1 CORINTHIANS: Broken Body (part three)

If this is the context of the first letter to the Corinthians — if they are struggling with selfish division on one hand and rampant cultural compromise on the other — how will they move forward? Paul suggests the way to conquer the perils of their situation is love.

Surprised? I hope not. We shouldn’t be.

In 1 Corinthians 12–14, Paul moves into an interesting argument. He begins dealing with the unique giftedness of the the Corinthian church — namely, the miraculous gifts God has bestowed on them. Note that this is not written to address rightness and wrongness, or to give my personal opinions about the miraculous gifts. Clearly something unique is taking place in Corinth that isn’t taking place in Philippi or Colossae or Rome. God gets to do whatever God wants, so I’m the last person in the world who’s going to have the audacity to claim such gifts aren’t in use in the church today (albeit in conjunction with some pretty helpful instructions about how to use them properly).

But what does become relevant to our discussion here is that even the spiritual gifts have become an issue of contention and division for the people of God in Corinth. Their desire for selfish identity and glorification seems to know no bounds. They are using their own giftedness to promote their place within the Body of Christ. And couched in the middle of this three-chapter discussion is what we’ve often called “The Love Chapter.”

What many people have often noticed is that 1 Corinthians 12–14 (and maybe beyond) is a chiasm. While I have seen the chiasm identified and described in different ways, it appears Paul has intentionally placed this conversation about love in the center of a larger conversation about unity. Paul seems to be convinced that the way for them to deal with their divisions and find a place of orderly worship is to lay down their own desires and offer themselves to others in love.

This has actually been a thread for Paul throughout the letter. Look at Paul’s argument from chapter 6:

“I have the right to do anything,” you say—but not everything is beneficial. “I have the right to do anything”—but I will not be mastered by anything. You say, “Food for the stomach and the stomach for food, and God will destroy them both.” The body, however, is not meant for sexual immorality but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body. By his power God raised the Lord from the dead, and he will raise us also. Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ himself?

Or this very similar argument four chapters later:

“I have the right to do anything,” you say—but not everything is beneficial. “I have the right to do anything”—but not everything is constructive. No one should seek their own good, but the good of others.

No one should seek their own good, but the good of others. Apparently, Paul thinks that considering others before ourselves is the way to rid our faith community and our worship from the struggles of selfishness and idolatry. Paul says it isn’t enough to make sure that “it’s OK” to do something or to be something. It’s more important to consider the impact on others. Not is my behavior permissible, but is my behavior beneficial for others. Not is my behavior allowed, but is my behavior constructive for the larger community of faith.

Love God. Love others.

When you love others, God says you are loving Him.

I’ll close with some thoughts about the Eucharist — the Lord’s Supper. It seems that in the quest to find what is considered sacred by the Corinthians, even the Lord’s Supper didn’t escape their selfishness and division. Consider this from chapter 11:

In the following directives I have no praise for you, for your meetings do more harm than good. In the first place, I hear that when you come together as a church, there are divisions among you, and to some extent I believe it. No doubt there have to be differences among you to show which of you have God’s approval. So then, when you come together, it is not the Lord’s Supper you eat, for when you are eating, some of you go ahead with your own private suppers. As a result, one person remains hungry and another gets drunk. Don’t you have homes to eat and drink in? Or do you despise the church of God by humiliating those who have nothing? What shall I say to you? Shall I praise you? Certainly not in this matter!

For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.

The Eucharist resembled a guild feast before it did the broken body of Christ.

A broken body, indeed. This body of believers is broken beyond recognition. Yet Paul will invite them to a table that can remind them of the solidarity they share will all those bothers and sisters who worship alongside them. At the table, we are reminded of the fact that no matter who we are, we come — needy, beaten, battled — to the table of God. We find a reminder of the last night Jesus spent with his disciples and the way he served them selflessly. We are reminded of the thing that brings us together and makes us members of the same family.

We have wrestled in the previous two conversations about how much our day and culture shares in common with that of Corinth.

There is encouragement in the fact that now — 2,000 years later — we are still celebrating the same Eucharist and partaking in the same reminder of all that brings us together. I pray those regular moments will remind us of love incarnate; that we would remember the life and ministry of Jesus and how he loved; that we would be able to examine our own broken body (the Church!) and be invited to a table of grace and solidarity with our fellow brothers and sisters.

