land of the Philistines. This is a unique call for the people of Dan — they get to be God’s hands and feet to the Philistines. This will be an incredibly difficult calling, as the impressive and intimidating Philistines outmatch the tiny tribe of Dan on their best day. But God’s strength is made perfect in our weakness (so hang on to those Red Sea moments!), and He hasn’t left Dan on her own. In fact, Dan is protected by the mighty presence of Judah to the south. Dan will never have to fight alone or be hung out to dry.

But it’s too dangerous, right? It’s so much easier to be devoted when I separate myself from the darkness.

But God isn’t trying to run from the darkness. He’s trying to shine light into it. He’s trying to redeem the darkness. And He wants your help.

But Dan backs out on their calling from God and heads to the hill country of Ephraim to eventually settle far away from the temptations and dangers of the darkness (see Judges 18). This map shows where the Danites end up settling:

They don’t trust the story. They don’t accept the partnership God is offering.

And this doesn’t bode well for their future. Even ignoring some other ugly stories (like Jeroboam installing some golden calves at Tel Dan) and just looking at the big picture, what happens to Dan is that they choose to run from God’s plan and settle in the land that looks good. (Does that remind you of Lot and Abram?) What happens is that they settle right on the via maris, the road that runs into the land of Israel, and they will be the first place that gets attacked EVERY TIME an army marches on Israel. Dan will get pummeled time and time again because they choose not to trust God’s story.

And they’ve ran from the community that God provided for them. Judah is not with them in the north. They don’t have the protection of their brothers there.

And in the meantime, God has to find some other way to impact the Philistines.

The rabbis have pointed out that when the Scriptures speak of Dan, in almost every story they are accompanied by Judah. They teach that this is an intentional juxtaposition meant to raise an interesting question:

Are you Dan or Judah?

Are you here to accept the call and mission of God or are you here to take the easy way out? Because God has put you at the crossroads of the earth for a purpose. He desires to use you to shine light in the darkness.

How is your shephelah?

By the time the story of Dan is over, they will be utterly destroyed by the conquering armies. Tel Dan will be seized and everything will be destroyed.

When you read about the tribes of Israel in the book of Revelation, Dan is always missing.

They are no more. Their unwillingness to trust the story ended up costing them their very existence. Will you be Judah or Dan?

Of course, being Judah and storming the shephelah will have its own set of struggles…

The Crossroads of the Earth

So now that we’ve wrestled with the story of the conquest and sat in the uneasiness, maybe it’s time to start asking some questions about this little piece of ground in the Middle East. Why all this fuss over what seems like such an insignificant chunk of real estate? To this very day, the region of Palestine and Israel continues to be one of the hottest pieces of earth on the planet.

In the ancient biblical world, it’s important to realize that the nation of Israel geographically sits in what was called the “crossroads of the earth.” With the exception of the ancient Orient, the major world civilizations (Egypt, Chaldea/Babylonia, Persia, Assyria, the Hittites, etc.) all sat around the piece of ground that we would refer to as biblical Israel. What this meant was that all global commerce and cultural interaction happened by traveling through that small chunk of land. The major highway for their day, known as the “via maris,” travelled right through their land. Whoever controlled the crossroads of the earth heavily influenced world trade.

So was God’s desire to bless His people with incredible wealth and power?

Not exactly.

When we remember the beginnings of this story, we remember a covenant between God and a man named Abram. We remember God’s words that He would bless Abram and Abram would be a blessing. God said that all the nations of the earth would be blessed through Abram and his descendants.

We hope at this point in the story that we haven’t forgotten God’s great project: to restore peace and wholeness to the earth and brings all things back together.

God is trying to put the world back together.

And God found a partner.

And how is God going to bless all nations?

By putting His partners at the crossroads of the earth.

One of the ways that we understand this concept is by understanding geography — not just the larger geography of where Israel sits in relation to the other nations, but the geography of the land of Israel itself. To look at the nation of Israel is to see five zones that run north/south through the land. Starting at the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, we would see what’s called the Coastal Plain; pretty self-explanatory, the coastal plain was the region where all the pagans live. While the Israelites were desert people, the pagans, like the Philistines, for example, were often sea-faring people of the port cities. The region sitting to the immediate east would be called the Shephelah. This word shares a root with the word that means “to bow” and refers to the land that comes off of the Judah Mountains and bows down to meet the coastal plain — it’s the in-between. Then, to the east, lies the Judah Mountains, where God’s people settled. You rarely settled in the valleys, because of the high value on farmland. You would live in the mountain region. Then came the Judea Wilderness, the barren wasteland to the east of the mountains. And finally, the Jordan River ran through what is called the Rift Valley.

The entire story of God’s project in the world is seen through the eyes of shephelah.

Shephelah is where God’s people meet the broken world. Will God’s people go into the shephelah? Will they bring shalom to the chaos? Or will they settle in the mountains, seeking to lives lives of luxury?

The rabbis have a statement they use: How is your shephelah?

It’s a way of them asking, “How are you doing in partnering with God in His great work to restore the world?”

Because God has supposedly found some partners.

And He’s trained and shaped them in the desert.

But now He’s brought them into the Promised Land.

And the great question is whether or not they’re going to go down into the shephelah or settle in the mountains. The question is whether they are going to settle down and build a tower or build altars and pitch tents.

Because God is up to something in the world. And it’s going to be difficult to convince His partners that there’s still work to be done.

And it’s really not that old of a story is it? Because I still have a shephelah today, don’t I? And the call of the mountains is as strong as ever.

But it’s not easy to live in the shephelah. In fact, it’s quite dangerous and messy down there with the Philistines.

And this leaves us with a tension…

The Hardest Story in the Bible (for me)

All right. It’s time.

It’s time for a long post about the conquest of Canaan that I REALLY don’t want to write. I think it’s safe to say that with every true student/teacher of the Bible, there are problems in the story that make us uneasy. We may reason them away with trite explanations, we may choose to ignore them, or we might deny their existence altogether, but they are there. There have been some famous religious leaders throughout the centuries that have made comments about what books of the canon they wish were removed. Some have complained about Jude. Others, Revelation. Martin Luther thought James should be done away with. Well, if I could choose one of the 66 books to throw out, I’d get rid of Joshua in a heartbeat.

