Deaf and Dumb--Part 2

My omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent Lord must be either a myth or a relic of the past…such a notion only comes from a fallen world, from broken hearts. All the same, I am grateful to such outspoken thinkers as Philip Pullman.

My dear reader, please reexamine the excerpts quoted earlier. Read them aloud. Speak the words as if these are your own thoughts.

Is it only those who have not surrendered their hearts to the Most High who question the immutability of his nature and authority? Am I Above Reproach? If I can brave the terror of my own heart and mind, I risk discovering that I hold much the same perspective toward God: I, a believer, also face the temptation of presuming God has changed, has lessened.

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I decided that I should give you some time to explore this idea with the Lord before we proceed. I look forward to discussing specific areas in which I personally wrestle with this tendency. And I look forward to hearing your thoughts and/or struggles, as well! Much love and many prayers, dear reader.

Deaf and Dumb--Part 1

In February, I learned of a recent ad campaign. Funded by individual sponsors, the Atheist Bus Campaign utilized tube stations and buses to spread an important message across the British Isles: “There’s probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life.” (A Slice of Infinity, 2/4/09)

Philip Pullman utilizes the well-crafted fantasy world of the His Dark Materials trilogy (including The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass) to gradually put forth some similarly disturbing thoughts. Mary Malone, one of the characters from The Amber Spyglass, offers Pullman’s young hero and heroine an expanded version of the Atheist Bus Campaign’s ideology:
“I used to be a nun, you see. I thought physics could be done to the glory of God, till I saw there wasn’t any God at all and that physics was more interesting anyway. The Christian religion is a very powerful and convincing mistake, that’s all….I thought, ‘Will anyone be better off if I go straight back to [my room] and say my prayers and confess to the priest and promise never to fall into temptation again? Will anyone be the better for making me miserable?’ And the answer came back—no. No one will. There’s no one to fret, no one to condemn, no one to bless me for being a good girl, no one to punish me for being wicked. Heaven is empty. I didn’t know whether God had died, or whether there had never been a God at all” (chap 33).

The heart of Pullman’s own particular message begins to surface as one enters the final third of The Amber Spyglass:
“Well, where is God,” said Mrs. Coulter, “if he’s alive? And why doesn’t he speak anymore? At the beginning of the world, God walked in the Garden and spoke with Adam and Eve. Then he began to withdraw, and he forbade Moses to look at his face. Later, in the time of Daniel, he was aged—he was the Ancient of Days. Where is he now? Is he still alive, as some inconceivable age, decrepit and demented, unable to think or act or speak and unable to die, a rotten hulk? And if that is his condition, wouldn’t it be the most merciful thing, the truest proof of our love for God, to seek him out and give him the gift of death?” (chap 24).

Later, the adolescent heroine and hero of Pullman’s trilogy demonstrate that merciful love of which Mrs. Coulter speaks. They stumble upon a heavenly being, an ancient personage of “terrifying decrepitude, of a face sunken in wrinkles, of trembling hands, and of a mumbling mouth and rheumy eyes,” captive within a crystal carrier or litter (chap 30). Moved by the plight of such a pathetic figure, the children free him from the crystal encasement. This pitiful being, no longer capable of speech or thought, “would have followed them anywhere, having no will of his own, and responding to simple kindness like a flower to the sun” (chap 31). But once exposed to the open air, his wizened body cannot withstand the wind’s pull. He begins to dissolve before the children’s eyes; and “their last impression was of those eyes, blinking in wonder, and a sigh of the most profound and exhausted relief” (chap 31). A girl and a boy unwittingly perform the greatest act of kindness humanity can offer: releasing God from his long, enfeebled toil.

Pullman adds further layers to this idea throughout the His Dark Materials trilogy, but the implication is clear: God is hostage to our persistent and unwarranted need of him. No longer essential, the Creator remains trapped in our selfish ignorance.

The pendulum of thought swings back to the Clockmaker Theory, this time with a flavor of moral relativism. If I wish to believe in the existence of God, that’s fine. It’s even possible that there was a God. He may have been instrumental in setting up the world; he may have involved himself with humanity for a time. But he is no longer evident. The God we continue to hold captive to the whims of our own pathetic need is dreadfully advanced in years. He no longer possesses the ability to communicate or direct. He is mute. Speechless. Dumb.