A broken body, repaired by the broken body of Christ.

the Greatest

The Pharisees end up hearing that Jesus has, in fact, silenced the Sadducees with his teaching. In the gospel of Matthew, a teacher of the Law approaches Jesus to ask him about the greatest commandments. The way it reads in Matthew, it sounds as if the Pharisees are perplexed that Jesus was able to stump the Sadducees and wanted to do some follow-up. The question — “Which is the greatest commandment?” — is one that is very common in Jesus’s Jewish world. It is essentially asking the teacher what his interpretive lens is. What is his hermeneutical filter? How does he interpret the Scriptures?

“Great” commandments were really a statement about what the Jews called “weight.” Some laws carried more weight than others. If we can determine what the “weightiest” commandments are, it will help us know how to read our Text. For instance, Rahab has a dilemma when the men of Jericho come looking for the spies. In such an instance, she is going to break a law. She is either not going to protect the foreigner and allow them to be murdered, or she is going to lie. The question is one of weight. If she chooses correctly, she ends up fulfilling the law; if she chooses incorrectly, she abolishes it. Rahab chooses — intuitively, I might add (she is a pagan prostitute, after all) — that protecting the foreigner carries more weight than abstaining from lies. She decides correctly and ends up in the “Hall of Faith” (Hebrews 11).

In Jesus’s day, there were two dominant “yokes” or sets of interpretation that were held. They came from the schools of Shammai and Hillel. Shammai declared the two greatest commandments were “love God with all your heart and all your soul and all your might” and “obey the Sabbath.” This made Shammai’s yoke centered on obedience. Obedience is the weightiest call in each situation. But Hillel said it was “love God…” and “love your neighbor as yourself,” making the weightiest call the call to love.

Jesus agrees with Hillel.

In Matthew, this appears to answer the question and they move on. But in Luke, this question sees a little more treatment. I personally believe we are not dealing with parallel stories in this instance, but we are dealing with the same question. Again, this is one of the most common questions a rabbi would be asked in Jesus’s world, so we would expect multiple interactions. In Luke, the questioner asks Jesus about the greatest commandment and receives the same answer.

And behold, a lawyer stood up to put him to the test, saying, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the Law? How do you read it?” And he answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have answered correctly; do this, and you will live.”

But he, desiring to justify himself, said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

Desiring to justify himself? What is that all about?

Jesus, like a brilliant rabbi, has just turned the entire situation back around onto the person asking the question. Since the man is a lawyer (a person who studies the Law), Jesus asks him what his yoke is. The man replies and Jesus agrees. The whole situation would be slightly humorous to those listening in on the conversation. So in order to justify himself, he asks about the neighbor.

And justify himself, he does. Because the debate surrounding “who is my neighbor” was a fierce one. He asks a doozy of a question.

But Jesus’s response is even better. I have had more than one teacher tell me that Jesus’s parable surrounding the Good Samaritan is one of the most brilliant parables told in Jewish history. So in order to understand Jesus’s teaching, we have to set the stage.

P’SHAT

Rabbis of the first century liked to tell parables with a common template. Doing so allowed them to keep some of the variables constant for the hearers and allow them to wrestle with the content of the parable with less confusion (or should we say, it allowed them to put the confusion where they wanted it to be). One of the most common templates we have in written record is the template of the Priest, the Levite, and the Pharisee. Whatever the content of the parable was, the characters were always the same, and each played the same role.

The priest would do it wrong. The Levite would also do it wrong. But the Pharisee would do it right.

In response to the neighbor question, Jesus begins a parable following this typical template. A man is beat up and needs help. The priest refuses and the Levite refuses. (It should be noted that they have good reasons to refuse: they are trying to be obedient to their role as priests who need to stay clean — but they are using the yoke.) At this point in the conversation, everybody knows who is coming next to save the day — the Pharisee.

But Jesus changes the story. “Along came a Samaritan…”

And you could have heard a pin drop.

What we also don’t understand is the background to the “who is my neighbor” debate.

“Shammai! Who is my neighbor?” 

He would have responded, “Your fellow Jew.”

