Top Ten Books of the Year 2016

Over the course of the last year, I've read a lot of books.  These are, in order, the top 10 books I read in 2016 - a list that spans multiple genres.

10. Red Moon Rising - Pete Grieg

This is the second or third time that I've read this book, and it never fails to inspire me.  Grieg is one of the founders of the 24/7 prayer movement and its offshoots, which have spread like wildfire around the world (especially Europe).  If you ever feel like your prayers are futile or wonder if prayer actually changes anything, you need to read this book.  It will motivate you and drive you.  It will change the way you think about prayer.  I can't say enough about this book.  The only reason it's not much higher on this list is that this not my first time reading it.

9. Hillbilly Elegy - J.D. Vance

Vance tells his story of growing up in a mining town in the Midwest United States.  It is hard to describe that story - at times, Vance's story is exhilarating; at others it is heartrending.  Overall, there is a reason why this book has been billed as a key book for understanding why Donald Trump was able to win the presidency.  This is an important book for understanding life in what is often dismissed as "flyover country."

8. Desert Solitaire - Edward Abbey

This book is an account of time spent in the back country areas of Arches National Park in Utah in the days before visitor centers, paved roads, and other modern conveniences.  Abbey's memoir is filled with breathtaking descriptions of beauty and poignant cries against the declivitous destruction of places like Arches.  Abbey makes you want to visit the Arches he describes...and he also makes you realize that the Arches he describes is already gone forever.

7. Destiny of the Republic - Candice Millard

The election and subsequent assassination of President James Garfield is a fascinating story.  Millard tells it beautifully, switching between the story of Garfield's meteoric rise and the psychotic descent of his assassin, Charles Guiteau.  Shining light on a surprisingly little known moment in our national history, Millard's book was adapted for an episode of PBS' American Experience.  As with most film adaptations, the book was better.

6. Galileo's Daughter - Dava Sobel

Galileo's daughter was a nun.  She went by the name of Suor Maria Celeste.  She also exchanged a significant number of letters with her father throughout his life.  Using these letters as a starting point, Sobel explores the life of Galileo, from his first forays into making telescopes to his relationships with the Medici family to the writings that would eventually see him condemned as a heretic.  Through it all, Suor Maria Celeste stayed firmly in her father's corner.  Their story makes for good reading.

5. The Oregon Trail - Rinker Buck

Imagine if someone decided, in the 21st century, to retrace the path of the original Oregon Trail.  Not in a car, not by hiking, not by train, but in an actual covered wagon.  This is the basis of Rinker Buck's book.  At times, it reads like a buddy comedy, as Buck and his friend/co-traveler narrowly avoid hilarious missteps.  At other times, it reads like an adventure novel.  Along the way, Buck meets a cast of characters that is hard to describe in a single paragraph.  You'll have to read it for yourself.

4. Barkskins - Annie Proulx

I'm a sucker for well-written historical fiction, and Proulx's latest fits that bill to a tee.  In a tale that stretches from colonial New England to almost the present day, the lives and fates of Rene Sel and Charles Duquet and their families weave into a narrative tapestry that is richly imagined and lovingly detailed.  But that's not what makes this one of the best books I've read this year.  The forest is what elevates Barkskins to that level.  Proulx manages to make trees into a major character in this book, and to do it beautifully.  Read it and see for yourself.

3. Brilliant Beacons - Eric Jay Dolin

Lighthouses are romantic places, places of serene beauty during the calm and places of violent beauty during the storm.  Eric Jay Dolin tells the story of these romanticized sentinels which stand to keep safe the many mariners who travel to and from our nation's shores.  This book is filled with tales of the construction of lighthouses, and their destruction; of the role lighthouses played in war and conflict; of the heroics of lighthouse keepers who, as a matter of course, would risk their lives to maintain the light or save shipwrecked sailors.  A book on the history of lighthouses might not sound thrilling, but Dolin makes it so.

2. Jungle of Stone - William Carlsen

Without the journals of John Lloyd Stephens and the drawings of Frederick Catherwood, we would know a great deal less about the ancient civilizations of Central America.  These two men traveled throughout all of Central America in search of Mayan ruins, in effect "discovering" them as places of historical importance and bringing them to the rest of the world.  Carlsen has told the story of these two real life Indiana Jones-es so well that the reader wishes he or she could be along for the journey.  This book is not only beautifully written, it is beautifully designed and laid out.  If you want the full experience, make sure you pick up the hardcover.

