We sang this John Newton hymn Sunday morning. It's one of my favorites and I'm always gladdened by the line at the end of each verse: "the LORD will provide."
Another sort of God's provision came to mind this Sunday. I had just read the book of Jonah. Four times we see that "God provided" (in the NIV translation, at least). Everyone is familiar with God's provision of a "great fish." Salvation, in other words, though not exactly by a method that Jonah might have chosen.
The other three times occur in the fourth chapter where God provided: (a) a vine (to shade Jonah's big ole head), (b) a worm (to cut the vine down!) and (c) "a scorching east wind" (apparently to heat Jonah up a bit more than he already was; to whatever temperature "mad enough to die[verse 9] is).
I love God's provision for my physical needs (so did Jonah). Every day I have cause for amazement and gratitude.
It's God's providing for my faith and spiritual growth that sometimes cause me to cop a bad attitude (like Jonah).
You'd think Newton would have warned us that the troubles that assail us are also of God's providing and we need to be thankful about those things too.
Oh wait! The Bible already does that, huh?
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
These Hallowed Dead
In a narrow clearing of the Forest of Ephraim, the blood-soaked ground was strewn with the detritus of battle: shattered weapons, abandoned equipment and the bodies of the slain. On a low rise at the north end of the clearing, the battered survivors stood; some attending their wounded comrades, others nursing their own wounds, still others preparing their dead for burial.
In the midst of these sat Eleazar, cradling the bloody head of Josheb in his arms, rocking back and forth gently, as tears streamed silently down his grime-streaked face. His eyes gazing sightless into the middle distance, he held his comrade and mourned.
He mourned the loss of the friendship forged in the midst of the peril of combat. He mourned the unspoken bonds of companionship and affection that would remain forever unexpressed. He mourned, for the family of his friend; their loss of a husband and father. Most painful of all was the vivid recollection of Josheb’s final moments of life: a warrior unto the death, he had struggled to aid his fellows while grievously wounded.
Eleazar relived his vain, desperate attempt to divert the deathblow that had claimed the life of the Chief of the Three. The memory replayed itself again and again and with each repetition, he mourned and wept fresh tears at his failure to save his friend.
In the midst of these sat Eleazar, cradling the bloody head of Josheb in his arms, rocking back and forth gently, as tears streamed silently down his grime-streaked face. His eyes gazing sightless into the middle distance, he held his comrade and mourned.
He mourned the loss of the friendship forged in the midst of the peril of combat. He mourned the unspoken bonds of companionship and affection that would remain forever unexpressed. He mourned, for the family of his friend; their loss of a husband and father. Most painful of all was the vivid recollection of Josheb’s final moments of life: a warrior unto the death, he had struggled to aid his fellows while grievously wounded.
Eleazar relived his vain, desperate attempt to divert the deathblow that had claimed the life of the Chief of the Three. The memory replayed itself again and again and with each repetition, he mourned and wept fresh tears at his failure to save his friend.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Old Soldiers Speak of War and Death
“Eleazar. A word with you, if you will.” Eleazar turned to see the Gittite Philistine, Ittai, standing to the side, somewhat apart from the Israelite warriors. His dark visage marked with scars gotten in battle, Ittai’s jet-black hair was streaked with gray. The man’s eyes told an experienced observer that he had seen much of bloodshed and death. All this, Eleazar took in at a glance before he spoke.
“What might I do for you, Ittai?” The tone was formal, as between respected enemies. Though these two were acquainted from Eleazar’s time in Gath, under David’s leadership, the old barriers of enmity between the two nations were too strong to be easily breached.
“I wanted to say that I am pleased that my men and I have been given the position of greatest importance in the coming battle, and pleased, as well, that The Three will be fighting beside us.”
“ Thank you. You have spoken truly of the importance of our assignment. If we fail to hold, it will be we who are being chased through the thickets of Ephraim’s Wood, rather than Absalom and his troops,” Eleazar replied. Ittai smiled at this.
“We will hold,” Ittai asserted. Eleazar nodded in agreement. There was no alternative to victory for the men who followed David.
“I remember another battle,” Ittai spoke thoughtfully, “and three warriors who would not yield or be pushed back, men who would not be defeated and would not die.”
Once again, Eleazar nodded, then stood in silence for the other to finish speaking. What a pity, he thought, that old hatreds are so slow to die. I too, recall battles long past.
“It was at Pas Dammin,” Ittai continued. “The flower of Philistia’s fighting men died on that slope.”