But I can’t. So here we go.

I hope that it goes without saying that I have a problem with the mass killing of entire people groups. I find the story of the conquest to be inconsistent with the character of God and what He’s been asking His people to do. And that creates a problem for me. So, I need to say that before I begin this post, I’m just going to be throwing out lots and lots of observations. Some I like; some I do not. I won’t be drawing conclusions in this post, merely peeling the conversation open. This is because I think the problem needs to be recognized. This isn’t trite; it isn’t easily resolved or ignored.

But I won’t be offering answers today — my apologies, I’m not that good. Some others have offered great thoughts for the conversation. Greg Boyd spoke on the conquest here and I thought he made some great observations. My buddy Aaron Couch posted this not too long ago, linking to some interesting studies.

And there are other thoughts, ranging from the liberal textual critics to the biblical literalists.

Some have suggested that the conquest never really happened. That the book of Joshua is a dramatic narrative-based allegory about how the people of God came into the land they possess throughout the story. To support their theory, they point out that there has yet to be found a piece of archaeological evidence of the conquest (at least, evidence that has been evaluated and validated by the scholastic, archaeological community). This is very odd, as a historian would expect to have found proof of these many battles that are explained in the book of Joshua. They also point out that the language of conquest in the ancient eastern world is always incredibly hyperbolic, exaggerated, and rarely true. Is the book of Joshua borrowing this genre of “historical record” to tell us a larger story?

It’s also interesting to note what God does and doesn’t say. Oftentimes, when our English Bibles translate “destroy,” the word in the Hebrew is often “consecrate.” Now, destruction is often a way of consecration, but one could argue that God was leaving room for grace, that He wasn’t commanding mass genocide. This explanation works in many cases, but not in all of them.

It’s also worth noting that God is constantly meeting people on their own terms. It is true that this ancient biblical world spoke the language of war. It was one of the few ways that countries made statements about their gods. Our God consistently meets people where they are at, uses the language of their day, and speaks His better truth into their lives. Was the conquest a part of that?

These are possibilities that intrigue me. This year, I began a deep study of the book that bothered me so much. At this moment, I’m only halfway through, and I haven’t found any answers to my toughest questions, but I have made some observations:

There are an awful lot of stories where God is pretty quiet. Joshua does an awful lot of planning, strategizing, and pep-talking, but God really doesn’t say much. I find this to be interesting. We always assume that Joshua is acting with the authority of God, yet I’m noticing how often the Text does not connect those dots. I think these instances are up for grabs — what’s truly going on here?

Joshua seems to be acting very much like the pagan commanders of the world around him. He impales the bodies of the conquered on poles for all to see. This has long been a move of war, victory, and conquest for pagan nations. This action is never commanded nor condoned by God.

At the very same time, Joshua is quite different than the pagan kings around him. He doesn’t mock or chide inappropriately. He disposes of the bodies by nightfall (unheard of in their world). While it seems hard to comprehend, Joshua is one of the “softest” conquerers the land of Canaan has ever seen. Consider the story of the Gibeonites and their deception (chapter 9). They trick the Israelites into forming a military treaty with their people. This kind of ancient agreement is called a Suzerain-vassal covenant. It is where the lesser party (Gibeonites) serve the greater party (Israel) and in return they receive the military protection of the Suzerain. The problem is that this isn’t a covenant between two equal parties; the lesser party holds no rights in the agreement. Therefore, a vassal never enters an agreement through deception. The Suzerain always proposes the treaty because of what they will gain from the relationship (taxes, resources, servants, etc.). Once any other king learned of deception on the part of the vassal, they would be destroyed. Yet, Joshua and the elders do not. Are we seeing “a different kind of conquest”?

In the midst of the stories of conquest, the greater stories — the ones that rise to the top — are stories of people being saved and redeemed. The story of Rahab reminds many of the story of Passover. I have often thought of the destruction of Sodom, where God agreed to spare a city for ten righteous people, as I read the story of Rahab. However, there were not ten, and only Lot and his family are saved. Is it possible that Rahab and her family were the only ones righteous in Jericho? The story of the Gibeonites is again a story of escaping destruction. It seems as if the author wants to highlight the stories of salvation, not destruction.

And, I always have to remind myself of what was taking place in the land of Canaan. In all of the forms of pagan Amorite worship, in whichever country we examine, we find horrific, inhumane abuses taking place — not only at the present time, but over the course of centuries — in the land of Canaan. Amorite worship, without exception, involved child sacrifice and shrine prostitution.

We always want to be upset about a God that wouldn’t hear the cry of the Canaanites while they were being destroyed.

But don’t you think that God heard every cry from every child offered to the fires of their gods?

Don’t you think God heard the cries of the wives as their husbands went off to the shrine prostitutes for the second time this week, the tenth time this month?

How long does God let this happen before He acts? How much patience from God is enough? Or too much? How many babies are too many? 10? 100? 1000?

We’ve found ancient Canaanite “baby graveyards” with tens of thousands of infant corpses.

Listen to what God told Abraham back in Genesis 15:

In the fourth generation your descendants will come back here, for the sin of the Amorites has not yet reached its full measure.

Their sin hadn’t reached its full measure?

You mean to tell me that God had been patient and waited for over 500 years of this garbage?

You see, it’s interesting how we never think that God’s doing His job right. When we read the story from one perspective, we’re mad that God doesn’t do something sooner. When we read it from the other, we’re upset that He does something about it and wants it to be over, completely — now.

One of the things I’m trying to learn from the conquest is that I’m glad I’m not God. Because I wouldn’t do His job well. I wouldn’t know when to show grace and patience and when to call in the armies of heaven (and earth) to stop the madness.

But I’m glad that I’ve had the books of Moses to read up to this point.
I’m glad that I’ve been impressed with God’s character over and over again.
I’m pretty confident that God is love.