1. The Invention of Nature - Andrea Wulf

There was never any question which book would be at the top of the list.  The Invention of Nature is the only book I read this year that I would put in the category of best books I have ever read.  I bought this book because I thought the cover was beautiful and because I had never really heard of its subject, Baron Alexander Von Humboldt.  I am so glad that I did.  Wulf writes this biography of Humboldt - an explorer, author, scientist, all around polymath who, for all intents and purposes, invented the modern science of ecology - so well that it is hard to put into words.  The mark of a good biography, in my opinion, is when the author can make you feel a genuine sense of loss at the death of the subject, even though you knew when you started that his death was coming.  Wulf does that.  She makes you feel a real tinge of grief when Humboldt dies.  If you are inclined to take this top ten list as a recommendation and can only read one, read this one.  You won't be disappointed.

#__________livesmatter – Reflections on a Catchphrase

This coming Wednesday, July 13, will mark the third anniversary of the founding of the international activist movement known as Black Lives Matter.  Most of us probably became familiar with this movement just shy of two years ago, when the shooting death of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri gave rise to civil unrest that spread to other locations where other black men were killed.  

Rather quickly, the movement became identified by its twitter hashtag, #blacklivesmatter, which became the slogan of the groups protesting violence against the black community.  Importantly, though, #blacklivesmatter is not merely protesting police involved shootings of black men and women.  They are protesting an entire system that is unjustly biased against the black community.  They are agitating for change.

Over the course of the last two years, I have seen many “counter” protests to #blacklivesmatter as a movement and, in particular, as a slogan.  The most popular of these is to transform the slogan into the more benign and inclusive #alllivesmatter.  Well-meaning people have repeatedly asked me why it is necessary to emphasize that it is black lives that matter, as opposed to all lives.  Other well-meaning people have suggested that the intent of #blacklivesmatter is to communicate that black lives matter more than other lives – say, those of police and other law enforcement officers.

From reflection on the issue and from conversations with friends, I have come to believe two things to be true.

1. #alllivesmatter is a copout, a way of ignoring the pressing issue of systemic and institutionalized injustice.

2. We need slogans like #blacklivesmatter.

Let me explain.

#Blacklivesmatter, as a slogan, is not a statement about the superiority of one life over another.  Every person I have ever known who is involved with the Black Lives Matter movement would easily and completely affirm that no one life matters more than another.  With their slogan, they are not attempting to stir up violence against law enforcement, against white people, or against any other race.  Rather, their slogan is intended to force us who live in the white majority to ask ourselves some difficult questions.

When we say or write #alllivesmatter in response to the killing of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile or in response to the unthinkable murders of five law enforcement officers in Dallas this week, we are affirming a core truth.  All lives do matter.  Black lives, white lives, male lives, female lives, gay lives, straight lives, law enforcement lives, even criminal lives – they all matter.  It is unquestionably a good thing to affirm that we believe that all lives matter.

When we make that affirmation, though, #blacklivesmatter is there with a question: “Do they really?”  What I see and hear when I read #blacklivesmatter is a challenging question – are black lives really included when I say that I believe that all lives matter?  That’s a question we all need to hear, because too often we resort to #alllivesmatter as a way of distracting and distancing ourselves from the very real problem of systemic injustice in America.

Of course, most of us in the white majority are quick to respond to the question presented by #blacklivesmatter with an indignant insistence that OF COURSE black lives really matter.  We feel insulted and perhaps even personally attacked by the insinuation that we are racist or prejudiced, that we value one life over another.

To which #blacklivesmatter replies with another question – do our actions match our words?  Do the things we do affirm that black lives are included when we say that all lives matter, or is it just words that we say to make ourselves feel good?  And to be clear, it’s not really about what I do in my day to day life, though that matters.  It’s about what I do to combat and change systemic injustice.  Do I exercise my vote in line with my insistence that all lives matter?  Do I spend my money in line with my insistence that all lives matter?  Do I insist that my legislators and my government stop offering only “thoughts and prayers” and instead begin to work to change the broken and unjust systems?!