But that’s all right: God is no longer necessary. The cogs and gears work just fine on their own. So why bother God (assuming he ever existed, assuming he exists still)? “There’s probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life.” In essence: “Thanks for the jumpstart, God…if you actually gave us one. But you’re free to go now. We’ll take it from here.” How sad. How arrogant. How frightening.

On behalf of the thousands and millions who will be affected by such a message, I am enraged. “Better to have a millstone hung around your neck and be cast into the sea” than to actively promote such lies. I also find myself sincerely mourning for Mr. Pullman and the sponsors of the Atheist Bus Campaign. My heart breaks under the knowledge that anyone would cling to the hopeless hope of this three-dimensional world. To borrow the imagery of C.S. Lewis, we forge “little scratches in the crust” of Truth, and satisfy ourselves with the lifeless knowledge to be found in our wealth of “dead gold, dead silver, dead gems” (The Silver Chair, chap. 14).

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This is the first of what will be at least two or three installments. Where do you think our examination will turn next? And aside from conjectures about the direction of my thoughts, dear reader, what are your own thoughts at this point?

With Fear and Trembling

“Therefore, kings, be wise;
be warned, you judges of the earth.
Serve Adonai with fear;
rejoice, but with trembling.” (Psalm 2:10-11)

“…keep working out your deliverance with fear and trembling, for God is the one working among you both the willing and the working for what pleases him. Do everything without [fretting] or arguing, so that you may be blameless and pure children of God, without defect in the midst of a twisted and perverted generation, among whom you shine like stars in the sky, as you hold on to the Word of Life.” (Philippians 2: 12b-16a)

Stars who rejoice with fear and trembling… Obedience is deliverance.

I want to cling to the Word of Life with such fervor that His light fills me. How wonderful to be consumed by the blazing radiance that both cauterizes and comforts. How wonderful to rejoice in the glow that blinds to give sight. I want to spend my days trembling in awe as His light shines out from me. How good to reverence the incandescent glory of which I am permitted to communally partake. How good to fear misrepresenting myself as the source of this beauty and power.

Stars who rejoice with fear and trembling… I want that.

Obedience to the Lord can take very different forms. Sometimes we must simply have an attitude of submission (although anyone can attest that submission is not exactly simple); at other times action is required as well. The willing and the working. Obedience is deliverance. We become stars who rejoice with fear and trembling.

One morning, the Lord told me to offer a meeting invitation to an acquaintance. Throughout the day, I prayed repeatedly about this—asking the Holy Spirit to tell me exactly how I should go about fulfilling the Lord’s command. Late in the evening I discovered something: a message sent earlier the same day by this very acquaintance, asking if we could meet. In this case, I simply needed to submit.

Over the past two weeks, the Lord has begun prompting me to share a sizable portion of my personal testimony with you, dear reader. After seeking the council of others, and much time spent in prayer, I am moving forward in obedience through action….with a great deal of fear and trembling. I must request your support right now: please pray! If I am truly obedient to relive events in the manner I am directed to, these posts will not be easy for me to write. And if I submit myself to the detailed examination necessary to write what he has asked of me, these posts will not be easy for you to read. So for both of our sakes, dear reader, please pray! Let’s walk in the brilliant shining of deliverance. Let’s become stars who rejoice with fear and trembling.

Of Lilies and Sheep, Blessings and Grace

“But where are the flowers?” she said to herself at length.

They were nowhere. Neither on the high trees, nor on the few shrubs that grew here and there amongst them, were there any blossoms; and in the grass that grew everywhere there was not a single flower to be seen…[Rosamond] could not help feeling that flowers were wanted to make the beauty of the forest complete.