So I’m going to let Him do His job and I’m going to wrestle with the killings done in His name.
And I’m going to trust that He works through us and partners with us.
And sometimes, in our really dark days of conquest, He works in spite of us.

I’m still trying to learn how to trust the story.
And I wonder if Joshua was, too.

Standing Stones

Before we leave Deuteronomy, we want to make sure that we don’t skim over this idea of remembering where we come from.  This is an important concept.  There’s an image that God employs — a tactile practice — that helps us remember our stories.

They are called standing stones.

The stones you see above are found at Tel Gezer in southern Israel.  The concept behind a standing stone is that you erect a monument where a big event happened.

An event you will need to remember.

One of those Red Sea moments.

The idea of a standing stone is that the stone itself demands a witness.  It is different than a ‘stele,’ which will actually have writing on it, describing the event in detail.  A standing stone is simply an out-of-place installment and causes the youth or the foreigner to say, “What is that?  What happened here?”  You are then forced to stop and tell the story.  Not only does this cause you to remember the story of God in your life, but it also forces you to share that story, spreading it to the next generation.

Because it’s important to pass the stories of God onto our children.  The book of Judges will make this stunning statement over and over again: “They did not remember the LORD their God and what He did for them…”

Because we have to tell our kids about what God has done.  Do you?  Did your parents?  Could you tell the stories of your family, about how God showed up for your grandfather?

This idea comes up again and again in the Scriptures.  Remember Jacob?  When he had that amazing dream from God, he took the stone he was sleeping on and stood it up, anointing it with oil.  A standing stone.  Then later, in Genesis 35, Jacob takes his whole family to Bethel, where the story took place.  Why?  To tell them the story.  When the Israelites cross the Jordan, what do they do?  They take rocks and pile them up to remember the story.

It’s important to remember where we come from.  It’s just as important to pass where we’ve come from on to our children — or they’ll probably go back.

What standing stones do you have in your life?

On my desk sits a collection of rocks that I’ve brought back from Israel.  Each one reminds me of a different story I brought back from my time in the Middle East.  There’s a piece of rope that I brought back from Hadijah’s house; she was a Muslim woman who gave everything she had in her cupboard to show me hospitality.  I have a dirty old sprinkler head on my shelf that reminds me of the day that I decided to give up on the American dream and follow God’s dream for humanity instead.  And a belt that I stole from my football uniform in high school, marking the decision I made to pursue the call of God into the ministry.

As my children grow older, they will hear these stories of mine.

Because I need to remember where I’ve come from.

Because my children need to know where I’ve been.

Because we need to know and remember what God has done.

These stones continually call us to trust the story.

Remember Where You Came From

After the wandering in the desert, the Israelites stand at the threshold to the land that was promised them and a future of unseen possibilities.  Yet, before they get to walk into their tomorrow, God desires for them to remember their yesterday.

Enter the book of Deuteronomy.  The call of Deuteronomy is to remember where you’ve come from.  Just look at all the calls to remember in this one book:

“… do not forget the things your eyes have seen … teach them to your children … Remember the day you stood before the LORD your God …” (4:9–10)
“Be careful not to forget the covenant …” (4:23)
“… be careful that you do not forget the LORD …” (4:31; 6:12; 8:11)
“Remember that you were slaves in Egypt …” (5:15; 16:12; 24:18; 24:22)
“Remember how the LORD your God led you all the way in the wilderness …” (8:2)
“But remember the LORD your God … if you ever forget the LORD your God …” (8:18–19)
“Remember this and never forget …” (9:7)
“Remember today that your children were not the ones who saw and experienced the discipline of the LORD your God.” (11:2)
“… so that all the days of your life you may remember the time of your departure from Egypt.” (16:3)
“Remember what the LORD your God did …” (24:9)
“Remember what the Amalekites did to you … do not forget!” (25:17–19)
“Remember the days of old; consider generations long past. Ask your father and he will tell, your elders and they will explain to you …”  (32:7)

That’s 25 references, in case you were keeping track.

It’s important to remember.

But it’s also interesting to note WHAT the Israelites are being called to remember.  So many times, these calls to remember are connected to the alien, the orphan, and the widow.  God keeps telling the Israelites to remember their story.

Because they were foreigners once.
And orphans.
And widows.

They are to remember their own stories and become people who see the oppressed.  Because God saw them when they were oppressed.  And God heard their cry.

They are being invited to remember, so that they will hear the cries of others.  And it’s not too long before this becomes an endless cycle of “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” syndrome.  Do I remember my story and therefore take care of the alien, orphan, and widow?  Or do I take care of the alien, orphan, and widow and it reminds me of my story?

YES.

And in case you were wondering, here’s the list of references to the alien, orphan, and widow:

1:16
5:14
10:18
10:19
14:21
14:29
16:11
16:14
23:7
24:14
24:17
24:19
24:20
24:21
26:11
26:12
26:13
27:19
31:12

This is important.

Because when you forget your story, you begin to feel entitled.  When you forget your humble beginnings, you begin to be proud.  When you forget your Egypts, you begin to be self-righteous.

And so God tells us to remember where we’ve come from — because it keeps us humble.

And God tells us to take care of the oppressed — because it helps us to remember.

And remembering is a big part of trusting the story.

MAIM CHAIM: Living Water

Two more pictures form the desert and we’ll move on.


This picture shows a location in the Negev called En Gedi. Today, En Gedi is a nature reserve and a fascinating place in the desert.  When I visited En Gedi for the first time in 2008, our teacher led us in from the back of the park so we didn’t know where we were. I am not kidding when I say that you couldn’t tell you were approaching water until you were practically right on top of it.

The whole scene was fascinating.  One minute, we were walking in a desert almost identical to the picture in our last post, and the next minute we were staring at a waterfall.  To say that such a location is refreshing in the desert would be an understatement.  On that point, the picture almost writes this blog post itself.

