dust and ashes

“If you return to the Almighty, you will be restored:
If you remove wickedness far from your tent
and assign your nuggets to the dust,
your gold of Ophir to the rocks in the ravines,
then the Almighty will be your gold,
the choicest silver for you.”

— Job 22:23-25

_____________________________________

Eliphaz’s harsh counsel to Job had become for me a life-giving rebuke. When no particular set of circumstances could be blamed for my peculiar sense of devastation, I was perplexed, undone. Standing in the midst of a thousand tiny shards to which I was sole proprietor was shocking enough, until I realized it was by divine appointment. 

I must’ve looked the part, too, standing at the back of the sanctuary all pensive, full of yearning, tentative, wholly uncomfortable. The pastor’s usual effusive greeting turned inquisitive.

 “How’re you doing?”

 “Decimated,” I replied, eyes burning.

 His demeanor shifted somewhere between sober and hopeful. “That’s worship.”

 He offered no more.

 It was a moment of grace, really, as I caught a glimpse of what he meant.

 I was being crushed. And it pleased God to crush me.

___________________________________

If I were to define worship in a particular sense, it would be this:

Worship is a returning to the dust from whence we came. It is the act of being brought low before a holy God, humbled by what cannot be done in one’s own strength: to surrender to the crushing process that we might bring forth the fragrance of Christ.

It’s here in this backdrop, this place of dust, where we die to self, yield to Him by the exchange of our will for His, beholding the object of His majesty, His might, His glory in the face of Christ. Where we truly begin to live.

From this vantage point, we see light, discover reality, learn righteousness, and reap in wisdom. We begin to value what matters most, and learn to discern what doesn’t. The world’s pull weakens, our idols fall, and the noise fades. In this place of dust, we come to terms with who we really are: frail, depraved, needy, and desperate. Here is where a healthy self-loathing kicks in, superseded by a healthy self-love, informed by the doctrine of the Imago Dei. This is where we begin to move beyond the blur and find clarity of our eternal purpose, where we learn to live coram Deo as we traipse this earth’s crust before the face of a holy God, walking in the good works He’s prepared in advance for us to do. This is worship, too, part of our reasonable service.

 You may ask: But what of the crushing?

Well, what of the flower? Petals are macerated, oil is extracted, the perfume is distilled.

You are an alabaster jar. Have you any nard?

That question is answered in the yielding. Learning to come under the mighty hand of God takes a lifetime, willing to be crushed in the process. Gethsemane exists to test us. If we choose right, the outcome is His; a fragrant offering. He will not refuse it.

Will you be crushed for His sake?

One of the great obstacles to true spiritual worship is that we forget who we are: animated dust, called and beloved by a Supreme God, created for His good pleasure and for His glory. One of our great sins is that we think it’s about us and for us, and we do all the choosing. We profane the Lord by not distinguishing between the holy and the common, rendering our hearts to the lesser god of self.

If you will be tested, then return to the dust; bring your nuggets of gold and your fine silver, too, those things you cling to. Lay low, allow Him to refine you in the fire. Let Him form you out of the dust and ashes into a choice instrument set apart for His praise and glory.

Find Him there.

“…then the Almighty will be your gold, the choicest silver for you.”

— Job 22:25

________________________________________

*A revised piece originally published as “Worship in the Dust” for Out of the Ordinary‘s October 2013 series on the theme of worship.

onto dry land

“Fortitude”

Acrylic on linen, 24 x 36, Kathryn Abernathy

Exactly when I sank I can’t say • Overnight, this stowaway lay sequestered • nine days silent • sentenced to the bottom of the ocean floor • Squid ink disorients the brain, I could not think • tempest set against me, no way of escape • Gravity led the procession (this imposition became the assignment) with crushing force, until my walls shook • Irony delivered its verdict: “In her absence, cords were cut, men came forth • out of her dilemma a stand was taken: ‘Struck down, but not destroyed.'” 

 What of these aching arms? • Better yet, how heavy is dead weight? • Good questions expose things like roots and debris to the material witness of stale courtroom air • flesh and blood are bound to fail, every breath comes from Him.

Quake, little mountain; roar on, billowing sea. Faith opens doors and my mouth utters this confession:

He is LORD, fear Him.

At last, this, my only offering: in yearning to go home came my remedy: “I have declared peace.” • spit out onto dry land • I’m picking up these bones as fast as I can • learning to walk again coram Deo • informed by this:

To live is Christ, to die is gain.

©2014 Elizabeth DeBarros

_______________________________

For further meditation

Jonah 2; 2 Corinthians 4:9; Philippians 1:21

a season of enduring

                                            PC: Donna Bearden

“Remember David and all the hardships he endured.”

— Psalm 132:1

______________________

The medal for endurance is not something you start out with. It’s no token for incentive, like a rabbit’s foot or a lucky coin. It’s what you end up with after having lived through your own personal Holocaust. Or Vietnam. Ziklag has its offerings, too. It comes after all has been lost.

But what is it really? What’s it made of?

Is it determination of the will? Surviving against the odds?

These may be aspects to the business of enduring, but they are not it.

Endurance is something you discover after the harsh winter has run its course and weathered your soul through to spring, when the hands of God cup your face and He whispers, “It’s over.” When the adrenaline stops pumping and hot tears are pouring down your cheeks mingled with the ache and agony of having run so hard for so long. Exhilaration takes another breath.

Something you win after you’ve won.

