Book Reviews

Mike Dente

Hard is Only Half the Story: Real Adventures From My Journey Into the Unknown is a poetical book exploring cross-cultural ministry’s deeper side. Beginning with the opening poem and with each chapter, Wendy Zahorjanski unveils her spiritual, emotional, and psychological journey. Yet it’s not a Mémoire or a Confession. She uses both first and second-person voices to bring us along with her while adding a well-crafted summary that adds an aspect of encouraging and instructing.

Honestly, I think this book would’ve been helpful for me as I made my way through the wilds of missionary life. Her inviting style made me want to read with a cup of coffee. But the subject matter never let me get too comfortable; the lessons are subtle and profound amid prose that draws us in, like talking to a friend.

I enjoyed Wendy’s transparency. She lets us see the reality of her heart and the very human struggles of being a cross-cultural minister. She doesn’t allow us to get off the hook easily; she invites us to look into our hearts and see what lies in the dark corners. In this way, she paints an accurate picture of the most challenging yet rewarding parts of missionary life. Although she shows hope in Jesus, this book is not afraid to look into the darkness and doesn’t shy away from the real pain of ministry.

Elaine O’Connor

Editor’s Note: I also read Wendy’s latest book and can’t keep quiet about its potential to inspire and encourage solo readers and groups alike. Here goes. –Elaine O’Connor

As someone who wants to remember what I’ve read, to have it impact my life, I was thrilled to discover Wendy included a list of key takeaways at the end of each chapter—as well as Discussion Questions and a Verse for Meditation for each chapter (located at the end of the book). They serve as bookends of sorts, increasing the possibility that Wendy’s goal of “attempt[ing] to expand your perception of the unknown” is met.

I read this book three times and have been thinking about it quite a bit. As a result, the way I look at the unknown has morphed from one of fear to one of anticipation. I’m an extremely grateful reader.

To give you a sense of what I’ve been experiencing, here’s a peek at the “Things Worth Remembering” from chapter four:

• Strange people and strange places = spike in humility
• You will, at some point, be embarrassed
• Open yourself to the idea that it can be the source of growth
• Don’t run
• Allow yourself to be rebuilt

Suffice it to say this book has earned a spot on my books-I’ll-read-again-and-again bookshelf.

Of note, Wendy dedicated this book to her fellow cross-cultural workers. She wanted to encourage them to keep following and to keep looking … “no matter how dark the shadows grow.” Although not a cross-cultural worker myself (in the strictest sense of the term), I benefitted greatly—as have those I’ve engaged with. I sense the same will happen to anyone who contemplates the wisdom Wendy’s latest book has to offer.

I could go on, but I think I’ll let the book speak for itself.

From the back cover of Hard Is Only Half the Story: Real Adventures From My Journey Into the Unknown by Wendy Zahorjanski:

“Do you ever feel that if life was just a little bit easier, it would be a hundred times better?

In this faith-filled, open-hearted memoir, author Wendy Zahorjanski proves that the opposite is true. When we go through difficult times and trials in life, hard is only half the story. As Zahorjanski explores the journey into grief, doubt, and struggle, she admits that she was surprised to find joy, faith, and friendship on the other side.

In a culture that both intrigued and confronted all of her expectations, Zahorjanski was forced to embrace imperfection, look past seeming dichotomies, and be willing to let her well-laid plans for her life look as if they had turned to mush.

Take a walk into the woods with this raw, real account of one Christian missionary’s hike into the unknown where you’ll learn how to:

• Embrace vulnerability to find some of the most precious moments in life.
• Experience that even when things are far from perfect, God still is.
• Laugh at the failures and absurdities that happen with authentic joy.
• Honestly look at your past and present hours of grief and embrace the person they’ve helped you become.
• Take a look at who God is making you into, one persistent action at a time.

This book is an invitation to step beyond the veil of fear to enrich your existence with the rawness of life by looking to God: the bringer of life and healer of sorrows.

Are you ready to embrace the hard moments in your life so that you can finally see what the other half of hard can really bring? It’s time to lean into the transformation that awaits you. Grab your copy of Hard Is Only Half the Story: Real Adventures From My Journey Into the Unknown today.

Wendy Zahorjanski is a nonfiction writer whose life has been an incredible journey guided by faith. Her writing goal is to unveil the amazing moments of opportunity and spiritual growth concealed within seemingly unsurmountable moments.“

It was 1924 when the Summer Olympic Games were last held in Paris. The world had yet to feel the weight of the Great Depression or the specter of Nazism. These were also the first Olympic Games to be commented on via radio. Yet, more known in some Christian circles, they were ones that provide the setting for the movie Chariots of Fire to tell the story of Eric Liddell and his gold medal run.

In the movie, Eric famously said that he felt the favor of God when he ran. The scene opens in joy as he announces his acceptance as a missionary to China. He tells his sister, Jenny, then explains that he will defer his call to China until he finishes the Summer Olympics. Jenny doesn’t understand; he has to talk her into it. From a pastoral point of view, I wonder if my reaction wouldn’t have been like hers. It’s rather presumptuous of Liddell to say. There’s no Bible verse to back him up on this, just a feeling he has. How many of us would have counseled him to come back down and serve the Lord with the incredible gift he’d been given: an honored chance to serve the Lord in foreign missions?

But we know Eric was right. If you look closely at the actual pictures of his face as he was crossing the finish line, we can make out the face of someone in the ecstasy of total praise. It reminds me of the blessing taken from Numbers 6:24-26 that many pronounce on Sunday at the end of the service. A blessing was given to Aaron and his sons through which they were to bless Israel in the wilderness and throughout their history so Israel would bear God’s name to all the world. I want to look at this blessing in three parts, knowing that God’s face radiates love when He sees us in Christ.

May the LORD bless you and keep you.

To be blessed by the Lord is a happy state that envelops every part of our lives. Like Israel in the wilderness, one of the great reasons for this is because God is there. When Aaron blessed Israel, the Presence was visible: He gave manna, a physical blessing, to eat; water from a rock; and even quails when they complained …

Aaron would speak the blessing, but God was there and acting through the experience. As the Theological Lexicon of the Old Testament explains: “God’s activity can be actualized through human speech; it can be ignited by it.” It’s visible and palpable yet invisible and spiritual.

Another example comes from Deuteronomy, where Moses recounts: “ So He humbled you, allowed you to hunger, and fed you with manna which you did not know nor did your fathers know, that He might make you know that man shall not live by bread alone; but man lives by every word that proceeds from the mouth of the LORD. Your garments did not wear out on you, nor did your foot swell these forty years” (Dt 8.3-4). This was His provision and instruction, the Lord’s blessing and name upon His people.

His blessing is to know his protection. If God keeps us, it’s having Him as a Shepherd who protects and directs. This reminds me of that scene where Balaam tried to curse Israel, but wound up blessing them every time he opened his mouth (Nu. 22-24). The Lord’s protection was upon them. The prophet was powerless. It also reminds me Jesus taught us to pray that God would not allow us to enter into temptation but to deliver us from evil. In this way, He keeps us. His protection is here with us as He is here, present, and watching over us.

May the LORD make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you.

This part of the blessing brings us close to what Eric Liddell expressed. He felt the Lord’s favor, His face like a benevolent light. This is interesting because John writes that God is light without shadow (1 Jn 1.5). He is, therefore, pure and life-giving. When God turns “His face,” His regard toward us “radiates.” What’s communicated responds to the fundamental need of humanity that begins at an early age. It’s the need to know we are seen. It’s the need for acceptance and love.

Babies manifest this need from the beginning. They seek the loving gaze of their parents. They need their full attention, more than mere eye contact. As they grow, children go on showing this through what they do. On the playing field, they watch the stands to see who’s watching. They run in the door from school with a picture in hand, their creation. They want one thing: to be seen.

This blessing responds to this need, like in the case of Eric Liddell, who knew God called him but felt God’s favor as he ran. The Lord’s face turns toward us, shining with His favor, His grace.

It’s often said that grace is the undeserved favor of God, and it’s even more! His grace is love that’s infused into the dynamics of everyday life. More than saving grace, it’s holistic, physical, and, why not, emotional. He wants to do good to us. Then, this grace is like the rays that emanate from His gaze. Why? Because He has adopted us, we are His children.

May the LORD turn His face to you and give you peace.

His gaze is favorable toward us. It’s important to let that sink in. The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament puts it this way: “to raise the face, turn towards, lift the countenance, to encourage, take sides, show partiality toward the one He blesses.” This is how He sees us in Jesus. God sees us and smiles with affection. We do the same when looking at someone we love. His face radiates love. Knowing that God loves us this much strengthens us when times are difficult.

If that weren’t enough, He gives us His peace. It is one of the most precious aspects of this blessing: peace with God. Jesus became our peace because we were enemies with God. Let’s allow Scripture speak: Colossians 1:21-22 “And you, who once were alienated and enemies in your mind by wicked works, yet now He has reconciled in the body of His flesh through death, to present you holy, and blameless, and above reproach in His sight.” Jesus became our peace, between us and the Father.

Yet His peace goes beyond judicial righteousness. Jesus spoke of the peace He gives through the Holy Spirit. John 14.27: “Peace I leave with you, The peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

Then, we can even go further. His peace translates into a state that covers everything, just like it says in Isaiah 26.3-4: Y“ou will keep him in perfect peace, Whose mind is stayed on You Because he trusts in You. Trust in the LORD forever, For in YAH, the LORD, is everlasting strength.” Because He is there, we know that all will be well, and the storms that swarm around us will calm down with the power of His loving gaze into our lives.

