The Waking Dreamer: Theodicy

Showing posts with label Theodicy. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 13, 2026

Doing Good

1 Peter 2:13-25[1]

Many of us know the Scripture verse that says, “Vengeance is mine, says the Lord” (Rom 12:19). But I would say that we can be obsessed with taking our own vengeance. In some segments of our society, “getting even” is just what you do. If you doubt that revenge is something that infects our culture, I would challenge you to take a look at how many of the most popular movies are based on the premise of someone taking revenge. It’s always justified, of course, but it’s still revenge. And do we enjoy watching those movies because we like to see the “bad guys” get what’s coming to them at the hands of the “good guys” who’ve been wronged. Somehow it reinforces our ideas about the way life “ought” to be.

But life doesn’t always work the way it “ought” to. There are all kinds of ways in which we can find ourselves wronged. More than that, in our violent world, there is no shortage of harm that gets inflicted on people who don’t deserve it. But revenge never solves anything. Those movies we like to watch always end with the one who is wronged walking away from vengeance that’s completed. And that’s the end of the story. All’s right with the world again, supposedly. But what they don’t show is what happens in real life. Revenge, especially when it involves violence, only breeds more violence. Revenge only leads to more revenge. As many have said it, “An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind”!

In our Scripture lesson for today, Peter calls believers to “follow Christ” by enduring the wrongful suffering they may have to face in the same way that Jesus did. Peter calls them to entrust their lives to God’s care. He says it this way: “For God called you to do good, even if it means suffering, just as Christ suffered for you. He is your example, and you must follow in his steps” (1 Pet 1:21, NLT). And Peter illustrates what that looks like, especially when someone does you wrong, by the way Jesus responded when he was wronged. He says that Jesus “did not retaliate when he was insulted, nor threaten revenge when he suffered. He left his case in the hands of God, who always judges fairly” (1 Pet 1:22, NLT).

Now, there are some other things Peter says in this Scripture lesson that may sound confusing to us. He talks about submitting to “human authority” in a way that may not work for us. We know that we’re all responsible to obey the rule of law, but in a Democracy we all have the privilege and the responsibility of voicing our disagreement with the authorities when their actions seem unjust. Perhaps more troubling is the way Peter talks about slaves obeying their masters even if those masters are “cruel,” even if they’re beaten by their masters! I would say that we believe it’s never acceptable for anyone to undergo mistreatment for any reason. And we certainly don’t believe people should be “beaten for doing wrong.” So some of Peter’s language may sound confusing, if not offensive.

What we have to remember is that there really was no such thing as “human rights” in those days. Those first Christians lived in an empire, not a democracy. They were subject to the “powers that be”, and those powers exercised their rule absolutely and with violence. The believers Peter was addressing really had no choice but to submit to those who held power over them. That applies even and especially to those who were slaves. Slavery was a long-established feature of the ancient world. Many have wondered why Jesus and the early Christian leaders like Peter didn’t do more to overturn slavery. But we have to remember that the church was a fledgling movement on the margins of society. Their power to effect that kind of social change was limited.

Rather than risk the violence that would be the inevitable response of any empire to those who resisted, apostles like Peter encouraged Christians to endure whatever mistreatment they had to face with patience, looking to Jesus’ example. That brings us back to our focal verse for today: “God called you to do good, even if it means suffering, just as Christ suffered for you. He is your example, and you must follow in his steps” (1 Pet 2:21, NLT). And Peter specifically refers to the example Jesus set by dying for us on the cross! When Jesus bore that undeserved suffering, he did it because that’s the way God brings wholeness and new life to this world. And so the cross was not just Jesus’ path; it’s the path that he marked out for all of us. When we respond to the wrongs and hardships of our lives with patience, our suffering “joins with and continues the sufferings of Christ” (Col 1:24). Our willingness to follow Jesus’ example and suffer patiently without taking revenge contributes to the healing work God is doing in the whole world to this day!

But equally, how we respond when someone provokes us or attacks us unjustly also shapes who we are. When we take revenge on others in any form, the bitterness that drives that act takes root in our lives. Taking revenge by attacking someone verbally is especially challenging. Especially when we’re talking about others behind their backs. In all too many cases, we can do it and get away with it without any apparent consequences. But when we give in to the impulse to take revenge in that way, we’re not only harming the one we’re attacking. We’re also harming those who hear and ourselves as well. That’s because we’re reinforcing the pattern of getting even as a habit, both in our lives and in the lives of those who hear us. It just makes revenge and bitterness take root more deeply in our lives. And we’re all more likely to continue taking revenge in that way.

But our Scripture lesson calls us to a different way. It calls us to follow Jesus’ example and to obey God’s call to “do good” and not do harm. When we do that, we not only contribute to the fulfillment of God’s work in the world. We also learn what it means to truly entrust our lives to God’s care. When our lives are in God’s care, we don’t have to take revenge! We show that faith when we learn be grateful for all that we may have to undergo in this life. As one of my heroes in the faith, Henri Nouwen, puts it, when we can “look at everything that has brought us to where we are now and trust that we will soon see in it the guiding hand of a loving God,” then we can find the gift in every experience of our lives.[2]

I know that may sound crazy. How can some of the things we have had to endure ever be a “gift”? It comes back to truly entrusting our lives to Gods’ care, the way Jesus did. When we do that, we can affirm that somehow, someway God takes everything that happens to us and uses it for good in our lives. That can be especially hard when we might believe we’ve been “wronged.” That kind of faith is what gives us the strength to respond to everything in this life, even and especially when we may be wronged in a way we don’t deserve, the way Jesus did. We can not only refrain from taking revenge, which can be so easy and so habitual for us, but maybe we can take a step further and actually learn to forgive as Jesus did. Jesus forgave those who crucified him. That’s a high level of faith. I don’t think we’re going to learn that easily or quickly. But our Scripture lesson calls us to follow Jesus’ example. By entrusting our lives to God’s care we develop the strength to do just that, to “follow in Jesus’ steps” and obey God’s calling to “do good” and not harm in this world.

[1] © Alan Brehm 2026. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 4/26/2026 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Henri J.M. Nouwen, Bread for the Journey: A Daybook of Wisdom and Faith, January 12: "The Spiritual Work of Gratitude."

Wednesday, November 19, 2025

Is Anyone There?

Psalm 121; Luke 18:1-8[1]

There is a question that has haunted the human family since the beginning. If you look at the religious beliefs and practices through the ages, and if you “read between the lines,” I think you’ll find that question. From ancient times we have wondered whether there is a God, and whether that God cares about us at all. I think this question was even at the heart of the earliest religions, when people worshipped many “gods.” The stories they told themselves about their “gods” betray a fundamental anxiety about our place in the world. The “gods” of ancient mythologies aren’t even good people, let alone “gods”! And underneath it all lies the question whether whatever “higher power” there may “out there” be is able to help us at all, and whether that power cares enough about us to do so.