This kind of water is called maim chaim in the Hebrew.  Maim chaim is “living water.”  Living water comes from God — either from rain or a spring. For living water to be “living,” it cannot be moved by human hands.  You cannot get living water from a cistern or a bucket.  En Gedi is a great example of living water.  Again, we were invited to understand that our call is to be “living water” for people in their deserts and to reflect on those people who have been En Gedi in our lives.



This second picture shows a wadi flood.  Wadis are deep canyons cut into the desert terrain; again, the picture in the last post also shows a wadi.  I was shocked to learn that the number one cause of death in the desert is flood.  During the rainy season, rain will fall in a distant region. The rain comes in such quantity and the ground is so dry that the water rushes to the lowest point.  These wadis flood at an incredible rate; I was told that if I was in a wadi and heard the sound of a train, I had about 90 seconds to get out of the wadi.

Besides being incredibly destructive, these wadi floods leave behind many biblical images. Look at this passage from Psalm 69:

But I pray to you, Lord,
    in the time of your favor;
in your great love, O God,
    answer me with your sure salvation.
Rescue me from the mire,
    do not let me sink;
deliver me from those who hate me,
    from the deep waters.
Do not let the floodwaters engulf me
    or the depths swallow me up
    or the pit close its mouth over me.

The floods leave behind puddles of mud (or “mire”) that is so sticky that a person or animal can be trapped without any place to go.  In some cases, this mire can be trickier than quicksand.

Jesus used this wadi flood imagery, as well.  He mentioned that anyone who listened to His teaching was like a man who built his house on the rock, but the fool who didn’t was like one who built his house on the sand.  I have been told by people in construction that sand is a great building material.  It is flexible, it packs solid.  So was Jesus wrong?

The people of the desert would understand that the “sand” is found in the bottom of the wadi; nobody builds their house in the bottom of the wadi.  But the man who listens to Jesus is like a man who builds his house on the rock (or the “cliff face”), out of the path of floods.

Needless to say, the desert is full of images that help us grow into the people and partners God is looking to use in His great Kingdom Project.

Honey from the Rock

 **  This post has been heavily influenced by a particular teaching from Ray VanderLaan. You could see a representation of this teaching by watching "They Were Not Wandering" (That the World May Know series, Volume #12)

This next post is driven by the following picture taken from the biblical desert:

I will make a few observations about this picture.

The first of those observations is about sight.  One of the things that surprised me the most about the desert was the limited sight I had.  I had always pictured the desert as this empty wasteland where one could see for miles in every direction.  The picture I had was distressing because of the hopelessness displayed in that mental image.  What I discovered when I arrived in the desert was that the desert is actually a place where I could never see around the next bend.  Instead of hopelessness, I experienced anxiety.  I found this to be a great life lesson.  In my deserts, I have found that one of my greatest frustrations is the many times that I feel the desert blindsides me with something I could never see coming.  One of the lessons of the desert is the that they teach us to follow and trust the voice of the Shepherd.  He knows the path; He knows where we are going.  Just walk the path and follow His voice.

Another observation I would make would be about rocks.  There are a lot of them.  Again, like shade, this image is an image that is found all over the Scriptures and we usually miss its significance.  Rocks are THE image of the desert — they are everywhere.  And one of the most striking images of the rocks of the desert is what Jewish teaching refers to as “stones of stumbling.”

In the desert there are many stones that cause stumbling.  Some of them are quite small (think of a baseball-sized rock you could hold in your hand).  These are the problems in life that serve as simple annoyances.  These annoyances can often pile up and affect our mood, but at the end of the day, these stones don't do major damage. A few nicks and bruises, but nothing to really worry about in terms of survival or significant pain.

But then there are bigger rocks.  Imagine a rock that a man would lift up, grunting, with both hands.  These rocks can cause some harm.  It's easy to twist your ankle on these rocks in the desert.  If you dropped it on a toe, you would need some attention.  There are moments in our deserts that hurt and cause some serious, yet temporary, pain.

Then, there are rocks that no man could lift.  Large boulders that could easily put a person out of commission.  Stumble into (or off of) one of these rocks and you will be in more than temporary pain.  It's the surgery and the lost job.  The family member that moves away and the broken relationship.  These are stones that will hurt for some time and leave some serious scars.

And then, there are the huge cliffs — the bedrock.  These are rocks that you can't climb over, you can't pass through, and you're never going to move.  They're rocks that change the course of your life.  It's the death of a loved one.  The cancer diagnosis.  The things in life that you have no control over.

These are the rocks of the desert.  In the words of Ray VanderLaan, “I wish I could tell you that if you prayed hard enough, God would take the rocks away.  But He doesn't.  Sometimes he gives us a smooth path for a season — praise Him — but walking the path of God is hard.  And there are rocks.”

What God does say is quite interesting.  Time and time again, God will insist that if we will walk the right path, He will feed us with honey.  Look at how it's stated here in Psalm 81:13–16:

“If my people would only listen to me,
    if Israel would only follow my ways,
how quickly I would subdue their enemies
    and turn my hand against their foes!
Those who hate the Lord would cringe before him,
    and their punishment would last forever.
But you would be fed with the finest of wheat;
    with honey from the rock I would satisfy you.”

Honey from the rock.

Every Jew learns early in their education that God and the words of God taste like honey.  If we would walk the right path and trust in the right voice, God promises to feed us with honey from the rock.  It isn't that He promises to take the rocks away.  But He does promise that if you'll follow His voice, there will be just enough of His presence in every rock.

Another way the rabbis teach it is this: Be careful when you ask for honey, for God might put it in a rock.

Trees of the Desert: AR'AR & TAMARISK

We have two more trees of the desert to talk about.  Let's look at the Jeremiah passage we mentioned in the last post that referenced the acacia tree.

This is what the Lord says:

“Cursed is the one who trusts in man,
    who draws strength from mere flesh
    and whose heart turns away from the Lord.
That person will be like a bush in the wastelands;
    they will not see prosperity when it comes.
They will dwell in the parched places of the desert,
    in a salt land where no one lives.