These are uncomfortable questions for anyone who, like me, is a part of the white majority in our country; for anyone who, like me, benefits in ways that I do not choose, but have not opposed, from the very real thing called white privilege; for anyone, who like me, who struggles to find a way to respond both to the injustice of the Philando Castile and Alton Sterling deaths and to the senseless murders in Dallas.  This discomfort that #blacklivesmatter makes us feel is, I suspect, why so many of us respond viscerally against the slogan.  It is also why we desperately need to see it and hear it and read it again and again.  Without that discomfort, nothing will change.

Of course, there are other slogans we need, other hashtags that ask pressing and uncomfortable question of us.  We need them too.

If we are angrier (or feel a deeper sadness) today at the deaths of five police officers than we were yesterday at the deaths of two black men in police custody, we need to hear the message that #blacklivesmatter.

If, on the other hand, we are angrier about the two black men who were killed in police custody than about the five officers who were murdered in Dallas, perhaps we need to hear the message that #policelivesmatter.

If we, collectively, care more deeply about the 7 lives in the news the last two or three days than the 200+ lives that were lost in Iraq this week, perhaps we need to hear the message that #iraqilivesmatter.

If our fear of attack and wariness of the other drive us to demonize women and children who are seeking safety in our midst, perhaps the message we need to hear is that #refugeelivesmatter.

If our opposition – however justified it may be - to a way of life means that we feel differently about the Orlando night club massacre than about other attacks, perhaps we should heed the questions raised by #gayandlesbianlivesmatter.

It is true that all lives matter, and we should never stop affirming our belief in that truth that is fundamental to our human identity and to our American identity.  It is also true that, once we strip away the rhetoric, we have systems in place that do not affirm that truth; we have systems in place that say that some lives matter more than others.  And until we – all of us – get angry enough at the injustice that we demand (with actions more than words) that it stop, we will continue to hear from our black brothers and sisters the questions posed by #blacklivesmatter.

Palestine and Israel: A Pastor's Reflections

The news the last couple of weeks has been littered with accounts of what is going on in the Middle East.  It appears to be the same story that has played itself out many times in recent decades – Israel feels provoked by Palestinians living in the West Bank or in Gaza and, seeking to defend itself, launches retaliatory attacks.  Unfortunately, this is neither a new nor an infrequent tale.  As a pastor, I find myself increasingly troubled by these events and wondering what my response as a follower of Jesus Christ should be.  How can I faithfully seek God's Kingdom in the midst of this conflict?

The fact of the matter is that the events in Israel and Palestine present a special problem for Christians.  There is, it seems, a greater tension within Christianity about these issues than about many others.  My belief is that much of this tension derives from assumptions we have made about the Bible, about theology, and about both the Israeli population and the Palestinian population.  At the root of these assumptions is the concept of Christian Zionism.

Popular in many conservative denominations, Christian Zionism is loosely defined as the belief that Christians in the 21^st Century have a moral and biblical obligation to support Israel in every circumstance.  Israel is seen as God’s Land and its people as God’s People.  To fail to support Israel, then, is to betray God.

Added to Christian Zionism are assumptions made by well-meaning Christians about the Palestinian people.  As one friend commented on Facebook recently, the Palestinians are “infidels” (another word for Muslim, it seems) who want to “wipe Israel off the map.”  When set in these terms, it is not difficult to arrive at the conclusion that Israel is indeed God’s chosen nation.

What if I told you, though, that those assumptions might not be correct?  Or that, at the very least, that they fail to tell the whole story?  What if I told you that, while it is true that a significant majority (somewhere between 80 and 85 percent) of Palestinians are Muslim, there are in the West Bank and Gaza somewhere around 85,000 Palestinian Christians and 500,000 Palestinian Jews?  It is not so easy to dismiss our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ as “infidels” hell bent on Israel’s destruction, is it?

More insidious than the assumptions we make about the Palestinian people is the idea put forth by Christian Zionists that Christians have no choice but to support Israel.  The remainder of this post is intended to demonstrate that, though a case might be made for supporting Israel in everything it does, the Bible does not demand such support and might even caution against such support.  We’ll begin with a look at the Bible itself.

The Nation-State of Israel and the Bible

Right off the bat, I have to be clear about one thing: the nation-state of Israel is never mentioned in the Bible.  Not once.  Never.  In any book.  In fact, the very idea of a nation-state is foreign to the Bible.  When the Bible uses terms like “nation,” it is more helpful to think in terms of the First Peoples of the Americas (i.e. the Navajo “Nation” or the Cheyenne “Nation”) than to think in terms of today’s nation-state.  The age of the idea of the nation-state is disputed by scholars, but it seems safe to say that the modern nation-state did not come into existence until at least 1400-1600 years after Christ lived, died, was resurrected, and ascended.  If you want to get more specific with the modern nation of Israel, it post-dates Jesus by more than 1900 years, having only been around since November 29, 1947. 

