Horn of Salvation

Some writing from Advent season of last year:

"The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.  He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold."- Psalm 18:2

 

The use of the word horn in this context refers to strength.  Horns are seen throughout the old testament in many different settings.  As instruments of praise, and vicariously as weapons, they were used by Joshua’s army as they marched around Jericho.  The altar in the temple was fashioned with four horns: one at each corner.  Horns were used to contain oil for anointing.  In this passage, Zecharias, a priest, is “filled with the Holy Spirit” and prophesies:

 “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for He has visited us and accomplished redemption for His people, and has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of David His servant.” -Luke 1:68

Elizabeth was barren and her fertility was a gift from God as well as a sign of what was to come: the Messiah.  We find this imagery earlier in the bible, in a similar case of infertility.  The story of Elkanah and Hannah.  Hannah pled for God to open her womb and He eventually did.  In her song of thanks, found in I Sam 2:1-10, she says “My heart rejoices in the Lord; in the Lord my horn is lifted high.  My mouth boasts over my enemies for I delight in your deliverance…He will give strength to his king and exalt the horn of his anointed.”

What is so interesting about the parallel between these two stories is what the birth of each of these people (Samuel and Jesus) meant for the nation of Israel.  In both stories, God’s priesthood was established but something more was desired.  Samuel ushered in the time of Israel’s kinship;  whether this was good or bad is a different story.  John the Baptist, through Elizabeth and Zecharias ushered in the Kindgdom of Heaven through Jesus the Messiah.

In both instances, the horn is a perfect symbol to both represent what already is and what is to come.  The horn as part of the altar and as an instrument of worship and anointing symbolizes the priestly aspect of things, while in both references the word is used to depict strength.  In both of these passages the speakers are longing for something that is absent and they desperately desire.  They need God to come through in his strength.  So a different picture is needed to illustrate what horn means in these contexts.  

The best way to describe this is very plainly as a fierce, violent, masculine strength.  Like horns that bud from a young buck, this strength is the bite behind the bark.  Any animal in the wild can do serious damage once it has grown its horns and has broken them in.  And this is the symbol we see as Jesus being our king, coming to do battle and wage war against those that have oppressed us.  The same thing was desired in Samuel’s day.  Downtrodden Israel wanted a valiant king to wage war against its enemies.  God provides this in both instances, but it isn’t quite what Israel expected and God doesn’t deliver quite how they wanted him to.  But what better way to physically depict this budding strength than in the birth of a baby boy?  "Boaz" (the name of my second son), in Hebrew, means “strong and swift”.  The horn of salvation that God is to us is so firm and solid, but like anything in life with true depth and meaning, this takes time to grow and mature.  God is our strength when we don’t even see it or recognize it.  Young bucks will someday grow horns and be fierce in battle with others.  One day Boaz will be a towering giant, but not now.  But the times we don’t recognize are the times that God is at work; sustaining and strengthening us so we’ll be prepared when we eventually realize we need it.

Illuminate

There are these tunnels on the freeway right where I grew up that I still get to drive through on my way to and from church and work.  My sons are fascinated by them (as I was when I was younger....and still am now).  What is so mesmerizing about tunnels?  I mean, they're super dark, but they're not, because they have cool, bright lights.  Along with many other things I experience with my sons, this provoked reflection on what deeper meaning this could be an analogy for.

Throughout the course of our lives, we're bound to encounter dark areas.  Maybe we create these dark areas ourselves, or maybe we are thrown into them by no will of our own.  I believe that everyone must encounter something of this sort sometime in their life.  Tunnels are intrinsically dark, gloomy, frightening, and unknown.  Yet they offer the opportunity - the choice - to be illuminated.  This illumination provides comfort, and a way to navigate through turns and obstacles that could otherwise be fatal.  It's no simple task, because the initial work must be done in darkness - with little to no direction.  Yet once the initial spark is made, the process becomes a bit more feasible.  In the end, the tunnel is lit and the dark course can be navigated.  Danger and destruction have been avoided.
What's interesting about tunnels is that they are far more enjoyable at night.  Why?  Because as you're driving through the darkness of night, you come across a stretch of light that is brighter than anywhere else along your journey.  During the day, you go from daylight to a tunnel that's a bit dimmer.  At night, (especially in one of these particular tunnels, when all the lights are on), you drive through and feel like you actually need a pair of sunglasses.
 The lights that were meant to just get you through are now a beacon that shines brighter as your entire course grows darker.  And these lights can represent various things.  For me, the tunnels represent dark times...very dark times.  And the lights represent the deep lessons I learned through these times.  Furthermore, they are truths that were proven because they had to be, else I would have been destroyed.  And at the time, these seemed to help me barely survive.