“There’s a rose garden in a park, and the rose bushes were never trimmed back. From a distance, I noticed the straggly bushes and unkempt look of the place. But when I wandered over, I was left in wonder as I found one beauty after another in the buds that were left to dry naturally.”  — Donna Bearden

public domain

In light of the heartbreaking news of the Dec. 14, 2012 mass shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Conn., I offer this *post. My first consideration was to say nothing, but the urgency of the hour compels me to share what is burning in my heart. Soli Deo Gloria.   

*Updated on 12/13/2013.

_______________________________________

Inherent to true north is it provides knowledge of more than just one direction, but it’s the only one you really need to know if you’re lost.

It’s the same for the times in which we live. Having a Biblical grid and a sure course to follow in this postmodern, post-truth, post-trauma era is as much a moral imperative as it’s ever been.

But the usual signposts are either missing or they’re wrong. Something else is happening. 

Children in America are dying. Tender lambs. Young innocents are being taken out by deranged, cold-blooded murderers on an otherwise sunny school day. Media bears the responsibility of getting the facts straight before it becomes breaking news, but tragedy of such proportions demands answers beyond the necessary gathered analytical data. Names and numbers are helpful, but they do not heal.

And the children that did not die, the ones who survived, have grown up and are now doing the killing, Adam Lanza or Dylann Roof style or dying themselves by suicide, opioid overdose, gang violence, or the slow, lonely demise that stems from a kind of disenfranchisement that comes from emotional isolation and/or surviving on the streets. To others, extremist ideologies seem the best option to counter what has been to them a failed system.

Therein lies the burden to understand why. 

Grief

______________

When society suffers unspeakable ills on a conveyor belt continuum, it’s prescient to know its not random and won’t magically go away. Nor is it the “cycle of life and death” and “better days are coming.” Anecdotal band-aids wear off before they stick. Ecclesiastes comforts when it reads, “Nothing is new under the sun,” but it is not immediately helpful the moment blood gets smeared on walls and spatters onto floors of theaters, malls, and classrooms. No meaningful words exist at the moment of death. It is the final word. We must pay attention. Do something. Death has come up into our windows, been delivered to our doorstep as the life dims from our eyes when we look on the carnage streaming from the eerie blue light of our electronic devices.

Grief is now public domain.

Meantime, the strong offer much-needed calm with consoling hugs and maybe not beyond a few words, “Here, have some water.” Opportunists and strategists aim to strike at their political targets to further their agendas. But shouldn’t we be post-debate by now? Guns or no guns, beds are empty tonight. Photos from happier times are all that’s left, and cherished memories will always have a way of haunting. They’ll have to do…even if they don’t.

Death is not a friend. It’s the last enemy.

It’s reasonable to ask questions.

Why?

How did it get so bad?

What’s happening?

The times call for something greater. Counter-intuitive. Silence and reflection is an appropriate place to start. May it lead to groans. Let the fear and anxiety lead to the heaving weight of deep repentance. Acknowledge your pain and cry out. This is how to begin to return to the ancient paths where one learns to bow the knee and, once there, to bow lower still. Rend the heart, rend the mind. Die to self. Live for Christ. It’s not a once-off.

Live there.

Children are dying. They’ve been dying a long time, long before yesterday’s shedding of blood and the shedding of blood before that. For decades, blood has run freely upon the pelvic floors of millions of women, trickling down the rubber-gloves of the salaried white coats. Smokestacks testify to their evil deeds. The brigade of the conscientious rally to expose them and intervene to help the pregnant mother. God has heard the screams of both while men faint for what judgment is coming upon the earth. The sirens have been sounding for a long time. Rebellion. Disorder. Disregard for Divine authority. We are now post-alarm. If you hear Leviticus’s message: the life of the flesh is in the blood, listen to Malachi’s prophetic cry:

“Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of the LORD comes. And he will turn the hearts of fathers to their children and the hearts of children to their fathers, lest I come and strike the land with a decree of utter destruction.”

—Malachi 4:5-6 (ESV)

Death in the streets leads to cities on fire. The long, hot summer of 2020 was full of anger, demand, rights, mayhem and destruction. Lives were upended, businesses looted and scourged, more people died. The property damage estimates to be in the billion dollar range. On January 6, 2021, first week into the New Year, a different kind of uprising was had. A persistent political contestation over a presidential election filled with rhetorical slogans and inciteful language and posturing turned into retaliatory chants as a swarming band of U.S. citizens marched to the U.S. Capitol, caught up in a mixture of political ideology and an over-realized eschatology. Surreal images of flag-waving and flag wearing men and women, some masked, others had on gas masks, Q-T-shirts, face paint and Viking horns, zip tie vests and combat gear. However they came, they came by climbing the walls, storming the steps, pounding through glass windows with metal pipes, stampeding under arched doorways until a few hundred found their way inside the U.S. Capitol, meandering, taking pictures with their cell phones, while others, nefarious in their mission, found their way into rooms and the Senate Gallery. A gallows was erected outside. “Hang Mike Pence” was a hashtag come to life. All while our Republican and Democratic elected officials were conducting business by certifying Electoral votes on behalf of the 2020 general election.

Lawlessness and delusion go hand in hand. But those who broke the law will be prosecuted to the full of extent of the law. Sorry, we’re all out of vegan dinners.

It is not an alternative fact that there is a plague going on in the world and the death count is nearing 400,000 in the U.S. alone to date. But Americans are under siege in more than one way. From generation to generation, sin gives birth to death. There is only one solution to that problem. Salvation is of the Lord. Children need fathers who will bow the knee to find strength to carry their sons into adulthood. There is no other way.