Suddenly she came upon a little open glade; and there, on the root of a great oak, sat the loveliest little girl, with her lap full of flowers of all colors, but of such kinds as Rosamond had never before seen. She was playing with them—burying her hands in them, tumbling them about, and every now and then picking one out from the rest, and throwing it away. All the time she never smiled, except with her eyes, which were as full as they could hold with the laughter of the spirit—a laughter which in this world is never heard, only sets the eyes alight with a liquid shining. Rosamond drew nearer, for the wonderful creature would have drawn a tiger to her side, and tamed him on the way. A few yards from her, she came upon one of her cast-away flowers and stooped to pick it up, as well she might where none grew save in her own longing. But to her amazement she found, instead of a flower thrown away to wither, one fast rooted and quite at home. She left it, and went on to another; but it also was fast in the soil, and growing comfortably in the warm grass. What could this mean? One after another she tried, until at length she was satisfied that it was the same with every flower the little girl threw from her lap.

She watched then until she saw her throw one, and instantly bounded to the spot. But the flower had been quicker than she: there it grew, fast fixed in the earth, and, she thought, looked at her roguishly. Something evil moved in her and she plucked it.

“Don’t! don’t!” cried the child. “My flowers cannot live in your hands."

Rosamond looked at the flower. It was withered already. She threw it from her, offended. The child rose, with difficulty keeping her lapful together, picked it up, carried it back, sat down again, spoke to it, kissed it, sang to it—oh! such a sweet, childish little song!—[Rosamond] never could recall a word of it—and threw it away. Up rose its little head, and there it was, busy growing again!

Rosamond’s bad temper soon gave way: the beauty and sweetness of the child had overcome it; and, anxious to make friends with her, she drew near, and said:

“Won’t you give me a little flower, please, you beautiful child?”

“There they are; they are all for you,” answered the child, pointing with her outstretched arm and forefinger all around.

“But you told me, a minute ago, not to touch them.”

“Yes, indeed, I did.”

“They can’t be mine, if I’m not to touch them.”

“If, to call them yours, you must kill them, then they are not yours, and never, never can be yours. They are nobody’s when they are dead.”

“But you don’t kill them.”

“I don’t pull them; I throw them away. I live them.”

“How is it that you make them grow?”

“I say, ‘You darling!’ and throw it away and there it is.”

“Where do you get them?”

“In my lap.”

“I wish you would let me throw one away.”

“Have you got any in your lap? Let me see.”

“No; I have none.”

“Then you can’t throw one away, if you haven’t got one.”

“You are mocking me!” cried [Rosamond].

“I am not mocking you,” said the child, looking her full in the face, with reproach in her large blue eyes.

“Oh, that’s where the flowers come from!” said [Rosamond] to herself, the moment she saw [those eyes], hardly knowing what she meant.

~ George MacDonald, "The Wise Woman, or the Lost Princess."

I have a request to make of you

It's been too long since the last time I helped serve for a wedding. Back when I worked for this catering company every weekend, my system was perfect. I knew exactly when to disappear. At precisely the right moment, I'd find work that kept me out of sight and earshot of the wedding festivities. But it's been too long; I'm out of practice. So when I helped serve a wedding this evening I had to witness the father/daughter dance. Unfortunately, the DJ this family hired was really good: he didn't waste his most emotionally charged moment on a mediocre song.

My sister and I both made an effort--the most recent in a long series of attempts--to connect with our father this week. We both deliberately skirted the issue of Father's Day; this holiday has been a source of much pain in the past. Surprisingly, our father responded to both of us this time. The eventual results may be quite mixed; our emotions certainly are mixed already.

I am indescribably grateful that my Lord insists upon healing me. I enjoy this chance to once again lean heavily upon him in my petty weakness. His love crashes over me in waves...even as the undertow of bitterness grasps at my ankles. It is impossible to ever adore the Lover of my soul enough.

But in my present weakness, I would like to make a request of you, dear reader. If the Lord directs you to do so, please pray for me. I am honored that we can be part of the same Body, through Jesus Christ. And I am continuing my prayers for you, as well.

A Candle and a Length of Rope

Life overwhelms so easily. I struggle to reclaim my purpose when joy is being stolen away. Shadows loom; I have to forcibly remind myself of the bright moments.

Right now, someone is lonely. Right now, someone grapples with despair. Someone is frightened. Someone is weary and confused.

Unfortunately, I cannot reach through this screen to support you in person. But I would like to encourage you somehow. So I'm going to share some of my recent "bright moments." I hope this helps you recall some of your own.