The Bible does not speak about the modern nation-state of Israel.  The Bible does, however, speak about the people of God.  In fact, in the book of Ezekiel, God says this: “I will take the people of Israel from the nations among which they have gone….  Then they shall be my people, and I will be their God” (Ezekiel 37:21, 23).

You might say that these are semantic differences – word games.  You might be right, but I would suggest that these semantics are far from trivial.  It is important when talking about issues like this to be clear in our terms.

The people of Israel in the Hebrew Scriptures are indeed God’s people.  But they are more than that – they are God’s covenant people.  That word covenant is so important.  If you read Deuteronomy, you will begin to understand what it means to be a covenant people.  Covenant people have obligations.  If covenant people fail to live up to their end of the covenant, then God has no obligation to them.  A cursory reading of Deuteronomy 28 makes clear the rewards and punishments associated with covenantal obedience (or lack thereof).

To sum up: to be one of God’s people, according to the Hebrew Scriptures, was to abide by the covenant.  If a person or a group of people (such as all of the Israelites) failed to do so, they no longer had the right to consider God bound by the covenant.  This is, in fact, the story of the Hebrew Scriptures – disobedience that leads to exile.  The question, then, becomes not whether the Bible refers to the modern nation-state of Israel (it doesn’t), but whether Modern Israel can be considered as the “People of God.”

Modern Israel as the “People of God”

The main question of whether or not Modern Israel can be considered the “People of God” breaks down into two sub-questions.  The first is this: are the actions of Modern Israel consistent with the obligations entailed in being God’s people?  That is, is the nation-state of Israel acting in ways that are consistent with the covenant?

Take a look at the picture below.  It depicts the change in land “ownership” over the course of the nation-state of Israel’s history.  The legend is a bit small, so I'll tell you that the green represents land controlled by Palestinians and white represents land controlled by Israel.

The second picture from the left portrays what it is supposed to look like.  According to the UN, that is how the land is supposed to be divided between the Israeli and Palestinian populations.  Clearly, though, things haven’t stayed that way.  Using a variety of provocations (some legitimate, others less-so) as excuses, Israel has systematically (and illegally) taken land from the Palestinian people.  Israel continues to do this.  It does not take much to look at that picture and find the nation-state of Israel in violation of the covenant commands to not covet, to not steal, and to not bear false witness.  Perhaps the nation-state of Israel is not acting in concert with its covenant.

It is not just land, though.  The breaking of covenant extends to the treatment of the Palestinian people in what little land that remains to them.  Bluntly, Israel is practicing apartheid against the Palestinians.  I used to think that word too extreme, but then I looked up its literal definition: “a policy or system of segregation or discrimination on grounds of race” (via Google).  That is exactly what the Israelis are doing to the Palestinians, and it is a clear violation of the covenant described by the Hebrew Scriptures and by which the "People of God" are supposed to live.

Leviticus 19:33-34 say this: “When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien.  The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you….”  If you question whether Israel’s treatment of the Palestinian people rises to the level of oppression, I invite you to consider the information at http://www.ifamericansknew.org/cur_sit/water.html in light of Google’s definition of oppression – “prolonged cruel or unjust treatment or control.” 

Israel has illegally taken land from the Palestinians and continues to oppress the Palestinians, both of which constitute violations of the covenant by which the people of Israel are named the “People of God.”  It is not wrong, therefore, to suggest that the modern nation-state of Israel has by its actions in violation of the covenant has forfeited its right to that title.

There is a second question at play here, though, one that cuts through even the illegal and oppressive actions of Israel.  Namely this: Does ethnicity have anything at all to do with being God’s people?  That is, even if Israel’s actions were in perfect concert with the covenant described in the Hebrew Scriptures, does ethnic or genetic Jewishness equate to special favor in the eyes of God?

This question is spoken to in the Gospels and by Paul.  In Matthew 3, John the Baptist is baptizing when some Pharisees come out to see him.  Listen to what he says to them:  “Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.”  It seems clear that John is telling them that their bloodlines, their family trees, are not enough – that being a “child of Abraham” entails far more than ethnic identity.