When science and the church taught that the earth was at the very center of the universe, I think it may have been easier to believe in a God who cares for us. Our relative importance in the whole scheme of things was huge, and we felt more confident about our faith in God. But even in those times, there were catastrophes and tragedies that made people ask that question whether God can really do anything to help us, and whether God cares enough to do so. In more recent days, with our scientific perspective on how small the earth is compared to the rest of universe, I think that question has become even more pressing. At least for some people. Given the incomprehensible vastness of the universe, we can easily question whether there is a God, and whether any God there might be could or would pay much attention to us.

Even in a Christian context, this anxiety has been expressed through a centuries-old question: If God is both loving and all-powerful, how can there be evil in the world? The presence of tragedy in our lives suggests that God loves us but he’s not powerful enough to stop these things from happening. Or it suggests that God is powerful enough to stop them, but since he doesn’t he must not be loving. Although many have tried to address this question, I don’t think any of the “answers” really help. Most of them offer some sort of rational explanation. But that doesn’t really do much for the feeling of anxiety that the traumas and tragedies that life can bring. The only answer to the heartbreaks of life is to find a way to trust that God does indeed have the power to help us and does indeed care enough about us to do so.

Our Psalm for today addresses this question. The Psalmsinger looks to the mountains to try to figure out whether there is anyone there to help. The reason for looking to the mountains is because in ancient times people believed that the “gods” lived in the high places of the world. So when the Psalmsinger looks to the mountains and asks himself where he can find help, he’s looking for God. In this case, looking to the mountains reminds the Psalmsinger that “My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth!” (Ps 121:2, NLT). I think at least a part of the meaning here is that God is bigger than any mountain, because God created all the heavens and the earth. The Psalmsinger’s hopes aren’t confined to a so-called a “deity” that lives on a particular mountain. His hope and his help come from the God who made all the heavens and the earth, the whole cosmos and everything in it!

I think there are a couple of linked ideas here that can help us. As powerful as a mountain can appear, God’s power is far greater. I think many of us experience mountains as a display not only of grandeur but also of power. But God’s power is far greater, because God is the creator of all the heavens and the earth. That’s one of the most basic ideas of the Bible. It’s where Genesis begins: God created all the heavens and the earth. And that means whatever you can find in creation or in the whole cosmos that impresses you with its beauty, its grandeur, or its display of power, God’s power is greater. The Psalmsinger reminds himself and us that our faith that the God who created all the heavens and the earth is the God who is our help and our hope means that he most certainly does have the power to help us!

But the other part of the question concerns whether God cares enough to use that power to help us. That’s at least part of the lesson from our Gospel reading for today. In it, Jesus tells a parable about a woman who was a widow, very likely in danger of losing her home because she was at the mercy of a corrupt judge, who had no interest in protecting her. Jesus’s parable tells us that this man doesn’t care about God, and he doesn’t care about people. It seems clear that the only reason he held his position was to enrich himself. But this is no ordinary widow. She persisted relentlessly in demanding that this judge grant her what was rightfully hers, and she kept doing so until she annoyed him! That’s why the traditional title for this passage is “The parable of the importunate widow.” That’s what “importunate” means: demanding what’s rightfully yours and doing until you annoy somebody. That’s what she did. And this corrupt judge confessed, “Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming” (Lk. 18:4-5)!

One point of this parable is the contrast between the unjust judge and the God whom Jesus demonstrates as gracious, loving, and caring. If a godless, inhumane judge will finally give in to a powerless widow’s unceasing requests for justice, how much more will our merciful and loving God “grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night” (Lk 18:7). And I think the answer is that he will most certainly do so! The promise of God’s justice throughout the Bible is that God will make things right, ultimately if not immediately. But perhaps that’s precisely where the problem lies. We have lots of affirmations in the Bible that God cares about us and will take care of us. We have promises that God will set things right. But life doesn’t always confirm those promises. Sometimes, bad things happen to good people. Sometimes bad people do bad things to good people. And when that happens and we cry out to God for help, there are times when when all we can hear is silence. And that experience can leave us wondering whether there’s anyone there. That’s when we come back to the age-old question whether there is a God, and whether that God cares at all about us.

Unfortunately, I’m afraid that at times like those, our perspective can get quite narrow. All we can see is the hardship or tragedy or the loss we’re dealing with. And all we can ask is, “Why?” or “How long?”, stuck in our pain and our fears. But in this parable, I think Jesus wants to help us focus our attention elsewhere. He wants to remind us that we believe in a God who is a loving Father who knows what we need, who wants what is best for us, and who is working constantly for our good. And he does all of this despite our inability to understand how our lives are unfolding. There are simply some questions we may never be able to answer. That’s one of the lessons faith teaches us. It’s okay to ask those questions. We just have understand we may never get an answer.

Sometimes people asked Jesus those kinds of questions. In response, Jesus pointed them to the God whose care we can trust in all the circumstances of our lives. Regardless of what we may have to go through here and now, the promise remains: God has all the power he needs to help us, and because he cares for us he will most definitely do so, if not immediately, then ultimately. We see that promise confirmed most clearly in Jesus. Through his life and his example, through his death and resurrection, we learn that God’s love is stronger than anything. The mountains do indeed remind us that God has the power to help us, but the cross and resurrection show us that he cares enough to use that power to help us. When we wonder whether there’s anyone there, we can remember God’s love never gives up, and never will until God accomplishes all the good he has planned for us all, for the whole human family, and for all creation.

Sunday, March 16, 2025

God is our Refuge

God is Our Refuge

Psalm 91[1]

I’d like to share with you another in my occasional stories of my personal interaction with Scripture. Psalm 91 has been a companion on my journey for almost 45 years. I still remember reading it the first time it made an impression on me. I was a 19-year-old sophomore ministerial student in college. I can still picture in my mind the first time the words of Psalm 91 really sank in for me. I was sitting at my desk in my dorm room, and the words of this Psalm “jumped off the page.” It felt like God was speaking the promises of this Psalm to me personally. The one that stood out was “A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you” (Ps 91:7, NRSV). I found that deeply reassuring as I wrestled with the uncertainties and fears I faced as I was trying to find my way as a young man.

Fast-forward twenty years, and my relationship with the promises of this Psalm became complicated by the disappointments of life. I had lost my marriage, my family, and my career. It was a time when I felt like I was living through my worst nightmare, only it had somehow become real. I wondered, oftentimes out loud (literally) what those promises of protection from harm meant in light of all I had lost. “A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you” seemed an empty promise at best. At worst, I wondered if it offered false hope. In my mind, it felt like all the calamites Psalm 91 promised God’s protection from had come down on me in one fell swoop. I felt (and said out loud in prayer) that God had somehow let down his end of the bargain.

