what i might have known if i hadn't quit reading the bible

Friends of the blog will recall that my church was involved in a year-long Bible reading project last year, and faithful readers will still be disappointed that I got behind and quit reading in April, somewhere around the life of David.

Apparently if I'd stuck to project 4:4 long enough to get to Proverbs, I could have saved myself a heap of trouble this week.  Last night I posted a self-congratulatory description of my handiness and a recounting of the disassembling, repair, and reassembling of my phone.  Once I got the phone all back together I received and sent texts, played Angry Birds, and checked my email.  Everything was running in tip-top shape, and I was more than a little smug about my triumph over one more mechanical piece of my life . . . until this morning when my pride went-eth before destruction.

I was trying to call in to work to warn them about how massively I had overslept and how that would affect my arrival time, but every time I hit the speed dial, I couldn't hear the phone ringing or anyone picking up.  A couple of times when I tried, the screen went black.  I was attempting to drive down the road at the time, so I didn't do too careful an examination, but I knew that wasn't a good thing.  I supposed that I had put the internal earpiece in backwards, as it had been a tricky thing last night.  My earpiece didn't look exactly like the one in the video, so when it came time to reassemble, I could figure out which side was up.  The piece fit into the hole in four different ways, so I chose the one that seemed to make the most sense.  Clearly that wasn't it.

I did discover that if I could put the phone on speaker that I was still able to talk on it, but I determined that when I got home tonight, I would take the phone apart once more and flip the earpiece.  This was mildly inconvenient for today, but I was still quite confident in my ability to get everything back in working order.  But my haughty spirit was about to meet its (down)fall.

I don't remember if I mentioned this last night, but a few of those pieces were clearly not intended to be popped in and out of place repeatedly, so I knew doing another invasive procedure on my phone could be dangerous.  I opened the phone (which I can do completely without the instructional video by this point) and flipped the piece in question and had to put the whole phone back together before I could power it up to try a call.  Jess was my lovely assistant for this portion of the project.  Even with the earpiece flipped, I couldn't hear anything, and the screen-going-black thing happened each time I tried to call, making it impossible to turn on the speaker phone. 

So I cracked the phone open once more to try the piece another way.  Same song, third verse.  I took a break (to avoid throwing the phone across the room) and looked up the prices of phones on ebay.  Eventually I attempted to make it work one final time.  At this point, I've cracked one of the plastic pieces near the power button/earpiece area, and I still can't hear anything through the normal earpiece.  Sometimes when I attempt to make a call, it goes to a black screen and only starts to respond again when it feels like it, and other times when I try, the screen acts just as I should, and I can put the phone on speaker. 

Clearly I can't function this way indefinitely.  The point of a phone is still to be able to call people, despite what may or may not be my addiction to Angry Birds.  If everyone in the world would just agree to text-only communication, this would be fine, but I'm related to most of the texting holdouts in the world, so that's just not going to work.  If I hadn't lost my charger to the old phone back in January, none of this would have ever happened.  In the meantime, I guess I'll charge up the old phone in the car and switch the sim card over to it when I'm out and about anyway.  But since my delightful couple of months with new phone has ruined me, I'll probably end up on ebay working on a replacement.

Stupid pride, stupid thinking I can fix things, stupid broken phone.  I know there are problems in the world far greater than the tiny potatoes of my phone, so I'll stop whining about this now.   But I urge my imaginary readers to learn from this cautionary tale.  Don't be dumb enough to think that a couple of tiny screwdrivers and a youtube video can turn you into a phone mechanic.  Nothing but trouble down that road.  Remember Proverbs and save yourself from heartache.

Three final disjointed bits of information:

1.  Someday I'm going to be sorry about wasting this particularly awesome blog title on this whiny, rambling post. 

2.  I had really interesting stuff planned for the blog this week, but the real-time drama of my broken phone has consumed us.  Sorry for that.  Someday soon you're going to see a particularly exciting completed craft project, read an insightful and poignant description of my spiritual growth during the Lenten season, and experience the most perfect batch of poetry ever.  Now I know you're dying for me to shut up about my phone and bring the awesome.

3.  If you need to communicate information to me in the next few days, might I suggest email? I haven't gotten around to dismantling my laptop yet, so it should be safe.

project 4:4: the guest lecture series

Our post today comes from my cousin, scholar, theologian, and #1 blog fan.  He's also a frequent commenter around these parts and the daddy of that precious, tiny Goliath I left you with last post.  One day a few months ago after he had finished teaching Saul in his Old Testament survey course but before I would have gotten there even if I were on schedule, CST1BF and I had a discussion about Saul's story and some of the new insights he'd gotten from his prepping it for class.  I invited him at that time to share his thoughts with my faithful followers here.  And that's what's going on today.  So here you go, imaginary readers:

I read recently that the story of Saul in I Samuel may be the oldest piece of literature about a mental collapse in the history of the world.  If so, I want to contend that the world has yet to top it. Saul is an absolutely fascinating character whose entire life is characterized by brash and foolhardy attempts to cover up his insecurity and weakness.  This is not to say that Saul does not have glorious moments.  He does.  He is filled with God’s Spirit and prophesies with the prophets.  He is empowered by the Spirit and defeats his enemies like the judges.  However, like Samson and Barak before him, he is defined by his weaknesses rather than his strengths.  Weaknesses (in character) in Scripture is generally associated with sin, and Saul’s great sin is presumption.  That flaw will play a pivotal role in both his rise and fall. 

The story of Saul begins with a hunt for lost donkeys.  The writer of I Samuel brings together a handsome young Benjaminite and the last judge of Israel.  Samuel anoints Saul as king (and tells him where the donkeys are), and the Spirit comes upon Saul.  However, at his coronation, Saul is found hiding behind the luggage instead of taking his rightful place as king.  The three kings of united Israel all have a rise and fall, but Saul’s is the only rise that is tainted by weakness from the beginning.  Still it is a rise to power, and he does get a few things right.  Like most ancient rulers, he gains his real power on the battlefield.  When the city of Jabesh-Gilead is besieged, Saul’s anger is kindled, and he raises an army of Israelites to save the city.  His means of raising the army are somewhat suspicious though.  He chops up an ox and says that the oxen of anyone who refuses to fight with him will also be chopped up.  Threats and rash proclamations are going to be part of the story for a while, so you should get used to this kind of thing from Saul.  After his defeat of the Ammonites, Saul’s political opponents back off and he shows mercy to them.  This is the high point of his career, and it doesn’t last very long. 

Chapter 13 opens with a descriptions of Saul’s age and the length of his reign.  Unfortunately we don’t know what the numbers are there.  I like the honesty the ESV translators showed here when they rendered it as, “Saul was . . . years old when he began to reign, and he reigned . . . and two years over Israel.”  Then we get a description of Saul’s battles with the Philistines.  Jonathan is introduced here as well, and that’s good because after a host of good guys with bad sons (faithful readers will remember that our host here at the opinions commented on this last time) it’s about time we had a bad dad with a good boy.  Anyway, the Philistines have a fairly massive army, and so Saul’s forces are deserting him and returning to their homes.  (This was a big problem in ancient warfare.  Large standing armies of professional soldiers were a rarity in the ancient world.  Most soldiers were farmers or tradesmen called on to leave their homes for a particular battle or series of battles and who were anxious to return to their crops and families.  Saul is no fool and he sees what’s about to happen.  He needs to start the battle ASAP, but he knows that he can’t do that without making sure that God is there to help him.  Sacrifices before battles were typical practice in the ancient world, and Israel is no exception.  The problem is that Samuel has not arrived yet.  Now if Saul were a good student of history and a faithful man, he might remember the story of Gideon and how God had purposely limited Gideon’s forces in order that He might have the glory.  He might see the desertion of the faint-hearted as a way for God’s victory to be even more glorious.  Instead, he decides that he can’t wait for Samuel any longer and presumptuously offers the sacrifice himself.  Just as he’s finishing, up strolls Samuel.  Saul goes out to greet him.  It’s possible to read this greeting scene in such a way that Saul is genuinely surprised that Samuel is upset about the sacrifice, but I don’t think that’s probably right.  I figure it’s more like when I would feign excitement about my parents coming home as the first step in deceiving them about something bad that I had done while they were away.  When Samuel criticizes him, Saul begins making excuses (another typical pattern of behavior in the story), but Samuel doesn’t listen.  He simply tells Saul that God is going to remove the kingdom from him and give it to another man, a man whose heart is like God’s heart and who will be fit to rule.  Still Saul doesn’t repent and show true contrition. 