“Do I have to love the Roman?”

“No, you do not; they are our enemy.”

“Hillel! Who is my neighbor?”

“Your fellow Jew.”

“Do I have to love the Roman?”

“Yes, they are your neighbor as well.”

“Do I have to love a Samaritan?”

“Of course not! Nobody should love a Samaritan!”

In Jesus’s story, he pushes the envelope far beyond what any listener would have been comfortable with. Jesus is clearly stating that even Hillel doesn’t go far enough with his love! Not only this, but the Samaritan isn’t even the one receiving the love — he’s the one being obedient! And all of this information, which has made this parable jump off of the page, is simply p’shat.

REMEZ

Did you know Jesus wasn’t even the one who came up with this story? It took place centuries before, and it’s in your Text: 2 Chronicles 28. In the story, the king of Samaria has defeated Judah. He is celebrating his spoils and treating the prisoners poorly when the prophet comes and tells him that God is not happy. He handed the people of Judah over to him because of His discipline, but He is not happy with how they are being treated by the king. The king thoughtfully repents:

So the armed men left the captives and the spoil before the princes and all the assembly. And the men who have been mentioned by name rose and took the captives, and with the spoil they clothed all who were naked among them. They clothed them, gave them sandals, provided them with food and drink, and anointed them, and carrying all the feeble among them on donkeys, they brought them to their kinsfolk at Jericho, the city of palm trees. Then they returned to Samaria.

This story has already happened! It’s a brilliant remez.

DRASH

As it stands, this is already an incredible teaching, but we have yet to uncover the drash. I worked for years trying to uncover the meaning. Then last year, one of my college students uncovered a chiasm in 2 Chronicles 28. Here is a depiction of the chiasm in the story of Chronicles:

Ahaz sacrifices to other gods (Baal)

The Lord humbles Ahaz with Aram and Isreal

Migration of people to Damascus

Man of Ephraim

Prophet Obed — “Restorer”

Men of Ephraim

Migration of people to Jericho

The Lord humbles Ahaz with Assyria

Ahaz sacrifices to other gods (Damascus)

The center of the chiasm ends up being Obed’s statement that they are to show mercy and love their enemies.

I don’t know if the lawyer’s mind exploded upon hearing this parable. I know he’s not even willing to say the name “Samaritan” when he answers Jesus. He apparently had a thought to ponder that night.

And again, if we are actually willing to hear the parable and not merely study it, so do we.

He who has ears, let him hear.

Truth and Light

** I am completely indebted to my time with Ray VanderLaan for the insight into this teaching.

The story of the Mount of Transfiguration has been a story of great orthodox significance and personal quandary. Other than the glorification of Christ (which is an incredible moment, no doubt), this story seemed to be missing a meaningful aspect driving it like so many other stories in the gospels. Not only this, but there is a case to be made that more than one of the gospels is chiastic (I’m not completely sold on this idea, yet); if this is the case, then the story of the Transfiguration would sit at the center of those chiasms.

Nevertheless, since we’re used to asking the question, I’m sure we can waste no time in diving right in.

Let me identify the following seven characteristics in the story of the Transfiguration:

1) There is a “high mountain.”

2) There are three people taken with the leader.

3) A cloud covers the mountain.

4) Glory is on the mountain and a figure’s appearance is changed.

5) The glory “settles” on the mountain.

6) This all happens after “six days.”

7) God speaks.

Do these details remind you of any other story in the Tanakh?

These are all details that are shared in Moses’s journey up Mt. Sinai.

Enter into the story Peter’s voice, declaring a desire to build three Tabernacles.

And this is where we butcher Peter. In lesson after lesson and sermon after sermon, we talk about how Peter — the bumbling idiot — doesn’t know what to say and so he just blurts out idiotic nonsense.

Not the case here. Ironically, I think Peter knows his Text better than we do.

What is the next thing to happen in the story after Moses spends time on Mt. Sinai? They build the Tabernacle.

Whoops! Sorry Peter.

A lot of people assume God interrupts Peter in an effort to chastise his loose tongue. However, if you check your Text, you will find God never addresses Peter at all; there is simply God's voice from the cloud. Not only this, but the voice from the cloud says, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well-pleased. Listen to him!” What many of us don’t realize is that God shows up and quotes all three parts of His book!