Of course he would have been there, reflected Eleazar; it was the last chance for the Five Cities to defeat David. Every Philistine who was able to stand upright and grip a sword would have been there that day.
“Never have I seen men fight as you three fought that day,” Ittai shook his head in wonder. “I had met you, of course, at Gath, when David served Aschish for a while, but I had supposed that these tales of the mighty exploits of David’s Three were exagerations, as such stories often are.”
“You were there.” Eleazar’s words were more a statement of fact than a question.
“I have seen men kill out of hatred, or in the lust of battle, but this was different; there was a purity about it. I have wondered since what spirit animated you.”
“It was said of Samson that the ‘Spirit of the Lord’ came upon him when he performed his feats of valor and strength,” Eleazar spoke, his brow knitted in thought. “I’ve wondered, many times, does the God who gives life give to some the ability to take life; sometimes in spectacular fashion?”
“It is believed among my people that the gods give favor to men to become great warriors; that the slaughter they wreak glorifies these gods somehow.”
Eleazar pondered these words for a moment, reflecting on his life as a soldier of Israel, and the lives of his comrades, and the death they had inflicted.
“A cult of death, wouldn’t you say?”
“Exactly,” Ittai nodded. “Yet on that day, at Pas Dammin, Dagon could not help us, in spite of the vast preponderance of numbers, to overcome three men. You three faced the armed might of Philistia and heaped up the dead around you.”
Eleazar gazed at Ittai in fascination, never having been privileged to hear, in such a manner, the thoughts of an enemy. Who am I, O Lord, he wondered, to be chosen to live when so many have fallen round about me.
“The death of Goliath was shocking, but the gods withdraw their favor, sometimes, from even the most fearsome warriors. Pas Dammin, however, made me wonder: is there really any credence to this Yahweh of yours? What or who upheld you? How could not even one sword stroke from hundreds of swords have wounded you, or one arrow from hundreds launched not have pierced you? Eleazar, tell me how three men triumphed over thousands.”
“Our God lives. He alone gives strength and courage, on the day of battle. This I know, though I cannot say how. My hand remained frozen to the hilt of my sword after that battle. I could not release it, even though I tried. I have longed to release the sword, since then, but I cannot.”
“It has been said,” spoke Ittai, “that he who takes up the sword will die by the sword. There is truth in this, perhaps?”
“It is God who has put the sword into my hand and given me skill to use it. One day, I will lay it down, and God alone knows whether that will be in death, on a battlefield somewhere, or whether it will hang, rusting, as I live out my life and die in my bed, old and full of years.”
“I have thought about that day often. When I die, I would have the end come while I make my stand in battle, covering myself in glory as you did at Pas Dammin.”
“And when I die, I would have the angel of death find me in bed, in my wife’s embrace,” Eleazar remarked with a smile. Ittai laughed again, and Eleazar joined him.
“What might I do for you, Ittai?” The tone was formal, as between respected enemies. Though these two were acquainted from Eleazar’s time in Gath, under David’s leadership, the old barriers of enmity between the two nations were too strong to be easily breached.
“I wanted to say that I am pleased that my men and I have been given the position of greatest importance in the coming battle, and pleased, as well, that The Three will be fighting beside us.”
“ Thank you. You have spoken truly of the importance of our assignment. If we fail to hold, it will be we who are being chased through the thickets of Ephraim’s Wood, rather than Absalom and his troops,” Eleazar replied. Ittai smiled at this.
“We will hold,” Ittai asserted. Eleazar nodded in agreement. There was no alternative to victory for the men who followed David.
“I remember another battle,” Ittai spoke thoughtfully, “and three warriors who would not yield or be pushed back, men who would not be defeated and would not die.”
Once again, Eleazar nodded, then stood in silence for the other to finish speaking. What a pity, he thought, that old hatreds are so slow to die. I too, recall battles long past.
“It was at Pas Dammin,” Ittai continued. “The flower of Philistia’s fighting men died on that slope.”
Of course he would have been there, reflected Eleazar; it was the last chance for the Five Cities to defeat David. Every Philistine who was able to stand upright and grip a sword would have been there that day.
“Never have I seen men fight as you three fought that day,” Ittai shook his head in wonder. “I had met you, of course, at Gath, when David served Aschish for a while, but I had supposed that these tales of the mighty exploits of David’s Three were exagerations, as such stories often are.”
“You were there.” Eleazar’s words were more a statement of fact than a question.
“I have seen men kill out of hatred, or in the lust of battle, but this was different; there was a purity about it. I have wondered since what spirit animated you.”