Ellen will hopefully cover the story of Jonathan’s defeat of the Philistines, but I wanted to point out how Saul’s rash vow about nobody eating anything until the battle was over fits into our pattern.  Like the cut-up ox from the first battle, Saul’s vow is a threat to those who refuse to fight with him.  However, his forced fasting weakens his army so that they are not able to gain as great a victory as he intended.  Rather than take responsibility for this, Saul accuses the army of breaking the vow and plans to kill the guilty party.  When it turns out that Jonathan, the hero of the day, ate some honey without even being aware of his father’s stupid order, Saul orders his death.  Of course, the army will not hear of this since Jonathan has just brought them a great victory.  Saul caves to the will of the people (weakness again, but blessed weakness in this case), and Jonathan is spared. 

The second great act of presumption comes when Saul doesn’t kill all of the Amalekites.  Samuel gets really steamed at him in this scene and you get that great line about how obedience is better than sacrifice.  You also get to see Samuel finally do what judges do best, namely, horrific acts of violence, when he hacks Agag up into little pieces.  The conversation between Saul and Samuel in this scene is the perfect insight into Saul’s character.  First, he acts presumptuously based on earthly motives.  He doesn’t kill the best of the livestock or destroy the valuables because he wants to enrich himself and his people. He doesn’t kill King Agag either.  Probably this was a sort of self-preservationist policy.  Kings have always been sort of reluctant about killing other kings.  It puts ideas in peoples’ minds and undermines the whole concept of a divinely-appointed monarch.  Thus when Samuel gives Agag the ole’ choppy chop he is not only passing judgment on God’s enemies, but he is saying something about the whole concept of the monarchy as well.  Second, when confronted by Samuel Saul makes excuses and attempts to avoid responsibility.  Notice his line of excuses from the text:

·      The people did it, not me, and we were going to use it all for sacrifice

·      Okay, I did it, but the people made me. 

·      Attempt to control the situation by force (grabs Samuel’s coat)

·      Okay I sinned so I’m rejected, but don’t let me be humiliated before the people. 

Saul is entirely self-serving in this scene.  Samuel and God are seen as useful political allies, but little else.  Samuel sees through all of the talk about sacrifice and worship and rejects Saul.  This is going to be a nice point of comparison with David when we get to the whole Bathsheba thing.  The author is purposely showing us that David was everything that Saul was not.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Back to the story.

So David’s rise begins here, and you all read about Goliath and all of that already, so I’ll skip and focus on what’s happening with Saul.  He’s jealous and threatened by this new rival, and so he pulls a Don Corleone move and tries to keep his enemies closer than his friends.  Fairly quickly in the story, Saul recognizes that David is the one who is going to take his throne, and he behaves exactly as we would expect him to at this point.  David becomes the new Samuel figure in the story.  He is the one who confronts Saul when he sins, and Saul tries to manipulate, exploit, and eventually kill him.  Of course this is all for naught since God is on David’s side, but Saul has never much cared about God’s will anyway, so he just keeps trying. 

So Saul is sort of at war with David from here on, and there’s a big act of presumption in this period that I want to make note of.  Samuel is dead at this point (I know, it’s really sad.), but Saul continues to try to control both God and the prophet.  He goes to see the witch of Endor (not the forest moon filled with Ewoks mind you), and he asks her to call up Samuel’s ghost.  Now that’s a big “no. no.” and Saul knows it.  After all, he had passed a law saying that anybody who practiced necromancy would be killed.  Nevertheless, he gets this woman to do it for him and then stays at her house and eats her food.  Thus he defiles himself with one of the most heinous sins in Israel.  Necromancy is so bad because it puts human beings in a position of power over the dead, and that’s something that Scripture really thinks belongs in the hand of God.  Whether you believe in sorcery or witchcraft or not, in the story it’s another example of Saul replacing God’s will with his own will. 

Now David has made sort of a huge thing about not killing Saul because Saul is God’s anointed.  This may be political maneuvering on David’s part similar to what I said about Saul and Agag earlier.  Regardless though, David has made an ethical and theological claim about killing the king.  He’s agin’ it.  Not because he loves Saul, though he does.  Not because he loves Jonathan, though he does.  It’s because he loves and respects God.  David knows that to kill God’s anointed king is an act of presumptuous rebellion, and so he refuses to do it, even when he has the chance.  When Saul’s forces are defeated at Mount Gilboa, and the king is injured with an arrow, even Saul’s armor-bearer knows better than to lay a hand on him.  (There are some interesting things we could say about euthanasia here, but I won’t indulge myself since this is already so long.)  So who do we have left that is presumptuous enough to raise his hand against God’s anointed?  You guessed it folks, Saul himself.  Even his suicide is an act of presumptuous rebellion against God. 

I guess the take away from all of this is that we shouldn’t seek to impose our will in the place of God’s will.  That’s the sin from the garden, it’s the sin of Cain, and it’s certainly the sin of Saul.  Instead we ought to look to see what someone with God’s heart does.  For that, imaginary readers, you’ll have to wait to see what Ellen has to say about David.  

If a guest blogger is going to lay that kind of pressure on me, perhaps I should think twice before inviting CST1BF (or anyone else) to do a post.  Just when I stumbled upon the perfect lazy girl's solution to having a blog without actually blogging, I get that sort of challenge.  I'm almost finished with another week of David, so I'll see what I can manage for your edification, friends.

In the meantime, thanks to Mac for a great post on Saul.  Though you said in a comment last post that David is the deepest character from the OT (and I agree), I've really enjoyed the time spent with Saul's character during this reading.  So many lessons to learn.

And if you too would like to become a guest blogger here at the opinions, send two character references and a 250 word writing sample my way.  If you're not up to my usual standard of excellence, I may still let you in with a small bribe.  I'm still trying to find the perfect way to make this blog pay me.  This could be it.

project 4:4: the prodigal weeks, week 13

Saturday night at our house, we had reading time.  Jess was about a week or so behind on her Daily Bible reading, and I, as is widely known at this point, am several weeks behind.  But during reading time, I was able to complete another week's worth of reading.  (And if you were worried, Jess got caught up too.)

We left off last post right before God gives in and gives the Hebrews that king they've been wanting.  This week we learn that Samuel's sons follow the wicked son pattern I mentioned in the past 4:4 post, not living up to the reputation of their father.  But it wasn't just that Samuel's sons were dishonest judges.  The Jews have been wanting to have a king like their neighbors for quite a while now.  It just happens that this is the moment when God is going to give in to them.  But the thing He says to Samuel about it is so telling and sort of heart-breaking.

And the LORD told him: "Listen to all that the people are saying to you; it is not you they have rejected, but they have rejected me as their king. 

If ever I am tempted to believe that God's ways are so much higher than our ways that He's not affected by the choices we make, verses like this remind me that God desires relationship.  He wants to be exclusive, and when we want to play the field or keep our options open or see other people, it matters to him.  He's the Creator of the universe, and our rejection hurts Him.  He gives us that power to hurt Him because His love is too big for it to be any different.  And sometimes that's scary for me to consider, but it's also comforting to know the depth of His love.  It's a love that inspires me, at least it does when I'm not completely overcome by my own selfishness.  And thankfully, it's a love that makes me want to overcome my selfishness.

*****Surprised blogger's note:  Often I have no idea where these project 4:4 ramblings will lead, and such is the case at the moment.  When I read I Samuel 8:7 a few nights ago, it did not jump out at me in a special way.  I've read the verse many times before, and sometimes that lessens the power for me.  But when I got to the end of the week's reading and went back to start this post, I started with Saul.  Thinking about his kingship led me back to why Israel got a king at all, and when I reread that passage tonight, it led to way more than Saul and kings and such.  It's moments like this that make this blogging project worthwhile for me, and I appreciate you, imaginary reader, for humoring me by taking the journey alongside me.*****

Saul enters the scene in I Samuel chapter eight as a humble, obedient man, a man who follows our reluctant leader pattern by pointing out his own insignificance and the insignificance of his family and tribe.  And even after he's anointed by Samuel and witnesses the kingship-affirming signs that come true, he's still hiding among the baggage on the day when all Israel gathers to choose the king.  It seems like a good start, like God has chosen a man who is head and shoulders above his fellow Israelites in more than just height.

But Saul's just a man, and to expect perfection from him is to miss the point of God's warnings about kings.  Even if Saul had avoided some of the pitfalls of power that we'll see him fall into, he'd still be imperfect.  As it is, he starts off well, coming to the aid of his people when they are threatened, rallying the people to fight together against their enemies, and showing compassion those who initially rejected him as king.  Good on ya, Saul.  It makes us see why God chose you.  But the danger of success with kings or pseudo-librarians or bloggers or internet contest winners is that we can sometimes claim our victories for ourselves rather than acknowledging the source of our strength, intelligence, and blessings.  And Saul begins fairly early in his career to suppose that his judgment is just as good as God's command.

As a result of Saul's presumption [Free-associating blogger's note:  If things go as planned, my imaginary readers will soon be enjoying the first post by a guest blogger.  Cousin, scholar, theologian and #1 blog fan will be bringing us some thoughts on Saul in the near future.  I thought of that because I learned to use the word presumption in relation to Saul from the guest blogger himself.], God chooses not to let Saul's line continue as Israel's king.  So Samuel is called into action to anoint a new leader, and this time God makes it clear that he's going to be looking at more than just height in one of the most comforting and most terrifying verses of the OT:

But the LORD said to Samuel, "Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart."