In the end, Aaron would pronounce this blessing on Israel so that God’s name would be upon them. Knowing that we bear the name of Christ, His name is upon us, too. That is why we end our worship services with this blessing and can go into the world knowing of His favorable gaze towards us. He loves us. Maybe you are like Eric Liddell. You know God has something for you, but you are on another project today. I hope this article encourages you. What God has given you today, do it with all your heart and enjoy His favor. It’s He who takes care of His plans. It’s enough today for us to trust Him, receive His blessing, and live in His favor.

The first time I discovered Chuck Smith’s teaching, my wife and I were on our honeymoon. The pastor mentoring us as a couple invited us to a conference Chuck was to speak at. My first reaction was, “Thanks for the invite, but it’s our honeymoon.”

“I know,” he told me, “but it’s at Warm Beach Conference Center, which is already a fantastic place to be. Come on, you won’t regret it!”

He was right; this place was magic even for a couple of twenty-year-olds in love. It’s one of those places where Puget Sound folds into an estuary surrounded by endless evergreen forests and a farming community. And at the time, you could easily spot a bald eagle.

Chuck was already speaking by the time we got to the conference hall. Our friend saw us standing at the entrance. As we walked in, Chuck’s deep, rich voice and slow cadence instantly mesmerized us. He was speaking from Galatians 3, “Having begun in the Spirit…” a subject we’d hear more about as time went on. The message was enough to stop us in our tracks, and praise God, it spoke to us. But that day, we were still on our honeymoon and headed out as soon as he finished speaking.

Fast-forward a few years to the first time I truly listened to Chuck Smith; I was in a different place. We were in our first year on the mission field. We’d come to the stark realization that our high school French was sorely inadequate, but we were thankful for our friend who had tutored us before we left. This was before the World Wide Web changed our lives, back when we’d have to call our families in the US from a phone booth to avoid overspending on a long-distance call.

We lived in that isolated sound bubble where an entire culture and their dogs communicate in a language we couldn’t understand. During those days, the pastor who hosted us, seeing its profound spiritual effect on us, began feeding us cassette tapes from the 5000 series. “You’ve never listened to Chuck Smith before?” he asked.

“No, but we heard him at a conference at Warm Beach.”

“You should start with this.”

We took a few tapes home. Genesis 1. Nothing too fancy, a white tape with a blue label printed everything we needed to know. Pressing play in our little apartment, that warm, deep voice filled the room. There was a dynamic I hadn’t heard for some time. The Spirit moved in my heart as he taught the Word. Yet the message wasn’t simplistic. Sure, he was speaking from what I imagined was the 1970s, but there was something pertinent about it. If I didn’t keep President Carter or the Iran Hostage situation in mind, I could see the applications to the late nineties I was living in. I was hooked.

Tape after tape, we couldn’t stop. Little did I realize that my Biblical theology was developing. He covered every book of the Bible, chapter by chapter; it entered my ears, transformed my heart, and infused into my worldview.

Eventually, we did learn French, and one day, I became a church planter myself. I met Chuck Smith at my first Pastor’s Conference at the Murrieta Conference Center. We were back in the US to take care of some visa issues. A pastor friend from Southern California invited me to the Conference.

“You’ve never been to Murrieta,” he asked.

“No, I’m from Seattle.”

“You have to come. You will come and stay with me.”

So I did.

One day, we were walking through the grounds. I was enjoying the perfectly manicured environment, the warm California sun, and the palm tree shade when a white golf cart passed us. I instantly recognized Chuck in the driver’s seat. He greeted my friend, who introduced me.

“You’re Mike Dente from Paris.”

I couldn’t believe it. He knew who I was. Then he said, we were praying for you! I was done. I couldn’t think how he knew who I was, but he seemed genuinely happy to meet me. But I was meeting my hero, who knew my name. That’s the day he became my favorite. It was also the day I realized a personal side of him that can’t be caught on tape. He didn’t just teach; he taught people. It was a profound lesson.

That’s why I was so happy to participate in this Tribute in memory of his life and legacy. Even though I didn’t know him well, I’m deeply thankful for him. His ministry kept me at my post when we were in a very fragile place. His teaching inspired me to seek the Lord to see if pastoring was in his divine plan for my life. His example gave me rich insight into serving and loving God’s people.

Moses is such an incredible person to look at in the scriptures that though I lack commonality with him, I find myself drawn to his story. His narration brings you to the Red Sea parting, shepherding days, and how he handled leadership situations. Through all this, he drew near to the Lord and remained faithful to him, even after he knew that he would never see his greatest desire come to pass: Israel home and free in their land.

One aspect that recently caught my attention is how Moses worked with others. We don’t always think of him as a team player. For years, I thought of him as more of a visionary type who led from the top down, marching down the mountain with the two tablets in hand. Then there’s the story of him hiding his face behind a veil because of the glow or hiding in the mountainside, protected by the hand of God as the glory passed by. There’s also the first-person narrative of Deuteronomy, the one man retelling the story before the people of Israel who were to enter their inheritance as he was to pass into eternity. We think of the solitary man, but without closer reading, we might forget that there was a little more to it than that. Maybe Moses worked constantly and even well with other people.

The Surprising Ways Moses Valued Teamwork While Leading Israel

One of the first things that astounded me in this man’s life was how much he wanted to work with others. The first example is when he pleads with God not to send him before Pharaoh. Admittedly, this is not a decisive moment for him. Arguing with God is never a good idea. Despite this, it would seem that the Lord provided Aaron, who was already on his way over to meet Moses while the prophet was trying to get out of his responsibilities (Ex. 4). No matter how we interpret what happened, we realize Moses worked near a brother who was maybe a little too gifted at public speaking. It’s important to remember that he was in this situation because Moses insisted on it. At that moment, the roles were clearly defined in Exodus 4:30. Moses heard from the Lord and told it to Aaron. Aaron spoke to Pharaoh, and then Moses performed the signs. This is how ministry was done before the King of Egypt, but it was also a precursor to how Moses would lead the people of Israel.

Let’s take the example of Exodus 18. Moses receives his father-in-law, Jethro, and shows him all the beautiful things God is doing. Then, the next day, Jethro watches Moses in action. His father-in-law sees something that could potentially hurt Moses and the people. The man is doing too much. He was wearing himself out in matters he didn’t need to be involved in; today, we might call them warning signs of burnout or adrenal fatigue. From that day, the team grew into a cohesion of many people working together. It could be argued that this wasn’t Moses’ idea, which I would concede, but having been in a blinding tunnel of work that I couldn’t see out of, I also made many mistakes that I probably wouldn’t have otherwise. Jethro’s advice was needed and implemented willingly by Moses.

It seems Moses took the lesson to heart in Numbers 11. When the people’s complaints weighed him down, he cried to the Lord to alleviate his burden. The Lord responds by instructing him to name 70 elders to help. Everything seems to go well as the Lord fills the men with His Spirit until Joshua sees two men prophesying who were not chosen… I find Moses’ response to Joshua’s jealousy extremely revealing: “Are you zealous for my sake? Oh, that all the Lord’s people were prophets and that the Lord would put His Spirit upon them” (Nu. 11:29). It appears to me that Moses dreamed of a more considerable cohesion of God’s children working together through the power of the Holy Spirit, much like what Paul would develop later in 1 Corinthians 12-14.

Teamwork: Everyone Had a Place

In the book of Leviticus, we see in God’s design for the Children of Israel that everyone had a place. It’s true that Moses spent time alone with God and spoke to Him as one spoke with his friend, but Moses also shared ministry with other people. He didn’t build the utensils, provide the materials, physically slaughter the animals, carry the tabernacle on his shoulders, pick up the sword, and fight the enemies. Instead, he appointed artists and specific people for each task so that it could continue without him. He chose twelve spies and seventy elders and sent the soldiers into battle under the head of another man, Joshua. In the end, I would argue that Moses’ teamwork was so interwoven in the fabric of his ministry that we don’t even see it. It’s much like a political candidate whose name is on the billboard but who is supported by a well-coordinated team, without which it would all be impossible.

Not everything Moses did as a team ended well. We could point to the 12 spies as a crisis moment that ended horribly. And yet, two men remained faithful to the Lord and entered the promised land, while the other ten did not. Another less-than-brilliant moment comes to mind in Numbers 20. It was the moment when Moses, in anger, struck the rock rather than speak to it and misrepresented God before the people. Was Moses alone in this moment? In verses six through ten, we realize Aaron was with him. The Lord’s rebuke in verse twelve was to both brothers. Though Moses and Aaron were both accountable to God, that didn’t stop him from committing one of his most regrettable errors. We can’t forget that another mistake at the beginning of his public life came when he alone murdered the Egyptian he caught abusing one of the enslaved Hebrew people…

Serving Together in a Way that Brought Glory to God

Was Moses a team player? Let’s be prudent in using today’s terminology ripe with modern nuances foreign to his worldview and the biblical text. Moses was, after all, just a man, though incredibly blessed. He braved situations we will never have to see because of his unique calling. He had times of recluse, times of social gathering, and times of prayerful solitude. One of the best parts of his story is that it stops us from making him two-dimensional, with a title that fits our day’s hermeneutic. We can say that he loved Israel and that his policies enabled many people to serve together in a way that brought glory to God.

And in the thick of it, I’m encouraged to see a man who gave away power to others and worked actively to a continuing legacy that would far outlive his long life on earth.