• An after-dinner conversation: it involved memorable quotes ("Why is there aluminum in the wine?!"), giggles and deep belly laughs, two friends collapsing on a couch, cuddling, and even a head rub
• Praying various psalms back to my Lord.
• Listening to silly songs about pots and pans, ducks, chocolate chip cookies, and bears wearing sneakers
• Receiving special presents: handmade bracelets (that are forming a tanline on my wrist), hugs, someone heating up dinner, beautiful artwork, being entrusted with another's thoughts and struggles, a lunchbox packed by my mother, a book, teacups, earrings, being given a special nickname, or being permitted to bestow one on someone else
• Calling my grandfather a "handsome stud" just to watch his eyes light up and see that slow grin I love so well
• Splitting a package of Oreos (dunked in soy milk--Oh Yeah!)
• Curling up on a good friend's living room floor; discussing anything from hummingbirds to chocolate cake to Predestination
  
• Creating a bulletin board and quote wall in the house
• Finding hilarious thing to put on said bulletin board and quote wall, such as: a mail clipping that reads "Do you trust Governor Sarah Palin with the fate of the polar bear?" or my friend's random comment, "I might still have ant poison somewhere on top of the fridge" or the dust bunny ("Fred") who arrived in the mail--in an enevelope complete with air holes, which contained an introduction and guidelines for his visit, as well as a paper chocolate chip cookie in case he gets hungry
• Getting locked out of the house bathroom; dismantling and reassembling three doorknobs (the bathroom doorknob twice, and my bedroom doorknob once--to figure out what I'd missed on the bathroom doorknob the first time)to finally regain access to the shower
• Stepping on the severed butt of a mouse with my bare foot (the day after I got locked out of the bathroom)
• Playing Apples-to-Apples with a good friend, happening upon the Global Warming card, noticing for the first time that the caption reads, "Is it hot in here or is it just me?" and then giggling non-stop over a joke that only my friend would understand
• Going to the park and playing on swings!
• Giving small, meaningful presents--like a bag of chocolate kisses, or a bottle of bubbles
• Sitting in a dark living room at 4:30 in the morning--just me and the Lover of my soul

Take heart, my friend! There is light, and air, and joy! The Lord is taking you to it, even if you cannot detect that right now. Let's just grasp the bright moments and wait on him together!

Heavy Lies

Job knew his ten children had just begun another round of banquets that day. He was undoubtedly thinking of his duties, as the family elder and priest, to once again offer sacrifices on behalf of his children when their feasting was finished. But Job’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a messenger, shouting that all of Job’s oxen and donkeys had been plundered; all the attendants killed except this one. Hard upon his heels came another frantic messenger, to inform Job that all his sheep had been consumed by holy fire; all the attendants incinerated except this one. Immediately another messenger arrived, panting out news of the theft of all Job's camels; all the attendants slaughtered except this one. And instantly a fourth messenger rushed in, crying that all Job's children had died in the collapse of the eldest son’s house; all the attendants crushed except this one. God is capricious. Aside from using you for his amusement, he sees no worth or merit in you. God does not love you.

God gave Satan permission to attack Job. Interesting, isn't it, that Satan chose to spare one attendant from each calamity. He could have simply allowed Job to find out over the period of a week or two...drawing out the suspense, gradually heightening the tension. But Satan chose to hit hard, hit fast. In the face of God's own opinion of Job—that he was an upright man who would never curse Adonai—it seems that Satan decided to give his lie as much reinforcement as he possibly could. He even used "fire from God" as one of the manners in which he chose to attack Job. (And he used that fire to consume Job’s sheep, specifically. There is added importance in that gesture, but it’s a subject for another time.)

Satan spoke to Job through the total destruction of his legacy. God does not love you. Your service and devotion cannot please him; your children cannot please him; you cannot please him.

Satan spoke to Job in the torment of his own body: This is the extent of God’s capricious regard for you. This agony is your true priesthood, your sole heritage. God does not love you.

Satan spoke to Job through the pointed absence of his relatives and community (42:11): You have been chosen for torment. God has made you a blight upon the earth.