On the one hand it affirms all that "it's what's on the inside that counts" rhetoric that our moms and elementary school guidance counselors thrust upon us, but it also comes with the certainty that God truly can see our innermost thoughts and attitudes, which is a scary prospect in my head.  But God chooses David for his heart, and that's something that's generally going to work out well for them both.  It'll be pretty decent for us too, actually.

I discovered upon this reading that I had a bit of I Samuel chronology mixed up in my head.  For some reason I didn't have David playing the harp to soothe Saul's evil spirit until after the Goliath thing . . . which actually makes a better story.  In my version, David's a complete unknown when he takes on the giant pickle and then thanks to his fame as the Goliath-slayer, he gets that gig as Saul's harpist.  But I had it backwards, and it really doesn't matter because David has a great story either way.  The whole killing a oversized Philistine bully with a rock thing is one of the more iconic stories in all of scripture.  Chuck even showed a clip of the Richard Gere King David movie when we covered this week of reading back on Easter Sunday.  But I'd like to share with you my favorite representation of the David/Goliath battle:



What more can I say about that?

The week of reading goes past Goliath, but it's all tied up in Saul, and I've got another week of David reading next week, so I think I'm going to hold off and finish out David all at once.

But before I go, I do have one more thing I want to mention in this transition-less ramble:

Samuel gives his farewell address in chapter 12, though he won't be gathered to his people until the next day that I read.  And you know how I like a good farewell address.  In Samuel's I think we see a bit of his hurt feelings that the people asked for a king while he was still acting as their judge.  God told him that it wasn't about him, but there's something in Samuel's words here that makes it seem as though he took that personally--and it would be hard not to, I'd say.  But he stands before Israel and asks them to call him out if he's done wrong, and no one steps forward to accuse him.  Samuel has been a faithful servant of God and His people since his mother dedicated him as a pup.  And he makes Israel swear that it's so.  And then he reminds the forgetful Hebrews who their God is and what He's done for them.  For one second, they finally see how they've rejected God by asking for a king, and Samuel lays the pressure on them to do right.  And that lasts for about a second too.  But it's a great speech, nonetheless.

project 4:4: the prodigal weeks, week 12

There is a distinct possibility, if it doesn't take me five days to write this post, that I will actually be finished with my March readings before April ends.  My lack of catching up is truly starting to feel ridiculous, so I have every good intention of buckling down and being caught up by May 11.  Up-to-date readers are in Psalms right now and will continue to be through the 11th, so I think I can get through the lives of Saul and David pretty easily and catch up to the Psalm-readers.  Your continued encouragement and support will make it all possible, I'm sure.

In this seven days of reading, I finished Judges, covered all of Ruth and began I Samuel.  Saul is going to enter the picture in the next day that I read, so the time of the judges is at its end.  It's been an interesting journey, peaks and valleys and such. A notably odd story from early in this section of reading is Jephthah and the vow he makes when asking for God's help in a victory, promising that in exchange for God's intervention, he'll sacrifice whatever comes out to meet him when he returns home.  How can Jephthah possibly believe there will be a good outcome here?  How can he really expect that God will delight in a human sacrifice?  Did he think a goat was going to wander out and greet him?  Surely he'd realize that there the potential was there for some near and dear person to come out first.  I've done no research here, but I'm supposing there's some religious influences from the surrounding pagans at work here that Jephthah would make such a vow that had the obvious potential to end in the sacrifice of some person from his household.  God told us back in Leviticus (week 6 or 8 or something) that people who sacrificed their children to other gods should be put to death, so I don't think it was His idea.  It also makes me wonder what would have happened if Jephthah had refused to kill his daughter and keep the vow.  Would God have really been displeased?  Or would He have struck Jephthah dead instead?  It seems fair to me--or as fair as killing one's own daughter.  Jephthah unsettles me.

But on the next page is Ruth, and Ruth makes me happier with its inspiring virtues of loyalty and kindness and selfless devotion.  But though I think there are great lessons to be learned from Ruth's faithfulness to Naomi and Boaz's compassion and commitment to honoring his family, I don't have big important things to say. (But seriously, do I ever?)  Naomi's role in hooking up Boaz and Ruth is a little disturbing.  I'm sure when I learned the flannelgraph version of this story, it definitely lacked the pimping overtones that the biblical account contains.  (Yes, I just said pimping.  Hope you weren't letting the kids read the blog.)

Speaking of flannelgraphs, this week's reading also covered the tumultuous life of Samson.  He really had terrible taste in women.  Using Samson as an example, let's talk about whether or not it's okay to have secrets from your spouse or significant other.  Normally, I'd say it's not, but it sure seems like Samson could have saved himself some heartache if he'd ever been able to keep his own counsel (and then I'd listen and agree with all of you who told me that I shouldn't get an opinion on this one since I don't have a dog in the hunt).  But really, I do think it comes back to choosing a better mate, one who is worthy of trust and able to keep a secret rather than someone who will conspire against you with your enemies.  Frankly, Samson comes across like an idiot in parts of this story.  Wasn't it suspicious that each time he told Delilah the source of his strength, she attempted to subdue him in that way?  Seriously, bro. 

Also recently I heard someone talking about Samson and eating the honey out of a lion's carcass.  It might have been cousin, theologian, scholar, and #1 blog fan.  If it wasn't, we can still count on him to take credit.  But the thing that doesn't get emphasized in the text that the person was saying about it is that because Samson was under a Nazarite vow, he wasn't to have any contact with dead things.  If any old Jew had touched this dead (not to mention unclean before it even died) thing, they'd be unclean and have to wash and do whatever, but Nazarites couldn't be near a dead body without ending their vow.  So how does he get away with it?  How does that not take away his strength?  Why does God give him this wiggle room?  Does it have significance in our lives?  Why don't I know anything today?  I definitely should have gotten that guest blogger because as it turns out, I don't feel full of insights about Samson either.

Just so we're on the same page and I'm being completely honest and stuff, I'm also going to skip over the remaining characters from Judges with no guilt whatsoever.  You can read about them yourselves, if you want, but I've already told you the best bits, though if you're the sort of person who thinks killing and battle and body parts being sent as a message are the good bits, you really should check it out for yourself.

So let's talk Hannah and Samuel and Eli and stuff.  Surely I'll find something to say here.  I've always liked the story of Hannah, of a woman who prayers earnestly and is heard by God, a woman who keeps her word and gives up the child that has been the object of her longing and prayer for years, a woman who entrusts the keeping and protection of her son to God so that he can be equipped for a life of service.  It's sort of like a voluntary, non-killing version of the Isaac sacrifice.  Here's a highly anticipated, beloved child given back to God.  I admire it and respect it and feel a sort of fascination about it because it's the kind of selfless thing that I don't think I could ever do.  It's a story that reminds me that I have a long way to go, but I like the fact that the example is there.  Hannah did a very difficult yet obedient thing, so maybe I can too.

Speaking of obedience, or lack thereof, sometimes good men turn out some really bad offspring.  Nadab and Abihu spring to mind as well as Abimelech.  Hophni and Phinehas, the sons of Eli, were cut from the same cloth.  It always makes me wonder what Aaron, Gideon and Eli did or didn't do as fathers, but ultimately everyone's responsible for their own choices, so I shouldn't go blaming the dads here, I guess.  Unless my #1 blog fan tells me I should.

Samuel's a stand-up sort of guy, and I'm looking forward to digging into more of his life in the next week or so.  I know you are too, imaginary reader.

project 4:4: the prodigal weeks, week 11

My motivation was obviously high after finishing action-packed week 10 because I finished week 11 at top speed on Sunday night.  No explanation for the five day delay in blogging it.  [Lazy blogger's note:  I originally composed that sentence on Wednesday, and I've had to change the number of days twice because I can't seem to finish this post.]

This week's worth of reading covers the end of Joshua and the beginning of Judges.  I'm sure the more action-packed portions of Judges helped this section to fly by.  Though the first day's reading is more land allotments and lists of cities in each territory, and I skimmed unashamedly.

But then we come to Joshua's farewell address.  I told you back in week seven that I'm a fan of the farewell address concept.  And I think that Joshua gives us a fine one here.  He knows how difficult it will be for these Hebrews to live as a holy people, and he reminds them of how it is they came to be set apart and all that God has done for them along the way.  And then he gives them a choice.  I know (though I think I sometimes forget) that they've always had a choice, that everyone has a choice, but I think often in God's covenant relationship with the Israelites, they're dragged reluctantly into place.  Maybe I'm misrepresenting them and God here.  Feel free to ignore me.