In closing, my favorite scene of Moses collaborating with others is in Exodus 17:12. “But Moses’ hands became heavy; so they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it. And Aaron and Hur supported his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other; his hands were steady until the going down of the sun.” As Joshua led the army into battle below, Moses watched and prayed. But he wasn’t alone. He had two men standing there with him, who at the right moment held up his hands, giving Moses and then Joshua the strength they needed spiritually. That is the sweet teamwork that inspires me most, one not too far from Moses and Elijah talking with Jesus when the Lord went to pray on the mountain with three of his disciples. It would appear from these passages that teamwork isn’t just for this world; maybe our collaboration here is just a preparation for something greater to come.

Have you ever had a conversation where you knew you were missing something? It could be a point of reference that everyone else knew, leaving you two steps behind. I’ve had many discussions I wished I’d been more prepared for. Often they became part of my life training where thanks to a name dropped here or there, I could go back and catch up. Otherwise, it’s like speaking a common language, but the meaning behind words and thoughts are worlds apart.

I’ve noticed this trend on some of my social media feeds: friends expressing sincere concern in a way they both feel is loving and biblical but communicate the opposite.

There’re many reasons for this. Sometimes it’s awkwardness, sometimes a lack of listening; sometimes, it’s a missing reference. It’s that last possibility that I’d like to address. I want to share some of those essential names. Though most are non-Christians, they’ve shaped our world, and their work has become a reference point.

In Christian ministry, we can learn from them, even if our worldview contradicts theirs. At the very least, knowing them can help us understand others. Paul did this by quoting a pagan while sharing the gospel in Athens. He didn’t adhere to everything the poet said but used truth in Acts 17.

With this in mind, I’d like to talk about Hannah Arendt (1906-1975), a Jewish thinker from Germany. Her works on philosophy and political theory are still incredibly influential today. She’s often quoted by thinkers and writers worldwide as her thoughts on the political realm, violence, power, totalitarianism, thought, pleasure, and the human condition remain at the forefront of current conversations. In the Christian world, one can find her quotes from podcasts like “The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill” hosted by Mike Cosper to more academic works like The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self by Carl R. Trueman.

Her ideas have become such a part of our way of thinking that it’s possible today to adhere to them without knowing her name. She’s one of the rare thinkers influencing both the political right and the left while providing sharp questions that make both sides uncomfortable.

Although summarising her entire work would be difficult, I’d like to concentrate on only three books, The Origins of Totalitarianism, The Human Condition, and Eichmann in Jerusalem, to show what we can glean from them.

The Origins of Totalitarianism (1951)

This book gives me chills. It was like reading a non-fiction horror story. Arendt traces the lines of the rise of Totalitarian regimes beginning with antisemitism and racism; then, she moves to Hitler’s Nazi party and Stalin’s Soviet Union. She describes the strategies that became normalized through their application, which means people came to accept what these men were doing as expected.

She observes how the masses supported Hitler and Stalin, bringing them into power and applauding their initial policies. These masses, she explains, are isolated, independent thinkers disenchanted with the status quo of the political system, with a taste for the unveiling of secret intentions (complot theories) and the demasking of the elite’s hypocrisy. Sound familiar? Ultimately, she says they had less interest in science and reason than in happiness and pleasure …^[1]

What this book gives us today is a system of looking into power, politics, and society that transcends the traditional divide between conservatism and liberalism. She asks what is good and evil. These concepts are helpful to Christian workers today because the world has already been working with them and judging itself (and us) by them.

Honestly, differentiating between good and evil above politics has been the Christian perspective since the beginning.^[2]The Bible also warns us against following the crowd^[3] and tells us to speak the truth in love,^[4] not to show partiality,^[5]and to pray for those in power.^[6] Moreover, the Bible gives us a blueprint of how to live as individuals and the necessity to live harmoniously in a community.^[7]

The Human Condition (1958)

This chef-d’oeuvre was taken from a series of lectures at The University of Chicago and later developed at Princeton University. It’s a whirlwind, but stick with it: it’s a true treasure! The Human Condition traces humanity’s philosophical and political development from Antiquity to the mid-twentieth Century. Although there’d be too much to underline in this article, she does discuss the loss of faith and slip into a relativism that brings the West back to the Greek philosophers.

Though she doesn’t use these words, she describes a post-Christian era. She speaks about doubt and the esprit critique,which lead humanity to the point of finding meaning in themselves, their fulfillment, and their hedonistic pleasure.

In her final exhortation, she laments the difficulty of modernity to adequately process under pressure, “No other human capacity is so vulnerable, and it is in fact far easier to act under conditions of tyranny than it is to think.”^[8] This is where Christian leaders can gain from this book. We’ve been called to think about our lives in many Bible passages,^[9] especially in those calling God’s people to return to Him.

Another reference point for all those in ministry is understanding what she describes concerning humanity’s center of truth. She illustrates how Western society is no longer centered on a physical earth-bound reality but on a point somewhere in the heart of our desire. This brings us biblically back to the Book of Judges, where everyone does what’s right in their own eyes. We need to recognize that this worldview (contrary to our view) is not seen as a state of abandoning God, but as the world sees it, no longer needing Him and thus the best way to live. This is our chance to show His reality in our lives and have a patient conversation with them.^[10]

Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil (1963)

This book is easier to read in some ways, but only if you have all the cultural references. It falls somewhere between journalism and philosophy. The story is that she went to Jerusalem for The New Yorker to cover the trial of Adolph Eichmann, a Nazi bureaucrat responsible for the deaths of many in the Holocaust. She chronicled and analyzed the trial from a different perspective than expected and received harsh criticism for her work. Arendt questions if Israel had the right to kidnap Eichmann in a foreign country and bring him to trial and if Jewish leaders had collaborated with the Nazis during the War.

But what she is most remembered for today is the idea of the banality of evil. She describes how unimpressive Eichmann was: middle-aged, balding, a dedicated worker who always followed the rules and took pride in being a good employee. In his own eyes, he wasn’t antisemitic; he did nothing more than obey his hierarchy. Ultimately, he committed horrendous crimes against humanity while sitting at a desk, following orders without thinking about the human cost. It was banality because it was so shockingly normal and yet tremendously evil.^[11]

Christian leaders should know this book because sometimes they work in abusive conditions, either in their day job or even in some ministry situations. Eichmann in Jerusalem provokes us to think about the price of silence,^[12] not in a spirit of constant denunciation but in a sober way. It would call us to seek help or advice and to consider the consequences. The Bible tells us not to accept everything we hear^[13] but also that facts are to be established through the word of two or three witnesses.^[14] This requires Christian leaders to be prayerfully aware and to keep hold of our consciousness.

Embracing Disagreement and Divine Dialogue

Hannah Arendt was a genuinely great writer of our time. We may not agree with everything she wrote, but some of her closest friends didn’t either. In that way, she’s an excellent example of debating, reasoning, and disagreeing while remaining friends.

This reminds me of how God calls His people into dialogue to win them back. Isaiah 1:18 says, ”Come now, and let us reason together,” says the LORD. The Lord invites those who disagree with Him to talk. But if we come to Him, He can show us where we are lacking and how much we need Him. Then we can know the promise: “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall be as wool.”

References

^[1] Hannah Arendt, The Origins of Totalitarianism, 2nd ed. (Meridian Books, 1951), 305-342.
^[2] 1Kings 3:9, John 7:24, Romans 12:2
^[3] Exodus 23:2
^[4] Ephesians 4:15
^[5] James 2:1-13
^[6] 1 Timothy 2:1-2
^[7] 1 Corinthians 12-14, Philippians 2:1-11
^[8] Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition, 2nd ed. (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1998), Kindle 324.
^[9] 2 Chronicles 7:14, Haggai 1:7, Zechariah 1:3, Matthew 4:17
^[10] Matthew 5:14-16
^[11] This book can be consulted in its original format from The New Yorker’s website or the Internet Archive,
^[12] Proverbs 31:9, 1 Peter 3:15-16
^[13] Proverbs 3:5-6, Ephesians 5:6-10, 1 John 4:1
^[14] Matthew 18:16

Biblical prophecy is quite a massive subject. When looking at all the various interpretations floating around in the evangelical world, one can feel a little like a Marvel Comics character voyaging through the multiverse. We in the Calvary Chapel movement have added to the conversation. We’ve followed Pastor Chuck Smith’s pre-millennial, pre-tribulation, dispensational approach made famous in the 1970s with Hal Lindsey’s book, The Late Great Planet Earth. This position has become a key figure in Pastor Chuck’s teaching and books, including Calvary Chapel Distinctives.

Although there’s quite a variety of Dispensational views within Calvary Chapel, we all tend to circle around the idea of the rapture, God’s particular plan for Israel, and the literal thousand-year reign of Jesus Christ.

Having come to the Lord in my twenties after a dramatic conversion experience, I grew up in the faith with Dispensationalism. My first years on the mission field were greatly encouraged through Chuck Smith’s 5000 series, with the constant reminder that the Lord is coming soon and an exhortation to prepare for the rapture. As an avid reader, it didn’t take long before I began to read anything on the subject I could get my hands on.

During this time, I ran into the book Things to Come: A Study in Biblical Eschatology by Dwight Pentecost. This theological textbook draws out the covenantal lines of Dispensationalism while looking at some serious opposing views. This book became an excellent source for me; though some of its terms from the 1960-70s are no longer being used, the theology remains current.

Why I Interviewed Dr. Darrell Bock

In more recent years, another form has grown in popularity in our ranks and is called Progressive Dispensationalism. When I first heard the term, I was intrigued. But what is it? I found it hard to find a good succinct definition. This led me to ask our Content Strategy Director, Aaron Salvato, if I could do an article on the topic to help others who might also be looking for some clues. He suggested I begin with doing a podcast interview with Dr. Darrell Bock from Dallas Theological Seminary.