“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord,
    whose confidence is in him.
They will be like a tree planted by the water
    that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
    its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
    and never fails to bear fruit.”

Jeremiah 17:5–8

The second part of that passage again mentions the acacia that we talked about in the last post.  You may notice how similar that image in verse 7 and 8 is to the first Psalm.  But the previous paragraph describes a new tree.

AR'AR
The tree mentioned in verse 5 and 6 is the ar'ar.  It is a stunning picture if you ever run into such a tree.  The tree is this lush and beautiful green bush that has huge, plump fruit on it.  The large green fruit is about the size of a grapefruit and looks like it will be full of sweet things.  And yet, when you take the fruit and break it open, it is completely empty — full of air.  The bedouins of the area claim that the “juice” excreted by the broken fruit is poisonous.

It is a striking image of the desert.  The man who trusts in flesh looks incredibly lush and fertile on the outside — but is full of death and emptiness on the inside.  And deserts have a way of bringing that out of a man.

There is a final tree that shows up in the desert.  It is an image that moves me to this day.

TAMARISK
The tamarisk tree is tall and beautiful.  Like the acacia, the tamarisk is a larger tree, but unlike the former, it does not grow on its own in the desert.  This desert tree requires some minor cultivation in order to survive.  The leaves of the tree absorb what little moisture is in the area and then give off the faintest glimmer of humidity in its shade.  The shade of a tamarisk tree is often 10–15 degrees cooler than the shade of other trees.

But this cultivated tree takes three generations to grow to its full size.  So it stands to reason that a person never plants a tamarisk tree for himself; he will never reap its benefits. A man plants a tamarisk tree for his grandchildren.

In the twenty-first chapter of Genesis, we read the following words:

After the treaty had been made at Beersheba, Abimelek and Phicol the commander of his forces returned to the land of the Philistines. Abraham planted a tamarisk tree in Beersheba, and there he called on the name of the Lord, the Eternal God. And Abraham stayed in the land of the Philistines for a long time.

That story always brings tears to my eyes.  After making a treaty with the Philistines, Abraham goes and plants a tamarisk tree.

It is a statement of faith; Abraham is trusting the story.

He's not planting the tamarisk for himself.  He is planting it for his grandchildren.  He is believing God's promise and staking a claim.


The rabbis ask a question: How many tamarisk trees did you plant today?

How many things did you do today that were for your grandchildren?  These are things that aren't for yourself — things that have eternal ripples. 

This idea pervades much of rabbinic teaching.  Another statement that is often made is that when people obey the mitzvoth (the commands), they are planting the seeds that will become the very trees of the restored Eden.

Your call is bigger than you.  The things you do today have the opportunity to ring throughout the generations.  The choices you make matter.  The story you choose to trust will affect those who stand on your shoulders.  Even in your deserts, you are planting seeds with your life.

How many tamarisk trees did you plant today?

Trees of the Desert: ACACIA

There is another tree in the desert I would like to introduce to you.

ACACIA
This tree is called the acacia.  It is probably the most recognizable and most commonly thought of tree in the desert.  You find different relatives of the acacia tree all around the deserts of the world.  The acacia that's found in Israel has some interesting characteristics.

For starters, the acacia is known for being incredibly resourceful.  The bedouins (people native to the Palestinian desert) claim that you can use the tree for everything from sustenance to fuel and even healing agents.  This tree is incredibly useful.  It's also significantly bigger and casts a much larger shade area.  The tree will often lie dormant for years until the rains come and the area around it is flooded.  At that point, after lying dormant for years, the tree will spring to life and bear its fruit, the buds looking like little white flowers.

One of the biblical references to this tree is found in Psalm 1 and again in Jeremiah 17.  Let's look at Psalm 1 for this post and we'll look at Jeremiah 17 in the next one.

Blessed is the one
    who does not walk in step with the wicked
or stand in the way that sinners take
    or sit in the company of mockers,
but whose delight is in the law of the Lord,
    and who meditates on his law day and night.
That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
    which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—
    whatever they do prospers.

Now, first of all, let's look at what makes a person like this tree.  They meditate on the law of the LORD.  The word for meditate in the Psalm is the word hagah.  Let me show you another place where hagah is used:

          “As a lion growls,
               a great lion over its prey—
           and though a whole band of shepherds
               is called together against it,
           it is not frightened by their shouts
               or disturbed by their clamor…”   Isaiah 31:4

The Hebrew word for “growls” (bolded above) is hagah.  It is a case of onomatopoeia — where the word sounds like the very thing it describes.  You say the word hagah with a fierce tone and a little roll of the ‘g’ sound.  It should sound like the deep, murmuring growl of a lion, hunched over its prey, proclaiming to the world around it that it means business.

Believe it or not, the word for meditate is also hagah.  Contrary to the popular idea that we should pull up a chair to the corner of the porch (with a good cup of coffee, maybe) and silently contemplate the scripture, this Psalm speaks of one who devours the Text with a fierce, hungry appetite.  (My goal is certainly not to downplay the importance of the other forms of meditation; these are good and beneficial as well.)

If we devour the Text, we become like an acacia in the desert.

But do you catch the image?  The Psalm said that the man who intensely devours the Text is like an acacia that bears its fruit in season.  But the acacia only comes to life once every decade or so.  You see, our discipline of becoming people of the Text is not a quick-fix formula.  It is a deeply rooted passion that pulls us through our deserts.  We hagah and hagah and hagah and one day — when the season is right and when the rains finally come — we bear our fruit.

And we are incredibly useful when we bear our fruit.   And we provide great shade.  But if you were to have looked at that tree two years ago, it looked as dead as could be.  So we had to stay true to our calling.  We couldn't walk with the wicked or stand with the sinners or sit with the mockers.  We had to hagah on God's voice (that is, God's word) and keep on walking.

These are the lessons of the desert.  One foot in front of the other, trusting the story, following the voice of the shepherd.  Just enough.  Patience.  Persistence. 

One foot in front of the other. Through our deserts.