But this seems different to me.  This is not the "He's your God.  Keep His commandments" instruction we've gotten from Moses and Aaron and Joshua in the past.  With that, the people still had to decide whether or not to follow the commands (because the choice was always there), but not following carries a stigma and the promise of swift justice.  But here in Joshua 24, he seems to be asking instead of telling:  "Is He your God?"  Like maybe they could choose something else and live, like maybe God doesn't want a reluctant, obligatory commitment.  He wants to be chosen in their hearts and committed to willfully and not because the axe of his judgment and wrath is hanging over them.  I'm sure that's what he always wanted, but I think this is the moment in the story where I really see them making this decision rather than following some man who makes the decision.  And maybe I'm ready way, way, way too much into these couple of verses.

With the death of Joshua (and Eleazar, the high priest), the young nation is really left to make those choices on their own much more than before.  Sometimes they do okay.  They did continue to make some conquests of the land, but none of the tribes is completely successful in ridding the Promised Land of its original inhabitants.  And that's going to come back and bite them.

Judges 2:10 is a terribly sad verse:

"After that whole generation had been gathered to their fathers, another generation grew up, who knew neither the Lord nor what He had done for Israel."

How quickly they forget.  And I think it breaks my heart for them because it flies in the face of one of my favorite passages:  Deuteronomy 6:6-9:

"These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts.  Impress them on your children.  Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.  Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads.  Writ them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates."

Clearly a generation couldn't arise not knowing the Lord unless that previous generation dropped the ball.  Oh, Israel.  I'm really glad cousin, theologian, scholar, and number one blog fan reminded me of something about you last week.  You're the one writing this story down.  When you have those colossal screw-up moments, you don't sweep them under the rug or creatively recreate history on your blog.  Instead you record for posterity all of your blemishes and hiccups and failures, right along with your more glorious moments of faithfulness.  Israel, you keep it real, and I have to appreciate that about you.  (And I have to appreciate Mac for the reminder.  Thanks, buddy.)

Kind of like forgetting the crossing of the Jordan, sometimes I forget about all the really odd things that happen in the book of Judges.  Oh, I get the gist of it.  The Jews are bad, God punishes them through some other nation of people, the Jews cry out to Him, and he raises up a judge to save them.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  But many of the stories have some hook, a gruesome twist or a miraculous defeat, and that's the part I really love.  Like Ehud and the sword-swallowing fat of King Eglon.  That is just a morbidly fascinating story--as is Jael driving a tent peg through the temple of Sisera.

(Let me interrupt myself to inquire if I should be offended as a woman that Barak's punishment for not following God's command on the first try is that God allows a woman to be the one to kill Barak's enemy?  I'm not exactly, but  . . .)

The story of Gideon is also in the readings for week 11, and in him we find another reluctant hero.  Anyone notice a pattern here?  God always seems to be calling some person who doesn't want to be called.  Is he drawn to their humility?  Perhaps we're just supposed to learn the lesson that God uses the ordinary to accomplish His purposes.  Or maybe His power is best showcased in their weakness.  God will tell us in a few weeks that He judges by the heart, so perhaps the real common denominator is something we can't even detect.  Clearly His method is sound because He always seems to find the right person for the job.

I'd like to be able now (as is my occasional custom) to make a Veggie Tales reference about Gideon, Tuba Warrior, but instead I must admit that I've never seen this one, which is a real tragedy considering my affinity for the tuba and the very real way that being a tuba player is going to change my life.






So God calls the reluctant Gideon and then patiently proves Himself through a couple of miracles.  I love moments like that, when some human acts human and decides to test God, but obviously does it with a decent heart because God plays along instead of striking him dead.  I like it when God is patient.  It gives my hard, rebellious heart hope.  Jerks like me need God's patience.  I also think these fleece miracles contrast nicely with the lack of response from Baal when Gideon destroys his altar a few verses previous.  Gideon essentially gives a slap in the face to Baal, and as Joash says, "if Baal really is a god, he can defend himself," and nothing happens.  No punishment for Gideon.  But in the same chapter, Gideon sees the true God setting fire to a sacrifice, alternately letting a fleece get wet and stay dry, and using a tiny fraction of an army to defeat the Midianites.  God controls each of those situations, proving His God-ness, and Baal doesn't so much as peep.

The last day's reading finishes out the life of Gideon, who kept enough humility after his military victories to refuse kingship, but who obviously didn't spend enough time raising his seventy sons to honor God.  Someone who knows the Judges song needs to tell me if Abimelech is considered a judge because a more worthless individual I'm not sure I can find in Scripture.  His story of deceit and slaughter at least ends with his just punishment, but it's also a fairly depressing note on which to end my week of reading.  Here's hoping week twelve will lighten up.

project 4:4: the prodigal weeks, week 10

Sometimes I set ridiculous goals and fail.  And sometimes I set normal, achievable goals and still fall miserably short.  On Sunday, I told Shane that I was going to finish the month of March in the Daily Bible because, of course, I am still woefully behind.  I hadn't made any progress toward that goal until Thursday, and I'm still a good ways off, but at least I feel good about the effort.

Most days I eat my lunch at my desk whether I bring it from home our run out to one of the many convenient restaurants in the River Market district.  Usually there's some decent company and conversation going on in the workroom to accompany my digestion, and on days when we're not visiting the quacketeria (as my boss calls it), the internet provides all the lunchtime entertainment one could ever need.  But the fatal flaw in having lunch in my work space is that inevitably, I find myself doing work during my lunch.  Most days I assume I've spent no more time working during a break than I've spent off-task during the rest of my day and call it even.  But some days, I want to reclaim lunch.  Such was the case on Thursday.

So at 12:15, I gathered my sandwich and fruit and leftover salad from the fridge, loaded up my sunglasses and my Daily Bible, and headed for the charming little library garden.  I sat on a bench, enjoyed the beauty of creation and a perfect-ish lunch while reading about the total annihilation of the Hittites, Amorites, Canaanites, Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites.  If you're going to read about the complete destruction of several cities and scads of people, you might as well have an enjoyable setting and good food to ease the sting.

The time I spent reading today brought me to the end of another week's worth of reading.  This chunk covered the last bits of Deuteronomy and the first seventeen chapters of Joshua.  So.  Much.  Happens.  I'm not sure how I'll fit all this action into one post.

Moses, our constant companion and spiritual leader since week three of this reading, is gathered to his people.  I end up feeling so sad for him, that he doesn't get to enter the Promised Land because he hit a rock, that he endures all the wandering and the grumbling and the gritty work of covenants and reconciliation and doesn't experience the glorious victories that God brings about for the Israelites because they're keeping their end of the covenant for once.  But just as Moses shared a face-to-face relationship with God in life, it appears that God was with him in his death, and Moses claimed the victory and received his reward for his service as God's mouthpiece.  Well done, Moses.

Joshua, son of Nun (and subject of one of the worst Biblical puns), is commissioned to lead the people in their conquest of the Promised Land.  Several times in the week's reading Joshua is told by Moses and by God to "be strong and courageous . . ."  If I were Joshua, I think I would have begun to get a complex that the Lord thought I was weak and cowardly.  Probably, the point is that conquering the inhabitants of the land is a monumental task that will only be accomplished through divine intervention, and Joshua, as their leader, is going to have to bravely trust in God's deliverance in the face of many enemies and seemingly impossible battles to set an encouraging example for the people, and he does. 

I like Joshua.  He's a leader who doesn't seem to falter.  From the time that he spied out the land forty years ago and spoke up with Caleb about God's ability to hand it over to them to his obedience in carrying out God's conquering plan to his farewell address that is nothing short of a throwdown to current and future Israelites, Joshua stays impressively true to God's purpose, only once slipping a bit when he is fooled into making the treaty with the Gibeonites.  Don't misunderstand me, I like a Bible character with some flaws, and it's often encouraging to me that God uses His flawed creation to accomplish His plans and I'm also not trying to say that Joshua is perfect, but I also get a lot of satisfaction from encountering this guy who seems to be able to live a consistently faithful, obedient life.  He's someone of whom much is required, who steps up with God's help and accomplishes great things.  Good for you, Joshua (Incidentally, my favorite brother is named Joshua, and I think in this respect, my Joshua has much in common with Bible Joshua.)

I sometimes forget about God parting the Jordan until I'm reading Joshua.  It doesn't get the high profile treatment that Charlton Heston's Red Sea parting gets.  But it's kind of awesome that God gives these folks a reminder miracle, a clear, undeniable sign of His presence and constancy and intervention.  If God cares so deeply that their feet don't get wet getting to the Promised Land that he will stop the flow of a river at flood stage, what confidence those Israelites should have about their upcoming conquest.  Unrelated to the rest of this paragraph, but next up chronologically, why hadn't they been circumcising people on the way (Joshua 5)?  Was it just so God could "roll away the reproach of Egypt" in one fell swoop?   