What I know now is that this was a necessary step in my relationship with this Psalm, with the Psalms, and with the Bible as a whole. Simply taking a particular Bible verse as if it were promising that I would not have to endure the hardships of life was not realistic. What I discovered is that the Psalms themselves, and this Psalm in particular, address that very issue. One of the major themes of the Psalms deals with a person who has done everything in their power to live out their faith in God and yet finds themselves in dire straits, suffering loss or grief or pain so great that makes it feel like God has abandoned them. One of the Psalmists actually asks God (out loud) “Why are you sleeping?” (Ps 44:23, GNT). And then, of course, there’s the Psalm Jesus quoted from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Ps 22:1, NRSV). Long before Jesus uttered that cry, it was the prayer of someone who felt like God had let them down.[2]

The Psalms as a whole deal with this troubling question. To be clear, it’s not just the question of “why do bad things happen to good people?” That’s a hard one, but the Psalms wrestle with a different question: “why do bad things happen to people who put their trust wholly and sincerely in God?” At times, the Psalmists lay the blame for these calamites at the feet of the “wicked.” In the Psalms, the “wicked” are not people who have typically been singled as “immoral” or “sinful.” The “wicked” in the Psalms are deemed so because their only value, their only “moral compass” is about gaining power, influence, or wealth. God’s purposes, God’s truths, God’s ways mean nothing to them. And they demonstrate that attitude precisely by taking advantage of the most vulnerable people.[3]

But not all of life’s hardships have a single, clear-cut cause. There are times when those who put their trust wholly and sincerely in God, who are called the “righteous” in the Psalms,[4] simply find themselves in dire straits. In a very real sense, the suffering of those who trust in God is just part of the mystery of life. That’s an essential perspective I had to learn. Despite the language of this Psalm to the contrary, the promise is not that hard times won’t come. The promise is that that the hard times that inevitably come won’t last forever. The “righteous” may “fall,” but they will not “be utterly cast down.” The reason for this is because the Lord “upholds” them him with his hand (Ps 37:24 KJV). Or, as the Good News Translation puts it: “If they fall, they will not stay down, because the Lord will help them up.”[5]

That brings us back to Psalm 91 and the affirmation of faith that “the Lord is my refuge.” One thing we have to keep in mind as we read this Psalm is the human perspective of the Psalms as a whole. We’re used to dealing with Scripture as “the Word of the Lord,” and we sometimes forget that all Scripture also has a human component. That’s particularly on display in the Psalms, because they’re prayer-songs that came from the life experience of the people who lived out their faith in God. Sometimes we find very human hurt and anger expressed in the Psalms. Other times, like in Psalm 91, we find the personal testimony of someone knows the joy of having been delivered by God from suffering. And those testimonies of personal faith were incorporated into the worship of the people as a whole and became a part of the collection of the Psalms. I would say that there are times however, when the psalm-singers may have gotten a bit carried away. That’s understandable. They’re expressing thanks to God for deliverance from suffering and they’re trying to praise God in the highest ways they can. But at times they promise more than God has promised. And throughout the ages, sincere people have staked their faith on the promise of protection from any and all harm that we find particularly in Psalms like this one.[6] When life doesn’t turn out that way, it leaves us wondering what comfort this Psalm actually offers us.

I think we find a clue in Psalm 91 itself. Much of it reflects the Psalm-singer promising God’s protection to other faithful people by using “you”: “a thousand may fall at your side, … but it will not come near you.” And those promises reflect an honest but human perspective on the assurance of God’s protection. But the last couple of verses shift to a declaration of God’s intent with “I”: “I will rescue those who love me.” In order to keep a balanced perspective on what this Psalm promises and what it doesn’t, we have to read the whole Psalm. At the end, when God “speaks,” he says: “I will rescue those who love me. I will protect those who trust in my name. When they call on me, I will answer; I will be with them in trouble. I will rescue and honor them” (Ps 91:14-15, NLT).

The bottom line for our faith is that God doesn’t promise anyone what they will never have to deal with hard times.[7] Notice, when God “speaks” at the end of Psalm 91, he acknowledges that those who trust in him will have times of trouble. But the promise is, “I will be with them in trouble.” That’s what it means to trust in God as our “refuge” in life. Trusting in God as our refuge, as this Psalm calls us to do, is something that takes place in the midst of the hard times we face in life. It means trusting those hard times will not last forever, and in the end God’s love will have the final word: “I will be with them”; “I will protect them”; “I will rescue them.” God is, and always will be, our refuge!

Learning to take what I would consider a balanced perspective to Psalm 91 didn’t happen for me overnight. I still cherish the promise, “A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you.” But it took years of experience to come to a more balanced perspective on what that promise actually means. I had to learn the hard way that it doesn’t mean that God will somehow exempt those who trust him from the hardships of life. I learned that from my experiences, but also from reading this Psalm more carefully, and from reading this Psalm in light of the rest of the Psalms, as well as the witness of Scripture as a whole. What I also learned was that with promises like the ones made in this Psalm, we have to hold our faith in tension with the challenges of life. We may not see God’s promises fulfilled immediately, but the assurance of Scripture is that we will see them ultimately. That may feel like small comfort while we’re struggling, but it is a comfort nevertheless. As we take our journey through Lent this year, we’re going to continue looking at what the Psalms teach us about faith. I hope that it will make the promises in the Psalms, and in the Bible as a whole, make sense in the light of the experiences in life that often contradict them. I hope that it will help us all learn more fully what it means to affirm that God is our refuge.

[2] Another example is Psalm 77:9: “Has God forgotten to be merciful? Has he in anger withheld his compassion?” (NIV). I think it’s important to remember that “merciful” and “compassionate” are two of the essential characteristics in the basic declaration of who God is in the Hebrew Bible, Ex 34:6: “The Lord, the Lord God, compassionate and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in faithfulness and truth” (NASB). Essentially, the Psalmists asks whether God has forgotten to be “God”! Cf. Shirley C. Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, rev. ed, 183: “The Old Testament writers are very realistic about the contradiction between what their life was really like and what they believed about the God who chose and promised to help them. The psalmist expresses it most clearly. Over and over again throughout the Psalms he complains about the distance, silence, absence and hiddenness of God… .”

[3] Cf. Hans-Joachim Krauss, The Theology of the Psalms, 129, the “wicked” is “not only one who denies God in some sense yet to be defined; he is above all a person who has no shame before God or humans when he carries his evil, deceitful, deadly murderous plans into action. … With unshakable confidence he goes his way. He relies on the destructive power of his words and asks in his hubris and sense of superiority, ‘Who is our master?’ (Ps. 12:4).” See further J. Clinton McCann, Jr, “Book of Psalms” in New Interpreters Bible IV:667, where he defines the “wicked” in the Psalms as those “who consider themselves autonomous, which means literally ‘a law unto oneself.’” He continues, “Self-centered, self-directed, and self-ruled, the wicked see no need for dependence upon God or for consideration of others.”

[4] They are also called “the poor” in the Psalms. Cf. Krauss, Theology, 150-57. The “poor” in the Psalms are those who “find comfort and support” in God, and who “rely on Yahweh alone” (ibid., 152). On the “righteous” in the Psalms, see further McCann, “Book of Psalms” NIB IV:667, where he defines “righteousness” or “the righteous” in terms of “fundamental dependence upon God for life and future” which he observes is definition of happiness in the Psalms: “To be happy is to entrust one’s whole self, existence, and future to God.”

[5] This reminds me of St. Paul’s affirmation that “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed” (2 Cor 4:7-8, NIV).