Satan spoke to Job from the mouth of his wife (2:9): "Why do you still hold on to your integrity? Curse God and die!" God does not love you. End your misery; it's more than you can bear. Get the only satisfaction you can hope for.

Satan spoke to Job through the false vision given to his friend, Elifaz (4:12-21): "Can a human being be seen by God as righteous? Can a mortal be pure before his maker? [God] doesn't trust even his own servants, he finds fault even with his angels; much more those living in houses of clay, whose foundation is in the dust." God finds no merit in you. Your upright conduct is a farce. He will never be pleased with you. Curse him. Then die. Lash out, and then seek respite in oblivion. God does not love you.

Job’s very foundations were assaulted from every side. A solid wave of malevolence engulfed him, and seemingly dissolved the very ground upon which he stood. On his arm, Job bore the shield of Adonai—the defense of all who seek the Lord. But he could not block all of the blows. The darkness pierced Job so intentionally, so persistently. He knew that he’d committed no sin: this punishment was not justified by any wrongdoing of his. But when the lies flood in—when feet seem to no longer find purchase on solid foundations and flailing arms can find nothing but twisted darkness to hang onto—what is there to grasp? What was Job to believe about God? What was he to believe about himself? The number of his wounds mounted. All he clutched dissolved to swirling ashes. How difficult must it have been to blindly trust in the Most High, and to believe he is Just and Good?

Job was not a perfect man. He struggled and doubted; his legs began to buckle. Repeated blows from all sides take such a toll. “Why do you hide your face and think of me as an enemy? Do you want to harass a wind-driven leaf? Do you want to pursue a dry straw? Is this why you draw up bitter charges against me and punish me for the faults of my youth?” (13:24-26) The enemy struck a little deeper than Job could bear; he gasped…and breathed in some of the ashes clouding the air around him.

“[Why give light] to a man who wanders blindly, whom God shuts in on every side?” (3:23)

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Jesus spent thirty-three years on this earth. Prior to that, he spent all of eternity (not simply the finite time leading up to his birth, but all of eternity: all the time that ever can be, and all that exists outside of that time) in perfect union with God the Father, and God the Holy Spirit. And at the proper moment, he willingly relinquished it all.

Jesus faced oppression in all possible forms. The four gospels provide detailed accounts of three particularly intense struggles: Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness, his time of prayer just before his arrest, and his trial and torture prior to death. Yet even as a mortal man, our sinless Messiah still enjoyed unbroken communion with God. Unlike Job, the Son of God had an unwavering foundation. Jesus’ legs could not be swept from under him; his grasp of his Father’s Goodness never loosened. Even as he labored out of Jerusalem toward his death on the hill called The Skull, omnipotent Father and obedient Son remained unhindered in their unity.

But the cross was yet before him.

Darkness gathered in this, the hour of its rule. From the moment of Jesus’ arrest, it crashed down to engulf his world. All around him dissolved to swirling ashes. He did not reach out, hoping to clutch something solid in the decaying air. He did not shout or gasp. The foundation beneath his feet no longer visible, Jesus walked deliberately forward; the Holy Spirit guided him step by step along the narrow, unseen path across the battlefield.

Satan spoke to Jesus through Judas’ betraying kiss, and the desertion of his closest friends: You are truly alone. They do not love you. Your devotion and sacrifice cannot satisfy them. You cannot triumph.

Jesus replied, “This is the cup the Father has given me; am I not to drink it?” (Jn 18:11) and stood firm in his belief of the Father’s sovereignty: “I have not lost one of those you gave me” (Jn 18:9)

Satan spoke to Jesus in the torment of his own body and Pilate’s offer of release (Jn. 19:10): Is this agony your true kingship, your priesthood? You are capable of so much more. Defend your name, and take up the honor you’ve denied yourself for so long. Otherwise I will loose them upon you like the ravenous wolves they are. I hold your life in my hands. Declare yourself! Show your power. This is the only way for you to triumph.