The Sunday that this reading was scheduled to occur, we had a Jericho sermon, and the French Peas' classic, "Keep Walking" marched through my head nonstop, just as surely as the Larry the Cucumber and his pals marched around the walls of Jericho.  It's funny because I know several songs about falling walls in Jericho, but clearly the Veggie Tales version is the catchiest.  What a kick-off to the Conquest Tour of Canaan that the Israelites are embarking upon!  A little marching, a little trumpeting, and some appropriately timed shouting, and God delivers the city into their hands.  What a wake up call to the inhabitants of the land.  The God of all creation isn't playing by your rules.

And then there's Rahab (spoiler alert:  she's going to become an ancestor of some very famous Israelites.  And Jesus.) who recognizes God by his miraculous deliverance of the Israelites and throws her lot with them by protecting Joshua's spies.  Of an entire city, only her family is spared from the total destruction of Jericho, and her salvation will help me through wrapping my head around all those other folks who are not spared.

And Achan.  Oh, Achan, you Israelites were doing so well.  Renewed covenant and circumcision and obedient marching led to your first amazing victory, and instead of trusting that God meant business about the rest of his Jericho-conquering instructions, you got greedy, an act that cost thirty-six of your brothers their lives and dealt a blow to the budding reputation of your people as a nation protected by the one true God.  And for your disobedience, your entire family was destroyed also.  Your legacy is a cautionary tale. 

In the face of the Ai defeat, Joshua proves himself as a Godly leader once again by prostrating himself before the Lord and begging for a return of His favor.  He follows God's instructions to the letter to flush out Achan's deceit, carries out his punishment, and learns military strategy from the God of Angel Armies (which is one of my favorite names for God and how Eugene Peterson translates "Lord Almighty") to successfully overtake Ai.  And Joshua continues to rely on God as the Savior, who sends hailstones on their enemies and makes the sun stand still in the sky.  That blows my mind.  Joshua 10:14 is perfect:  "There has never been a day like it before or since, a day when the LORD listened to a man.  Surely the LORD was fighting for Israel!"  Surely.  So the nation of Israel is granted victory after victory against all comers, and the land is divided among the remaining tribes, and there's at least a whole day's worth of reading that's listing all the cities and towns and villages allotted to each tribe, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I skimmed it in my sunshine-y reading garden.

Do you remember Caleb, imaginary Bible scholar?  God does, and this faithful man, one of only two from a previous rebellious generation who enters this Promised Land, receives the land promised him forty years earlier as a reward for his confidence in God's power and protection.  Good on ya, Caleb.

And though by now I've read a few days past the technical end of week 10 and am ready to start talking about Joshua's farewell address, I'll end this post, so I can get back to my reading, and perhaps one day be on track again.

a bit of a ramble, because I've missed you

I saw #1 blog fan Mac last night and was reminded that I hadn't given the people what they wanted since Tuesday.  Sorry, imaginary readers.  I lost track of time and neglected you for far too long.  (Although I would argue that I gave you such great material on both Monday and Tuesday, that I deserve for you to cut me a break.  But let's not argue, friends.  I'll just do better next time.)

I've got a few posts/ideas in the hopper, but none of them are quite ready for public consumption yet, so I'm just going to meander through the rest of this post with no clear direction.  I'm sure you won't notice the difference.

I was in kind of a foul mood last week.  If you saw me or had interaction with me from Monday through Thursday, I'm sorry for being a grouchy jerk.  I don't know what was wrong or why I was crabby, but I just had the case of the blahs.  Lucky for us all, my moma and the Popster came for a visit, and spending the day getting stuff hung on my walls and some decorative stuff in place lifted my spirits.  Plus seeing my moma just does that for me.  She's good people.  And because we got so much stuff done, there's going to be at least one more home improvement post in your future, I bet.  But not today.

Google Analytics has been my special friend lately.  I love knowing how many people are visiting me here and how they're finding me and whatnot.  It was through the miracle of Google Analytics that I discovered my brush with HGTV internet-stardom--when my visits spiked last Saturday, I discovered that nearly all of those visitors were coming through the same referring site.  I also discovered this week that some decorating/home improvement Spanish language blog had created a post using most of my process pictures and linked to my blog.  I was severely disappointed in myself that I could comprehend almost none of the text, but thanks to the incredibly literal translating efforts of Microsoft office products, I think I got the gist of it.  It definitely seemed from the translated version that the writer may have been trying to pass the project of as her own, but she did link to my blog, so I don't think it was in a nefarious way.  I will say the poorly translated version that I read definitely didn't convey the charm and wit that I used to originally recount the project, but I'm willing to bet that if I could have understood the Spanish without the help of a translator, it would have been lovely.

In other Google Analytic news, it seems as though the increased traffic from the HGTV plug is dying down.  I was back down to less than a hundred visitors yesterday for the first time in a week.  Before this thing happened, I averaged between 20 and 30 a day.  I know the quality of the product really shouldn't be affected by the stats, but I did feel a certain amount of pressure to perform well for all the increased traffic.  The truth that I learned from my stats is that almost none of the new visitors explored beyond the dresser post on which they landed.  My bounce rate increased by about 50% this week (though the fact that my visits were up over 500% sort of made up for that a bit).  I guess it comes down to preferring  a smaller number of readers who I feel like are at least moderately invested in this blogging adventure or a huge number of people who just happen by.  The point of all that convoluted wandering is that I've reminded myself today that stats don't drive what I do here, so it's cool if none of those people ever return--though if they do, I'll be here to greet them with my usual standard of excellence . . . or something. 

And here's one more thing I learned from Google Analytics--and then I promise I'm moving on.  I realized this week that it can tell me what service providers my visitors are using, and I discovered that in the days following my open letter to Penske, I had several visitors originating from their network.  I guess those open letters were more powerful than I realized.  I'll have to use them wisely from now on--though I still have no statistical proof that the Michael Jackson mime found my blog after my open letter to him.

Last Sunday I set a lofty goal and shared it with Shane about catching up on my Daily Bible reading.  I didn't come close on the goal, but I did make some progress this week.  Faithful project 4:4 fans (or just faithful fans of the Bible) will be receiving a new prodigal 4:4 post soon.  But I'll still be five weeks behind.  Sigh.  Speaking of other things I'm behind on . . . I requested all seven books that FHDM recommends to improve one's writing.  Because not reading books I already owned or already had checked out from the library wasn't enough.  I had to bring more books into my immediate vicinity that I wouldn't make time to read.  But I warn you, imaginary readers, if I ever get those seven books read, you won't be able to stay away. 

I want to start food blogging, but I never think about it until after I've already made and eaten something that would make an interesting post.  I'm going to think more about this--my kitchen does have great natural light, so if I were ever home to do any cooking during the day, I think it would make some great photos.  Maybe someday.  Today at the library, I was going to make those dirt cup things with the gummy worms and I would have shown you a picture of that, but no one showed up for the program.

Things are about to get so intense at work that I may not be able to resist blogging about my job.  I'll truly know then that I've run out of decent ideas--or that work has so consumed me that I don't have time for other thoughts.  If it happens, please don't give up on me.

I have discovered what I believe to be the perfect hypothetical question.  It reveals so much about those that answer.  So let me ask you here, imaginary reader, and maybe someday I'll analyze your responses and tell you what they say about you as a person.  Ready?  Here goes:

If you were ordering a pizza for yourself and didn't have to share with anyone, what three toppings would you choose?  You must choose exactly three toppings.  You may explain why if, like me, you can't answer a direct question without justifications and explanations and personal history.

project 4:4: the prodigal weeks, week 9

Remember Project 4:4?  In the good old days before Lost obsession and packing and moving and illness and basic inadequacy encroached? Before I let myself get crazy behind?  I remember with equal measures of fondness and guilt.  When I was finally back at PV for an entire normal Sunday today, I felt keenly how behind I was and how much I missed being a part of this shared experience of daily Bible reading.  And for once, in my guilt-ridden blog existence, I did some work on fixing it instead of just lamenting it.  Tonight I made seven days' progress in the reading and now present a week's worth of my reflections, which should have been posted here sometime on or near March 7th.  I'm officially less than a month behind now.  Excuse me while I do a bit of unattractive gloating.

Six days worth of reading, portions of which I had read or skimmed back when I was mostly on schedule, brought me to the end of the law, so I anticipate that the upcoming conquests will read a bit more quickly (and with less reluctance) than those last weeks of February.

And because I'm out of practice and because I made several randomish notes as I was reading, I expect this post will wind and twist and suffer from a lack of transition, but such is the nature of things around here.

It's interesting to me that God condones slavery.  I know we're still in this era where the Hebrews are His people and everyone else is fair game for punishment or destruction, and I'm probably just being all 21st century again as I read this and feel appalled that owning another person is ever okay.  I know He hands down some mandates about treatment that should perhaps prevent some abuse, but it seems like after the whole slaves in Egypt mess, it's an institution that we're better off avoiding.  On the other hand, without these passages about foreign slaves and Hebrew servants who choose a lifetime of service rather than release, we wouldn't have the song "Pierce My Ear" and its image about choosing a life of commitment and service.  Still it's tricky.