“This is my son” — Psalm 2, from the Ketuvim (the Writings)

“Whom I love … [and] I am well-pleased” — Isaiah 42, from the Nevi’im (the Prophets)

“Listen to him” — Deuteronomy 18, from the Torah

The midrash taught that when Messiah comes, one of the ways we would know it’s him is that all three parts of the Tanakh would testify about him.

I love that when God speaks, He quotes His own book. Awesome!

Now, I know it says in Luke that “Peter didn’t know what he was saying,” but that statement in the Greek can be applied in a few different ways, not to mention that the entire statement seems to be a marginal (or at least parenthetical) addition to the story itself. Not only this, but let’s talk a little about the midrash and see if you think Peter isn’t a genius (maybe without even realizing it).

The story makes a point of telling us that Jesus is seen hanging out on the mountain with Elijah and Moses. What’s interesting about that is there are lots of stories in the midrash about Messiah and Elijah being together. There are also lots of stories about Messiah and Moses being together. However, there are only two stories of all three being in the same place at the same time. One of those stories is the New Testament account(s) in the gospels. The other is a midrash that predates Jesus by about 80 years.

This particular teaching comes as a conversation surrounding Psalm 43 (and 42). In it, the Psalmist says the following:

Vindicate me, O God, and defend my cause    against an ungodly people,from the deceitful and unjust man    deliver me!For you are the God in whom I take refuge;    why have you rejected me?Why do I go about mourning    because of the oppression of the enemy?
Send out your light and your truth;
    let them lead me;
let them bring me to your holy hill
    and to your dwelling!
Then I will go to the altar of God,
    to God my exceeding joy,
and I will praise you with the lyre,
    O God, my God.
Why are you cast down, O my soul,
    and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
    my salvation and my God.

As the Psalmist cries out for deliverance, he pleads for God to send him His truth and His light. Now, what is the Psalmist asking for in that? The midrash teaches that God’s truth is seen in Moses, the giver of Torah, and in the prophet Elijah, who had such great passion for truth. But who is light? Well, the midrash quotes Isaiah 42 (the same one God quoted) and says Messiah is the “Light” of God that is sent forth. So, the midrash concludes, when you are in trouble, pray for Moses, pray for Elijah, and pray for Messiah.

The next line of the Psalm says these figures will lead the Psalmist to God’s holy mountain, the place where He dwells. The word for dwell is the same root word for “tabernacle.”

Maybe “Peter didn’t realize what he was saying.” Maybe he did. But… whoa.

That’s an amazing teaching buried in the story of the Transfiguration. And while I still don’t know exactly where to land the plane (so be prepared for an awkward blog post ending), I do know there is A LOT MORE going on in this story than I ever realized. 

I do know that I need to know my Text more. So join me as I try to follow in the footsteps of a disciple who could — in the midst of seeing Moses and Elijah — have the awareness to realize he’s experiencing Text and wants to enter into the story.

Blessed

In the gospel of Matthew, Jesus’s public teaching ministry begins with what many of us know as the Sermon on the Mount. Most scholars will be quick to say they don’t believe Jesus actually gave this long “sermon” of a teaching, but instead Matthew is arranging many of Jesus’s teachings into a “package” that he wants his Jewish readers to see as one large teaching.

But even before Jesus starts teaching, the record of Matthew is already interesting. Chapter 4 ends with a description of Jesus going throughout the Gailiee and teaching in their synagogues. We are told that He healed many folks and crowds came out to see Him. Matthew includes a description of who is in these crowds. There are people from the Galilee (religious Jews), people from the Decapolis (pagans), people from Jerusalem (Sadducees?), Judea (Herodians?) and the region beyond the Jordan — a quick way of saying everybody was there.

Jesus, after seeing the crowds, goes on to call His disciples to Himself and teach them. The “them” in the passage is slightly ambiguous. We have a few things helping us to determine what Matthew is saying. First, a rabbi would never address such a large crowd with this kind of teaching; however, we’ve already stated that it’s quite possible Jesus didn’t actually teach this entirely in the “sermon” form we see today. Second, in typical Greek, the “them” would be a reference to the closest antecedent, which would be the disciples. The key word in the last sentence would be “typical,” because if there is one thing I learned from Greek in my Bible training, it’s that the “rules” of the Greek language are much more fluid than we’d like (hence the reason Greek ruined my GPA, but I digress).