“It was said of Samson that the ‘Spirit of the Lord’ came upon him when he performed his feats of valor and strength,” Eleazar spoke, his brow knitted in thought. “I’ve wondered, many times, does the God who gives life give to some the ability to take life; sometimes in spectacular fashion?”
“It is believed among my people that the gods give favor to men to become great warriors; that the slaughter they wreak glorifies these gods somehow.”
Eleazar pondered these words for a moment, reflecting on his life as a soldier of Israel, and the lives of his comrades, and the death they had inflicted.
“A cult of death, wouldn’t you say?”
“Exactly,” Ittai nodded. “Yet on that day, at Pas Dammin, Dagon could not help us, in spite of the vast preponderance of numbers, to overcome three men. You three faced the armed might of Philistia and heaped up the dead around you.”
Eleazar gazed at Ittai in fascination, never having been privileged to hear, in such a manner, the thoughts of an enemy. Who am I, O Lord, he wondered, to be chosen to live when so many have fallen round about me.
“The death of Goliath was shocking, but the gods withdraw their favor, sometimes, from even the most fearsome warriors. Pas Dammin, however, made me wonder: is there really any credence to this Yahweh of yours? What or who upheld you? How could not even one sword stroke from hundreds of swords have wounded you, or one arrow from hundreds launched not have pierced you? Eleazar, tell me how three men triumphed over thousands.”
“Our God lives. He alone gives strength and courage, on the day of battle. This I know, though I cannot say how. My hand remained frozen to the hilt of my sword after that battle. I could not release it, even though I tried. I have longed to release the sword, since then, but I cannot.”
“It has been said,” spoke Ittai, “that he who takes up the sword will die by the sword. There is truth in this, perhaps?”
“It is God who has put the sword into my hand and given me skill to use it. One day, I will lay it down, and God alone knows whether that will be in death, on a battlefield somewhere, or whether it will hang, rusting, as I live out my life and die in my bed, old and full of years.”
“I have thought about that day often. When I die, I would have the end come while I make my stand in battle, covering myself in glory as you did at Pas Dammin.”
“And when I die, I would have the angel of death find me in bed, in my wife’s embrace,” Eleazar remarked with a smile. Ittai laughed again, and Eleazar joined him.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Not What I Had Planned
Conflict resolution.
It's an art form, I've heard. And I'm no artist.
Still, we ask God's guidance, for wisdom in dealing with conflict in our lives; and the strength and courage to do what we know is right.
I personally wish conflict would just go away, you know, work itself out. That's not how it usually goes.
Is it true that something is lost for everything gained?
I pray that relationships broken in the course of making hard decisions might be restored.
After all, God DID answer my prayer that this conflict would be resolved.
But it wasn't what I had planned.
He allowed me to fumble and bungle and generally make a mess.
That's how He works much of the time.
Knowing that does not make it any less painful.
It's an art form, I've heard. And I'm no artist.
Still, we ask God's guidance, for wisdom in dealing with conflict in our lives; and the strength and courage to do what we know is right.
I personally wish conflict would just go away, you know, work itself out. That's not how it usually goes.
Is it true that something is lost for everything gained?
I pray that relationships broken in the course of making hard decisions might be restored.
After all, God DID answer my prayer that this conflict would be resolved.
But it wasn't what I had planned.
He allowed me to fumble and bungle and generally make a mess.
That's how He works much of the time.
Knowing that does not make it any less painful.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Who's the Boss?
My eldest daughter pointed out, some time back, that out of least one of my broken relationships, something good resulted. Three somethings I replied, referring to her and her sisters.
As I considered that, it seemed that I was still wide of the mark; out of my sin and selfishness, God brought something good.
A clan has grown from the relationships of these three sisters. A clan in the good sense of the word. These three ladies have come together with their families to form an extended network of mutual love and support.
That's something.
Which brings us right back to God. And Romans 8: 28-29.
So I fumble and stumble through this life. I used to want to handle life by myself ("My Life"). I've learned (which is Something, for me) the fallacy of that notion.
So to my oldest three: I thank God for you and the women you've become. I failed but He did not. He never will. Lean on Him.
To my youngest: I thank God for you. Try to understand that He has has much better things in store than anything we could ask or imagine.
And He's still in charge.
As I considered that, it seemed that I was still wide of the mark; out of my sin and selfishness, God brought something good.
A clan has grown from the relationships of these three sisters. A clan in the good sense of the word. These three ladies have come together with their families to form an extended network of mutual love and support.