So though the practice of slavery seems more than a bit morally questionable to me, regardless of context, I do have unreserved enthusiasm for the passages from this week's readings regarding the treatment of the poor and vulnerable, the suffering, the disenfranchised.  Today I caught the tail-end of a conversation that Mac and Shane and maybe Robyn were having about the seven-year release of servants and forgiveness of debts and maybe the Year of Jubilee (I've really got to start listening better, especially if I'm going to try and blog about it later).  They were talking (I think) about how the system wasn't meant to promote wealth but to preserve family and foster generosity and de-emphasize that human tendency to pursue getting ahead at the expense of others.  And if I hadn't been holding down two other conversations at the same time, I would have joined in.  Instead I just silently agreed and felt a little amused that thanks to daily Bible reading and Mac's teaching OT Survey this semester, we're all Mosaic Law scholars these days. 

Week nine's readings also cover the some health regulations and the dietary laws, both of which made me glad to be living in my world instead of theirs.  I like modern medicine and disease prevention that can go beyond just hand-washing (though in the absence of modern medicine, hand-washing was a wise command).  I also like bacon and shrimp and probably a few more unclean foods.

One entire day's reading was devoted to a description of the blessings that were Israel's to enjoy as long as they kept the covenant and of the curses that awaited them if they broke faith with God.  To read those curses and know that some very specific promises regarding exile and hardship would come to fruition for those Hebrews was a sobering reminder that disobedience carries stiff penalty.  One contrast that struck me in this reading was the difference between this Deuteronomic theology (this term brought to you by Harding University and a bunch of educational debt) that says if you do good and follow God you can expect only good things and the seemingly more democratic description of God's dealings with man that we see in NT passages like Matthew 5:45  " . . .He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous."  Admittedly, in the OT model, there's no reason for bad things to happen to good people, no explanation for misfortune or suffering other than sin or disobedience.  It's the sort of system that has Job's friends questioning what he had done to cause such a severe punishment from God and the disciples asking Jesus whether a blind man or his parents sinned and caused the blindness.  I'm sure it's mostly the lateness of the hour talking here, but it's another one of those moments when OT God and NT God seem like two different deities, and I struggle with the "unchanging" part of His nature.  I know I'll work through that and feel all right about it later, but I'm kinda counting on Mac to come through with some wisdom for me--or to tell me that I'm being obnoxious. 

And so you, dear imaginary readers, don't think I'm a complete heretic, let me relay the following anecdote.  When I read Exodus 22:22 with its warning to take care in the treatment of widows and orphans, I immediately thought of that gem from James 1:27 that declares looking after widows and orphans to be pure and faultless religion.  And I felt comfortable in God's unchanging nature, in a way that I'm sure He intended.

And now, friends, I leave you to your thoughts and reflections (and, I hope, comments).  I also hope the remaining 4:4 posts representing my lost weekend are forthcoming.  Feel free to harass me about them as needed.

project 4:4: the stall between weeks 8 & 9

I'm now over a week behind on my "daily" reading.  I feel guilty and frustrated, and I'm still having a hard time getting motivated to catch up and be on track.  Today's class didn't inspire me to work on it either.

This should barely count as an entry, but I needed to say out loud how behind I was.  And I needed to acknowledge here the reason behind my lack of 4:4 posting.  Sorry, imaginary readers.  If I don't shape up soon, I won't blame you for running away.

But until you actually do run away, let me ask you to pray for one of the shepherds at my church.  My pal Jimmy had a heart attack on Saturday, followed up by a double bypass surgery.  He's recovering well, and we're hearing good reports, but I ask that you please remember him, his family, and his recovery.  Slowing down is going to be tough for him.  Thanks, in advance for praying for him.

project 4:4: weeks 7 & 8, or failure catches up with me

Rather than wallowing in the self-loathing because I never posted my project 4:4 entry from last week, I'm just going to combine it with this week's and pretend like I meant for it to happen that way.

On Wednesday of last week when I still hadn't posted the 4:4 post, I claimed that it wasn't an exciting week of reading and blamed Leviticus.  But I was at least half-wrong.  The first part of the week's reading came from the end of Numbers and Deuteronomy and included portions Moses's farewell address, which I think is some pretty awesome stuff.  It had just been so long since I read it, and my head was so full of rotten tv that I couldn't remember it.  Oops.

I love the idea of the farewell address so much.  Moses has been the leader of these people for forty years, and as they are finally about to embark on this journey into the Promised Land, he has to send them on without him.  He takes them back and reminds them of where they've been and Who's been with them, and exhorts them to remember and live accordingly as they enter this new phase.  The folks he's addressing now are a younger generation than those original complainers, as we've waited forty years for them to die out.  But there are people in this crowd who will still remember Egyptian slavery, God's mighty deliverance through the plagues and Red Sea parting, the covenant made in the desert, the voice of God speaking to them.  But there is also an even younger generation hearing these words who won't have the same first-hand experiences, and Moses lays the burden of passing on this story to all generations.  And there's some beautiful language thrown in, just for me.  Deuteronomy six is definitely one of my favorite passages in the Bible, for just that reason.

All through the Daily Bible readings so far, we've skipped most of the law-giving information because F. LaGard has chosen to put it all together in one place, and we've finally reached that place in our reading.  He's grouped similar passages under whatever type of law it is.  So far we've covered the laws concerning religious observances--feasts, holidays, various kinds of offerings (and there are a lot of them), and priestly law.  We've covered ceremonial cleanness and uncleanness, Nazarite vows, and the consequences for not following all of these laws.  I'm still reading about the law this week too, so I'll have more to say about it later also.  Lucky readers.

There was one particular day's reading that really stuck out for me this time:  In Wednesday's reading, we examined the priesthood, and I ran across a passage that is difficult for me.  In Leviticus 21:16-24, we learn that descendants of Aaron who are disabled in various ways cannot serve as a priest.  Call me a product of the 20th/21st centuries, but this troubles me.  I can understand that some physical limitations might prevent people from fulfilling the duties of a priest, but several of the things listed certainly wouldn't--and the "defects" mentioned seem, for the most part, entirely beyond the control of these men.  It's sad to me, and I think it doesn't help that the some of the terminology used is very similar to the descriptions of unblemished nature of the animals that are to be sacrificed.  I can understand the idea of God demanding an animal sacrifice without defect.  Giving to God animals that have little value or are not useful does seem to go against the idea of sacrificing the best or firstfruits, so I get that.  But this priest thing is different to me.  These are people, God's people, who are being excluded from God's service, when birth into the Levite tribe should ensure their place as a part of the tabernacle work.  What should I do with this passage?  How do I make this idea fit into this picture of God-relationship that I'm forming through this reading?

I haven't looked ahead yet, but so I don't know when I'll get this law business taken care of so that I can get back to the story, but I'm trying to be patient.  I understand why the law is important and detailed and all that jazz.  I've talked about that before--that I appreciate the fact that God cares about the details of their lives.  He knows what's best for them, and this whole law business is supposed to result in holiness, so I can't overlook it or rush it or be impatient with it.  But in my tired and draggy and impatient and utterly human way, I'm ready for some action.

what i'm giving up, taking up, and hoping to gain

Last year was the first time that I gave up something for Lent.  I wrote about it in a facebook note to ask for encouragement and accountability.  I don't really know if that's how Lent is supposed to work, but that's what I did.  I'll say that giving up cussing in my head and dwelling on negativity that causes most of the cussing in my head was moderately successful.  I'd like to tell you that I stuck to working at it after Lent ended, and that's perhaps somewhat true, but I've long since gotten lax about it again, at least the negativity part. 

This year I asked my expert on all things Catholic if it was all right to talk about what you were giving up, and I have permission to share, as long as I'm not whining and complaining about what I'm giving up or out looking for sympathy or attention for it.  So I'd like to tell you about the self-improvement projects I'll be working on for the next forty-odd days.

• I'm giving up all caffeine except chocolate.  Last year I did an excellent job of justifying not giving up caffeine, because I didn't feel like it.  But I like the idea of a physical self-denial, and I like the reality of having something visual and tangible in terms of accountability.  So I'm going for it.  I was originally going to give up carbonated beverages, which left me tea and coffee--not that I drink much coffee.  But I've got a few showers and a wedding coming up during Lent, and I didn't want to have to pass on punch--one of my favorite things and something I don't get very often--because of ginger ale.  True self-denial would probably demand that I stick with the carbonation-free idea for just that reason, but ultimately that's not the decision I made.  So I'm going caffeine-free instead, which means taking sweet tea out of my life.  That's gonna hurt.  And since I don't like any non-caffeinated carbonated beverage besides ginger ale, this will effectively cut carbonation from my life except for celebratory occasions.  This one will likely also mean giving up pizza for the duration of Lent as I can't stand drinking water with pizza.