It would be safe to say that Matthew is pointing out the crowds for a reason and a purpose; you might also remember Matthew’s agenda concerning the outsider. This crowd has lots of people who simply “don’t belong.” This point of consideration will become important as we learn from the sermon on the mount.

Jesus opens with a famous passage that we like to call the Beatitudes:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
    for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
    for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
    for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
    for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
    for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
    for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Now, I’ve heard many a sermon about the Beatitudes being a list of things Jesus is inviting us to aspire to. However, there are a few things that may be incorrect about this approach. If this is true, then Jesus is announcing that God’s favor rests upon somebody else. When you become meek, when you get to the place of peacemaking, when you get to _______________, then you find the blessing of God. Not only does this run counter to many of the things we find in Jesus’s teachings, but this line of reasoning doesn’t work with all the statements. Consider the term “poor in spirit” or “those who mourn.” Do you want to aspire to mourning? Is Jesus really telling people to pursue a state of mourning? Do we really want to be people who find ourselves poor in spirit? This seems upside down.

Instead, Dallas Willard once suggested that the Beatitudes are, in fact, pronouncements of God’s blessing on all the people the world thinks are missing out. In essence, this would mean Jesus starts His teaching with pronouncements that look like the following:

God is for those who are spiritually bankrupt.
God’s favor in on those who mourn.
God is for those who are meek.

This sounds like an intriguing idea, but don’t we end up with the same problem as our other theory? It doesn’t work for all of the statements. Being merciful isn’t a negative quality. But Willard invites us to consider the context of Jesus’s teaching. In fact, being merciful would be a terrible quality. In a world being torn apart by Imperial Rome, to show mercy to your enemy would be an incredibly offensive idea. To be a peacemaker would be akin to asking for persecution.

So, in fact, the Beatitudes might be a list of pronouncements; Jesus might be announcing to the crowds — full of Jews, Gentiles, Herodians, Pharisees, and Romans alike — that God is for the ones they think He has abandoned.

That would fit Matthew’s agenda of the mumzer quite nicely.

And if we peer a little deeper into the teaching, we may begin to wonder if the list is a chiasm.

Poor in Spirit
    Those Who Mourn
        The Meek
            Hunger and Thirst for Righteousness
            Merciful
        Pure in Heart
    Peacemakers
Persecuted

The stunning, thunderbolt center of Jesus’s teaching would be a stark message to those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Jesus might be saying, “Are you interested in righteousness? Do you hunger and thirst for it? Do you want to see it? Try showing mercy.” Into a world that is being rocked with injustice — into a crowd that has a mixture of Romans and the Jews they are mistreating — Jesus suggests that true righteousness looks like mercy.

And Jesus isn’t going to let up on this idea throughout His teaching. Jesus will continue teaching that we would pray for those that persecute us and love our enemies, and He even tweaks an ancient Jewish prayer to be a statement about forgiveness.

This Jewish rabbi is serious about loving people. So buckle up, because this ministry of Jesus is just getting started…

JOB: Perspective

One of the most famous stories of the Bible is the story of Job, the man who loses everything. The stage for the story is set when God essentially creates a wager around how impressed He is with Job’s character. After bragging about Job to Satan, Satan asserts that Job’s character is a result of his prosperity. In an attempt to prove Satan incorrect, God allows Satan to destroy Job’s life and Job loses everything — his possessions, his health, and even his children. Job’s wife is the only one left and she doesn’t end up being much of a blessing to him through the ordeal. After Job’s friends come to comfort him, and remaining silent for one week, they begin a long bantering discourse which will last for 36 chapters.

After Job seems to become increasingly haughty and hostile, God finally enters the story with comments that are far from comforting and puts Job in his place, reminding him of just who he is dealing with. The story ends with Job’s chastening and the restoration of a life of prosperity again.

So, with that being said, there are a few points to discuss.