Believing there is a holy God,  divine authority begins with admitting your wretched condition of spiritual depravity, confessing your need for a loving Savior who is full of mercy and grace, and surrendering to His will. This is only the beginning of God’s divine order, and it is full of God’s blessing. But the redefinition and subsequent obliteration of the family does not. These weighty realities are ours to face if we’re to engage this broken world and turn over this bowl of rotten fruit where maggots lay their eggs.

This is America’s death culture upon which the masses feast among the ruins. We are bearing the revelatory fruit of a fatherless generation.

May we bow the knee, then bow lower still. Find true north.

Perhaps we may heal.

session seven: household words

Please welcome dear friend and sister in Christ, Diana Lovegrove, blogger at Waiting For Our Blessed Hope and contributor for today’s session on Household Words. Diana lives in England with her wonderful husband, adorable 7-year-old son, and naughty Jack Russell terrier. She loves nothing better than gentle family cycle rides at the weekend through the English countryside, but she also recently appreciated the opportunity to drive a racing car at speeds of 130 mph. Tea is her drink of choice, and the guitar her instrument to praise her God.

________________________________________

“Home is place, geography, and psyche…It’s a place of safety.”

-Barbara Kingsolver

________________________________

Kingsolver opens Household Words with a modern telling of the parable of The Good Samaritan. Except in this true account, it appears there was no Good Samaritan. Kingsolver is endearingly honest about her own inability to act, as she sits frozen in her car in a queue at traffic lights, and witnesses a homeless woman being assaulted by a homeless man on the sidewalk. As the traffic lights change, she drives away alongside many others, taking her guilt over her failure to intervene with her. I probably would have done the same.

Kingsolver considers homelessness to be an “aberration” of a civilised society. She is right. Homelessness is a sign of the curse we are living under, ever since Adam and Eve were banished from their God-given home in the Garden of Eden for their sin, and Cain, their son, was told he would be a “restless wanderer on the earth.” Homelessness is what living apart from God looks like, and I’m not talking about those without a permanent roof over their heads. What Kingsolver doesn’t realise is that those who have comfortable homes to live in are just as homeless as the man or woman on the street packing cardboard inside their clothes to help to keep them warm at night.

Whether or not we agree with Kingsolver’s political views of how to help the homeless, I am grateful that she has a compassionate heart, recognises that the home she has to live in is due to providence (although she doesn’t call it such when she recounts the conversation with her wheelchair-bound friend: “Barbara, the main difference between you and me is one bad fall off a rock.”), is aware of the sinful attitude of pride in all of us (“…smart like me, hardworking like me…they’d have a house like me.”), and has the urge to do something to help her neighbour in need.

I am arrested by her definition of home:

“Home is place, geography, and psyche; it’s a matter of survival and safety, a condition of attachment and self-definition. It’s where you learn from your parents and repeat to your children all the stories of what it means to belong to the place and people of your ken. It’s a place of safety.”

________________________________

A BIBLICAL LENS:

I read Kingsolver’s definition of home and I am silently awed…common grace pours from her heart. I read it and I want to share with her how this is all so true, and how God fulfils all of this! How He calls us to Himself and adopts us as His children through the blood of Christ, so that where we were once estranged from Him and restless wanderers, now we can enjoy the embrace of our Father. I want to tell her that really understanding what it means to be adopted as His child and welcomed into His family sends a thrill through my heart every time I contemplate it. Attachment to Him, being defined by Him…there is no greater security in life. How He assures our survival and safety: “But not a hair of your head will perish.”  How we regularly gather with other believers, our family members, children through to grandparents, to celebrate and remember all the goodness He has given us in Christ. I want to show her the limitations of Robert Frost’s quote:

“Home is the place where, when you have to go there,

They have to take you in.”

My Home is a gift. “They” do not have to take me in at all, given the extent of my sin. BUT…because of the sheer grace of God, because of Christ’s sacrifice, because I can now call God “Abba, Father!” I don’t even have to go there alone, hoping my knock at the door will be answered:

“In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”

-John 14:2-3

And then I want to look Barbara Kingsolver right in the eyes. I want to tell her how the story with which she opened this essay walked right into my heart. How it wasn’t merely her vulnerability and honesty in telling the story and her subsequent soul-searching which stirred my heart. I want to tell her how I personally identify with her guilt of not intervening when witnessing the abuse of a homeless person. How I was aware that my own sister was at risk of being abused by a “care worker” in the “care home” she was living in — a home in no meaningful sense of the word, but which epitomises the curse we are living under — not a home of safety, but a place to be survived. How I desperately wanted to inform the authorities, but for complicated reasons (which make no sense to me now, this side of the events) felt I couldn’t…so did nothing. How I have had to sit in court in recent days and listen as my sister described before judge and jury the harrowing extent of the abuse she suffered as a result of my saying nothing. Yes, I know something of that guilt.

How to deal with it?

I want to grab hold of her hand here and tell Kingsolver there is a much better way than how she dealt with her guilt, of rehearsing a different scene of the abused woman in her mind so that, “If I meet her again, I hope I can be ready.”  There is another way to deal with guilt, a way that leads to forgiveness, to life, to hope, to HOME!

When we have failed to love our neighbour as ourselves, we need to cry out to the One who did, who left His own Home to come to this earth where He had nowhere to lay His head. We need to cry out to Jesus, who took all our failures to love our neighbour in need on His own shoulders, died and rose again, that not only could we be forgiven and have our hearts sprinkled by His blood to cleanse us from a guilty conscience, but that He would give us His love for our neighbour, and a new Home.

It is no coincidence that she concludes her essay by referencing this Martin Luther King Jr. quote: “True peace is not merely the absence of tension. It’s the presence of justice.” Here, God has revealed His very heart to her of what Home really is:

“Justice will dwell in the desert

and righteousness live in the fertile field.