• I'm also giving up candy.  I feel guilty for not including chocolate along with all the other caffeine, but I sometimes need some for medicinal purposes.  Additionally, Ellie at work has already requested the chocolatey-est cake that I can make for her birthday, which falls during Lent, and there's no way I can do that without sampling, so the candy ban seemed the most likely way to avoid most chocolate without leaving myself a little room to not lose my mind.  This decision also means there will be no Dove truffle eggs in my pre-Easter life, which will probably be the hardest thing I do all year, and that includes reading the book of Numbers.

• I'm limiting my time spent on facebook.  My friend Kimberly is giving up facebook entirely for Lent, and when she told me that, it hit me where I live.  I waste so much of my day on the internet in general, and I honestly have no idea what percentage of that time wasted is on facebook, but considering how often I stop by to catch up, I'm sure it adds up significantly.  I don't want to give it up entirely because there are some really positive things that come out of it for me, but scaling back seems healthy.  I haven't yet nailed down the parameters for the limiting, but I thinking I'm going to aim towards checking once or twice a day for a maximum of thirty minutes.  I know some of you are shaking your heads and wondering what it is I do on fb that consumes so much time.  I can't exactly explain it, and I certainly can't justify it.  The word addiction would not be misused here.  I'm still working out if reading email notification from facebook counts as checking in.  Feel free to weigh in on this in the comments.

• I'm taking up encouraging speech.  I almost said that I was giving up gossip, which is certainly a noble goal, but I chose instead to not phrase this one in the negative.  I don't want just to stop gossiping, but I also want what I say to be uplifting or edifying.  I want to use words to help instead of harm.  No visual aid for this one, and I think it will be the most difficult to keep, but if I can manage it for forty-five days or so, I know I'll be the better for it.  And the next forty-five days might come that much easier.

• I'm taking up a stronger commitment to project 4:4 and the Daily Bible reading.  I've been keeping up, week by week, but daily I haven't been so hot.  In fact, I need to read three days' worth right now.  My goal for Lent is to be on track every day.  I know I'll be the better for it.  And the next forty-five days might come that much easier.

I'm still thinking about all of these, and I have around eighty minutes to come up with a few more things, but perhaps this is my final list.  It's certainly a tall order, and I'm certainly weak and lazy and likely to fail if I try to do it on my own.  That's where you and God come in.  So, imaginary reader, I seek your encouragement, covet your prayers, and hope that our relationship is one that includes accountability.

Oh, I also need to know if chocolate-covered pretzels count as candy.  And I need to know quickly, or things could get ugly.

project 4:4: week 6 or numbers and i make nice

I forgive you, Numbers.  I've been feuding with you since week 1  and judging you for your dry, repetitive, seemingly endless, mind-numbing uh . . . numbers.  And while it's true that I should very often pipe down and show some respect and honor the fact that you're in the Bible and all, you've got to admit that you share some responsibility.  You really haven't been putting your best foot forward with me (maybe I should have been having this feud with F. LaGard Smith, since he's the one arranging you for this project).  Well, wherever the blame falls, this week is blame-free.  Because this week, Numbers--you pal o'mine, you told me a story.

In my almost daily reading in the book of Numbers, I encountered, in random order, fearful spies, some wandering Jews, poisonous snakes, a talking donkey, Israelite grumbling, a disobedient rock-hitter, some Midianite temptresses, a zealous priest, and the first of many victories as these Hebrews head for the Promised Land.

In the weeks leading up to this one, we've seen the Israelites in the desert, spending a year receiving God's law and learning about worship that pleases God and building the tabernacle.  It occurred to me at this reading that God needed that year to work on removing the vestiges of the Egyptian religion and without the influences of the kingdoms they would encounter as they neared Canaan.  I suppose a year in the desert is the closest thing to a religious vacuum that can be found, a time and place to establish pure worship of the true God.

So with that year behind them, they set out for the land of the Promise.  Remember that promise, imaginary reader?  The promise God made to an old man with a hearty faith during our first week of reading?  Well, after wandering and lies and favoritism and slavery and grumbling, our flawed heroes, the descendants of that faithful old man, the nation conceived through a miracle, are finally getting close.  They just need to send a few spies into the land to check things out before God leads the charge.  But 83% of those spies will come back without even a drop of the faith of Abraham, with fear of the land and its inhabitants so strong that not even the memory of God's mighty hand of deliverance in Egypt can reassure them of victory in Canaan.  Some days I just want to shake those stubborn, fearful, wayward Hebrews.  Then I want to have a baby boy so I can name him Caleb.  I'm just sayin'.

So instead of listening to the reassurance of Caleb, Joshua, Moses, and most importantly, the God of all creation, the Israelites do what they seem to do best, romanticize their enslavement and grumble against the One who sustains them.  And God has one of his enough's enough moments and sends them to wander for forty years in the desert before they can enter this Land of Promise.

That forty years of wandering doesn't get too much coverage, just the highlights (or perhaps low points) of grumbling and disobedience.  The narrative does include a story in chapter 20 that always depresses me.  Spoiler alert:  there's grumbling involved.  This time the lack of water in their desert wanderings have reminded them of their glory days in Egypt, and the people cry out against Moses and Aaron, who prostrate themselves to seek the Lord's favor.  They are instructed to take the staff from the tabernacle with them and speak to a rock.  Moses did something similar in Exodus 17 (at the same place, best I can tell), but that earlier time God told him to strike the rock rather than just talk to it.  So when Moses strikes the rock twice, water does come out, but this act of disobedience displeases God to the point that neither Moses nor Aaron will be allowed to enter the Canaan as a result of it.  It always seems harsh to me, probably because my sympathies are so strongly with Moses versus these grumbling tribes of Israel that I'm all set to cut him some slack.  I think it's probably really satisfying and necessary to take out a little frustration on a rock--it's better than hitting the people, right?  But just like with Nadab and Abihu, obedience and holiness and righteousness are tied up together.  And they matter to God.  A heart that seeks God must put aside impatience and frustration and seek obedience or fall subject to God's judgment.  And there's my lesson, though I still feel sorry for Moses (and Aaron).

Speaking of Aaron, also in chapter 20 we read that Aaron is gathered to his people, and his son Eleazar takes his place as high priest.  I bet being the big brother of Moses was challenging.  As a youngest child, I don't have any experience in going through life dealing with a special, over-achieving, superior younger sibling, but you could ask Michelle or Shane or Joshua.  They've had loads of experience with that.  But Aaron spends forty plus years alongside Moses, speaking for him in Egypt, serving as high priest and setting the example for that office for his descendants, listening to the grumblers and dissenters, and leading those stubborn people.  He does all of that while taking orders from his little brother and without the face-to-face contact with God that must have been an encouragement and motivation to Moses.  He doesn't do it perfectly, and at least a couple of times, I tend to come down on him hard for his slip-ups.  But he's a pretty decent guy, even so.

I would get disowned by faithful reader, frequent commenter, and cousin Mac if I didn't devote some attention to the story of Balaam and the talking donkey.  Of all the miraculous occurrences in the Bible, this is the one that often gives Mac the most pause.  And you know, it does smack of the ridiculous, the cartoonish, whereas most of the Biblical signs and wonders fall on the side of powerful or terrible or majestic.  Perhaps it's just the influence of our culture that makes this seem silly to a modern reader.  Because I'll admit the donkey might talk with Eddie Murphy's voice when the scene plays out in my head.  I hope Mac will leave a comment here to do his Balaam's donkey rant.  It's been a few years since I've heard it, and I may be missing out on some of the subtleties here.

My favorite thing to come out of this week's readings was our Sunday morning class.  One of my favorite men of God, Jimmy Cone, taught our lesson, and the night before he asked me via facebook to bring my copy of The Message to class.  I started coming to church armed with The Message a few years ago, and I take every possible opportunity to read aloud from it in class.  It's become something I'm a bit famous (infamous?) for in our singles group, but usually I think there's some valuable perspective to be gained from the paraphrase.  Anyway, Jimmy wanted to cover some NT references to points in our reading this week, and I was happy to oblige him.  One of the passages I read was 1 Corinthians 10, the first thirteen verses.  And in The Message, I found that Paul (and Eugene Peterson) had already said everything I've been trying to say about the Hebrews and old law for the past six weeks.  The whole passage flashed for me like neon, but the last few verses were the best.  Here's Eugene's take on verses 11 & 12:

These are all warning markers—danger!—in our history books, written down so that we don't repeat their mistakes. Our positions in the story are parallel—they at the beginning, we at the end—and we are just as capable of messing it up as they were. Don't be so naive and self-confident. You're not exempt. You could fall flat on your face as easily as anyone else. Forget about self-confidence; it's useless. Cultivate God-confidence.