[6] James Luther Mays, Psalms, 297, puts it even more bluntly: “The Psalm itself poses a danger. Because its assurance of security is so comprehensive and confident, it is especially subject to the misuse that is a possibility for all religious claims, that of turning faith into superstition.” He points out that “bits of the text have been worn in amulets that were believed to be a kind of magical protection for those who wore them”! McCann, “Book of Psalms” NIB IV:1048, picks up on this and insists, “We must not use Psalm 91 as a magical guarantee against danger, threat, or difficulty. Rather, this psalm is a reminder to us that nothing ‘will be able to separate us from the love of God’ (Rom 8:39 NRSV).” He continues, “In fact, Jesus’ and Paul’s faithfulness to God and to God’s purposes impelled them into dangerous situations” and he points out that “when Jesus did claim the assurance of the Psalms, it was from the cross” (emphasis original)!

[7] Cf. Mays, Psalms, 298, where he says in response to the misuse of Psalm 91 in the temptation of Jesus that “Real trust does not seek to test God or to prove his faithfulness”! Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 3.3:518: “we must remember that the protection of angels consists in the fact that by their witness to God they keep those committed to them in fellowship with God” (when he says “those committed to them, he clear means those angels [plural!] to whose care individuals may have been entrusted by God). Cf. also John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion I.14.12, p. 171, where he insists that “whatever is said concerning the ministry of angels” the purpose is that “our hope in God may be more firmly established.”

Tuesday, September 17, 2024

Searching for Goodness

Psalm 146[1]

In some ways, it’s easy to see all that is good in this world. We don’t have to look any farther than the freshness of a beautiful morning, or the vibrant colors of a stunning sunset. The world of nature is so full of beauty we have to make an effort not to see the goodness all around us all the time. And then there’s our human family. Yes, relationships can be challenging, but if we direct our attention to what is right about our relationships, it’s not hard to find plenty of people in our lives who are good and kind and loving. You know, the ones who know us, flaws and all, and still treat us with love and respect. You know me well enough that it shouldn’t surprise you that I find children to be some of the most consistently beautiful people in this world. All of that and much, much more leads us to conclude with Louis Armstrong, “and I think to myself, what a wonderful world!”

But there is another side to life in this world, what one contemporary voice calls the “tragic” side of life.[2] Yes, there are a lot of good and kind people in this world, but there are also a lot of hurt people who hurt people. Right now, at this moment, there are perhaps more people in our world who are affected in some way by war than at any other time in history. So much so that it’s hard to accurately estimate just how far the violence of war extends. But perhaps an even more “tragic” side to our experience with this life is that most of us know that we live in a world where “bad things happen to good people.” Whether it comes from other people or simply from “life,” when this happens it can be hard for us to see any goodness in the world at all.

This can pose a serious challenge to our faith. We believe in a God who is loving and all-powerful. But for some of us, the pain and suffering in this world make it difficult if not impossible to believe in such a loving God. Surely a loving God would intervene on behalf of the innocent who suffer, especially the children. Of course, it makes much more sense to say that much of the suffering in this world is caused by people rather than blaming it on God. But we’re still left wondering, in view of all the pain in this world, whether God is either loving or all-powerful. Some would say God is loving but can’t do anything about the suffering in this world. I don’t think that helps very much. Others would take the darker option and conclude that God is neither loving nor good, precisely because he could do something but chooses not to. Either way, we’re left with a crisis of faith. And questioning God’s goodness can leave us wondering if there’s any good in the world at all! That’s a pretty dark place to be.

I’d like to be able to tell you that the Bible gives us a clear answer to this dilemma. But it doesn’t. What it does do is continue to insist that God is both loving and all-powerful. Take, for example, our lesson from the Psalms for today. The Psalmist affirms that God is all-powerful, saying, “joyful are those … whose hope is in the Lord their God. He made heaven and earth, the sea, and everything in them” (Ps 146:5-6, NLT). Throughout the Bible, God’s creation of all the heavens and the earth, along with all that is in both the heavens and the earth, stands as the fundamental witness to God’s power. God alone is the one who had the power to create all the heavens and the earth, and everything in them. That means that God also has the power to “keep every promise forever,” so that we can find joy in life by placing our hope in God. That remains true even in the midst of the confusing mix of good and evil we have to contend with in this world.

I think it’s important here to sort out what God has and has not promised. God has not promised to give us everything we want in life, in the way we want it, when want it. What God promises us is, in a word, justice. That might not sound very appealing. We think of justice in terms of crime and punishment. We think God’s justice is the opposite of God’s mercy.[3] But listen to the promises of our Psalm for today: “He gives justice to the oppressed and food to the hungry. The LORD frees the prisoners. The LORD opens the eyes of the blind. The LORD lifts up those who are weighed down. The LORD loves the godly. The LORD protects the foreigners among us. He cares for the orphans and widows” (Ps 146:7-9, NLT). What God promises is to right the wrongs, to provide for those who have no means to provide for themselves, to show compassion and mercy to those who are the least and the left out and the passed over and the shut out. That’s the kind of justice God promises.

This gives us one way to find goodness in this world. Wherever there is restoration for those who have been wronged, wherever those who suffer want have their needs provided, wherever those who endure oppression find freedom, wherever God cares for the last and the least and the left out, we can see God’s goodness at work in this world, right here and right now. But we have to have the right frame of mind to be able to see these things as the fulfillment of God’s promises and find joy and hope in them. And the frame of mind we need to see God’s goodness all around us is one of generosity, compassion, and mercy. That’s because the essence of the promises that our Scripture lesson says God will keep is generosity, compassion, and mercy. When our mindset is one of selfishness, or stinginess, or criticism, or we’re stuck in fear, anger, or envy, it’s hard for us to even see God’s mercy at work in this world, let alone rejoice in it.

I think Jesus embodies a mindset of generosity, compassion, and mercy. Of course, he was well aware of all the wrongs in the world. And it grieved and even angered him when he saw them. But at the end of the day, Jesus lived with an unwavering confidence in God’s generosity, compassion, and mercy. As a result, he went about extending that generosity, compassion, and mercy to others—even to those who opposed him, even to those who were trying to kill him! That’s what he was doing when he healed a gentile woman’s daughter, even though both of them would have been despised by most of the Jewish people of their day. Or when he cared for a deaf mute, who would have been very easy to overlook and ignore. When we look at people in need with a critical or judgmental mindset, it lets us off of the hook and makes it easier to just walk right past them.

But as our lesson from James puts it, “Mercy overrules judgment” (Jas 2:13, CEB). In our reading from the New Living Translation we heard that verse rendered, “if you have been merciful, God will be merciful when he judges you.” But most other versions translate it more like the Common English Bible: “Mercy overrules judgment.” That’s a principle that relates not only to God’s judgment, but also to our attitude toward being judgmental. “Mercy overrules judgment.” Always! One reason for that is because exercising mercy not only opens our hands so that we share with those in need, but it also opens our eyes to see how God is keeping his promise to show mercy and compassion to us all.[4] I think that’s the key to being able to see what is good in this world, even though a lot of bad things happen. When we learn to see God’s mercy at work in this world, we can also see the good all around us.