The fruit of righteousness will be peace;

the effect of righteousness will be quietness and confidence forever.

My people will live in peaceful dwelling places,

in secure homes,

in undisturbed places of rest.”

-Isaiah 32:16-18

_______________________________

Next Thursday: The One-Eyed Monster, and Why I Don’t Let Him In

-Please share comments, quotes, Scriptures, or views below-

this side of exquisite

ENOUGH PAIN MAKES US HONEST, eventually. And pharmacy records don’t lie. We’re a sophisticated people wrapped in gauze, covered in a thousand tiny Band-aids, hiding behind the fact that we’re bleeding out all over, hoping nobody will notice.

If pain were not so shameful, we’d have no problem baring all. But it is. So we do a work around.

Minimize. Avoid. Deny.

“Look Ma, no pain!”

But Ma is smarter than that, and knows that pain is bigger than us all — a result of the Fall, part of sin’s curse. The Garden, birthplace of the mortal wound, where guilt, shame, fear, and every manner of pain was introduced by one man’s act of disobedience, sentencing men to death.

Can I say this? The sin of disobedience is the root of all pain. Too simplistic? Agreed. But it’s true. Hang with me. It gets better.

_________________________

Theology doesn’t help much in a fire. Water does. But damage occurs either way. Theology, however, protects both left and right, front and center, behind, before, and after. A sound theology escorts, walks us through, helps us assess things when life strikes — perhaps not immediately, but, of course, that’s not how it works.

First, we hurt. Maybe hurt and run. Go numb. Fixate. Or protest. We manage pain rather poorly, usually by making things worse in our scurry to find a cure. We don’t want to admit the depth of our pain. It scares us. Dealing with death is a whole other matter. When the curtain looms final, we give pause to grieve, pay our respects. Sometimes oddly. We yell at doors — or chairs — and other inanimate objects. Pound our fist on the hard-packed earth. Seethe under our breath just enough for no one to notice. Some travel, others clean the basement or take up bowhunting. Complexity defines us, stares back at us — we want everything nice and simple.

But life isn’t like that.

Pain, at times, can be astounding — sets the world in a desperate frame, causes us to adopt strange ideologies, if only temporarily. There’s a time to hurt, be human. Rail. Retreat. But please don’t give the world the silent treatment. Be real. God has shouldered bigger burdens. When living on the brink of ruin gets to be too much, listen to the Teacher, find out the assignment.

Remember the cross.

The blood that flowed from Immanuel’s veins flowed for you. God’s wrath against sin and His love for men were eternally expressed by one man’s act of obedience in that historical, cataclysmic moment. There’s nothing trite about the cross.

Nor is there anything trite about our pain. It shouts, tears at us, reminds us that we’re fallen and need the kindness of a Savior to lead us to repentance. Healing is found in the cleansing blood of Christ’s own wounds, where peace is made and new life comes, borne in the marks of a blood-washed soul.

Exquisite.

_______________________________________

For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross.

-Colossians 1:19-20 (ESV)

 

End note:This post is not meant to be an exhaustive treatment on the vast topic of pain. It’s an observation written as a generalization in hope of stirring our thoughts about the Biblical purpose of pain and God’s glorious provision for same.

speechless

When the call came, first thing she said was, “Don’t turn on the TV.”

Then she asked if I knew what had happened. Knew what?

That two airplanes had flown into the Twin Towers of the  World Trade Center.

I soon learned, along with the rest of the world, about two more attack crashes, one into the west wing of the Pentagon and the other into an open field near Shanksville, Pa.

From there, the morning took on a surreal overlay, a kind of slow motion that crept into the afternoon. Landlines and cell towers were jammed. If silence could scream, it was deafening. Little did I know my husband was watching flames licking at the Pentagon from his office window.

At home only twenty miles away with two young children, I felt somehow exposed.

The house felt cold.

A few hours passed before we could reach one another by phone. I don’t remember who called whom. We were both alive.

Horror. Fire. Twisted metal. Rubble. Dust. Billows of smoke. People covered in ash, running for their lives. Thousands dead, yet still unaccounted for. A few hundred jumped to save themselves from a worse demise. Certain aftermath never dissipates.

9/11. When Death reached in through America’s thermal pane windows and took us all, let alone the world, by surprise.

9/11

A day when the calendar froze, bipartisan politics ceased, racial divides blurred, social prejudices disappeared. Only thing that mattered were souls — dead or alive. A time when coping was secondary to surviving the shock, which was a fine line that showed up at mealtime. Can’t remember if I fed the children. I must’ve.

Normalcy was being redefined right under our noses.

♦  ♦  ♦

Later that afternoon, my neighbor, well in her third trimester, looked up at the cloudless blue sky. Together, our faith arose in silent accord, absorbing the dichotomy. Poignancy has a way of making sense of things when little else does.

Zeal and a broken heart fueled another neighbor to post on every door in our cluster of 150 houses an invitation to keep vigil that night on the corner of Cranberry Lane and Oldfield Drive. When she knocked at ours, she asked if my husband would bring his guitar. Without question.

Not only were we grieving for our nation, we were mourning for our 43-year-old neighbor, Lenny Taylor. Less than eight hours prior, he was an engineer for a government contractor, now an unsung hero who happened to be sitting in the crosshairs that morning on Flight 77 bound for Los Angeles, along with 59 other victims ranging in age from 3 to 71.