 I needed to hear that.  Maybe now that I have--and shared it here--I can quit harping on the same theme every week in these project 4:4 posts.

project 4:4: week 5 or if i can make it through february, this'll be cake

It was a tough week in the Daily Bible.  Last week, we read about God describing the materials and dimensions and requirements for the building of the tabernacle and the priestly garments.  This week those things were built, just as God commanded, which is a good thing and all, but the descriptive passages were nearly identical.  It was too soon to go through that again.  I'm not a great visualizer.  So I didn't really get the tabernacle picture last week, and I still don't have it.  Oh, I've seen pictures.  But when I read it, I kind of go into a survival mode where my only goal is to finish.  And that's not the right attitude, I know.

Except for those couple of chapters that we skipped last week that we're going to pick up again sometime in the future, we're finished with Exodus.  This week's readings also covered a few bits of Leviticus, the rest of which we'll find with those missing Exodus chapters later.  But the lion's share (or so it seemed) of this week's reading was from Numbers.  Oh, Numbers, how you test me.  There's a passage in chapter seven that describes the offerings brought by the leader of each tribe.  They all brought identical offerings of twenty-six different items over the course of twelve days and seventy-one verses.  Then in case one missed out on those seventy-one verses, there's a summation of the total offerings from all the tribes.  Numbers chapter seven tests my faith.  I'm just being honest here.

I understand, or at least try to understand, the importance of those careful instructions regarding tabernacle construction, and I'm going to understand later the importance of the details of the law.  God's in the business of making these people set apart.  Holiness doesn't just happen.  It's not easy, and an obedient heart, a heart that seeks to draw near to God through the methods that He prescribes, is the big deal.  So I read most of these passages that occasionally get repetitive, and I appreciate that God, through Moses, is trying to emphasize that obedience matters.  So I can be as understanding and appreciative as can be, but it's still a tough read, when taken all together.

But just in case careless readers didn't understand that God is serious about obedience, in this week's reading, we also have, from Leviticus 10, the unauthorized fire of Nadab and Abihu.  This is an interesting story to me.  It's not the first or last time that some Bible character will know what God expects and do something else anyway.  But it is one of those instances when the consequences for disobedience are immediate and final.  This sparked a decent amount of discussion in our class this morning.  Why does Aaron, who creates an idol for worship, get off with an admonishment while his sons use the wrong fire and get swallowed up in fire instantaneously?  A very wise commenter in class saved me from more useless speculation by declaring it a heart issue.  God knows the hearts of people in a way that we can't, and perhaps there was something unrepentant or so blatantly defiant in Nadab and Abihu that required their punishment.

As the discussion went on around me, I was struck by the similarities of Nadab and Abihu to one of the few New Testament examples of God's swift and irreversible punishment:  Ananias and Sapphira.  I don't want to steal a story from next November, but these two early Christians sell a piece of property and lay a portion of the money at the apostles' feet.  No one was forcing them to give anything, but when others were giving all that they had to the young community of faith, Ananias and Sapphira keep something back and lie about giving it all.  And God strikes them dead without so much as a "how do you do."  Just as in the case of our priestly brothers, they weren't the first or last try to serve self and God at the same time.  But they were punished in a very public and permanent way.

It occurs to me that in both cases, these folks were caught in their sin when their respective faiths were still young.  God was still laying down the Mosaic law to the Hebrews when the unauthorized fire incident occurs, and the New Testament church is still in its earliest days in the Acts 5 account.  This is purely speculative, but perhaps it was important to show the followers of these fledgling religions that obedience mattered--that though God is merciful and to quote VeggieTales "the God of second chances (Praise the Lord)," He's still God, and His judgment can be swift.


Additionally, both Nadab and Abihu and Ananias and Sapphira were sinning in a worship context.  The unauthorized fire was in the tabernacle, where God encountered His people.  Ananias and Sapphira brought the partial offering to where the apostles were assembled.  It doesn't seem accidental that if you mess with God in His house (and the NT version of His house is the people), you get what you get (or you get what they got).  This is all the worst kind of speculation, but they're just the thoughts I was having as we talked about Leviticus 10 this morning.

One last thing I'm processing as I re-encounter God's covenanting with the Hebrews is this story as a foundation for the Incarnation.  As the church is a pre-cursor to Heavenly fellowship, the Judaic law is a model for the God-relationship that the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus guaranteed for us.  The sacrifice and intercession that God is establishing with this people in this tabernacle are imperfect harbingers of the perfect salvation that is to come.  And it's that thought that's going to keep me slogging through Numbers.

project 4:4 week 4

Last 4:4 post I chose not to delve into the Moses/hard-hearted pharaoh/plagues story because it was split between the two weeks' readings.  I also claimed to have much to say on the topic.  I hate when I set myself up for failure and writer's block.

And just because transparency is my thing, I'll admit that I got completely behind again this week.  I didn't catch up until Sunday afternoon because I'm a lazy slug.  I knew I was caught up enough for the sermon, based on the sermon title, and due to still icy roads, we didn't have class, so I let it slide when I realized that it would be hard to get caught up before church.  If I can't get motivated to stay on track during Exodus, Numbers is going to be a dark time, a very dark time.  Lucky for us all, imaginary readers, you get to live that experience with me.

So here are my transition-less thoughts on Exodus 1-31, minus a couple chapters in the 20s that F. Lagard skipped but will tie in with other law passages later.

So Moses . . . he's like the star of the OT.  I love his mother and the daring plan to save him as a baby.  She's a part of a long line of biblical mothers who sacrifice and make hard decisions for children who will serve God in a special way.  I love his Egyptian mother who provides protection and a privileged upbringing for the son of slaves.  I love that despite that privileged upbringing, when he sees a slave being mistreated, he must intervene.  I love that even when all he has is excuses, the Lord of all creation doesn't lose patience with him but steadily overcomes his objections until Moses is on board.  And I love that for someone who begins his adventure with God so reluctantly, he's going to end up being a person who talks with God face to face, as a friend.

What about Pharaoh's hard heart?  I've talked about (for several weeks running now) God's intervention in the lives of these men to bring about the promised nation, and last week I felt comfortable with God giving out free will and accomplishing his purpose despite human weakness.  But what about that heart-hardening in the Exodus story?  I think in that flannelgraph version, all I really got about this pharaoh is that he's a bad guy, an enslaver of men, a promise-breaker, someone who sits idly by and allows ten kinds of suffering to come upon his people when the power to stop it was always within his grasp.  But when I read verses like Exodus 4:21, I wonder if the power to stop was truly his.  If God hardens your heart, what does that mean?  Could Pharaoh have given the Hebrews his blessing and kept his word?  F. Lagard and Chuck both told me this week that God recognized the selfishness and stubbornness in Pharaoh's personality and used that as a part of His ultimate plan.  I'm not doubting that the dude had that in him naturally, but that doesn't eclipse the language.  That hard heart gets mentioned something like ten times in this story, and in most of those mentions, God gets the credit as the heart-hardener.  It's a tough one to reconcile for a New Testament Christian, someone who sees God as "patient . . . not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance." (2 Peter 3:9)  I really think I came out of this reading with a better handle on it than I have had in the past, but it's a tough passage for me.

My friend Lacey is in the middle of a blog series about God and remembrance, a topic that I've enjoyed reading about (and one that I once wrote a paper about for my OT survey class at Harding), and in the story of the institution of the Passover feast, we see God teaching his people about remembrance.  It's important--He makes it important.  Even before the law gets handed down, even before we learn the intricate obedience that will be required to be God's people, we (and the Hebrews) see that God sweats the details.  It's important to remember, and it's important to establish an appropriate remembrance.  It's important to pass it on as a tradition for generations to come.  And considering how easily and how often the children of Israel are going to forget God, His miraculous deliverance from Egyptian bondage, and the extreme lengths to which He went to liberate His people, it's clearly a tradition that's needed.

In addition to some clear instructions on the memorial Passover feast, this week's reading covered the beginning of God's renewed covenant with His people and some clear instructions on their end of the bargain.  The ten commandments come down (though the following two chapters of law have been temporarily skipped in my Daily Bible), and intricate barely covers the painstaking care that goes into the design of the tabernacle and implements that will be used in sacrifice and worship.  Clearly there are enough tabernacle details for a 75-week sermon series.  If you don't believe me, I can tell you the story of how I once lived through that.  The thing that really strikes me in this reading is that if God cared so much then about the when and how and with what of worship, can he care any less now?  It makes me worry (probably in a good way) about the state of my heart and the sloppiness I bring along in my head when I come to worship.  And probably, if I'd paid more attention during that tabernacle sermon series, I might have known that sooner.

And for those of you keeping track of all the foreshadowing, this week we see the groundwork for a blemishless atoning sacrifice.  Blood will be shed, but God will never ask that it be the blood of His imperfect people, the people to whom He attempts to draw nearer through miracles and guidance and salvation, then and now.