[2] Cf. John Caputo, On Religion, 1^st edition, 118-25, where he defines the “tragic sense of life” in terms of the question “Does anyone know or care that we are here?” (118), a question he suggests we must ask “In this world of time and happenstance, of good fortune and bad, of pleasure and pain, of surpassing joys and nightmarish cruelty and unhappiness” (119). In the context of this unavoidable dimension of human life, he defines faith as “faith that there is something that lifts us above the blind force of things, a mind in all this mindlessness” (125). It is faith “That there is something … or someone … who stand by us when we are up against the worst, who stands by others, the least among us” (125), which amounts to saying “yes” to life “for what it is, neither more nor less, without any additions or subtractions” (120).

[3] Marcus Borg, The Heart of Christianity: Rediscovering a Life of Faith, 127: “The opposite of God’s justice is not God’s mercy, but human injustice.” He goes on to define the “passion for justice” on God’s part reflected in the Hebrew Bible as directed toward human social structures that are “politically oppressive,” “economically exploitative,” and “religiously legitimated” (130). The answer to these unjust social structures is the Kingdom of God, which represents “what life would be like on earth if God were king and the rulers of this world were not” (132)!

[4] Cf. Hans Küng, The Christian Challenge: A Shortened Version of ON BEING A CHRISTIAN, 295-97: “man [sic] can accept the identity, value, and meaningfulness of reality and of his own existence in particular only with a ‘basic trust.’ … if man [sic] wants to realize himself at all, if as a person he wants to gain freedom, identity, meaning, happiness, he can do so only absolute trust in him who is able to give him all this.” This basic trust is defined as “trust in God, inspired by faith, as it was made possible by Jesus Christ.”

Tuesday, March 12, 2024

Every Hour I Need You!

Psalm 107:1-22[1]

You may have noticed that we talk a lot about God’s “unfailing love” in our worship. As is the case with other elements of our service that I repeat week after week, that’s an intentional choice on my part. My understanding of God based on the central affirmations of the Bible is that God loves us all with a love that will never let us go. God loves us all, along with the whole human family, with a love that is unconditional, unchanging, and irrevocable. As Archbishop Desmond Tutu puts it (and as I am fond of quoting), “There is nothing you can do to make God love you more. There is nothing you can do to make God love you less.” That’s my understanding of God’s love, but it’s also an understanding that’s based on and informed by almost 50 years of studying the Bible.

A statement like “50 years of studying the Bible” might sound impressive. It might sound like after 50 years of personal, professional, academic, and spiritual study of the Bible, I should have it all down. But I don’t. There are still lots of questions that I can’t answer. There are still questions about God’s unfailing love that I can’t answer. One question that I often struggle with is the fact that the Bible speaks about God’s love in “expansive” language. For example, as I’ve mentioned before, one of my favorite verses is Psalm 36:5, which says that God’s “unfailing love is as vast as the heavens.” The idea is that there is nothing in all of creation that’s beyond the reach of God’s unfailing love. It’s a comforting reminder. But when I think about the vastness of all creation, I can sometimes wonder with the author of Psalm 8, “what are mere mortals that you should think about them” (Ps 8:4, NLT)? How can my problems really matter to a God whose love fills the whole universe?

That tension lies at the heart of what the Bible teaches about God. God is so far beyond us that his love can extend to the vast reaches of the whole universe. But God is also so close to each and every one of us that his love reaches into the everyday details of our lives. Another of my favorite Bible verses says it this way: “I am the high and holy God, who lives forever. I live in a high and holy place, but I also live with people who are humble and repentant, so that I can restore their confidence and hope” (Isa 57:15, GNT). It may be hard for us to understand how God’s love can extend to everything in all the vast universe and also at the same time can relate to the everyday concerns of our lives. But that is precisely what the Bible affirms about who God is and how God loves us.

I think our lesson from Psalm 107 for today addresses this question. The whole Psalm is a reflection on God’s love for people in various real-life situations they may have faced. And the point of it all is that God “is good to us, and his love never fails” (Psalm 107:2, CEV). Just to make sure that the message sinks in, there are several “stanzas” to this Psalm that demonstrate God’s goodness and unfailing love. The Psalmist reminds us that God’s love is such that “To everyone who is thirsty, he gives something to drink; to everyone who is hungry, he gives good things to eat” (Ps. 107:9). God’s love means “He breaks down bronze gates and shatters iron locks” to set free those who are unjustly imprisoned (Ps. 107:16). God in his love can “turn deserts into lakes and scorched land into flowing streams.” (Ps. 107:35). God’s love is such that “When you are suffering and in need, he will come to your rescue” (Ps. 107:41). The idea is that there is no situation in which we may find ourselves that God’s love cannot reach us and restore us.

More than that, this Psalm reminds us that God’s love for us is such that he seeks us out when we’re lost. That seems to be the point of spelling out the various real-life situations in the Psalm. The point is not only that God helps those who turn to him, but rather that God himself actually seeks out those who are in distress. Of course, there’s a balance here as well. God seeks us out, but it’s also up to us to turn to him. There’s a “refrain” that repeats through the Psalm. In each and every challenge, it says, “You were in serious trouble, but you prayed to the LORD, and he rescued you” (Ps. 107:6, 13, 19, 28). No matter where we may find ourselves in this life, we can turn to the Lord and ask him for help. And when we do, what we find is that God is always seeking us out in all the places of distress, shame, and even danger into which we may have wandered or gone astray. This is also what it means when the Psalm affirms that God loves us with a love that never lets us go.

The promise is that no matter where our lives may have taken us, God not only seeks us out, but he restores us to life. Of course, one of the big questions that I can’t answer is what to make of it when we turn to the Lord, and nothing seems to change. We go on being hungry and thirsty, we go on wandering in the wilderness, we go on suffering and there’s no rescue from it. It’s one of the biggest questions with the Bible’s teaching about God’s love, and I don’t think anyone can really answer it. Sometimes we turn to the Lord and call out to him to help us, and all we seem to get in response is silence. But I think it’s important, especially in those times, for us to hear the message of Psalm 107: God is always “good to us” and “his love never fails.” Even and particularly when it seems like God has turned a deaf ear to our cries for help, even and particularly when we feel like God has abandoned us instead of answering our cries for him to help us, we need to remember that God loves us with a love that will never let us go.

Some of you may wonder why I spend so much time preaching on passages like this one from the Hebrew Bible. I know that there’s a tradition of preaching from the Gospel lessons every Sunday in the Presbyterian world. I would answer that question by saying that in my opinion we have to understand the Bible as a whole in order to understand any of its parts. The foundations for the faith that Jesus proclaimed in his life and ministry are found in the Hebrew Bible. Without an understanding of how Jesus viewed God, we can easily turn everything he said into a rigid system that restricts access to God’s love only to those who “live up” to a certain standard. In other words, the very same kind of system for which Jesus challenged the Jewish religious leaders of his day. The point of his challenge was that God’s love is unconditional, unchanging, and irrevocable for everyone, not just for those who “measure up.”