Paul makes the case even more strongly in Romans 9:6-8: “For not all Israelites truly belong to Israel, and not all of Abraham’s children are his true descendants….  This means that it is not the children of the flesh who are the children of God, but the children of the promise are counted as descendants.”  It cannot get any clearer than that.

Identity as the people of God no longer has anything to do with race: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28).  To be one of the people of God means to worship God, to seek God’s Kingdom, and to follow Jesus Christ.  It is to recognize that God is just and to seek true justice in not just our own doings but in all the world.  Those who do these things are the “People of God,” regardless of their genetics.

When one looks again at the earlier question, “Can the modern nation-state of Israel be understood as the ‘People of God?’”, the answer does not have to be yes.  In fact, as I’ve tried to make clear, a very strong argument can be made that the answer to that question is a resounding NO!  Regardless, however, my hope is that this has at least made clear that Christian Zionism is a dangerous house of cards built on assumptions that, if not outright faulty, warrant a great deal of scrutiny.

Concluding Thoughts

This has been a ridiculously long post, to be sure, and one with a lot of information.  There are, however, some things I hope the hardy reader who has made it this far might take away from this:

•  We need to get over Christian Zionism.  Israel can and should be held as accountable by Christians for its unjust and oppressive actions as any other nation.
• There is no moral high ground on this issue.  This post centers on what Israel has done wrong, but I am not naïve enough to believe the Palestinian population entirely innocent.
•   Being pro-Palestine does not make one either an inferior Christian or an anti-Semite.
• Thoughtful Christians can disagree on causes and initiators of injustice, but we should be able to unite in prayers that justice will reign.

I close with a challenge.  Be informed!  Do not simply settle for what you see on the news – American media has historically ignored the Palestinian side of the conflict.  Take the time to read Amira Hass’ excellent book Drinking the Sea at Gaza or Muna Hamzeh’s Refugees in Our Own Land.  Both tell the story of the Palestinian people from inside the camps and settlements.  If books aren’t your things, hop on Netflix and spend a couple hours watching Five Broken Cameras or With God on Our Side.  Take a peek at www.ifamericansknew.org.

Whatever you do and however you go about it, please be informed – don’t simply repeat someone else’s thoughts or ideas.  Because when we are better informed, we will know better how to pray and how to actively seek God’s justice in Israel and Palestine.

Amen.

A Religious Experience at the Symphony

It’s no secret that I am an aficionado of violin music, particularly the music of today’s most well-known violin savant, Joshua Bell.

Last night, for my birthday, the wife took me to see Bell perform live with the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields orchestra.  It was an all Beethoven program, and it was amazing.  More than amazing, it was a religious experience.

Being particularly interested in the violins, I spent most of the evening watching the violinists – especially Bell, of course – as they performed the music.  As I watched, I noticed that the different violinists appeared to take different approaches to their instruments and to the music.

For some, it was as though musician and instrument were the best of friends, the musician gently tucking her instrument under her chin and whispering to it with a quiet intensity – sitting quite still and smoothly drawing the bow across the strings as.  Musician and instrument – engaged, as it were, in a delicate conversation.  Together, these  two closest of friends created the music, music of beautiful tone and elegant beauty.  One could tell that these musicians and their instruments belonged together.

For others, though, it seemed as if the concert was a form of gladiatorial combat between musician and instrument – a musical death match.  No gentility here.  Instead, the musician grabs his instrument and wrestles it into submission, pinning it to his shoulder and raking the bow on its strings.  Concertgoers watch them exchange blows, as the musician jerks his body back one moment as if struck and forward the next as if dealing a retaliatory blow.  Yet somehow the force of the combat called forth the best from both musician and instrument, resulting in a music no less beautiful and all the more poignant for the battle that produced it.

Then there was Joshua Bell.  Bell is one of those unique individuals for whom the violin is neither friend nor foe – it is part of him.  The distinction between Bell and his Stradivarius is more than just blurred in the performance, it is removed altogether.  Instrument becomes an extension of the man’s life, and he pours his heart into it.  One might say it is like lovers, but even that does not adequately capture the intensity of the union between Bell and his instrument.

And the music!  Oh, the music.  It is almost too much to take.  Words fail in describing its beauty, its eloquence, the passion of its sound.  One watches Bell and quickly understands that making music is more than just a way to make money.  It is more than a hobby.  It is something he must do.  The music is there inside of him and one gets the impression from watching him perform that releasing that music is a catharsis, a necessary self-emptying without which he would go mad.