I followed Aaron’s advice and then emailed Dr. Bock, who responded immediately and positively. He agreed to an interview on The GoodLion Podcast, which Aaron and I have completed!

My first thought was to present the discussion here in an article form, but the more I dug, the more I realized the subject is more book-size, and here at calvarychapel.com, we like to keep our articles to 1000-1500 words. So I’d like to briefly answer the question that set me on this quest and end with a few takeaways, while encouraging our readers to watch or listen to our upcoming podcast.

Editor Note: This audio episode of the GoodLion podcast won’t be available until next season, but as a blessing to our readership at CalvaryChapel.com, we have provided a full video version you can watch by clicking the image link below!

What’s Dispensationalism?

Let’s begin at the beginning. What is Dispensationalism? It’s a movement in biblical theology and eschatology that sees God’s action in the world moving in “dispensations” toward the consummation of all things. What is a dispensation? Here’s how Darrell Bock and Craig Blaising explain it:

“The word dispensation refers to a particular arrangement by which God regulates the way human beings relate to Him. Dispensationalism believes that God has planned a succession of different dispensations throughout history, both past, present, and future. Furthermore, dispensationalists believe that these dispensations are revealed in Scripture, in both biblical history and prophecy.

Understanding these dispensations, these different relationships God has had and will have with humanity is crucial for comprehending the teaching and message of the Bible.”^[1]

Another way to look at dispensationalism is to see it as concerning the various covenants in the Bible. For example, the Covenant with Abraham showed, among other things, God’s choice of a man who, through His blessing, became a Nation (Israel) through which the entire world would be blessed. Later, God covenanted with Israel through Moses introducing the Law, showing them the way to life and the terrible consequences of abandoning Him.

In the same way, God’s Covenant with David showed that He would raise a King from among his sons through which His blessing would flow. Then the New Covenant, expressed in Jeremiah 31, spoke of a coming time when Israel would know God personally and the law would be written on their heart.

Traditional Dispensationalism tends to see the separations in set periods that don’t overlap. This is why they’ve been accused of promoting a dualistic or discontinuous theology, as if to say there are two disconnected peoples of God under two parallel covenants, implying, in the worst cases, that they both lead to heaven.

Progressive Dispensationalism has looked at these problems, among others, and sought to address them.

What Makes Progressive Dispensationalism “Progressive?”

How is it progressive? It’s not a politically progressive movement, nor is it a reference to a sort of progress over and above what came before. Instead, the term “progressive” speaks to how God moves in the revelation of Himself to mankind, crescendoing in the physical return of Jesus to earth and beginning in His thousand-year reign. Rather than adopt a hard stance on separating dispensations, Progressive Dispensationalism moves more fluidly, permitting overlap.

In the words of Dr. Bock, “Progressive Dispensationalism is not so much a movement demanding the choice “either-or” but one that asks why not “both-and”?”

Again, Blaising and Bock state, “Progressive dispensationalists understand the dispensations not simply as different arrangements between God and humankind, but as successive arrangements in the progressive revelation and accomplishment of redemption.”^[2]

This isn’t to say that it adopts an everything-goes mentality. Since its beginning with Bock and Blaising in the late seventies with Dallas Theological Seminary, and then later in the mid-eighties while taking shape on a more national level with theologians like Dr. Gerry Breshears at Western Seminary, it’s been steeped in deep theological reflection. They work within a Historical-Grammatical interpretation but also delve into the Literary-Theological method, all while not ignoring the Canonical-Systematic hermeneutic nor ignoring the Typological-Prophetic reading.

Regarding hermeneutics, they summarise their goals as follows:

“Scripture constructs a worldview. The Word is not just about a random series of events, facts, doctrines, or propositions. Nor is it even a picture of different groups all with equal access to God. There is no relativism in Scripture about how one enters into relationship with God. Rather, the Bible speaks to relationships, whether healthy or crippled, and calls the reader to enter into blessing on God’s terms through Jesus or else be left on the outside, subject to the story’s divine outworking.

“Ultimately, Scripture is about God’s promise realized in Jesus. Everyone is accountable to Him who is our Creator. In the message of Scripture, we find how God created and entered the world of humanity. God tells us just how He did it, does it, and plans to do it. He invites us to join Him in the journey. The task of hermeneutics is to listen carefully and humbly for His voice, so we might walk with Him.”^[3]

Why You Might Want to Listen to the Interview with Dr. Darrell Bock

The questions I’ve tried to answer may lead to more questions, as they did for me. This is why I’ve wanted to quote only one source besides the podcast. Progressive Dispensationalism by Blaising and Bock set the theological foundation of the movement in a well-rounded presentation. Ultimately, it isn’t easy to present succinctly because it requires enough time to consider the points it touches and how it relates to other theological systems. But I’d encourage anyone interested to jump in.

Whether you finish by being convinced or not, you’ll immerse yourself in Scripture through the process, which will reap many spiritual rewards.

My Biggest Takeaways

That quest to know God more and gain insight into His Word is probably one of my biggest takeaways from this excursion. Talking with Dr. Bock and, more recently, with Dr. Breshears, I’ve been encouraged to do the hard theological and exegetical work. It can be tempting to shy away from these subjects, to write them off as squabbles among the intelligentsia that have no importance to the everyday world of the Church.

I’d take issue with that point of view, though I held it in the past.

We’re all theologians; in some ways, even an atheist is a theologian who espouses a vision of God in their belief system, conversations, and daily life. Being a theologian is inescapable as we’ve been created in His image.

The question is, what kind of theologian do we want to be? One characteristic that separates an excellent theologian from others is the question of love. If we love God and seek to know Him more, we’ll grow in humility as our learning becomes a form of worship.

This is what I’ve observed speaking to these and other academic theologians who’ve dedicated their lives not only to know God more but to serve the greater Church by helping us in our walk.

References

^[1] Craig A. Blaising and Darrell L. Bock, Progressive Dispensationalism (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Publishing Group, 1993), Kindle Edition 14.
^[2] Blaising and Bock, Progressive Dispensationalism, 48.
^[3] Blaising and Bock, Progressive Dispensationalism, 105.

Calling and desire, though close in emotional intensity, aren’t the same thing. I’ve known people come to serve with all the proper credentials, with holy fire, yet something was missing. Others have come to help us with a weight of family or church expectations that ultimately burnt them out. Maybe their place, in the end, was similar to the one they sought, but I fear we can do a disservice to them if we force them into a role they weren’t made for. I give them much credit for braving the call and even recognizing when it was time to move on. God honors those who walk by faith, but sadly there’ve been many casualties. Such was the case of Vincent van Gogh serving as an evangelist in the Borinage, Belgium.

In November 1878, Vincent arrived in the Borinage excited to begin his newest attempt at serving the Lord. By now, he’d known several setbacks in his professional life and was feeling the pressure from his family to find a suitable job. The ministry felt natural to him; his father and grandfather were pastors. He also served as a pastoral assistant in Isleworth, England. His few months in the London area began with great enjoyment.^[1] In November 1876, he gave his first sermon based on Psalm 119. Vincent was so happy with it that he sent a copy to his family. His thoughts, although unorganized, are doctrinally correct. His points are brilliantly illustrated in a way that would become famous in his paintings. But something troubled Vincent. A few months later, he resigned. Was it the charge of collecting money from low-income families or the rejection of his first and unrequited love? We may not know for sure, but the specter of depression clouded his mind when he left Isleworth.

Seeking Relief and Looking for His Place

Mental illness (as we would call it today) plagued the van Gogh family. Although his father and uncles had learned to live with depression by soldiering on, Vincent was more sensitive to its paralyzing effects. A good deal should be written about this struggle, especially about people in the ministry; in Vincent’s time, getting help could bring shame.^[2]Though he spent time in a few hospitals, he struggled under the weight of his thoughts and guilt at not measuring up to the expectations both he and others had placed on his life. He sought relief through hard work, letters, long walks in nature, and art. But the Bible was his most present comforter throughout his years.

Vincent also fought to find his place in life. Several of his family were art collectors. His thriving art broker uncle gave his nephew his first job. This took him from Paris to London, where he found purpose in art and isolation in professional setbacks. Vincent was stubborn. He put his entire being into whatever he loved doing. Yet, when a conflict would come, Vincent was capable of change so radical that he finished by loathing what he first adored. This could also be seen in the year he prepared to enter seminary. Though he could translate his Flemish Bible into French, English, and German, he couldn’t be bothered to learn Latin or Greek. His observation astounded his teachers, but his refusal to follow lesson plans and fierce anger kept him from advancing. But still, he desperately wanted to serve the Lord.^[3]

Ahead of His Time, Thus Silenced

Arriving as an evangelist in Belgium was a new beginning for the young van Gogh. Inspired by reading Spurgeon’s Gems, he worked tirelessly on his messages and visiting families. He slowly assimilated into the miner’s culture. That day, the evangelist was expected to bring the people up to the bourgeois standards of the middle class, to elevate their station as the Gospel elevated their souls. Vincent’s ideas were ahead of his time. He thought it best to assimilate into the culture and to become a bridge of contextualization. Like Maurice Denis, a French apologist and artist, wrote a few years after Vincent died, “What are we looking for in religion? Neither morality, nor moving music, nor that mystery that flatters our intimate aspirations. No, we’re looking for the truth.”^[4] Vincent wanted to share the truth with a suffering community by embodying it and showing them the truth in love.