For me, the lesson of this passage is that wherever we may find ourselves in this life, whether in good times or in hard times, the truth about us is that God loves us, always has and always will. And the truth about us is that we can look to God to care for us in any and every hardship we may be facing. When I read this Psalm, I think of that great old hymn, “I need thee every hour.” I think that’s the lesson of this passage for us today: every hour of every day, we all need the Lord. We need the Lord’s love in our lives every hour of every day. We need to know that the Lord is looking out for us, no matter what circumstance in which we may find ourselves. We need to be able to trust that there is nothing we can do to make God love us more, and there’s nothing we can do to make God love us less. And that love isn’t just some nice sentiment. It makes all the difference in our ability to cope with all that we may have to face in our lives. We can face it all knowing that God is always “good to us” and “his love never fails.”

Tuesday, November 05, 2019

God's Care

God’s Care

Luke 18:1-8[1]

There is a question that has haunted the human family since the beginning. We have wondered from ancient times whether there is a God, and whether that God cares at all about us. When science and the church taught that the earth was at the very center of the universe, it might have been a bit easier to believe in a God who cares for us. When we began to finally understand how small the earth is compared to the rest of creation, I think it became more difficult. Even before that, there have always been catastrophes and tragedies that made us question whether there is a God, and whether that God cares at all about us.

It’s a dilemma that has been expressed in the centuries-old question: If God is both loving and all-powerful, how can there be evil in the world? The presence of tragedy in our lives suggests that God loves us but he’s not powerful enough to stop these things from happening. Or it suggests that God is powerful enough to stop them, but since he doesn’t he must not be loving. This question was addressed in the Bible in various ways, most notably the book of Job. It’s a question that allows no rational explanation, because the only answer to the tragedies of life is to find a way to trust that God does indeed care about us.

That’s one aspect of our Gospel lesson for today. In it, Jesus tells a parable that Luke says was meant to encourage us “to pray and not to lose heart” (Lk. 18:1). The parable is about a woman who was a widow, very likely in danger of losing her livelihood because women could not inherit property. This is an important matter because in the Bible widows were to be the objects of special care and were to be protected from their oppressors. Unfortunately, not everyone who was a leader in Israel was motivated by the desire to follow God’s ways of compassion and true justice.

That is in fact the case in this parable. The woman is at the mercy of a corrupt judge, who had no interest in protecting her. According to the Bible, one who served in the role of a judge was to exercise their authority with fairness and compassion in imitation of God’s character. But this man is the opposite of what any judge was supposed to be. He doesn’t care about God, and he doesn’t care about people, either. Apparently, like many in his day, he had acquired this position by “pulling strings” or by bribing someone, or perhaps both. It seems clear that the only reason he was a judge was to enrich himself.

But this is no ordinary widow. She’s called the “importunate” widow in the title that’s traditionally assigned to this parable. That’s a word most of us don’t use, but it means “persistent,” “demanding” “unrelenting,” and even “annoying.” And that’s precisely what she was. She persisted relentlessly in demanding that this judge grant her what was rightfully hers, and she kept doing so until she annoyed him! He confessed, “Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming” (Lk. 18:4-5)! She simply would not give up until he made things right.

At this point Jesus contrasts the unjust judge with the God whom he has taught clearly is gracious, loving, and caring. Jesus asks a question: “will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them?” (Lk. 18:7). Jesus answers his own question: “I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them” (Lk. 18:8). The point of the parable is a contrast: if a godless, inhumane judge will finally give in to a powerless widow’s unceasing requests for justice, how much more will our merciful and loving God “grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night.” God will make things right, ultimately if not immediately.

But that’s precisely wherein lies the rub! We have lots of affirmations in the Bible that God cares about us and will take care of us. We have promises that God will set things right. But life doesn’t always confirm those promises. Sometimes, bad things happen to good people. Sometimes bad people do bad things to good people. And when that happens we can wonder where God is. In fact, in the parable, instead of asking the question “Will he delay long?” some translate that verse as a concession: “even if he delays long”! That might just make more sense in the context. The problem with “praying and not losing heart” is when we do that and it seems like God “delays long,” or perhaps turns a deaf ear altogether! When life comes crashing down around us, we come back to the age-old question whether there is a God, and whether that God cares at all about us.

Unfortunately, I’m afraid that at times like those, our perspective can get quite narrow. All we can see is the hardship or tragedy we’re dealing with. And all we can ask is, “Why?” or, “How long?” stuck in our pain and our fears. But in this parable, I think Jesus wants to help us focus our attention elsewhere. He wants to remind us that we believe in a God who is a loving Father who knows what we need, who wants what is best for us, and who is working constantly for our good. And he does all of this despite our inability to understand our circumstances. There are simply some questions we may never be able to answer. But in this passage, Jesus redirects our questioning. He reminds us that the crucial question is, “when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” In this way, Jesus points us to what really matters: finding the faith to entrust ourselves to God’s care in all the circumstances of our lives.

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Surrounded by Love

Psalm 8; Matthew 28:20[1]

One of the blessings of information technology is that the world has become a much smaller place. We can learn about what is going on in around the country and even around the world almost as soon as it happens. That can be a very good thing. It means that we get to see up close and personal how much of a resemblance we bear to our sisters and brothers in the human family. One of the curses of information technology is that the world has become a much smaller place. That means that we also get to see—up close and personal—all the cruelty and violence and hatred and injustice afflicting the human family. In the face of overwhelming cruelty and violence and injustice, it can seem incredibly naïve to believe that God surrounds us continually with love!

On the surface of things, it would seem that the reality of our world contradicts the message of our Scripture lessons for today. In our reading from the Psalms, we find ourselves confronted with the majesty of the God who created all the heavens and the earth. And the more we understand about just how vast this cosmos really is, the more God’s majesty and power in creation is magnified. Even in the Psalmist’s day, a simple glance at the night sky led him to wonder, “what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?” (Psalm 8:4). And yet, despite the fact that the Psalmist frames his faith in the form of a question, we shouldn’t overlook the affirmation that lies behind it: God is mindful of us all; God does care for us, both deeply and continually.

The Psalmist had good reason to believe this. It was the heart of the essential affirmation of the Hebrew Bible: “I am the Lord God. I am merciful and very patient with my people. I show great love, and I can be trusted” (Exodus 34:6, CEV). It is the revelation God gave to Moses when he asked to see God’s glory. And it echoes like a refrain throughout the Hebrew Scriptures, because it is the truth that serves as the foundation for the faith that God loves us with a love that will never let us go. It may be difficult for us to grasp, but the truth of our Scripture lesson is that we are constantly surrounded by the love of the God who created all things.

In our lesson from Matthew’s Gospel, we see this truth reflected in a little different light. The risen Christ is giving his final instructions to his disciples. And in the midst of it all, he gives them the promise “surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” (Mt. 28:20, Today’s NIV). Jesus promised his disciples that he would always be with them, no matter what. If you look at what happens to them in the course of their lives of service to Christ and his kingdom, we might wonder about that: imprisonments, beatings, shipwrecks, and even martyrdom. But Jesus didn’t promise them that his presence would spare them from opposition in this world. He promised them that he would always be with them.

I guess I would have to say that I would expect the world to look a lot different if we’re to believe that we are always surrounded by God’s love, and that Jesus is always with us. We might think that a world in which we are all constantly and continually surrounded by God’s loving presence should bear a whole lot more evidence of peace and compassion and love! This question has vexed the minds and hearts of believers throughout the centuries. If God is so good and loving, why is there so much evil in the world? And some of the best minds through the ages have diligently sought answers.