Trees of the Desert: ROTEM

**  The next few posts about "Desert Trees" has been highly shaped by the work of Nogah Hareuveni, one of the world's premier experts in biblical botany. I have used his work to help identify which trees in the Text are which; I experienced the desert lessons from my time in the desert with Ray VanderLaan.

Of the images that came out of the desert, my personal favorite was learning about the trees.

Now, I don't want to mislead you.  That comment was not designed to say that there were lots of trees in the desert; there are very few.  I didn't see groves of trees as I wandered around in the blistering heat — which is actually why the image of trees was so powerful.  I want to tell you about four trees in the desert.

ROTEM
The first “tree” comes in the form of a bush.  This tree, called rotem in the Hebrew, is also referred to as a broomtree.  It comes up in the Scriptures a number of times.  Hagar sets Ishmael under a rotem.  Elijah lies under a rotem and wants to die.  The broomtree is the desert's image of “shade.”  Prior to my time in the desert, I never noticed the passages of Scripture that mentioned shade; the picture just didn't jump out at me.  Now that I have spent time in the desert, I seem to notice any mention of shade in the Text.  The Bible is a book written to desert people — people who don't live in a land of shade.  When you live in desert, shade is an unbelievable relief and refuge from the heat of the day.

God is often referred to as our shade in the Text.  Psalm 121 says that the LORD is the shade at our right hand.  Isaiah 25 speaks of God like this:

Lord, you are my God;
    I will exalt you and praise your name,
for in perfect faithfulness
    you have done wonderful things,
    things planned long ago.
You have made the city a heap of rubble,
    the fortified town a ruin,
the foreigners’ stronghold a city no more;
    it will never be rebuilt.
Therefore strong peoples will honor you;
    cities of ruthless nations will revere you.
You have been a refuge for the poor,
    a refuge for the needy in their distress,
a shelter from the storm
    and a shade from the heat.
For the breath of the ruthless
    is like a storm driving against a wall
and like the heat of the desert.

 God is our rotem.  But what strikes you about the broomtree is its size.  It is not a large tree.  It is the size of a typical sagebrush, which teaches us an important lesson.  It is the lesson of just enough.  This is the rule of the desert.  God doesn't simply want to pour abundance into your life.  There are times and seasons where He may choose to do that, but the desert teaches us how to live by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.  It teaches us how to be content with just enough.  The rotem is not designed to be a massive shelter for total recuperation; the rotem is just enough shade to get us to the next stop along our journey.

This is who God shows Himself to be in our lives.

This is what God gives.

Just enough.

But the lesson doesn't end there.  We are also called to be rotem for others.

Isaiah speaks later about the time when Messiah would come.  He will say the following in chapter 32:

See, a king will reign in righteousness
    and rulers will rule with justice.
Each one will be like a shelter from the wind
    and a refuge from the storm,
like streams of water in the desert
    and the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land.

The “king” who reigns in righteousness would be Messiah, but the rulers are plural.  Who are the rulers?  The rulers would be us.  There will be a King who will reign in righteousness and there will be rulers who rule with justice.  And each one of those rulers will be shelter, refuge, water — and shade.

Your calling is to be shade for others in their desert.

Now you don't have to be the answer to all their questions or perform miracles.  You aren't called to be a gigantic oak tree.  You are called to be shade.

Just enough.

We can all do that.  We can all be people who provide the refreshing relief for others on their journey — who allow them to make it to the next step.  We can be rotem.  So go and find people in their desert.  Go and provide some shade for the exhausted and water for the thirsty.  The desert has taught us to be people who put God on display.

"As a Bride You Loved Me..."

The book of Numbers depicts the time of the Israelites in the desert.  As we've already noted, the desert period is a time that reflects the “honeymoon period” between God and His bride.  I think that image alone speaks to us about our “deserts.”

The very nature of the desert forces us to rely solely and completely on God.  There is no lying to yourself that you somehow have provided for your own needs by your own power.  There is no water, no food, no shade, no distraction.  There is no hope, except for whatever you truly believe about who God is and the story He's telling in the world.

I want to share in the next couple posts about my own time in the desert.  I got to spend about six days in the wilderness of the Negev, Zin, and Paran deserts.  The mental images that I acquired in the desert are seared (pun intended) into my memory.  The unbearable heat, the stifling air, the rugged terrain taught me more about who God is and who I am than any other exercise I have done.  It will certainly not be my goal to make light of the deserts we go through.  They are hard and brutally tough.

But I remember the day that our teacher looked at us after one week and said, “Tomorrow, we leave the desert.”

And I remember tearing up.

I didn't want to leave the desert.  I had seen God in a new way.  I had experienced His closeness.  His voice thundered in my soul with so much more intensity when I sat in my uncomfortable uneasiness.  I felt as if I was sitting in His lap and now I was being asked to get up because it was time to go.  And I think in that moment I got a taste of what God experiences in the desert with us.

In the prophet Jeremiah, God had said:

“I remember the devotion of your youth,
    how as a bride you loved me
and followed me through the wilderness,
    through a land not sown.”

In that week I learned that I would rather weep and struggle in the lap of my God than I would walk triumphantly without Him.  I would rather stumble in confusion and be embraced by the groom than I would walk with confidence in a land He had not given me.

And I can imagine that God probably likes that about deserts.

Of course, God has not created us for deserts.

And He has not called us to sit in His lap forever.

God is putting the world back together and when He finds partners, He often shapes them in the desert.  But the reason He's shaping our lives is so that we can go “bless all nations.”  The reason He's teaching us to be fed by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God is because we'll need to be able to trust in His shalom as we walk into a world of chaos.

The desert is never the destination.  But it sure shapes us for the mission.

And before we move on to the plot of the story, we may want to consider the lessons that are taught in the desert.  Before we march around Jericho, we may need some time in the sun, plodding on in thirst.  Before we acquire houses we did not build and vineyards we did not plant, we may need to be taught where every good gift comes from.

And so, before the promised land, I invite you to follow me out to the desert…

A Kingdom of What?

And now, a post about the book of Leviticus.