When the journey progresses, and everything around you becomes dark, these lights mean even more.  And they are a joy, because they remind you of the lessons you've learned, and prove that they are all the more true.

Don't Blame God (copied from elsewhere)

I can't take credit for this, but agree with everything that is said here and wanted to share it with others.  I got this as part of a daily emailing I'm subscribed to:


A few phrases I hear that drive me crazy, and what I usually don’t say in reply:

“I know it will work out, because God would not have put me into this if He was not going to get me out.“
Maybe God did not put you there; maybe it was your doing.
“God only gives us what we can handle.“
Unfortunately, most of us have a bad habit of biting off more than we can chew, and then blaming it on God.
“God’s Word shall not return void.“
This is used to claim that a prayer will be answered as we prayed it, or sharing the Gospel will result in salvation. This seems more like witchcraft to me. The scripture that is misquoted here is from Isaiah, and it’s about the words God speaks, not what we say:

“So shall My word be that goes forth from My mouth; It shall not return to Me void, But it shall accomplish what I please, And it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it.”[Isaiah 55:11 NKJV]

“It’s a sign.”
You can make anything a sign. Some folks live their life by perceived signs, and make a mess of things.
“I’m waiting for a sign.“
Jesus had some rude words for those who are looking for signs.
“I don’t know why He led me into that deal/choice that cost me a million dollars/my house/my marriage, but I know it was Him.“
Or, maybe your pride won’t let you admit you made a mistake?
Basically all of these have a way of putting on God things that are often not God’s doing. These are ways of excusing our errors, justifying our actions, or allowing us to feel good about continuing to do something that is somewhere between silly and suicidal.
In addition, just once I would like to hear someone say “I thought it was God, but now I know I was wrong.” I have had people continue to say something was God when it so clearly was not, and it’s just annoying!

The Bread and the Wine

I wrote most of this a few months ago, but had to return to finish it later:

It's been a while since I've written.  I've had a difficult time the past month, dealing with grief, loss, sorrow.  I've been going to a new church for the past 6 months.  One thing I really appreciate about my church is communion.  The time of reflection is always meaningful and what is shared is more often than not something that stays with me throughout the entire week.

For as long as I can remember, I've always had this type of reluctance/anxiety right before 'partaking' with everyone.  Having been taught the story of partaking without being in the right place with God, my mind usually flashes back to this lesson (I Cor. 11:23-32), wondering if that's me.  Then my mind starts turning.  "Do I really grasp what this means?"  "Do I understand fully what Jesus did for me?"  "Do I have unresolved sin with a brother/sister?"

Because I've asked myself these questions so much, I've come to find myself focusing so hard on the words the facilitator uses when we share in the Eucharist (fancy theological word for the Lord's Supper).  I ponder the meaning of what is shared, like something should click. "The body of Christ broken to reconcile us to God and to each other.  The blood of Jesus that continually washes us from all unrighteousness."


So, a few weeks ago, it did click.  I had been trying to figure out what the difference is between the bread and the wine.  I mean, it's all the same meal...it's God forgiving us, and us accepting and acknowledging it, right?  But I find myself chewing on these words.

"The body of Christ broken to reconcile us to God and to each other."
"The blood of Jesus that continually washes us from all unrighteousness."

Having written them down, it seems clear as day.  But upon reflection...both on the words and on other things I've struggled with/written about in the past...the picture becomes clearer...and a bit more gruesome.

How these two symbols come together to form the most sacred sacrament is beyond any parallel we have on earth.  Here we have this strange duality of God displayed for us, as we've seen in scripture.  The lion and the lamb...God's judgment and mercy.  The two are brought together through the crucifying of Christ.
Reconciliation is achieved first only through judgment and punishment.  We focus so much on God's grace and forgiveness.  We insist that God chastens and disciplines his children...he does not punish them.  This is true, but only for one reason.  Christ bore the punishment already.  So we see that punishment is necessary.  It's part of God's nature.  Otherwise, Christ wouldn't have needed to die.  Christ didn't need discipline or chastening.  The cross was the venue of God's wrath.  Anger is real.  As humans, we get angry.  Anger is an emotion that exists when one is wronged by another.  God was wronged by the human race.  Every creature he made upon whom he bestowed the choice to love him or betray him.