But I’m not so sure that the answer is all that complicated. It seems to me that God’s presence in this world is no more complicated than giving and receiving compassion. I would think it stands to reason that the way we experience God’s loving presence is in the small acts by which we share kindness and love with our fellow human beings. And I would say that when we open ourselves to our sisters and brothers all around us, we find that there is actually a great deal of love in the world—even in the midst of suffering and injustice. Precisely in the midst of suffering and injustice.

I heard an interview several years ago with Sarah Shourd, one of a group of American hikers who were arrested and imprisoned in Iran, accused of spying for the U. S.[2] At first, she was alone, and she didn’t have any contact with anyone outside her cell. During that time she said that all she did was cry and beat at the walls. What sustained her through her ordeal was the compassion of Iranian women who were her fellow prisoners. When they heard Sarah crying, they would sing songs to her in English to comfort her. In the depths of Sarah’s despair, they would cry out to her in English, “We love you Sarah!” There she was, surrounded by some of the worst human injustice and cruelty, and in the midst of all that suffering, the voice of compassion came to her, “we love you Sarah!”

I think for most of us, the reality of our world makes us tend to isolate ourselves from those around us. We stay safely detached from everything and everyone in our world, walking around with earbuds, comfortable in our cars, withdrawing to our homes to engage with virtual reality over one kind of screen or another. And it’s no wonder we look at our world and wonder, “Where is God?” On the other hand, when we open ourselves to those who are around us and allow ourselves to experience their suffering and share compassion and kindness with them, then we experience God’s loving presence in our own lives. That’s when we discover the truth of the promise that, no matter what may come, we are always surrounded by God’s love.

[2] Sarah Montague, Interview with Sarah Shourd, “Hardtalk,” June 10, 2011; accessed at http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/hardtalk/9508967.stm

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

God of Wonders

Psalm 77[1]

Every Sunday we gather to rehearse the great stories of our faith. The stories of Abraham, Joseph, Daniel, Jesus, and Paul are stories that inspire our faith. We rehearse these stories to strengthen and encourage our faith. We do it to build up our own faith, and to encourage each other to continue to hold firmly to the faith. We also rehearse them because we hope and trust that the story of faith is one that is still being written as God continues to work in our lives. But there are times when life just flatly contradicts all that we believe and hope for. We go through experiences so difficult, so painful, that we find it a challenge to even recall those stories, let alone believe them. These are the times in our lives when we go through what can be a make-or-break crisis of faith.

In our Psalm for today, it would seem that the psalmist was living through an experience like that. The opening verses are haunting in the depth of anguish they reflect. The psalmist “cries aloud” to God,” seeking God by “stretching out his hand” to God during the night. And yet, the end result is that “my soul refuses to be comforted. I think of God, and I moan; I meditate, and my spirit faints.” (Ps. 77:2-3). The psalmist has poured out his heart to God in prayer and instead of finding comfort, he says “I am so troubled that I cannot speak” (Ps. 77:4). I don’t know about you, but that’s not the outcome I envision when I pour out my heart in prayer to God![2]

It would seem that the problem that occupies the psalmist is that God’s people have been sent into exile.[3] They were living under the control of the Babylonians, and their hope for restoration was fading. It would seem that the problem was they had held out their hands to God in prayer day after day and night after night, and the response had been silence. It was a silence so deep and so troubling that it left them without words to pray. All they could do was wonder what had happened.

The words that give voice to their questions are troubling, if you pay attention and take them seriously. The Psalmist asks, “Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable? Has his steadfast love ceased forever? Are his promises at an end for all time? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” (Ps. 77:7-9). These questions are not posed lightly; the terms represent the essential character of God as revealed in the Bible: favor, steadfast love, promise, grace, and compassion.[4] The psalmist summarizes his dilemma when he says “What hurts me most is this - that God is no longer powerful” (Ps. 77:10, TEV). I like the way The Message puts it: “Just my luck, … The High God goes out of business just the moment I need him.”

If you run the race of faith long enough, you are likely to have an experience like this. The truth is that life is hard and can in fact be tragic.[5] And when we have experiences that are so painful they call into question the very character of God, it can feel like we’ve “hit the wall.” Unfortunately, many who “hit the wall” in the race of faith simply give up. I don’t mean that as a put-down, because this kind of experience can crush the best of us. But faith that runs deep enough simply will not let go. And so the psalmist turns from his own attempts to understand why God has apparently turned his back. Instead, he rehearses the great stories of faith again.

The story that he uses is one of the fundamental stories of our faith: the Exodus. It is the original story of God’s saving love. This story inspires the Psalmist to declare: “Your way, O God, is holy. What god is so great as our God? You are the God who works wonders” (Ps. 77:13-14). And yet, what the psalmist realizes is that there is a mystery to God’s way with us. While he reminds himself that God is the God who works wonders, he also recognizes that God is essentially “holy.” That word is loaded with an incredible amount of meaning. But in this context, the psalmist seems to refer to the fact that God’s ways are beyond our ways.[6] He makes a unique observation about the Exodus that applies to the way God works “wonders.” He says, “Your way was through the sea, …; yet your footprints were unseen” (Ps. 77:19). I think that it dawned on him that even when God is working wonders in our lives, we very likely will not even be aware of it.[7]

We all have stories of our own faith pilgrimage that we can rehearse, and that’s one of the reasons why we gather together. We not only rehearse the great stories of our faith, we also share our own stories. Nevertheless, for many if not all of us, there may come a time when the stories all seem to lose their meaning. We may run into hardships that make it seem that God has changed and “gone out of business.” No simplistic clichés will comfort us in those times. When that happens, we are faced with a decision: do we give up on faith, or to we keep running the race? We may have to run in silence; we may have to run alone; we may have to run without any support. At least as far as we can tell.

But as we do, we can remember that those who experienced the original stories of our faith very likely went through the same challenges. In fact, I would say that in the midst of those stories, the main characters went through their own crisis of faith very much like ours. What they discovered, and what kept them going, was the confidence that God does not change, God does not abandon us. They discovered that while God may not leave any footprints, God is still the one who works wonders in our lives.[8] The story of our faith is still being written, and through it all, God remains the God of wonders.[9]

[2] Cf. J. Clinton McCann, Jr., “The Book of Psalms,” New Interpreters Bible IV: 983: “It is as if the psalmist has become so discouraged that prayer has become impossible.” He also says (ibid.), “The psalmists elsewhere affirm that those who seek God will be answered and satisfied (see Pss 9:10; 22:26; 34:4, 10), but the constant seeking in Psalm 77 (see ‘day’ and ‘night’), including unceasing prayer, has led only to the conclusion that no comfort is possible.”

[3] Scholars cannot be certain that this Psalm comes from the time of the exile, but it very likely comes from that time, or the time after the exile, when those who had returned to their home found it in ruins and found that the “restoration” they had hoped for fell far short of their expectations.