♦  ♦  ♦

Dusk settled upon us as people continued to gather at the corner. Many seemed skittish. Most of us strangers among a small sea of faces. Some brought blankets and lawn chairs. Who was in charge? What would happen? There was no plan. No public figure to offer solace. All that lay against the street sign among the mementos was a photo, candle, Redskins pennant, racing bike and hockey stick; reminders that this was the corner where he turned to come home to his wife and two daughters every night.

But as the fingers began to pluck at the strings, nobody was too shy to sing. People found comfort in the sound of the chords. All the songs were hymns, songs of praise.

That night, there was only one keynote speaker, Jesus Christ, exalted in the midst of a crowd, drawing men unto Himself.

“The attacks were meant to bring us to our knees, and they did — but not in the way the terrorists intended. Americans united in prayer … came to the aid of neighbors in need … and resolved that our enemies would not have the last word.”

-President George W. Bush, excerpt from 9/11 Address, 2006

Chapter Nine: The True Nature of Spiritual Warfare (Chapter Ten, too)

“Even the devil is God’s devil.”

— Martin Luther

WEEK 6

¡Arriba! Piña colada smoothie…it’s what’s for breakfast! Just in time for summer, too, as we come to the end of our book discussion. Thanks for reading along and sharing your thoughts. I’ve enjoyed every minute — studying, summarizing, posting, and responding to your comments. But to be honest, I didn’t find “A Place for Weakness” to be an easy read. A bit dense in places, perhaps better editing would’ve helped to streamline some of the clutter and repetition. Hopefully you;ve been edified. With sound theological underpinnings tied to our mast, we can sail on the high seas of life in hope that somehow, through us, God is glorified. Such is the way of faith for those who endure, come what may.

SUMMARY of CHAPTER 9

Winding down Part Two, “God of the Empty Tomb,” Horton focuses on two major themes: Satan and death. In “The True Nature of Spiritual Warfare,” he zeroes in on the conflict that takes place in the unseen realm between the kingdom of God and the kingdom of Satan and how the drama plays out in our lives. But the Director never once abandons the stage. With Satan’s role as “prosecutor and Christ as our defense attorney…Satan’s objective in this contest is to undermine our confidence in God’s merciful will toward us, while God’s is to strengthen it.” Here’s where we soldier up to engage in Ephesians 6-style combat: “As counterintuitive as it is for us, we must turn outward at precisely these times and hope only in the Lord, whatever our conscience threatens, whatever blandishments Satan offers, whatever our experience tells us is the obvious case.”

While there’s no denying the reality of spiritual warfare, Horton decries a certain theology some circles employ, where a whole vocabulary has emerged to navigate what he terms to be borderline “cosmological dualism,” — “the belief that the universe is in the grip of a cosmic duel between God and Satan, as if these represented two equal forces.” And there’s the rub — there is only one Sovereign. As Luther said, “Even the devil is still God’s devil.” Horton argues for a faith that understands this both Biblically and empirically, based on the fulfillment of prophecy in Scripture and historic eyewitness accounts.

“The most exciting and liberating thing a believer can hear in the middle of spiritual and physical distress is not that there is a secret battle plan for defeating the powers of darkness if we will only come together and follow its fail-proof steps, but the announcement that Jesus Christ has already accomplished this for us in his first advent.” (pp. 166, 167)

This is the good news. There is no better news. For the “Judge himself — whom the transgressors had originally arraigned — takes off his robe and dons the warrior’s suit.”  Then the question “Who wins?” becomes the declarative: “He won!” — the verdict by which the believer truly lives and overcomes.

SUMMARY of CHAPTER 10

In “When God Goes to a Funeral,” Horton makes clear that the account of Lazarus in John 11 is not some contrivance about Jesus arriving late to raise a dead guy so everyone can gawk. Rather, it is the scene where sin’s worst fruit, death itself, is on display, now about to be subject to the power of God for the glory of God. This Biblical narrative reflects the eschatological truth of the hope yet to come: God’s triumphant defeat of the last enemy — Death. Jesus wasn’t late. He knew exactly what he was doing — pointing to Himself as “the Resurrection and the Life.”¹

But Mary and Martha’s tendency is our tendency. They didn’t understand. If only Jesus had come sooner…though they believed, they weren’t able to see the big picture. And so often, we can’t either. “God, if you really care about me, ________________— fill in your own blank.” (p. 181)

But Jesus doesn’t condemn them for their frustration. Instead, He lifts their vision.

Finally, Horton makes an appeal for the restored significance of grief by reminding us that “Jesus wept.” From this, he cautions against false piety. Whether the approach be stoic or sentimental, neither are commended. Both are given to extremes, seeking to avoid “the messiness of life.” We’re meant to grieve, but “we do not grieve as others do who have no hope.” ²

“At the graveside, neither optimism nor pessimism; sentimentalism nor stoicism tell us what is happening here. Only Jesus’ cross and resurrection define the event for us.” (p. 191)

1. John 11:25
2. 1 Thessalonians 4:13

MY TAKE

It’s one thing to write a book on suffering that offers treacle, it’s quite another to offer moorings for theological sanity. In “A Place for Weakness,” Michael Horton writes with the welcome bedside manner of one who has observed and endured a variety of life’s conundrums. There is no grandstanding. He’s a realist — a believer in a gospel that “is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes.” ³ He makes his case for finding answers to the hard questions by presenting the truth found in Christ and nowhere else. Of all the efforts made by men to diffuse the stress and strain of life’s sufferings — whether it be blame, denial, a “theology of glory,” hyper-spirituality, inspirational platitudes, bad theology, stoicism or sentimentalism — none of them are sufficient to answer the cardinal questions: Why? and “Is God good?”