That's something.
Which brings us right back to God. And Romans 8: 28-29.
So I fumble and stumble through this life. I used to want to handle life by myself ("My Life"). I've learned (which is Something, for me) the fallacy of that notion.
So to my oldest three: I thank God for you and the women you've become. I failed but He did not. He never will. Lean on Him.
To my youngest: I thank God for you. Try to understand that He has has much better things in store than anything we could ask or imagine.
And He's still in charge.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Revenge, Grace and the Pharisee
A friend recently mentioned an incident that occurred in one of his college classes: he was stating his views against abortion when one of his classmates expressed strong opposition to his viewpoint in an insulting and condescending manner.
My response was to ask if he had prayed; for her and for himself.
Having struggled with a bad temper and a quick lip for many years, I have attempted (with varying degrees of success) to follow this formula: pray for the offender (for God's grace and forgiveness), then pray for myself.
If I am honest, I find myself constantly in need of forgiveness.
You see, I have tended to speak quickly and without regard to any possible offensiveness in my conversation (a shock, no doubt to those of you who know me).
I've noticed this: there's a Pharisee inside, waiting to come out and be arrogant and condemning. I hate him and I'm trying to kill him.
Pray for the guy with the Pharisee.
Pray for God's grace.
My response was to ask if he had prayed; for her and for himself.
Having struggled with a bad temper and a quick lip for many years, I have attempted (with varying degrees of success) to follow this formula: pray for the offender (for God's grace and forgiveness), then pray for myself.
If I am honest, I find myself constantly in need of forgiveness.
You see, I have tended to speak quickly and without regard to any possible offensiveness in my conversation (a shock, no doubt to those of you who know me).
I've noticed this: there's a Pharisee inside, waiting to come out and be arrogant and condemning. I hate him and I'm trying to kill him.
Pray for the guy with the Pharisee.
Pray for God's grace.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
With the Kisses of His Mouth
In early autumn, The Three approached Ziklag from the south, after a raid into the Negev against the Geshurites. As they filed through the city gate, Eleazar saw Naarah, standing there, waiting. Slapping Shammah’s shoulder, he fell out of the column and walked toward the young woman, drinking her in with his eyes. He was certain there was no more beautiful woman in all Israel.
“I see God has spared you to fight another day,” she spoke, the faintest of smiles at the corners of her lips.
“Only to be slain by the sight of your beauty,” Eleazar replied, as they walked together. Naarah ducked her head to hide the flush that colored her cheeks. It was the first time, since he had known her, that she had been even momentarily at a loss for words.
“Come now, where is your tongue?” he teased her. “Where are the jesting words that always spring from your lips whenever we meet?”
“Merely a moment of mourning for the slain warrior, laid low by what he mistakes for beauty. You have stayed too long in the desert sun”
“Truly, no flower of the desert is as lovely as you, and even the sun could not dazzle my eyes as much as the vision of you today, standing at the city gate.”
At these words, Naarah blushed again and suppressed a giggle. They walked on, in silence. Eleazar struggled for the words to say, but it was Naarah who finally spoke.
“Ethan and I would like for you to come and dine with us this evening. It is his birthday.” She stopped and turned to face him. Though she stood only a few inches shorter than Eleazar, he felt like a block of raw granite beside a gazelle, when standing close to her. It was all he could do to keep from sweeping her up in his arms and crushing her to himself. He forced these thoughts from his mind and tried to concentrate on what she was saying.
“And how old is my young warrior today?”
“He is seven. I must warn you, if you haven’t noticed, that my son is growing quite attached to you.”
“And I to him.” Eleazar hesitated for a moment, then plunged ahead. “I must also warn you, in case you haven’t noticed, that I am becoming even more attached to Ethan’s mother.” Naarah pondered his words in silence, her eyes downcast. When she spoke at last, she gazed up at him.
“I have noticed, and I am glad that you are becoming a part of our lives.”
“I would be happy to dine with you and your son.”
That evening, after they had eaten, Rahel excused herself on some pretext or other and talked Ethan into going with her. There was a brief, uncomfortable silence between Eleazar and his hostess. Although they had been acquainted for nearly six months, this was the first time they had been alone together. At a momentary loss for words, Eleazar opened with the time-honored military strategy of the indirect approach.
“We will be leaving Ziklag soon,” he said.
“Oh?” Naarah feigned surprise though she too had heard the rumours that David might be moving his force back to Judah.