It struck me as I was watching that Bell was the living portrayal of something the prophet Jeremiah once said when people told him to stop preaching:

“But if I say, ‘I will not mention his word or speak anymore in his name,’ his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones.  I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.” (Jeremiah 20.9)

I have always enjoyed this verse but, until last night, I have not completely understood it.  It seemed like something cute to say about being a pastor and my calling to preach.  But when I watched Bell in the throes of ecstatic revelation while playing, I recognized that he not only got this verse (even if he’s never heard it), he lives this verse every time he performs.

And as I watched and listened in silent awe last night, I felt the question arise unbidden in the deepest part of my own being – is that how I feel about my calling?  It is not music but gospel that wells up inside of me – am I so passionately desperate to get that message out, to share it with whomever might be listening that the very thought of not doing so drives me mad?

Or is gospel something I just offer up each Sunday because that’s my job and it’s a way to make money to pay the bills?

Joshua Bell is a prophet with a violin.  All of us who claim to have something to share with the world would do well to catch a performance of this modern day Jeremiah.

I'm All Talk

Okay, maybe not ALL talk...but mostly talk.  At the very least, I think anyone who knows me can agree that I talk a lot.

I realized that this week as I prepared for worship and as I began to prepare for a challenging series of lessons this summer.  I realized it even more just a few moments ago as I perused the last few entries on this blog.  I seem to have a lot to say - about what it means to follow Jesus and what the church should look like and that sort of thing.

I talk a lot.

But I don't do so much.

For example, I talk a lot about the poor and how we have a sacred responsibility and calling to care for them.  But I stop at McDonald's or the gas station several times a week to buy myself food that I don't really need.  I don't give my resources to actually do something about the poor.  Instead I buy the latest new release for my Kindle.  And I'm not just talking about money.  Instead of giving my time to advocate for the poor or get involved, I sit in my recliner and read about other people who do those things.

For a second example, I talk about being an "ally," about standing up for those in the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transexual community who are regularly abused by those both inside and outside the church.  But I don't actively do anything to stop that abuse.  I haven't even built up the courage to speak about it publicly (though that's coming soon...).

I could go on, but I think that I've made my point.  Part of it.

Because I'm not entirely talk.  I can list some things that I have done, some ways that I have been active.  I could applaud myself for those steps.  But the steps I take aren't radical.  They don't speak to a deep commitment or passion for these issues.  They speak instead of a life that is willing to give at the margins of my comfort zone.

I don't think it's entirely intentional.  Often I simply don't think about the ways that I perpetuate the very systems that cause poverty and hatred and abuse.  Other times I settle for the excuse that I don't know how to get involved on a larger level.  But that's just an excuse, a cover up for the real problem.

Which is that I'm a lazy Christian...or a cowardly Christian.  I don't know how to get involved because I choose to not know.  I could if I wanted it bad enough.

But do I?

Right now, I'm not even sure I want to skip my morning trip for caffeine before church in the morning.  I "need" that caffeine...

...so I can talk some more.

As You Were With Moses? Yippee.

I've been doing a bit of reading in the book of Joshua recently.  I love his story, the way that God worked through him to achieve great things for God's people.  I find Joshua to be one of the best examples of leadership.

I was struck by something new this week as I read through the first chapter - particularly the second part of verse 5, where God makes the following promise to Joshua:

As I was with Moses, so will I be with you; I will never leave you or forsake you.


I've read this verse before - many times.  It's a great verse - full of promise and encouragement.  It would make for a very positive, life-building sermon text.

All that said, though, I found myself this week wondering what Joshua's reaction to it might have been.  After all, Joshua had been with Moses for some time as Moses' assistant and helper.  He was there for many of the challenging times and he certainly would have known about the titanic struggle that pitted God (through Moses) against Pharaoh with the Israelites' freedom at stake.

He would have known about the mountain top and experienced the golden calf.  Moses might even have told him about God's suggestion that everything be destroyed again and started over with Moses and the subsequent prayer "discussion" between God and Moses.

In short, the picture that would have come to Joshua's mind when God promised to be with him "as God was with Moses" might not have been the peaceful, easy portrait of encouragement and companionship that we often expect.

In fact, Joshua might have thought something like, "God was with Moses and Moses went through all of that.  Now God is promising to be with me as he was with Moses.  Does that mean that I have to go through all of that?  Oh boy."