And, yes, I'm only going to write one post about the book of Leviticus.  In all seriousness, the book of Leviticus is one of my favorite books.  I find everything about the book fascinating — the message, the medium, the historical context, the packaging, the literature.  I feel as if there are two ways to talk about Leviticus (and I realize I am wrong, there must be many ways to talk about it): the “10,000-foot view” and the “word-by-word” view.  This, of course, helps me decide how I'm going to write about Leviticus, since the scope of this blog is to write about the overarching narrative of the Text.

One of things I love about the 10,000-foot view is its ability to help us understand the big picture of Leviticus, something that nobody seems to talk much about.  And if we have been correct about what God is up to in the world — if we are right about God trying to put the world back together — we should see that displayed in the Levitical law.

Well, back in Exodus, we had heard a statement made by God:

"Now if you obey me fully and keep my covenant, then out of all nations you will be my treasured possession. Although the whole earth is mine, you will be for me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation."  (Exodus 19:5–6)

Now we had chatted about the “treasured possession” portion of that verse.  But we had left out the missional piece of that statement.  It wasn't just that God was looking for a bride, but He wanted that bride for a purpose.  He had a mission.  We've been seeing this mission throughout, from Noah, to Abram, and the Red Sea.

God wanted His people to be priests, which raises some questions for this wandering nation of nomads in the desert.  What is a priest?  What does a priest do?  And how are we going to be a “kingdom” of priests?

Well, luckily, God gave the people the book of Leviticus.  The role of the book of Leviticus is to describe the Levitical priesthood.  Here is the way that I outline the book of Leviticus for my students:

ATONEMENT (Chapters 1–7)
THE PRIESTHOOD (Chapters 8–10; 21–22)
HOW TO LIVE AS “PRIESTS” (Chapters 11–20)
HOW TO PARTY (Chapters 23–24)
CARING FOR THE OPPRESSED (Chapters 25–27)

ATONEMENT.  Before we even discuss any other component of kingdoms and priesthoods, before we hand out any laws, God wants to communicate clearly to His people that He is for them and there is peace in their relationship.  The book of Hebrews will tell us that this system was set up for the “cleansing of their conscience” (Hebrews 9).  In a world filled with uncertainty about where a person stood with the gods, this God — speaking in the sacrificial language of culture — gave His people a clean and succinct prescription for atonement.  This would have been an incredible message of grace (a great resource for this discussion would be watching “The Gods Aren't Angry” by Rob Bell).

THE PRIESTHOOD.  I am then introduced to the priest.  The roles of the priest are seen throughout the book of Leviticus (also Numbers and even Deuteronomy), but they can be boiled down into four roles: First, they put God on display.  The priest dresses differently, pursues a different economy, and has limits on his sexuality; the priest looks different.  This is key, because our God is different.  The word for being different, or “set apart,” in the Hebrew is kodosh.  When you look at the priest, you are reminded of the oddity of God's love.  Second, they help people navigate their atonement.  The priest helps facilitate the sacrificial system spoken of above.  It is his job to help walk you through the process that reminds you of your right relationship before God.  Third, the priest intercedes on behalf of the people.  The priesthood stands in the gap between God and the people.  They speak to the people on behalf of God, but they also speak to God on behalf of the people.  It is the priest's role to plead the case of the people and ask for God's mercy, guidance, and discernment.  Finally, the priest distributes resources to the oppressed.  There is always extra and there is always a need.  Those in need would come to the temple and the priests would take some of the extra and distribute it to those in need, as an act of justice.

HOW TO LIVE AS “PRIESTS.”  We enter in the section of Leviticus that drives many a reader crazy.  All of these arbitrary rules!  But in fact, when we recognize that the “arbitrary rules” are bracketed by discussions of priesthood, the reader might realize that this set of rules is how God is setting His people apart.  They are to put God on display, just like the priests; they will eat differently, dress differently, pursue a different economy, and even farm their fields in a way that differs from the nations around them.  They are to help others navigate their atonement, by putting God's grace-filled system on public display for the nations around them.  They are to intercede on behalf of others, working within a system that is based on justice and equality.  And they will distribute resources to the oppressed through numerous opportunities to feast, tithe, and bring their first fruits to the LORD.

HOW TO PARTY.  To put it quite simply, God ordains the party, because if we do not party on a regular basis, then we forget that the story is good.  If we do not feast, there is a danger that we forget God's grace and get lost in the rules.  The party is essential.

CARING FOR THE OPPRESSED.  God demands that people pursue justice in His economy.  He puts limits on debt and the methods used to seek repayment.  He puts systems in place that give even creation itself the opportunity to rest and breathe — a reminder that the world does not spin because of its production.  And He issues an incredible challenge called the Year of Jubilee.  Every fifty years, the people would cancel all debts, restore all property — essentially, reset the clocks — and start afresh.  God was seeking to avoid a world where the gap between the rich and poor would widen and widen and widen.

In a sense, when we read the book of Leviticus, we are being invited to see the world through the lens of God's mission.  To be a kingdom of priests (a call that is echoed in 1 Peter), we need to be a people who are willing to tell a different story — willing to put God on display.  We are to be people who help others find the place where their deficiencies and mistakes are atoned for.  We stand in the gap and intercede on behalf of people everywhere, trying to find any way possible to invite people to a table to hold a little piece of bread and a little cup of juice.  And we would be people who lead the way in distributing resources and pursuing justice who restore the world to God's Genesis 1 intention.

God is looking for partners — whether a b'hor, a bride, or a priest — who will help Him tell a different story in the world.

Falling on Joyful Faces

Before we move on from the Tabernacle, I want to take one more post to make two more observations.  It is interesting to take a look at the situations that surround the completion of the Tabernacle.