First, Job is a drama. Now, this is not to say that the drama is not based on an absolutely true tale about a man named Job, but it is very clearly, in its original language, an ancient drama meant to be reenacted with actors that have long monologues and used as a dramatic teaching tool. Read Job like you would a play.

Second, it is interesting to note Job’s friends partaking in the Jewish observance of shiva. In Jewish culture, when a person is in a period of grieving and loss, the friends show up and “sit shiva” with the griever. You are not allowed to speak unless spoken to; you are just there to be present for the suffering. There is a great discussion about this practice in the NOOMA video “Matthew” by Rob Bell.

Third, I have placed Job as a Exilic Prophet. Many conservative Bible teachers would teach that Job is one of the oldest stories of the Bible. There are elements of the story that seem to resonate with a much older Hebrew prose somewhere around the date of Abraham. However, there are many elements to the story that seem to be problematic to this view. Some of the other content of the book does not match the time period at all (e.g., Zodiac references, language surrounding the beasts, etc.); additionally, the blatant reference to Satan would be almost a millennium ahead of its time. The reference to Satan as a personified character doesn’t begin until the Hellenistic period. Such a reference would be unheard of that early in history. There is another prevalent theory (especially amongst Jewish thought) that the book of Job belongs to the books of wisdom in the Ketuvim, perhaps even written by Solomon. There is much to support this claim, as well, which we will pull apart here shortly. However, this doesn’t solve some of the same issues mentioned above. My teacher preferred to place Job in the Babylonian exile, which is where I place it, as he thought it was an incredible dramatic/poetic/prophetic message to a people who had lost everything, just like Job.

My personal opinion is that it is likely all three of those options. I imagine the story of Job would very likely be a very ancient tale; humans have been wrestling with questions about suffering since the dawn of time. I can also see a character like Solomon taking this same story and giving it new life (similar to how we like to resurrect old classics and remake them into new movies today). Of course, I can easily see this popular story being reclaimed yet again during a period of intense national suffering in captivity. This would explain all the elements, the old and the new, that are present in the book.

Fourth, Job is chiastic. There is no way for me to explain this chiasm in one blog post, but for those eager students of the Text, I would invite you to explore this amazing site here that outlines the chiastic structure of Job (your head will explode, but don’t say I didn’t warn you!) and for those REALLY in the mood for punishment, you could listen to my teaching on the book of Job here. These tools will explain the chiastic nature and literary debate surrounding Job in much more detail.

Long story short, the center of the book of Job ends up becoming chapter 28. I don’t want to post the entire chapter here, so please take the time to read it.

The whole point of the chapter is that true wisdom belongs to God. Only He knows where to find it and only He can unearth the amazing treasures of wisdom that come from His divine perspective. This is an incredible treasure to be buried in the center of a play about a guy who loses everything.

Which leads to my final thought: Job does not end with an explanation. After God shows up to throttle Job, you want God to end His discourse with an explanation of Job’s suffering. Doesn’t Job deserve at least that much? But He doesn’t.

Because that’s how life is.
That’s how suffering goes.
We don’t always get the answers.

But you as the reader, of course, are let into all of the backstory that the Job character knows nothing about! Can you imagine how things would have changed if Job knew that his suffering was coming as a result of a heavenly wager that rested on God’s beaming confidence in him? (Again, I would recommend watching another NOOMA video entitled “Whirlwind” by Rob Bell.)

Perspective. The author of Job is inviting us to consider the infinite and eternal possibilities that could lie behind our suffering, to know that God sees things that we could never begin to see and understand. God can mine wisdom from the hills of suffering as easily as man mines minerals from the mountains.

Even in the midst of suffering, we are being invited to trust the story.

Where then does wisdom come from?
    Where does understanding dwell?
It is hidden from the eyes of every living thing,
    concealed even from the birds in the sky.
Destruction and Death say,
    “Only a rumor of it has reached our ears.”
God understands the way to it
    and he alone knows where it dwells,
for he views the ends of the earth
    and sees everything under the heavens.
When he established the force of the wind
    and measured out the waters,
when he made a decree for the rain
    and a path for the thunderstorm,
then he looked at wisdom and appraised it;
    he confirmed it and tested it.
And he said to the human race,
    “The fear of the Lord—that is wisdom,
    and to shun evil is understanding.”