I could completely understand it if Joshua's reaction to the first part of God's promise was tempered and not wild enthusiasm.  After all, who really wants to go through the kinds of situations Moses faced?

This is why I find the second part of this promise to be so enthralling - God says, "As I was with Moses, so I will be with you" and then says, "I will never leave you or forsake you."  Now that had to have been soothing and encouraging to Joshua.  Because no matter what situations he might face - and if you read through the book of Joshua, you'll discover that he faced his fair share of challenges - God had promised to never leave or forsake him.  Ever.

So even if God called Joshua through the same hardships as Moses, it would be okay.  I have this mental image of Joshua's facial expression going from concern when hearing the first part ("As I was with Moses...) to peace when hearing the second part (I will never...).

This matters to me - and to all Christians - because I think we have been conditioned to hear promises like the one that God makes to Joshua in this verse as promises of peace and calm.  So when life's challenges arise and we are going through our own titanic struggles or facing our own temptations, our reaction often becomes, "God, where are you?  You promised that you would be with me like you were with Moses.  Why have you abandoned me?"

But when we remember just what Moses' life looked like even as God was with him, it should serve to remind us that God didn't keep Moses from hardship and his promise to Joshua (and us) is not to keep us from hardship or challenge.  God promises two things - to be with us and to never leave us.

I don't know about you, but just knowing this has helped me better deal with even the minor challenges and difficulties in my life this week.

Think about it.

Rejoice Always? (What I learned about life from a Green Bay Packers fan...)

Hanging in the sanctuary of our church is a decorative quilt that was made by one of the ladies in the congregation.  It is a beautiful quilt that has verses from Scripture stitched all over it in large, easy to read print.

As I was spending some quiet time in the sanctuary earlier this week, I noticed one particular set of verses on the quilt – 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, which say:

“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Jesus Christ.”

I confess that, when I noticed those verses on Tuesday morning, it was not with a sense of joy.  In fact, I was greatly frustrated by them.  You see, there’s another member of our church that was recently diagnosed with cancer.  Other church members are going through intense financial struggles.  Every Sunday another church member informs us all of the  number of soldiers who have been killed in service of their country.  

And so it goes – on and on, more and more struggles.

As I sat there Tuesday morning, staring at that verse, the question slid unbidden into my mind:

“How on earth can I rejoice in the face of all this bad news?”

Don’t get me wrong, I recognize the wisdom of Paul’s words here.  They sound good, and I would love to practice them on a day to day basis.  But I just don’t know how to do it – and that frustrated me on Tuesday morning, and it continued to frustrate me throughout the day.

Fast forward to right around lunch time.  I stopped by a local business, where several of our church members work.  While there, I ended up having a conversation with a guy in the church who happens to be a Green Bay Packers fan.  Moreover, this guy and his wife were in Lambeau last Sunday for the Packers’ playoff loss.

As you might expect, our conversation turned to that Packers’ loss.  I asked him if he had gotten over it yet.  His response, though he couldn’t have known it at the time, would go a long way toward transforming my worldview.

He said something like this: “It was disappointing, but I would rather have watched the Packers lose while sitting in Lambeau than sitting at home on my couch.”

The power of those words didn’t hit me until later in the day.  Talk about perspective!  Talk about taking a bad circumstance and finding a way to rejoice and give thanks!

You see, I’m a Saints fan.  I was crushed by the Saints loss.  And though it shames me to admit this, if I had been in San Francisco to watch the game, I don’t think my reaction would have been so healthy.  Yet this Packers fan member of my church found reason to rejoice even as his favorite team suffered a defeat to end their season.

Now I’m not foolish or naive enough to equate a football game with cancer or financial struggles or the sacrifice of soldiers – but I can’t help but wonder if there is not a lesson for all of us in the words of that church member.

When Paul writes, “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances…”, he is not saying that we have to deny that the circumstances are bad or pretend that everything is okay.  However, like my friend the Packers fan, we can find ways to acknowledge our pain and struggle and disappointment and still rejoice and pray and give thanks.

Incidentally, that’s what the last part of verse 18 is all about.  God’s will in Christ for each and every one of us is not that we would be crushed and overwhelmed by the circumstances of our lives, but that by rejoicing, praying and giving thanks, we would overcome them.

That’s what I learned about life from a Green Bay Packers fan.