Horton’s answer doesn’t bother to cater to man’s felt needs as though they were ultimate. He points to a far more glorious future by proclaiming:

“The good news is twofold: (1) justice will be done; liberation will come; righteousness will be vindicated; evil, oppression, and violence will be wiped off the face of the earth; and (2) all who repent and turn to the Redeemer will be saved.” (p. 173)

This is no cop-out. Genuine saving faith in Christ rests upon these truths and are of the most profound consequence for an individual. The iron-clad nature of Truth is substantiated upon the inerrant Word of God; there is no greater place to put our faith and trust. That these claims are true whether believed or not is a great comfort to God’s people, and ought to give skeptics pause.

But perhaps one of the most heartening aspects of Horton’s view is that he’s fully grounded in reality. He doesn’t negate the pain and heartache of this life. There’s a time for tears and a place to fall apart. A shoulder is to cry on. God can bear our questions, fears and doubts. Grief and mourning are normal this “side of Easter,” and part of the poignant beauty of what it means to be human. As the book title suggests, there is a place for weakness.

In case you missed it, throughout the book Horton makes clear that death is not a celebration, but the “last enemy.” He’d rather that we face the consequences of the Fall head on than be falsely comforted by hearing, “Death is a natural part of life.” At least the former allows for the gospel to shine! Sadly, even today’s Church has run aground on this one. Amid Horton’s pastoral warnings against the prevailing doctrinal winds of our day, his greatest exhortation to the Church is to trust in Christ and find in Him the unshakeable hope that transcends this vale of tears.

In Him was life, and the life was the light of men.”

John 1:4

3. Romans 1:16

WORTH REPEATING

“there is a cosmic battle…”

“Life’s crises, whether they start out as physical or spiritual, end up involving the whole person in any case.” (p. 164)

“Satan is bound, under house arrest. And yet, like a Mafia boss in prison, he still manages to cause trouble.” (p. 168)

“This is where Satan sets up his battlements and builds his ramparts: God and His Word are not to be trusted; instead, be your own boss, find your own path, believe in yourself, and be true to yourself.” (p. 172)

“We will not grow without a fight…”

“Christ is enough, even for you.” (p. 178)

“It simply did not make sense.”

“Jesus wept.” (p. 187, John 11:35)

“We do not grieve “as others do who have no hope,” but we do grieve.” (p. 191)

“The last enemy to be destroyed is death.” (p. 192, 1 Cor. 15:26)

“In Christ, the end has already begun.” (p. 193)

“O Death, where is your sting?”

GROUP CHAT

• As usual, you’re welcome to leave a comment on these last chapters. Also, feel free to share your impressions of the book, too.

• Now that you’ve finished reading “A Place for Weakness,” think about how you’ve been challenged in your view toward suffering/trials. Please share with us what you’ve learned, as it could be helpful to other readers.

• Want a challenge? Answer the following question from Chapter 7/Question 4:

“Does Christianity “work”?

(for a refresher, re-read “Our Faith is not a Fix”on pages 131-133)

________________________

A warm thanks to all for reading, listening, and contributing to the discussion.
I trust it’s been as enriching and edifying for you as it has been for me.

♦

“May the LORD make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you;
the LORD turn his face toward you and give you peace.”

-Numbers 6:25-26

♦  ♦  ♦

-Soli Deo Gloria-

Chapter Seven: Out of the Whirlwind (Chapter Eight, too)

“Even now my witness is in heaven; my advocate is on high.”

— Job 16:19 (NIV)

WEEK 5

A chocolate protein shake never looked so good! Speaking of good, I like how Horton opens Part Two, “God of the Empty Tomb,” by pulling on our heartstrings again. In Chapter 7, “Out of the Whirlwind,” he tells of the tragic loss of a dear mentor and family friend, unafraid to show the messy side of life. Then he introduces Job, where things get even messier. But we’re supposed to learn something from Job — namely, that God sits enthroned and how we are to bow before Him, come what may. From there, in Chapter 8, “A New Creation,” we’re treated to an informal Bible study on the truths of justification, sanctification and glorification. Out of the whirlwind is right. Like Job, we never look so good as when we allow God to have His way with us.

SUMMARY of CHAPTER 7

Of all the chapters so far, “Out of the Whirlwind” is Horton’s multifaceted jewel — it shines by touching on the best and worst of humanity. He shares the painful account of his friend’s life riddled with trial and disease that led to his eventual suicide. Remarkably, this man was a pastor. And just when we want an explanation for this senseless act, Horton raises the curtain on Job, where we find a man bereft of not only home, family, health and livelihood, but of sound, godly counsel. Dire straits always seem to put God on trial, too. This is the test — is God good? After having lost everything except his hope in God, Job says: “I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes — I, and not another. How my heart yearns within me!”¹

A picture of raw faith, Job is remembered not for his pietistic stoicism, but for having fastened his eyes on God. He appealed to the One deserving of all glory, placed confidence in Him for His own sake, and dignified the trial with prayer. But when God told him to be quiet and to brace himself like a man, he repented under the mighty hand of God — the only right response.

“No one can say, ‘I am innocent. I should not be going through this.’ This is why we need to turn from trusting in our own righteousness to the Mediator who announces to the court that he has found a ransom to deliver us from final destruction. Only this, and not the inspirational platitudes, can truly lift one’s countenance.” (p. 126)

Even when man shortchanges himself by giving up, as was the case with Horton’s friend, God never loses a battle. Mercy triumphs over judgment. Job looked away from himself and remembered that he had a Mediator. Grace is such that when God and man are put on trial, God’s shares His vindication and both come forth triumphant.