One day, Vincent’s descent into their world became life-changing; he accompanied a miner 700 meters below the earth. He broke. He’d never experienced human suffering at that level before. At the time, the horror of the Northern European mines denounced by Dickens and Zola was unknown and often glamourized to the general public, who lived far from their reality. Vincent became one of the first observers, and in his utter shock at the dehumanizing conditions, he learned he could express himself to his brother and superiors better in his drawing than through words. They were moved, despite the crude sketches made before his artistic training. His heart spoke through his pencil. Christian philosopher Calvin Seerveld put it this way: “No cruel mistral wind ever tortured the clouds and grains field of the southern Provence in France as Van Gogh’s madly sentient eye and hand put them on canvas, but no one can quibble why this brush stroke is here and not there, for the works have an impressive metaphorical consistency.”^[5] At this moment, his nascent calling was revealed through a trembling hand trying to express the injustice he’d discovered.

As time passed, a springtime mining accident took the lives of 121 miners. Crushed by the tragedy, he poured himself into his work, eating next to nothing and giving away his clothes to the point where he was forced to make a shirt out of paper. His hosts began to worry that children would mock him in the street, and word got out to his mission that he looked homeless. Eventually, he would be let go and quarrel with his brother resulting in a year of silence between them. He left the Borinage feeling rejected by his church and alienated from his family but finally walked toward his true calling. He devoted his life to expressing, witnessing, and preaching through art. Though his departure was mixed with sorrow and hope, his life would be prematurely snuffed out ten years later.^[6]

Ultimately, Speaking through His Paintbrush

In the years that followed, he transformed into the artist we know. His Scripture references are fewer, he begins writing to his brother in French, and he becomes to the artistic world what he sought to do with his mission to the miners. The weight of his family’s disapproval was inescapable; he never shook the guilt of relying on his brother Theo for living expenses while waiting to sell his paintings. And yet his brush spoke. Artist Makoto Fujimura wrote, “Time spent in consideration of Vincent’s famous Starry Night can become a journey into (his) heart … The painting is set in Arles, France. Notice that at the very center of the painting is a white Dutch Reformed church … The church is the only building in the painting that is completely dark. Herein lies Vincent’s message, particular to the reality of being a border-stalker: the Spirit has left the church—at least the building—but is active in nature.”^[7] If only Vincent had a brother in the faith to walk with him through the valleys of artistic wandering. What paintings might we have today that move us like Starry Night?

Vincent’s story is one of loss for the Church. But it’s also one of hope if taken with an eye open to those around us. There are many Vincents in the Church looking for their place. Although we may not have recognized them initially, been frustrated because they just don’t fit the mold, or given them the patience or help they needed, it’s not too late.

I’m reminded of a description of Jesus that I think Vincent would’ve painted one day if given a chance. Isaiah 42:3 “A bruised reed He will not break, and smoking flax He will not quench; He will bring forth justice for truth.” This comes from the Servant passages. In it, we prophetically see the heart of Jesus, even in laying down His life to heal our brokenness. The Lord teaches us to live like Him through the Gospel, helping people while encouraging them to follow Him.

References

^[1] Van Gogh’s letters are translated into English and are available at https://vangoghletters.org/vg/
^[2] Unfortunately, I can’t develop this theme as I’d like, but I’d encourage anyone, whether in ministry or not, who knows the struggle of mental illness, not to go it alone. Getting help is wise and courageous. I’d also suggest reading Matt Kottman’s three-part article.
^[3] For most of this biographical part, I heavily leaned into this work:
David Haziot, Van Gogh, Éditions Gallimard, 2007, p. 13-131
^[4] Maurice Denis, Nouvelles Théories sur l’art moderne, sur l’art sacré, 1914-1921, L. Rouart et J. Watelin, Éditeurs, p. 182
^[5] Calvin Seerveld, A Christian Critique of Art and Literature, WIPF & STOCK, 1995, p.46
^[6] Bruno Voutera, Van Gogh au fond de la mine, Éditions La Voix, 2013 p. 3-64
^[7] Makoto Fujimura, Culture Care: Reconnecting with Beauty for Our Common Life, InterVarsity Press. Kindle Edition, p. 74

Last November, I wrote an article about knowing God as a conventional relationship. I developed an idea from John Frame that describes how profound our friendship with the Father is. It’s a living, loving knowledge we experience that grows through time. Even when things are uncertain or anxiety and frustration run as an undercurrent to the current conversation—He promises to walk through it with us. He will see to it. We know our generous God gives us the courage to face the challenges of today. We know this because we know Him, and He sees us. Living consciously under His watchful gaze adds a perspective that deepens our friendship with the Almighty. Not that we look for the quick fix, easy answer that places a Band-Aid and smiles over a heart truly shaken; instead, in reality, we look to His provision.

When it comes to provision, the question isn’t only financial: it’s the condition of the heart. His providence (the fact that He takes care of his Creation, guides it, maintains it, and uses it to accomplish His purposes) enables us to know Him. It would be wrong to claim that God doesn’t see. In His provision (taking care of us), He also walks with us in our troubles, enabling us to walk with others in theirs, as He did with Abraham in Genesis 22.

How Abraham Found the Strength He Needed

The patriarch’s faithfulness in the passage is remarkable. I can’t imagine a father’s stress, confusion, and sadness in such a situation. Moreover, God said: “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love” (v. 2). Abraham obeyed; he got up early (v. 3) and walked for three days following the Lord (v. 4).

The small conversations in the passage reveal the human side of his trial. It’s the theology of everyday life. God called him by name, and Abraham immediately answered, “Here I am” (vv. 1, 11). He listened to the Lord. But I’d go further to say Abraham lived by listening to God. He knew the presence of God, as his shield (Genesis 15.1), as a friend (Isaiah 41:8), as the provider of a new homeland (Hebrews 11:14-15), and as the One who always keeps His promises. The way Abraham spoke to God reminds me of something Dallas Willard wrote:

“The air that our souls need also envelops all of us at all times and on all sides. God is round us in Christ on every hand, with his many-sided and all-sufficient grace. All we need to do is open our hearts.”¹

Abraham’s heart was open, living under God’s kind and watchful eye—experiencing Him in the daily routine, answering Him when the call led him to a place beyond comprehension.

I’m also fascinated by the conversation between Abraham and Isaac (vv. 6-8). Isaac sees everything that happens and questions his father about the apparent lack: Where is the lamb? Isaac was curious, but Abraham’s answer reassures us about God’s providence: “God will provide for himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” (v. 8). He trusts in the One who has provided everything until that moment, hoping in the resurrection (Hebrews 11:19), even while discovering the reality of the trial.

God Sees To It

To return to God’s provision, it’s in verse 8 where we come across the word י ר א ה (Yi-ré-he), which is traditionally transliterated as Jireh. It comes from the Hebrew verb ראה (r’h), which means to “see,”² meaning that God will see for himself or see to it.³

This is why we read in verse 8 that God “provides” a lamb; He saw to it. In other passages, we translate the same verb (י ר א ה or Yi-ré-he) as “appearing” in Exodus 3:16, Leviticus 9:4, and 1 Samuel 3:21.

If, in these passages, (ראה – r’h) means that God appears in one way or another, why would Bible translators put “provide” here? Because literally, that’s what happens in verse 13. Abraham raised his head and saw that God had provided a ram caught by the horns in the bush beside it. However, “see” (ראה) is still nuanced in the text. Interestingly, in their translation of Genesis and Rashi’s commentary, the French rabbinate incorporates the meaning of the verb “to see” in the text.

What’s the relationship between “seeing” and “providing”? The verb to see (ראה) in Genesis 1 reads that God “saw that it was good.” True, this is a description of the work of Creation, but isn’t it a description of His providence at the same time? God created it, saw it, and validated it. All that He made, the laws of science that run through His completed work, testify to His seeing that all His creatures should be well cared for in His creation.

Thus, the link between “see” and “provide” also benefits us. But it’s a subject that also concerns our belonging to Him. For example, in Genesis 16:13, Hagar, mistreated by Sarah and chased away, found herself in the wilderness under God’s loving gaze. He saw. Receiving the consolation of her soul, she said: “You are the God who sees me.” Do we not find, even in her recollection of God, the provision for her life and soul in His benevolent gaze? Esther Lightcap Meek notes:

“We need the face of the Holy, the personal Other—we need it as the decentering and recentering of who we are, to be well, and to know well.”⁴

That means God’s provision is personal and accurate. He sees the situation in which we find ourselves, appears, and provides for our needs in a more profound way than our prayers can adequately express.

Therefore, returning to the link between “seeing” and “providing,” there was no question of God allowing Abraham to sacrifice his son. He provided a ram, and then in 2 Chronicles 3:1, on Mount Moriah, where the scene took place (v. 2), provided what would become the site of the Temple and the perpetual sacrifice. This is where YHWH says, “I will always have my eyes and my heart there” (2 Chronicles 7:16). The place He saw, where He provided, was also where He appeared. To use the reflective verb Jireh, God provided or saw to it himself in Jesus, according to the words of John the Baptist in John 1:29, “Behold, the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” The words reflect a beautiful image of Jesus and the Father. The Father sends the Son, his “beloved, his only” (John 3:16), to become the substitute for all the Isaacs of the world. We’re not far from the model of “Jireh”: God sees, appears, and provides.

How We, Too, Can Find the Strength We Need … and More

That’s why it’s too restrictive to see this passage only in light of our financial or physical needs. I believe that the passage speaks instead of the Person who embodies the providence of God and who is, in reality, all that we need. Of course, we need God to provide for everything in this economy and time of social uncertainties. That isn’t a quick-fix solution but more of a long-term accompanying of His presence and work in our lives. Yes, He taught us to pray for daily bread, and He will provide. But, even more, we need to receive Jesus. He sees us, knows our struggles, and His gaze toward us is full of lovingkindness. Looking back into His strong, comforting eyes in times of silence and biblical meditation will give us the strength we need. It’ll also enable us to enjoy His presence as we wait for Him to see to it.