Jesus declared, “You would have no power over me if it hadn’t been given to you from above.” (Jn. 19:11) He clung to his Father’s wisdom: “My kingship does not derive its authority from this world’s order of things.” (Jn 18:36)

Satan spoke to Jesus from the mouths of his nation: "Take him away! Take him away! Put him to death on the stake! We have no king but the Emperor." (Jn 19:15) “His blood is on us and on our children!” (Mt 27:25) They do not love you. End your misery; it's more than you can bear. Get the only satisfaction you can hope for. Declare yourself! Show your power. Make them love you.

Jesus replied only with his silence.

The enemy took his cue. Noon had come: the hour of greatest light succumbed to the dominion of darkness. The malevolent cloud surrounding the Messiah spread wide to consume all inhabitants of the living day. Swirling ash became a tangible shroud. And although his physical body stumbled on the long, blood-soaked trek out of the city, Jesus did not gasp or falter. His trust in the Goodness of his Father did not buckle under the blows. He continued moving forward, one step at a time, as carnage and chaos ruled all around.

But the cross was yet to come.

It was now early afternoon. The oppressive pall continued to gorge upon Jerusalem—striking indiscriminately, and drinking deeply of the fear and despair that poured from open wounds. The darkness grew stronger, the people weaker.

Satan spoke to Jesus from the throats of Jew and Gentile, usurping the voice of his Bride: “Aha! So you can destroy the Temple, can you, and rebuild it in three days? Save yourself and come down from the stake!” “He saved others, but he can’t save himself!” “So he is the Messiah, is he? The King of Israel? Let him come down from the stake! If we see that, then we’ll believe him!” (Mk 15: 29-32) “Hail to the King of the Jews!” (Mk 15:18) See how they love you. See what good your love does without power. Declare yourself! Reduce them to cinders with one blaze of your glory; we both know you can. Remove yourself from this pain and claim your honor!

Jesus again turned to his ever-present Father: “Father, forgive them; they don’t understand what they are doing.” (Lk 23:34)

Jesus never faltered. He remained: hanging by his arms from the execution stake, forcing his body upward to drag air into his searing throat and drop down again. In Jesus’ spirit lay the power to break free and heal himself in an instant…or even just to deaden his nerves, or supernaturally call air into his drowning lungs. But Jesus’ feet remained fixed to the solid foundation forged by his unbroken communion with Adonai, his Father. His trust did not waiver. No ash passed his lips.

But the cross was yet to be realized.

Three hours past noon. And then the final blow, the ultimate agony: not death, but Death. The ultimate purpose for voluntarily entering into time came upon Jesus in an instant: Sin. The sinless Messiah took up a weight heavier than the cloud of lies surrounding that hill. And in that moment he incurred the absolute price: Separation. The cross had come. Sin devoured the passionate bond of omnipotent Father and obedient Son. Unparalleled agony! Throwing back his head, Jesus abused his weakened lungs to cry out in his extremity of anguish: “My God! My God! Why have you deserted me?” (Mt 27:46) Who can imagine the torn and bleeding void left in the wake of such unity! God ripped from himself…willingly…in the ultimate act of love and communion. One blow had finally penetrated!

But had it really? Even in his unmitigated torment, the words of Jesus’ cry originate in the Psalms. “My God! My God! Why have you abandoned me? Why so far from helping me, so far from my anguished cries?...Nevertheless, you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel.” (Psalm 22:1, 3) The son of David repeated the prayer of his forefather. The Sacrificial Lamb announced the fulfillment of prophecy, laid out so clearly for earlier generations.

The darkness pushed in, tearing and hacking, seeking surrender. Feet firmly planted upon ash, Jesus maintained his grip upon the severed bond—the union of which he could not now partake. But still He refused defeat. And then, with his last vestiges of endurance, Jesus hoarsely shouted, “Father! Into your hands I commit my spirit.” Quoting David once more, the Son of God vocalized his trust in the unchanging Goodness of his Father, glorifying Adonai even in the perfection of his torment. “Free me from the net they have hidden to catch me, because you are my strength. Into your hands I commit my spirit; you will redeem me, Adonai, God of truth” (Ps 31:4-5). The Word Incarnate proclaimed to all those with ears to hear and eyes to see: “Before Abraham came into being, I AM!” (Jn 8:58) Before Job…and after Job…and beyond the end of this world.