The pain that God experiences is beyond my comprehension.  It's one thing to realize that all sin hurts God.  And like the decreased focus on God's wrath, we almost have a decreased focus on our sin against one another.  David, speaking of his sin with Bathsheba declares that he has sinned against the Lord, and only against Him (Psalm 51).  I've always thought about this in a sense that takes Bathsheba and Uriah out of the picture...that David's sin is against God and only God because He's disobeying God, not Bathsheba nor Uriah.  However, I believe that the reason sin hurts God so much is because all sin has negative consequences on God's creation.  Most sins outwardly hurt others.  Some sins are self-destructive.  Either of these scenarios cause God much pain.  He cannot bear to see his children, his creation, suffer.  Contradictory it may seem, God's dual nature of grace and judgment is actually one in the same.  God's judgment is against those who cause destruction and pain towards those He loves.  The irony is that since all creation is fallen, none of us deserve this divine retribution on our behalf.  In reality, we all deserve to be the object of this retribution.  And this is where grace enters.
Because or sin distances us from each other, and from God, we need reconciliation.  Christ's broken body is the element that reminds us of how we were reconciled.  There's really no room for warm fuzzies.  The reality is that Christ was beat and broken and bore the wrath of God and that was the only way anything would be forgiven.  This currently is the harder part of communion for me.

The wine (juice) is the element that in a single icon represents life and death.  It's the life inside of us, coursing through our veins, supplying our body with all that it needs to function.  Yet to see blood, outside of the body, requires it to be missing from where it belongs...thereby resulting in death.  This somehow functions as proof, as a reminder, of what was done.  Proof that Christ was broken for us.  And the cleansing is continual, constantly reminding us and God that His wrath was already poured out on Christ.

Biblical Emphasis

In the Bible, words/ideas are repeated to add emphasis to the thought.  This appears in both the Old and New testaments.  Sometimes we see the actual repetition in the English translation and in other instances, the double use of the word translates into another form of emphasis.  In Genesis 2:17, "you shall surely die" is translated from "mot tamut": "dying die".  "Surely" is used to make the emphasis.  "Verily, verily, I say unto you..." makes the double usage clear.  Additionally, there are many instances where something is reworded to repeat the point with a different phrase.  We see this a lot in the Psalms specifically.

Last Sunday, before communion, someone shared concerning God's holiness and how it is referenced in the Bible.  Isaiah, during his commission (Isa 6:3), witnesses the seraphims crying "Holy, holy, holy."  This triple usage of a word for emphasis is rare.  It is seldom seen elsewhere in the Bible.  It's appropriate, because the one thing that keeps us from God's presence is the vast chasm between His holiness and our lack thereof.  The Hebrew word for Holy is Kadosh.

Back to repetition.  Modern English has deemed double-negatives improper.  However, both in Shakespeare's day, and in ancient Greek, negatives were doubled just as adjectives were, to add emphasis.  This idea of emphasis reminded me of something I learned while in theology school...the most emphatic verse in the Bible.  Hebrews 13:5.  Even more emphatic than Holy, holy, holy.

Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said,
   "Never will I leave you;
      never will I forsake you."

This is actually quoted from the Old Testament, Deuteronomy 31:6.  However, the Greek translation actually adds more emphasis to the thought.  Here's the actual Greek: 

Ou me se ano oud ou me se enkatalipo.

Without delving too much into an English 101 review, 'ano' is the verb translated as 'leave' and 'enkatalipo' is the verb translanted as forsake.  'Se' is the prounoun translated as 'you'.  That leaves 5 more words:

Ou me se ano oud ou me se enkatalipo.

'Ou' can mean "no", "not", or "never".  'Me' is translanted as "not".  'Oud' is the greek for "nor" or "and not".

So, transliterated, we have:  "I will not never leave you, nor will I never never forsake you."

To compensate for our difficulty with double negatives, this verse could be more accurately expressed as something like:

"I will never ever leave you.  And I won't ever forsake you.  It simply won't happen."

It's quite amazing to me that these two instances of extreme emphasis lend to such polar ideas.  The idea of God's holiness brings us to realize how far removed / distant we are from Him.  The deeper our comprehension of this reality, the more we realize how little we deserve Him.  Reflecting on God leaving or forsaking us, one must examine His motive.  Why would he leave us?  Why would he forsake us?  It's actually quite obvious.  We're awful.  Isaiah 64:6 says all our righteous acts are like filthy rags.  He deserves to throw the towel in and quit on us.  But he chooses not to.  Perhaps this emphasis is here to balance and re-assure us.  The closer we come to understanding how far off we are, the more we need to be assured/reminded that He still loves us.

There's a bit more to this emphasis I'd like to share, but it will take some time.  School for me is wrapping up, so I'll hopefully have a bit more time to commit to writing.  Please pass this along to anyone you think would benefit from / appreciate it, and as always, comments that spark meaningful discussion are welcome.

Sorrow vs. Fear

Being the math geek that I am, I wanted to title the blog "Sorrow does not equal fear" ... using the mathematical symbol for not equal...but since I'm not an internet geek, I couldn't figure out how to do that.  So, that was the idea I was trying to get across.  Moving on...