References

¹ Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy, (New York: Harper Collins Publishers, 1998), 90.
² The “yod” (י) shows us that the verb is conjugated to the “niphal,” which gives it a reflexive or passive tense.
³ John Piper, Providence, (Wheaton: Crossway, 2020), 30-32.
In the first chapter, “What is Divine Providence?”, Piper explains how the English word providence, as used in this passage, came about. First, he begins with the Latin suffix pro (to), and the verb vide (to see). Then he explains the theological rationale for the translation of the word provide: “The answer I suggest is that in the mind of Moses, and other authors of Scripture, God does not simply see as a passive bystander. As God, he is never merely an observer. He is not a passive observer of the world—and not a passive predictor of the future. Wherever God is looking, God is acting. In other words, there is a profound theological reason why God’s providence does not merely mean his seeing, but rather his seeing to.”
⁴ Esther Lightcap Meek, Loving to Know: Introducing Covenant Epistemology, (Eugene: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2011), Kindle 287.

Do you remember the first time you took communion? I remember pretending to close my eyes and secretly watching everyone around me. I had no idea what to do, but I didn’t want anyone else to know!

One of the best stories I’ve heard comes from Ruth Rosen about Moishe, her father and founder of Jews for Jesus. As a new believer, he was excited to hear the church would celebrate the Lord’s Supper the following Sunday. To him, this meant the Passover Seder, a family celebration with a copious meal. When the day came, he got the whole family dressed up and skipped breakfast for what he expected to be a community feast with his new church family. When the communion wafers and juice cups were passed, he didn’t notice. It wasn’t until the end of the service, thinking he’d missed everything, that he discovered they’d already celebrated the Lord’s Supper.¹ This was far from the Passover meals the Rosen family grew up on.

Covenant and Family, Belonging and Celebrating

The crossed cultural cues and Rosen’s humor are familiar to anyone who knows the awkwardness. Communion is often presented as a sweetly solemn time remembering the Lord. It’s the space where Jesus fills the void of our sinfulness and draws us to Himself in His love.² Yet, the spirit of the family that stirred up Rosen’s expectations should also be present.

Another way of looking at it is the idea of covenant. Covenant and family, belonging and celebrating. With this in mind, I want to trace the covenantal lines that bring us to our communion service, hoping that as we take the bread and cup, we might enjoy it more deeply.

What Is a Covenant and Why Is It “Cut”?

An excellent place to begin our quest is Genesis 15:7-21, when the Lord tells Abraham about the Exodus from Egypt. He’s just been accounted righteous, and the Lord affirms His promise to give his descendants the promised land. But when he asks for a sign, the Lord asks him to perform a curious sacrifice. He prepares the animals and cuts them open but doesn’t light them. Waiting for the Lord’s instructions, he was left to fight off the vultures until he eventually fell asleep. The Lord appears to him in a dream and explains that his descendants will become slaves to a foreign nation, but YHWH will deliver them. Suddenly, a fire passes between the prepared sacrifice as the Lord cuts a covenant with Abraham.

Before we move forward, it may be good to ask what a covenant is and why it’s “cut.” This is an important question because the sense of covenant is nothing like what we know today, not even among Christians. This isn’t because our culture is more perverse than the Canaanites’ around 1900 years before Christ. Archeology has discovered standard practices that today are thankfully not just punishable by law but would bring moral outrage to most people.

The word covenant in English comes from the Hebrew word “בְּרִית” (bᵉrît), which essentially means an obligation.³When we speak about the great covenants of the Bible, like the one we’re discussing with Abraham, we should notice that it’s “cut” with a sacrifice; God initiates it, the only one capable of keeping it. Next, it’s relational, even though the two parties aren’t equals. Lastly, its result is a perfect blessing.

The closest examples to a covenant we have today are lacking in one of these ways. If we speak of contract, it’s not necessarily relational. Marriage comes close, but it doesn’t require an animal sacrifice. So, like Moishe Rosen for the first time at the Trinity Baptist communion table, I’m afraid most of us today would be pretty lost in the ancient culture of covenants.

The Feast as a Sign between Israel and God, a Family Event

Let’s look then to the moment prophesied by the Lord. In Exodus 12, we notice more covenantal language as the people finally gear up for the caravan out of Egypt. In 12:14-17, the feast details are laid out as an ordinance for the people. It becomes a sign between Israel and the Lord, celebrating what He’s done. A few verses later, in 12:21-24, we’re given instructions for the evening. They needed to have the blood of a lamb sprinkled on the door to be protected from the horrifying plague about to come to the Egyptians.

This leads us to another set of instructions in 12:40-43, where Moses reminds the reader that the Lord of eternity, who always keeps His promises, led the people out of Egypt on the day it was foretold to Abraham. This feast, therefore, was to be a family event (remember Moishe Rosen), and it was to be a celebration of the greatness of Israel’s covenant-keeping God, YHWH. Notice how the covenant is directly referred to in verse 43 as the prohibition goes out to all those who aren’t circumcised or not part of the covenant. Let’s bring this back to our prior observations. God initiates the feast, a sacrifice is cut, a relationship with God is affirmed, and the result is a true blessing.

Before we get to the Last Supper, we need to make one more stop. In Exodus 24:7-8, we’re now with the people in the desert. They’ve been delivered from their enemies and are camped around the mountain while the Lord gives the law to Moses. The scene with the golden calf has yet to transpire, and the people are still in awe of the wondrous sight of God, the all-consuming fire that lights up the mountain and sky. Moses then builds an altar, sacrifices an offering of peace for the twelve tribes, and sprinkles the people with blood this time.

Moses ties together all that goes before as he shows them the Book of Covenant that he has already read. He says this is the blood of the covenant, and this ends with a feast in the presence of God with Moses, Aaron, and the seventy elders. Before we move on, notice the reoccurring pattern: the Lord’s initiation, sacrifice, relationship, and blessing.

Passover, and Keeping It with Jesus

Finally, we get to the best part concerning the Passover and the keeping of it with Jesus. We can now feel the excitement of a family gathering as Jesus sends His disciples to prepare everything in Matthew 26:17-19. The Lord sits as the head of the family in verses 26-29. We read of the ceremony as if taken from a Haggadah reading from the Seder meal.⁴ Jesus, greater than Moses, goes further than a family patriarch and fulfills all of what Moses was given—this time attributing the blood of the covenant to Himself.

This wasn’t the first time the disciples were confronted with this kind of language. In John 1:36, John the Baptist cries out that Jesus is the Lamb of God, and later, during the Passover season, we read of how Jesus attributes the manna and His blood to a proper fellowship with Him that sinks deeper into a soul than mere eating or drinking (John 6:4, 51). Paul’s covenantal reference in 1 Corinthians 11:23 sums up the entire scene. Taking communion is a covenantal celebration initiated by Jesus, who sacrificed Himself, bringing in everlasting relationship and eternal blessing.

Knowing the Story of the Covenant Impacts How We Take Communion

If it hasn’t already been asked, the question will arise if you’re like me: this is an exciting storyline, but why does it matter? How we take communion is essential; the last part of 1 Corinthians 11 tells us that. But even if we only see the ceremony as purely symbolic, knowing the covenantal aspect should affect how we take communion. For example, knowing this history will allow us to see ourselves as part of something greater. Taking communion is more than just a self-test of how I did this week or a grinding self-examination.

Though we should confess sin, and examine our hearts, if we don’t consider the bigger picture of our more excellent family and victory in Jesus, we become a party of one in a massive feasting hall. We’re like couples who go to Michelin restaurants and spend their time looking at their cell phones rather than into each other’s eyes. Something is lost.

We should look into the eyes of Jesus, who sits at the head of the table, and celebrate as a family.

Remembering the story of the covenant should give us confidence to know what we’ve entered into. Our place is secure in His love, as are my brother and sister’s next to me. We’re part of His assembly; we belong to Him. Perhaps this is the sweetest reason, a reason that should inspire us—with love and amazement for the One who gave His body as our life-giving bread and spilled His blood—and usher us into the communion of the eternal New Covenant.

References

¹ Ruth Rosen, Called to Controversy: The Unlikely Story of Moishe Rosen and the Founding of Jews for Jesus(Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishing, 2012), 70-71.

² Esther Lightcap Meek, Loving to Know: Covenant Epistemology (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2011), Kindle Edition, 272-297.

³ Ernst Jenni, ed., with assistance from Claus Westermann, Theological Lexicon of the Old Testament (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 1997).

⁴ https://www.chabad.org/holidays/passover/pesach_cdo/aid/661624/jewish/English-Haggadah-Text.htm.

In the Protestant West, we’ve come to see church planting as a mainstream activity for Christians. But I wonder. As we enter an area with no church, the idea of a new one sounds a little invasive to some residents. Yet does a lack of invitation mean there isn’t a need? This reminds me of skateboarders, who rarely ask before trying out a perfect terrain. Can we compare church planting to skateboarding? I want to say we can. My adolescence was spent in the suburbs of Seattle, with miles of urban sprawl dotted with a few haunts occupied by skaters. These were the days I discovered I couldn’t find my balance on a board, but it wasn’t until my thirties that I found I was called to plant a church. I still watch in awe those who fearlessly conquer a half-pipe or effortlessly do a kickback before sliding down a handrail on a staircase only to be chased away by an overzealous groundskeeper. And did I mention the music? Certain skate bands are the only appropriate listening material when caught in Paris gridlock traffic. But you might be asking how does it relate to church planting?