When the Israelites complete the Tabernacle in the desert, we are told about Moses' inspection and the cloud/glory of God that comes to rest on the Tabernacle.  In the book of Leviticus, we are given a few more details:

Moses and Aaron then went into the tent of meeting. When they came out, they blessed the people; and the glory of the Lord appeared to all the people. Fire came out from the presence of the Lord and consumed the burnt offering and the fat portions on the altar. And when all the people saw it, they shouted for joy and fell facedown.  (Leviticus 9:23–24)

I think we read over this without giving it much thought.  But if we read it again, I think something stands out.  For me, whenever I read about people falling facedown, I think of them being overwhelmed and terrified — shaking in the presence of the LORD.  But this instance is accompanied by an interesting description.  They shouted for joy.
Now that's a different picture for falling facedown.  As I seek to understand what that might be about, I look towards the other stories of completing God's dwelling place.  The Tabernacle will eventually become the temple in Jerusalem.  In 2 Chronicles 7, I am told about the day that Solomon dedicated and opened the temple.  Here is a part of the record:

When Solomon finished praying, fire came down from heaven and consumed the burnt offering and the sacrifices, and the glory of the Lord filled the temple. The priests could not enter the temple of the Lord because the glory of the Lord filled it. When all the Israelites saw the fire coming down and the glory of the Lord above the temple, they knelt on the pavement with their faces to the ground, and they worshiped and gave thanks to the Lord, saying,

“He is good;
     his love endures forever.”

The same reaction!  They fall on their faces in joy and give thanks.  The place where God will demonstrate His unending love for His followers is celebrated with this exclamation that the LORD is good and that His love endures forever.  Which kind of reminds me of a people who are remembering to trust the story.

But on that same day that Ray wagged his finger in my face, he pointed out this reaction of the people whenever the glory of the LORD came down and the sacrifice on the altar was consumed.  He showed me how people shouted with joy and fell on their faces in worship.  He then reminded me that on the day of Pentecost, the fire came out of the temple one last time.  This time, the fire didn't consume the sacrifice, but separated and settled on the foreheads of all those worshipping.  Ray told me that Paul had been quite adamant that each one of us, as individuals and as a body, were the temple of God.

“So when people come into your presence, what should their reaction be?” he said.

They would fall on their faces before God and shout for joy: “The LORD is good!  His love endures forever!”

A powerful image.  But I wanted to know why people would think that when they encounter the temple of God.

And after quite a bit of study over these long and extensive instructions, I have noticed that the story of building the Tabernacle (Exodus 24–40) is chiastic. The treasure hunt is roughly constructed like this:

1.  The glory of the LORD (24:15–18)
     2.  The Tabernacle and priestly garments described.  (25–30)
          3.  Bezalel & Oholiab  (31:1–11)
               4.  Sabbath  (31:12–18)
               5.  Sabbath  (35:1–3)
          6.  Bezalel & Oholiab  (35:30–35)
     7.  The Tabernacle and priestly garments described.  (36–39)
8.  The glory of the LORD (40:34–38)

And what do you suppose lies at the center of this chiasm?

The Lord replied, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”   (33:14)

People fall on their faces in joy because the temple of God is always a reminder of God's good Genesis 1 story.  The temple is an invitation to trust the story.

But you and I are temples.

We are living, breathing, walking invitations to trust the story.

And when people encounter us, they should be overwhelmed by the goodness of God, saying, “the LORD is good!  His love endures forever!”

Creating a Space

The Jews have been examining the record of the building of the Tabernacle for quite some time.  They have noticed some incredible undercurrents taking place in the Text.  What I'm about to show you takes an awful lot of time scouring the Text to find and notice; it is certainly not something that you would notice on a cursory reading.

I am going to ask you to do a little bit of work (and if I didn't think it was worth it, I wouldn't ask you to do it).  I would like you to grab a Bible or open up a tab for an online version so that you can see the Text for yourself.  I will even put hyperlinks in the blog text below so all you have to do is click on the verse.  When you've done this, I'd like you to look up the following list of verses:

Exodus 25:1
Exodus 30:11
Exodus 30:17
Exodus 30:22
Exodus 30:34
Exodus 31:1
Exodus 31:12

Now, I know you think I've either made a mistake or lost my mind.  Why in the world would I want you to look up those verses?

Go back up to that list and count how many of those references there are.

There are seven.

The Tabernacle is created with seven “the LORD saids.”  Can you think of anything else that was created with seven “and God saids”?

Creation.  The construction of the Tabernacle is narrated as a retelling of the story of Genesis 1.  Did you know that one of the things that the Jews call Torah is the Tree of Life?  Where did they keep the Torah?  In the Ark of the Covenant.  Which sits inside the Holy of Holies, behind the curtain.  Which has two cherubim on it.  Guess where we first encountered cherubim in the Text…  Genesis 3, when God sets up cherubim with a flaming sword — to guard the tree of life.

Don't believe me?  Just check the verse that follows the last and seventh “the LORD said” in the list above.  “Tell the Israelites to observe my Sabbaths.”

This is a retelling of creation.

I was standing in the desert just outside of Egypt in 2008 when my teacher, Ray VanderLaan, pointed a finger in my face and shouted, “The first time, God created the space and said, ‘You fill it.’  But that didn't work very well.  So this time God said, ‘You create the space, AND I'LL FILL IT!’ ”

Which leads me to my reflection: I believe the construction of the Tabernacle models an unspoken promise that God has made to His people.  If you will create a space in your life for God, He will fill it.  The question is, will you create a space?

What would have happened if the Israelites would have never created the Tabernacle?  The fascinating thing is that we run around like chickens with our heads cut off, filling our lives with busyness, and then we are just flabbergasted that God doesn't interrupt our days with His undeniable presence.

If we won't create a space, why would we expect God to fill it?

But if you do create the space, God will fill it.

He may not fill it the way you want or expect, but if you will create a space in your life — a discipline, an hour of listening, a sabbath rest, a location of retreat — I believe that God will fill it.

“By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.” (Genesis 2:2–3)

“And so Moses finished the work.”  (Exodus 40:33)

“The Israelites had done all the work just as the the LORD had commanded Moses.  Moses inspected the work and saw that they had done it just as the LORD had commanded.  So Moses blessed them.”  (Exodus 39:42–43)