For the longest time I've equated sorrow/grief with fear.  That is, in (correctly) believing that I do not have to live in (unhealthy, non-divine) fear, I've (incorrectly) assumed that my sorrow and grief will go away too.  As soon as these emotions come back, I deduce that I am again living in fear and try to correct my thinking/feeling to rid myself of these unpleasant emotions.  This can continue as a vicious cycle.  So, in order to think about this properly, first a biblical look at fear and love:

"And so we know and rely on the love God has for us.  God is love.  Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.  In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment, because in this world we are like him.  There is no fear in love.  Perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment.  The one who fears is not made perfect in love."  I John 4:16-18.

Click here for a great, brief, explanation as to why the word "all" isn't in this translation.

Here, the greek for fear is 'phobos' - interpreted as terror, or 'panic flight'.  It comes from another greek word 'phebomai' - which means 'to be put to flight.'

Reflecting on what fear actually is helps me see that it's very different from pain, sorrow, or grief.   Furthermore, experiencing this misinterpretation of emotions, I see more clearly how love drives out fear and what it drives it out of / away from.


What's really happening here is that love is fully confronting and embracing (not annihilating) sorrow and grief.
True love hurts terribly.  But when this fear (of pain, grief, sorrow) is driven out, peace abides.  Peace is not the absence of our sorrow or pain.  Peace does not remove these feelings from our lives.  If anything, peace comes only secondarily to our heightened sense of these emotions' existences.  True peace is unattainable without first recognizing our difficult state of affairs.  It is not our naivety or ignorance of impending disaster.  It's the full recognition of its looming presence...its continued existence, and ability to all but destroy us.  It's our realization that anything in us that can be destroyed is not necessary for our existence...and the further understanding that the very essence of us which cannot be destroyed is what God holds...and this is impervious to the evil in this world because God protects this part of us - the us that He created.

This leads to the beauty of redemption...God's specialty.  The joy of redemption is impossible without the agony of rejection (think Peter).  This is why love hurts.  Because it is strong...strong enough to withstand pain and sorrow.  If love is self-protecting, it isn't perfect love (I Cor 13:5 - "it is not self-seeking), because fear has not been driven out of it.  Sorrow must not be avoided since perfect love casts out all fear and we attempt to avoid sorrow out of fear.

Christ already passed this test of fear.  He did his part.  The challenge now is of us to trust.  I believe that if we are really trusting, we do not have fear.  So our love towards Christ is oftentimes just a reflection of our trust in Him...allowing Him to love us - and perfect us - in His time.

This in turn leads to us loving others - without fear of pain, sorrow, or rejection...and we can do this since we trust that God's love is enough for us.  

-The one who fears is not made perfect in love.

My dad can beat up your dad

So often, as Christians, we seem to want to 'prove' God to those outside the church.  Sometimes this is done on the platform of academia / theology.  Other times, it's simply through sharing our experiences and showing how God has come through for us.  This is akin to playground antics.  "My dad can beat up your dad."  We're all proud of being God's children.  This is a good thing.  He created the entire universe and he loves US.  Pretty amazing.  We should feel special.  We want to show off how good He is to us and prove that he's the best dad around, trying to convince others to become adoptees.  This makes a good sales pitch when we have a shiny new toy to bring to school.  "My dad loves me so much he bought me this aweseome new thing!"  Or, we're proud of how rough and tough he is.  He gets us out of the messes we tangle ourselves in.  He's our rescuer.  We're proud of Him and want to show him off.  We have an easy time doing this when we feel special about what He's doing for us.

However, no kid is bragging to his friends how great his dad is because he's grounded, and he realizes that it's in his best interest, and so this makes his dad phenomenal.  Or, how wise his dad is for letting him learn from his mistakes the hard way, so he won't make them again.  We tend to complain about these instances, or we keep quiet about them, not wanting to show this side of Him to others...they might decide they don't want that kind of dad.
The point is that we aren't God.  We don't always understand what He has in mind for us.  The dangerous thing to do is to try to formulate how He's working or to attempt to understand how it will all work out.  God is sovereign and He does love us.  He knows what He's doing.  We oftentimes don't know what He's doing (or what we're doing).
I find that I get into the most trouble when I try to figure out how God is working on somebody else...or I get so focused on somebody else being in relation with God, that I forget about my position as God's son.
God wants us.  I don't personally believe that he regularly makes things happen or not happen.  He does, however, use life, as it happens, to teach us and bring us closer to Him.  I think that if we believe this and keep this mindset, we will do well to grow closer to Him as his children.  We should spend less time worrying about how God comes across to other people and more time focusing on what He wants to do with / teach us.  It's all His to begin with anyway.
"The earth is the LORD's, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it"  -Psalm 24:1