Skateboarding in Paris is an art, as is church planting. I’ve always been amazed at how they’ve occupied forbidden and unexpected terrain here. Sure, there’re the appropriate skate parks perfectly manicured, as one would expect in any big city, but aside from a few parents my age teaching their little ones the art of the board, I don’t see many skaters. And I don’t hear their music. Yet, go to a prohibited corner of the Bastille Opera House or the steps of the Palais de Tokyo Modern Art Museum. You’ll see them tearing up the pavement, utterly unconscious to the world around them. They “know a part of the city no one else does,” a rhythm to life out of sync with all that makes Paris famous; their presence is an urban arrhythmia. The same is true of the church planter in most of Europe.

The Rhythm of Skateboarding

The idea of skateboarding as arrhythmia is a notion I borrowed from reading Brian Glenney and Paul O’Connor’s research on the subject published in late 2022.¹ Using Henri Lefebvre’s, Rythmanalysis, they revealed the more subversive qualities of the sport that had existed since its rise to popularity. From a drought in Southern California in the 1970’s when skaters began using empty pools, the same spirit exists in recent times when the sport flourished during the pandemic. They refer to skateboarding as arrhythmia because of its discord with urban life, its counter-culture existence with danger, and its lack of acceptance in the public space. According to Lefebvre, “Everywhere where there is interaction between a place, a time and an expenditure of energy, there is rhythm. Therefore: (a) repetition (of movements, gestures, action, situations, differences); (b) interferences of linear processes and cyclical processes; (c) birth, growth, peak, then decline and end.”² Arrthymia may go as far as sickness and catastrophe, but generally, the meaning given by Glenney and O’Connor about skateboarding is more discordant and subversive. This may surprise some people, but I believe what these philosophers describe, in principle, should apply to church planting and, in the end, be a strong encouragement for planters.

Messengers of Arrhythmia

The church planter generally isn’t looking for a skate-park-type terrain for their work. As they seek the Lord, they look into a location and spend time there. Some research needs to be done, the on-the-field testing that has all the comfort of the rough smack of pavement on your cheek. But enough prayer and openness lead them to a place with just the right feel. The boards come out, the music of a new work fills the silence, and it all begins. The part of a church plant we all dream of, the people that come to hear the Word of God and the lives changed by the Spirit, is the true arrhythmia of the experience (1 Peter 2:9-10).

As church planters, we aren’t generally what the Municipality has been looking for to better their city. That’s why friction and resistance are closer to the rhythm of the post-Christian culture we live in than we hoped for (2 Corinthians 6:4-10). They know their population and plan for the residents’ betterment of their vision, but I haven’t heard of many mayors asking for churches to be planted. Lefebvre describes arrhythmia in the city as like a child crying in the middle of the night, an insomniac, or an accident in a prominent intersection.³ It’s disruptive, although it’s part of the whole living organism of human activity. It has its place, but it’s not necessarily wanted. Often we church planters also feel the pressure of mall cops chasing us away from distracting the “paying customers.” Yet, this is part of our lot as we say, like the Apostle Paul said in Romans 15:20, “thus I make it my ambition to preach the gospel, not where Christ has already been named, lest I build on someone else’s foundation.” By definition, until the Gospel is regularly preached, and even afterward, we are the messengers of arrhythmia.

But even if the City Council hasn’t invited us, we might want to ask if God has commissioned us. Those dangerous words have been grossly misused to defend a particular obstination to understandable concerns about one’s irreverent or un-gospel-like behavior. This is a great tragedy for the city and gospel unity. I’m not talking about itinerant ministers who feel like they have a call and roam the city under no authority. Jesus has built His Church and uses the leaders He has placed as gifts to the whole for furthering His mission (Ephesians 4:11-15). Given the subversive metaphor of skateboard culture, I understand how my writing could be confused, but that’s where I want to press in. Church planting, done rightly, is a process with the deep involvement of a church, prayer, authority, community, formation, and relationship.

The Everlasting Rhythm of Life

Just like any metaphor breaks down, this is the weakness of mine, but I still maintain the reality of arrhythmia. There’s also a prophetic reason for this. An Old Testament prophet spoke for God and denounced the hurt produced by the rhythms of a society that abandoned their God. They called people to return to the Living God of the covenant, just as John the Baptist was “the voice of one crying in the wilderness,” announcing the coming Messiah. Church planters and evangelists are also called to proclaim the Kingdom in spiritually desolate places overflowing with people. This call is prophetic because we call people into the light from which our society fled generations ago; we proclaim Jesus. Nothing is more arrhythmic than calling people to know the Lord and reminding them that He is coming soon. And yet, this is the very activity that will produce a harvest going into eternity. An arrhythmia for this world that is passing and will one day be swallowed by the everlasting rhythm of Life. Perhaps a reminder the next time we feel the smack of or pass by some forgotten place occupied by skaters, an excellent visual encouragement for our work.

References

¹ Brian Glenney and Paul O’Connor, “Skateboarding as Discordant: A Rhythmanalysis of Disaster Leisure,” Sports, Ethics and Philosophy, (Taylor & Francis Online, 2022): https://doi.org/10.1080/17511321.2022.213985

² Glenney and O’Connor, “Skateboarding as Discordant: A Rhythmanalysis of Disaster Leisure,” 2022.

³ Henri Lefebvre, Rhythmanalysis: Space, Time and Everyday Life, trans. by Stuart Elden and Gerald Moore (London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2013), 16.

The power of the spoken word can have effects that outlast physical experiences. A few words of encouragement can help us overcome horrendous trials. But who hasn’t been crippled by words they should never have listened to, words that reaped a harvest of animosity and doubt for years after they were carelessly spoken. What is it about words that they can empower or deform a person simply by being heard? Pierce Taylor Hibbs gives a clue in his book The Speaking Trinity and His Worded World where he discusses how we were made to believe the words we hear. Going back to Creation, Hibbs reminds us that God is faithful and He created all from the power of His spoken Word.^[1] This produces in human beings a natural understanding that there is truth, and it is communicated.

We see an example of this in infancy: A child generally believes their parents until they learn not to. To take it a step further, sin entered the world through words. An evil presence spoke words in the garden of innocence. Words have an impact, and I found this sink into my heart in a new way as I recently read through the Book of Job.

There is so much we could say about Job and spiritual warfare. Satan attacks our man directly, giving us a chilling image of his lust for spreading misery and suffering. Still, these movements are limited to a mere 2 chapters out of 42, leaving most of the rest to dialogue.

The Accuser Accuses Job

One of the more fascinating parts of the Book of Job is the “Staff Meeting” God has in the presence of the “sons of God” (Job 1:6). Many experts, like Tim Mackie or David J. A. Clines, identify these as angels, like in passages such as 1 Kings 22:19-22 and Daniel 7:9-14. During the heavenly council (Job 1:6), Satan opposes God’s claims about Job, accusing Job of serving God out of self-interest (Job 1:9). Who is this member of the “sons of God” who contradicts YHWH? We see in the original language that, unlike most English translations, Satan isn’t a proper name; it’s more of a title. The article “the” precedes the word “Satan,” like in the Evil One (Matt. 5:37), the Enemy (Matt. 13:39), the Devil (Matt. 13:39), etc. It would be like when we have a visitor to Calvary Chapel Paris, no one asks to see the Mike, but they may ask to see the Pastor.

Where do we get the idea that Satan isn’t a name but a title? The word in Hebrew we are referring to is הַשָּׂטָ֖ן (ha-satan), or more literally, “the Satan.” Interestingly enough, the Septuagint version of Job follows the pattern in Greek but with ὁ διάβολος (ho-diabolos) or “the devil.” But that’s not all. Paul also uses the formulation in 2 Corinthians 11:14, “And no wonder, for even Satan (ὁ σατανᾶς – ho-satanas) disguises himself as an angel of light.” Note that the apostle not only uses the Hebrew term transliterated into Greek (rather than “ho-diabolos”) but also keeps the article “ho” or “the,” which does not appear in our English Bibles. We could go larger and notice the same occurrence among other New Testament authors. Mathew uses the term with the article once; Mark, three times; Luke, six times; John, once in his Gospel and seven times in Revelation. The other nine times appear in Paul’s writings.^[3]

If “the Satan” is a title, what does it mean? According to The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament(HALOT), Satan means “adversary or opponent.”^[2] The verb שׂטן (śṭn), which may have given us the name in Hebrew, means to oppose, be hostile to, or accuse. The title “the Satan,” therefore, refers to what he does. The Accuser accuses.

To get the full effect of what I’m saying, let’s look at Zechariah 3:1, where the two words are used. “Then he showed me Joshua the high priest standing before the angel of the LORD, and Satan (הַשָּׂטָ֛ן ha-satan) standing at his right hand to accuse him (לְשִׂטְנֽוֹ le-sitén-o).” It would be like saying the Satan was standing at the right of Joshua to “satanise,” or better yet, the Accuser was accusing him.

Job’s Friends Accuse Job

Returning to Job, all of this comes into focus in a fascinating way as we look at what Job’s friends were doing. In Job 4:7-9, Eliphaz says, “God punishes those who plow iniquity,” referring to Job. He even goes as far as to say in 22:4-18 “You are being punished because you sinned.” That sounds like he’s shaming Job with a bit of adversarial accusation. Bildad doesn’t do much better. In chapter 8:2-7, he says, “Your words are false, if you sought God He would bless you because He doesn’t punish unjustly,” and uses his two other monologues to bring home his point. Then Zophar, in chapter 20, dedicates a whole chapter to made-up accusations and false scenarios of God’s judgment on Job. May I suggest they were satanizing or adversarially accusing Job, possibly without realizing it? God even says they were speaking falsely about Him (Job 42:7).