1. Job 19:25-27 NIV

SUMMARY of CHAPTER 8

Horton’s most theological chapter yet, “A New Creation” treats Romans 6, 7, and 8 with the proper care and thoroughness they deserve. By detailing the “already” position of the believer as described in Romans 6, he doesn’t fail to address our present “not yet” reality of Romans 7, ending with Paul’s glorious announcement of our Romans 8: 1-17 certain victory. From all this, the author affirms what is affirmed in Scripture: the believer’s blessed status in Christ.

But what Horton often likes to do is first remind us our origins. By pointing to our Adamic nature and subsequent bondage to sin, he reveals how it’s only through the atoning sacrifice of Christ that we’ve now “been made perfect.” He then exposes man’s ever-failing attempt to better himself. By borrowing a term, “the Protean style,”²  from psychologist Robert Jay Lifton, he describes our postmodern culture and how people of all walks of life seek to reinvent themselves. He says, “Everyone wants to be someone or something else, a new creation — but on their own terms.” This is the height of what is called nihilism, as here Horton colorfully defines it:

“Nihilism is having two hundred TV channels from which to choose, life as a perpetual smorgasbord in which choice becomes an end in itself. We forget what we’re even choosing or why. We are “in charge,” but of a life that seems often to lack any definite purpose or sense of destination.” (p. 138)

Then Horton brings us back around to center stage, where nihilism serves as the perfect foil for the gospel:

“Something has happened outside us, in history — a divine disruption that really has inaugurated a new world. The Holy Spirit has been sent by the Father and by the Son, who sits victorious at the Father’s right hand, to make all things genuinely new from the inside out.” (p. 138)

As believers in Christ, God has brought an end to all our striving. The need for reinventing ourselves is over. Faith adorns us from within and without. We’ve been made new.

2. From the Greek myth in which Proteus constantly changed his shape to evade capture.

MY TAKE

I’m grateful to have found Horton’s chapter on Job, “Out of the Whirlwind,” to be an easy read. There’s more good theology available in that book than I ever knew and it’s worth reading again in light of Horton’s commentary. I particularly appreciated Horton’s sober and compassionate view towards his friend’s suicide — proof that having a firm grasp on sound Biblical theology inevitably leads to having a realistic and merciful posture towards another’s frailty.

And since I never seem to tire of sound doctrine, “A New Creation” sat well with me, even if the chapter did go long. I applaud Horton for his unapologetic stance against our present postmodern culture. He takes no prisoners, shining a spotlight on all the messages we receive from our advertising world. Let’s face it, “reinventing yourself” is what you do if you are unregenerate. He does a wonderful job puzzling it out, showing how there is “nothing is new under the sun.” It’s true. Sin is not original. It’s all been done before.

But what I liked most about this chapter is how Horton faithfully stewards over the gospel, showing us how we can hold several truths in tension (Romans 6, 7, and 8 ) and still walk in the intended fullness of our redemption this side of heaven, keeping pace with the hope of glory in the age to come.

WORTH REPEATING

“Like Job, we make conclusions based on limited information, trying to figure out why things are happening to us.” (p. 119)

“Bildad means well, but he too suffers from bad theology.” (p.119)

“Bad things happen to bad people, good things happen to good people, but there is no such thing as bad things happening to good people. There is no one good, no not one.” (p. 120)

“Though he slay me, I will hope in him…”

“Just because we don’t have the answers does not mean there are no answers.”(p. 128)

“What happens here and now is not the whole story.” (p. 131)

“There is a Redeemer…who will right all wrongs and make all things new.” (p.134)

“The verdict of the last day is rendered here and now. For us, judgment day is a settled affair.” (p. 141)

“We live because he lives.”

“To suggest that we can add anything to our redemption is to insult God’s liberal expense in making us his children. We cannot be more chosen, accepted, forgiven, or justified than we are right now.” (p. 143)

“So we do not lose heart…”

“In moments of peak piety, I am still a struggling believer; and in moments of great transgression, I am still baptized into Christ’s death and resurrection and thus a citizen of the new creation that has dawned with Christ’s victory over sin and death and his sending of the Spirit…the normal Christian life! (p. 151)

“In the end we will wear the conqueror’s crown.”

GROUP CHAT

What wisdom we learn from Job! What teaching we receive from Horton! Please leave a comment, ask a question, share a quote or offer insight. Of course, if you’d rather simply listen, that’s fine, too.

If you’d like to answer a chapter question from the back of the book, please feel free. Just remember to reference which chapter/question it is so the rest of us aren’t left stranded. Thanks.

FOR NEXT WEEK

Conclusion:

Read Chapters 9 & 10:  “The True Nature of Spiritual Warfare” & “When God Goes to a Funeral”

-Thanks for coming-

♦  ♦  ♦

Our last time together is next Wednesday, June 8

Chapter Five: Is Anybody Up There? (Chapter Six, too)

“We cannot climb up to God, but He has descended to us.”