And then: “It is accomplished!” (Jn 19:30) The sacrifice was complete. The Lamb accepted death. In so doing, Death was vanquished eternally. Graves unsealed themselves, and many God-fearing men and women returned to life. The blood price had now been met. Forever. And in the instant of his death, the severed bond was restored. The gaping wound of mutilated relationship was restored to perfection. But the nail scars remained.

By forfeiting his birthright in loving obedience, Jesus ensured the permanence of his unity with God the Father and God the Holy Spirit…throughout all the time that ever can be, and all that exists outside of that time. By standing in the indefensible void, he forged a path across the battlefield. And he gained the authority to share that path. The Temple veil shielding the Holy of Holies supernaturally ripped from top to bottom. We have access. The foundation can never be shaken or dissolved; our bond cannot be broken. Moreover, Jesus tempered a weapon in the fires of his torment: a two-edged sword. If we choose to walk his path through the carnage, we not only carry the shield of Adonai on our arm. We walk with the sword of Jesus at our side. We are not at the enemy’s mercy. We will only taste ashes if we choose to breathe them in.

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Job did not fail entirely. He neither blamed nor cursed God. Even as his legs began to buckle, and the bitter taste of ash filled his mouth, Job still reached out for that which he could not feel: he sought Adonai Shamah (“The Lord is There”). Job cried out in question, and despair…until the darkness parted before God’s own sword: his blatant invitation to Job for a closer relationship. Satan lost. And Job learned of the grandeur, the majesty, and the mercy of Adonai Nissi (“The Lord is My Banner/Miracle”). He stood, weak-kneed, on solid ground once more. As the ash settled, Job surveyed the carnage of a now-visible battle field, with an increased depth to his trust in a God who is absolutely Good. And that growth had been the Lord’s plan all along. Although it was not yet forged in completion, the Lord gave Job a powerful sword for support in future combat.

God restored to Job all that had been taken. Job regained his wealth in double measure. Of course, this was not instantaneous: even with the Lord’s favor, herds can only multiply so quickly. What sort of conversations did Job have with the Most High as he painstakingly rebuilt from scratch, I wonder? The Lord blessed Job with another ten children. Again, this would have taken some time. And the first ten would never be replaced or forgotten. I’m sure the devoted father often recalled a bright laugh, a cocky stance, or a sullen nature that he would never meet again on this earth. How heavily must Job have relied upon that Goodness at times? Job’s body was restored instantly; at least, his skin was healed—since he offered sacrifices for his erring friends, he must have been ritualistically clean. But were Job’s mind and spirit healed as quickly? It is doubtful. Usually, scars remain. And what if the long days and nights of sitting brought on some other physical problem? Job had many days left to live. He may have limped, in body or in mind, through all of them. Were Job’s relationships with his wife, his relatives, his community ever made right again? We do not know. It is clear that interaction resumed, but some of these relationships may have sustained lasting damage. At the very least, it probably took some time. No further attacks on Job are recorded. That does not mean he didn’t face any. But Job had endured some very harsh growth; Adonai does not waste such a gift. In spite of residual scarring—or because of it, rather—Job probably withstood the blows much better in future battles.

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Our growth is never painless. Satan is too clever--he doesn't make blunted weapons. Nor does he aim for our fortified areas. Sometimes when he pierces us, we bleed and crumple under the blow. But the Most High does not make blunted weapons either. Long after Job’s struggle toward God, Jesus Christ provided us with a double-edged sword. Satan may still pierce us; but as we bleed, we can dig our swords into the ground as walking sticks. The Most High, our Lord, is pleased to use us, particularly in our weakened state. And regardless of whether we stand or fall, he may not choose to remove all traces of scarring. We'll limp for a while…perhaps until the end of time. But it serves only to make us lean upon our swords more instinctively, and cry out to Adonai Tzidkenu (“The Lord our Righteousness”). We become less likely to crumple under the blows.

“Be strong, and fill your hearts with courage, all of you who hope in Adonai.” (Psalm 31:24)

Let God show you the lies beleaguering you. Let him sustain you through all of these attacks, gradually fortifying you against them. Take up the sword he has given you! Attack with it! Lean upon it! And let the loving power of the Most High remove your last doubts of his Goodness.