“Yes, the elders of the tribe of Judah have sent delegations to David. Word is they will ask him to be king in Judah.”
“They are his kinsmen, after all.” Unable to make small talk any longer, Eleazar spoke what had long been on his heart.
“Naarah, I want you and Ethan to go with me. Wherever it is David leads us.” She seemed truly surprised at his words.
“Eleazar, are you asking me to be a soldier’s wife?”
“I am, but I do not ask for your decision at once. You are aware, I know, of the sorrow and separation that the wife of one who carries the sword must endure.” He looked intently at this beautiful woman. Her raven hair fell about her face as she studied the ground between them. For a heart-stopping moment he knew what her answer must be. Then she raised her eyes to gaze into his, a tender gaze which lingered as she spoke.
“I only feared that it might be too soon for you. After your terrible loss.” She reached her hand out to touch his tanned, bearded cheek. “Yes, Eleazar. Yes, I will be a soldier’s wife. I will wait for you when you are away, and pray every night for your safe return and that you might prevail over Israel’s enemies.”
Eleazar then did what he had wanted to do ever since the first time he saw her: he held her to him and kissed her, tasting her lips for the first time, not wanting to ever let go.
“I see God has spared you to fight another day,” she spoke, the faintest of smiles at the corners of her lips.
“Only to be slain by the sight of your beauty,” Eleazar replied, as they walked together. Naarah ducked her head to hide the flush that colored her cheeks. It was the first time, since he had known her, that she had been even momentarily at a loss for words.
“Come now, where is your tongue?” he teased her. “Where are the jesting words that always spring from your lips whenever we meet?”
“Merely a moment of mourning for the slain warrior, laid low by what he mistakes for beauty. You have stayed too long in the desert sun”
“Truly, no flower of the desert is as lovely as you, and even the sun could not dazzle my eyes as much as the vision of you today, standing at the city gate.”
At these words, Naarah blushed again and suppressed a giggle. They walked on, in silence. Eleazar struggled for the words to say, but it was Naarah who finally spoke.
“Ethan and I would like for you to come and dine with us this evening. It is his birthday.” She stopped and turned to face him. Though she stood only a few inches shorter than Eleazar, he felt like a block of raw granite beside a gazelle, when standing close to her. It was all he could do to keep from sweeping her up in his arms and crushing her to himself. He forced these thoughts from his mind and tried to concentrate on what she was saying.
“And how old is my young warrior today?”
“He is seven. I must warn you, if you haven’t noticed, that my son is growing quite attached to you.”
“And I to him.” Eleazar hesitated for a moment, then plunged ahead. “I must also warn you, in case you haven’t noticed, that I am becoming even more attached to Ethan’s mother.” Naarah pondered his words in silence, her eyes downcast. When she spoke at last, she gazed up at him.
“I have noticed, and I am glad that you are becoming a part of our lives.”
“I would be happy to dine with you and your son.”
That evening, after they had eaten, Rahel excused herself on some pretext or other and talked Ethan into going with her. There was a brief, uncomfortable silence between Eleazar and his hostess. Although they had been acquainted for nearly six months, this was the first time they had been alone together. At a momentary loss for words, Eleazar opened with the time-honored military strategy of the indirect approach.
“We will be leaving Ziklag soon,” he said.
“Oh?” Naarah feigned surprise though she too had heard the rumours that David might be moving his force back to Judah.
“Yes, the elders of the tribe of Judah have sent delegations to David. Word is they will ask him to be king in Judah.”
“They are his kinsmen, after all.” Unable to make small talk any longer, Eleazar spoke what had long been on his heart.
“Naarah, I want you and Ethan to go with me. Wherever it is David leads us.” She seemed truly surprised at his words.
“Eleazar, are you asking me to be a soldier’s wife?”
“I am, but I do not ask for your decision at once. You are aware, I know, of the sorrow and separation that the wife of one who carries the sword must endure.” He looked intently at this beautiful woman. Her raven hair fell about her face as she studied the ground between them. For a heart-stopping moment he knew what her answer must be. Then she raised her eyes to gaze into his, a tender gaze which lingered as she spoke.
“I only feared that it might be too soon for you. After your terrible loss.” She reached her hand out to touch his tanned, bearded cheek. “Yes, Eleazar. Yes, I will be a soldier’s wife. I will wait for you when you are away, and pray every night for your safe return and that you might prevail over Israel’s enemies.”
Eleazar then did what he had wanted to do ever since the first time he saw her: he held her to him and kissed her, tasting her lips for the first time, not wanting to ever let go.
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