— Michael Horton

WEEK 4

Lots of ice, a decent amount of half & half, and some turbinado sugar to let sink down to the bottom…that’s how I roll when it’s hot! OK…yes, the book. Well, if there’s one thing Michael Horton is good at, it’s taking a profound subject and blasting home a layered point as he spins several plates while hopping on one foot. In these next two chapters, he pulls out the BIG guns and fires away at the BIG questions: Where is God? and Why, God? There’s much to consider and discuss; I won’t even try to cover it all. But hopefully, we’ll tap a vein that brings some life and builds faith. Remember, next week we start Part Two: “God of the Empty Tomb” in which we have left only two more discussions. Then what we’ve learned will be, as the author says, “put to the test of real life.” Now, once I plunk in my trusty pink straw, I’ll be good to go…

SUMMARY OF CHAPTER 5

In “Is Anybody Up There?” Horton answers the universal question, “Where is God when we need Him most?” by first stating that God condescends to us through His ordained means of grace and the many “masks” He wears through the neighbors and saints in our community. He then proceeds to take the reader on a long meandering tour to explain our inherited godless culture, where the existence of God isn’t taken for granted anymore as much as it has been exchanged for despair (p.72). Horton credits the Nietzsches, the Feuerbachs, the Marxes and the Freuds of this world for having systematically sown unbelief by reducing God to a void, a dream, a drug and a coping mechanism — the fruit of which has come to bear in William James’ pragmatism. As it flourishes in society and in the Church, its dictates of “God is whatever works” and “what we think we need” undermine the high and holy place of God, without anyone batting an eyelash.

But Horton does not abandon us to despair. He finishes the tour by announcing that this not the gospel, and warns us to not buy their trinkets. Using the literary technique of contrast, he reveals their theology of glory as the mythical tales of supermen — religion of the worst kind — and tells of a better way. To the one crying, “Where is God for me, for us, given the mess we’re in right now?” Horton offers not the general revelation of God as displayed in the glory of a magnificent sunset, but the special revelation of His saving will, a particular promise that says: “I have forgiven your sins, so come to Me. Do not be afraid.”

The author knew where he was going the entire time — and guides us back to where he started, reminding us of a Savior who condescends to us.

SUMMARY of CHAPTER 6

In “If We Just Knew Why God Let It Happen,” Horton attempts to recover what’s largely been lost — an appreciation for God’s ordinary providence in society. He advocates for theological sanity by asking: Can we let God be God? Can we live with mystery and still trust Him, in His goodness? as he introduces the ideas of providence vs. miracle, common grace vs. saving grace, direct vs. indirect government — showing how they work together in all of life throughout the whole of God’s sovereignty, seen and unseen. He suggests a faith that allows for tension in truth where these distinctions play out:

“Just as God rules the affairs of his creation no less through providence than miracle,
or common grace than saving grace,
he is just as active when he works through creatures
as when he directly brings about his designs apart from them.”
(pp. 105-106)

Single-handedly, the author lifts our vision to behold God “even where we do not usually expect to find him, and to trust that even when we do not find him, he is already there.” Nobly and with expertise, he gently cautions us away from yielding to unbelief cloaked in gnosis, or in other words, a “need to know.” Which begs another question: Would “knowing why” change anything?

In answer to that, he quotes Calvin: “It would not even be useful for us to know what God himself…willed to be hidden.” (p. 98)

MY TAKE

I’m grateful for the way Michael Horton educates while warning and protecting the flock of God. In Chapter 5, he may have gone off on a tangent or two and repeated himself a lot, but he didn’t waste a drop of ink — or my time — in doing so. I appreciate his gift of persuasion. He soundly reasons that we put away religious thinking and the fleshly, cultural temptation to succumb to a theology of glory. I need reminding over and over that I have a Savior, as I tend to forget that this mighty God is nearer than I dare trust in my hour of need.

Chapter 6 had my wheels turning! I loved how he put this one together, explaining in detail the distinctions of providence and miracle, common and saving grace, direct and indirect government, etc. Like a true reformer, he carries the torch for a faith that is Biblically balanced, one that wards against worldly principles and the lesser goals of gnosis and hyper-spirituality, the pretense of knowing what God is up to at all times. And he points to a God who is gracious, to the One who heals either by way of the surgeon’s hands or the immediate miracle, to the One who rains on the just and the unjust. Horton does not apologize for God, nor does he seek to explain Him away. Instead, like a faithful steward, he humbly regards the majesty of the Lord and invites us to do the same.

I found this chapter to be not only encouraging, but refreshing!

WORTH REPEATING

“Religion actually is a projection of our own felt needs, fig leaves of our inner lives to cloak our guilt, a golden calf of our own imaginations to hide us from the God of blinding glory. But religion is not revelation. Religion expresses our longings. Revelation communicates God’s.” (p. 75)

“The sheer presence or existence of God is not itself good news to us in our sin.” (p. 77)

“One moment we may be lost in the grandeur and sheer force of the ocean’s waves; the next we are just as lost in their dread as they burst their bonds, causing havoc and destruction.” (p. 80)

“Things are not as they seem.”

“We do not know what God has decided in his deep and mysterious hiddenness, and we can only know what God condescends to reveal to us as he cloaks his unapproachable light in humility and weakness. (p. 83)

“He has still not revealed everything.”

“He remains Lord over his counsels.” (p. 96)

“God’s wisdom reorients us to see everything differently.” (p. 104)

“Our times are in His hands…”

“God’s providence cannot really be discerned apart from the gospel, apart from the knowledge that God is up to something here that will turn Good Friday into Easter morning.” (p. 110)

GROUP CHAT

OK, that was a lot to swallow. What resonated with you? What did you like/dislike? Reflect on? Agree/disagree with?

Please share your thoughts, insights, questions, or favorite excerpts in ftm’s comment section. Of course, if you’d rather simply listen, that’s fine, too.

FOR NEXT WEEK

We begin Part Two: “God of the Empty Tomb”

Read Chapters 7 & 8:  “Out of the Whirlwind” and “A New Creation”

-Thanks for coming-

♦  ♦  ♦

Let’s meet back here again next Wednesday, June 1