Even if the Book of Job doesn’t use the verb שׂטן – śṭn (to oppose or to accuse), it does start off talking about “the Satan,” who opposes God, accuses His servant Job, and gratuitously destroys his life. I’m not saying every false accusation is from the devil; an overactive imagination or self-righteousness could just as well develop it. As people, we do not wrestle with “flesh and blood” (Eph. 6:12) as much as we might think, but the spiritual world is all too ready to add my half-baked contribution to their deadly poison. That’s why I read into Eliphaz and company a psychological and spiritual continuation of the same humiliation first inflicted by the Satan. Indeed, all has been taken from Job; even his friends have turned against him. If we consider the entire narrative of the book, it’s not too hard to imagine (and I don’t want to be dogmatic on this but only suggest a pattern) that this inference to Satan’s work of accusation in the mouth of Job’s friends?

The Impact of Accusations

In an especially helpful chapter from his book Understanding Spiritual Warfare, author Sam Storms speaks of the three weapons the devil uses most; accusations (he uses the term “word curses”), shame, and unforgiveness.^[4] Storms explains how these three arms have a way of entering our minds, clouding our hearts with doubt, and in the end, separating us from God. We can also see this in Job’s responses to his friends. Through false accusations, they publicly shame him and lie about things he never did. After every speech, Job defends his integrity against the accusations, but at times, succumbs to despair and finds himself in a dark place (chapters 27-31). We can hope they wanted him to know God’s blessing again, but their words crushed him in a complicit effort borrowed from the Devil’s playbook.

A Better Way

This is where I’d like to go back to the idea of those deadly words that sear the soul and haunt the imagination. I’m horrified thinking about how easy it is for a friend to counsel another yet end up shaming them, or falsely and implicitly accusing them. Having been in the place of the friend as well as the one needing counsel, the warning of complicit spiritual warfare broke my heart. What can one do if they are the friend? I’ve learned to stop myself, listen, cry with my suffering friends, and sit quietly with them. What if we are the ones put on trial? God’s instructions in Job 42:8-9 have a profound lesson for our survival.

In these two verses, we can see the 3-R’s of healed relationships: repentance, restitution, and reconciliation. We see repentance not in their words but in the fact that Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar got the seven bulls for the offering. The offering began restitution, at least of a sullied reputation. But reconciliation came when Job prayed for his friends because God accepted his prayer. Forgiveness isn’t as clean and easy as we might think. We need divine intervention; we need Jesus. Depending on the depth of the wound, we may need quite a bit of prayer and sanctification to see true healing. The critical thing is that Job prayed, which leads me to believe he forgave.

In the end, though we may slip into complicit spiritual warfare, we need not be condemned. There is a way out. There is forgiveness and healing for the soul.

Though not so much in Job, true healing comes from the One who made the blind see and lame walk. The One who gave Himself for sinners and prayed, “Father forgive them. They know not what they do.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

References

^[1] Pierce Taylor Hibbs, The Speaking Trinity and His Worded World: Why Language Is at the Center of Everything(Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2018) 55-58.

^[2] Ludwig Koehler and Walter Baumgartner, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (HALOT), ed. and trans. M.E.J. Richardson (Leiden: Brill, 1994-2000).

^[3] Matthew 12:26; Mark 1:13, 3:26, 4:15; Luke 10:18, 11:18, 13:16, 22:31; Acts 5:3, 26:18; John 13:27; Revelation 2:9, 2:13, 2:24, 3:9, 12:9, 20:2, 20:7.

^[4] Sam Storms, Understanding Spiritual Warfare: A Comprehensive Guide (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Reflective, 2021).

“Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth, peace to men on whom God’s favor rests.” (Luke 2:14).

There is still quite a bit of mystery in this well-known Christmas passage. Studying it brought me back to a funny incident when one of my children asked me a long time ago: “Daddy is it true? Is it true, like it says in the song, ‘God is bigger than Frankenstein?’” I remember being stunned by the question. Of course, God is bigger and greater. But what song? As it turned out, the song was “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,” and the line in question was “God and sinners reconciled.”

Decades later, I still laugh when I think about that because it’s so human and such a mirror to my own misconceptions. Sometimes we hear or read Scripture as we listen to a song. The melody fills our minds, and our first impressions are the joy of what strikes the imagination. Then we think through what we’ve heard. But if we haven’t gone deep enough, if we haven’t seized the meaning, we might be wondering about imaginary menaces, when God would rather speak to us about His salvation. This is where I’d like to take things back and concentrate on this one verse.

Glory to God

Glory to God in the highest is the perfect place to start about Christ coming to earth. The angels are operating in a top-down pattern as they proclaim the greatness of God and His plan for salvation. Glory to God in the highest place, not necessarily referring to geography though using a spacial term. God is enthroned in a place that can’t be accessed by any mortal. No one has seen His face and lived, as YHWH told Moses. He is above all and yet perfectly close. God is Spirit and holds all things together. All glory, honor, and praise rightfully belong to Him for all eternity for who He is. Before He does anything, He is perfection. His greatness, thoughts, love, goodness, and power are truly beyond comprehension; thus, He in Himself is perfectly worthy that all should fall down and worship Him.

But this song speaks of impenetrable wonders still, glory to God the Son who though knowing true divinity, took upon Himself humanity and allowed Himself the humility of being born. He, through whom all things were created, had to be cleaned of blood and the placenta just like any other baby, and have the umbilical cord cut that once was necessary for His survival in utero. Glory to God, for as the Nicene Creed states, Christ, “Who, for us men and for our salvation, Came down from heaven, And was incarnate by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin Mary, And was made man…”

Grace from God

The worship song continues with a blessing from the incarnation: Peace on earth to those on whom His favor rests. The coming of Messiah was seen, and still is among some branches of Judaism, as the coming of a period of world peace. Isaiah offers some of the most remarkable verses about this: Isaiah 2:1-4; 9:6; 26:3; 40:1-5, etc. By the mere fact of His presence, as implied by the angels who sing at the Saviour’s birth, a moment when He is physically incapable of uttering an intelligible word or acting in righteousness, peace has come. But how? At the time, wars, oppression, violence, and all types of injustice were being committed—probably even in the city of Bethlehem—that very night.

Where was the peace? The song tells us. The peace flows from Heaven to those on whom God’s favor rests. For a long time, scholars have debated about the word “favor” and how to translate it. The oldest texts supported by the Vulgate have it in the genitive case which gives the sense God’s favor rests on those in whom the goodwill is found. Meaning, they are good people. We aren’t surprised to find the Reformers, notably Calvin, disputing this interpretation by claiming favor should rather be in the nominative case. This emphasizes a good God that graces non-deserving people. This is the reading most accepted today based on findings in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Greek New Testament scholar and translator, Bruce M. Metzger explained why he supports this view:

“The meaning seems to be not that divine peace can be bestowed only where human goodwill is already present, but at the birth of the Saviour God’s peace rests on those whom he has chosen in accord his good pleasure.”^[1]

This means that the angel’s song speaks of God’s grace. It’s those He chose out of this world that are to know His peace. Yes, they responded to His call, but their peace flows from His throne. Their peace was at that very moment breathing oxygen in through his lungs for the first time. He would wait some thirty human years before He would accomplish all justice and become the peace of atonement through His death on the cross. Christ is our peace, taking away all enmity with God the Father, and allowing us to be adopted as sons and daughters—those on whom His favor rests.

Human Power Struggles vs. Our Reason for Living

With this in mind, when we read our social media feed, or hear of the various debates on podcasts or news sources, why is there a lack of peace upon those on whom God’s favor rests? That is an ominous question that must be addressed in all humility. We aren’t just speaking about our Lord, but His Bride. So, what I write is not a critique, but rather admitting fault.

I believe the beginning of the answer lies in the angel’s song. With close reading, we can see that the subjects are glory and peace, rather than God and Man. I believe therein lies the first response. I can say that often in disputes (lack of peace) there is a struggle for power (glory). Do those in whom rests God’s favor, lack peace for the pursuit of power, honor, or reputation (all possible translations for our word “glory”)? I can say that’s been the case in my life. I can’t say that all conflict comes from a displaced sense of glory or struggle for power, but I’ve always been amazed by how James 3 puts it, “But if you have bitter envy and self-seeking in your hearts, do not boast and lie against the truth. This wisdom does not descend from above, but is earthly, sensual, demonic.” (Jas 3:14-15).
Maybe this is why good people slander each other, or as my friend Aaron Salvato said in the Workshop on Social Media,^[2] “everyone is out to defend their ‘digital honor.’” I find that somewhere along the way we can even become convinced we were doing the Lord’s work in denouncing sin or evil. We can have this feeling of righteous certainty even though what we said might have been truly out of context, not matching the complexity of the given situation. Maybe in the end, as Salvato observes, we are just protecting our self-interest or confusing our message with what is truly being said. “Yes, of course, God is bigger than Frankenstein,” we might say, but do we say it in a way that respects the person asking the question? In the end, have we responded to the depth of their question?

Emulating the Humble Shepherds

What the angels teach us is essential and brings us back to the place of the humble shepherds who were first amazed by the chorus. Glory to God in the highest. It resounds the heavenly disinterest in human power struggles and brings us back to our reason for living. Christ the Saviour was born; through Him, we can know peace with God. Peace then on earth, awaiting the Prince of Peace’s return in glory.

References

^[1] Bruce M. Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament; a Companion Volume to the United Bible Societies’ Greek New Testament (2nd Ed.). Hendrickson Pub, 2006.

^[2] Aaron Salvato, The Way of the Peacemaker, https://vimeo.com/569172158/20490f81b8
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