[4] Cf. McCann, “Psalms,” NIB IV:983-84, where he says that the psalmist voices “agonizing questions that strike at the very heart of the biblical faith” because the very wording “questions God’s fundamental character.” Cf. also James L. Mays, Psalms, 251: “The psalmist puts in words the awful reality that God’s way with his people has changed and raises the awful question whether that means God has changed.”

[5] Cf. John Caputo, On Religion, 124-25, where he insists that faith always takes place against the backdrop of the evil and suffering and tragedy in life. He says (p. 125), “Faith is faith that there is something that lifts us above the blind force of things, a mind in all this mindlessness. That there is … someone, …, who stands by us when we are up against the worst, who stands by others, by the least among us.”

[6] Cf. Mays, Psalms, 252: “The LORD’s way is ‘in holiness.’ Holiness is the basic attribute of deity; it is all that contrasts with and transcends the human, the marvelous, the mysterious, the incomprehensible.” Cf. H.-J. Kraus, Psalms 60-150, 116: “He himself, Yahweh, is the Holy One …, the ‘wholly Other.’ His salvific deeds prove his incomparability….”

[7] Cf. McCann, “Psalms,” NIB IV:984: “What the psalmist apparently realizes in the process of recalling the exodus in the light of the experience recounted in vv. 1-10 is that God’s way is not always clearly visible or comprehensible in terms of human ways (see Isa 55:8-9).” Cf. Kraus, Psalms 60-150, 117: “Being near ‘without footprints’ (v. 19b)—without visible proofs of his coming—that is God’s way of dealing with his people.”

[8] Cf. McCann, “Psalms,” NIB IV:985: “In every age, the people of God are called to proclaim and to embody the reign of God in the midst of circumstances that make it appear that God does not reign.”

[9] Cf. Mays, Psalms, 254: “The recital of salvation history is always relevant because salvation history is not yet over.”

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Our Hope and Our Help

Our Hope and our Help

Psalm 146[1]

Last week we discussed the fact that the Psalmist calls us all to find joy in the promise that the God who reigns over all things will one day right every wrong, heal all that is broken, and wipe away every tear. It is the very foundation of the hope that we cherish: the promise that God will be faithful to us no matter what. But, unfortunately, when you look at the way life actually works, it can sometimes be hard to believe that our hope does us any good. Those who have no lack of faith in God often suffer in ways that seem incredibly unfair. If we’re honest with ourselves, we have to wonder about the promise that God will set things right.

I think that may be one of the great challenges to our faith. When the suffering of this world seems so unjust, the question whether our hope in God does us any good has to come up, whether we want to acknowledge it or not. For many of us, “natural” tragedies like tornadoes, hurricanes, and floods provoke us to ask this question. There’s a separate subject in the study of religion for it: it’s called “Theodicy,” which means “justifying God.” The basic problem it tries to explain is this: if God is both loving and all-powerful, then the massive suffering we see in our world should never happen.[2] So some conclude that God must be all-powerful but not loving.[3] Others conclude that God must be loving but not all-powerful.[4] Either way, God may be our hope, but he’s not much help.

Our lesson from the Psalms for today addresses this question by insisting that God is indeed both all-powerful and loving. The psalmist begins by affirming that God is all-powerful. And his evidence for this is the world around us. God is the one who “made heaven and earth, the sea and all that is in them” (Ps. 146:6).[5] Already in that day, there was a sense that the created order is amazingly vast. And yet in our day we know so much more about how vast creation is. A cubic foot of soil can be a vast microcosm of life, from microscopic organisms to insects to plants. The ecosystem that supports our world is incredible complex. And beyond that, there are countless galaxies of stars that are only visible to extended exposure photography from the Hubble telescope. The Psalmist insists with the rest of Scripture that the one who created all of this is indeed all-powerful.

But at the same time the Psalmist insists that this all-powerful God is not just “a God who doesn’t care, who lives away out there.” Rather, this all-powerful God is also the God whose very character is defined by love. God is not only the one who created all things, he is also the one who “keeps faith forever” (Ps. 146:6). God is the one who remains faithful, and this means that he is actively involved in relationship with us all. If you want to know what that looks like in specific terms, the Psalmist spells it out. It means that God feeds the hungry, he sets the prisoners free, he restores sight to the blind, he lifts up those who are bowed down, he watches over the “strangers” or resident immigrants, and he upholds the widows and orphans (Ps. 146:7-9).[6] God is both all-powerful and completely loving, and he demonstrates his love in the very real circumstances of our lives.

This affirmation is the foundation of our faith: that God is not only our hope but also God acts in specific ways to help us with the burdens of life. And yet, I would think we can all call to mind instances where the hungry didn’t get fed, those who were bowed down were crushed by their hardships, and those who were suffering found no relief, no matter how hard they prayed or how fervently they believed. It is a fact of life that calls into question the faith that our Scripture lesson affirms. And the question we face in those situations is whether we can continue to believe in a God who is not only our hope but also our help.

It may come as a surprise to you, but this question is one that the Scriptures ask repeatedly. The Psalmists ask God if he has forgotten to be loving (Ps. 77:8-9) and if he has fallen asleep instead of coming to help his people in their time of need (Ps. 44:23). When we do all that we can to stay on the right path, and we muster all the faith we can manage, and still our lives fall apart, it can seem like God has abandoned us. That’s when the burden of suffering can make it seem impossible to trust the promise that God loves us enough to actually do something about what we’re going through. It can be enough to shake our faith so intensely that we may feel like the ground has given way beneath us. It would seem that the facts of our lives simply cannot be reconciled with the assurances of Scripture.

Our confession of faith today affirms that there is nothing that can happen to us that “God does not bend finally to the good.”[7] I would imagine that plenty of us have been through experiences that make that hard to swallow, let alone believe. When that happens, I think we need more than just “God knows what’s best for us.”[8] If God truly is the one who “keeps faith forever,” then we need something to reassure us those words mean something real when it feels like he’s broken his promise. In my mind, that’s where the cross comes in. I believe that one of the most important reasons for the cross was to demonstrate once and for all that God doesn’t abandon us.[9] God didn’t abandon Jesus on the cross, and God will never abandon you or me or anyone in this world, especially in the midst of suffering. I believe that the cross stands as a reminder that God is not only our hope, but also, even when it seems all but impossible to believe, he is our help.

[2] The seriousness of this question is pointedly expressed in connection with the Holocaust by Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark, 61-62: “Anyone who claims to believe in an all-powerful, all-loving God without taking into account this devastating evidence [i.e. the Holocaust] either that God is indifferent or powerless, or that there is no God at all, is playing games. … If Love itself is really at the heart of it all, how can such things happen? What do such things mean?” Cf. similarly, Shirley C. Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, 182, where he says that the level of suffering in our world can make us wonder whether “all talk about a loving and just God” is just empty talk “by people who are not courageous enough to face up to the fact that we live in a godless and godforsaken world.”

[3] One contemporary example of this point of view is Sam Harris. In a post on Twitter dated Aug. 5, 2015, he said, “God visits suffering on innocent people on a scope and scale that would embarrass the most ambitious psychopath.”

[4] A contemporary example of this point of view would be Harold S. Kushner, When Bad Things Happen to Good People. Rabbi Kushner concludes that God is loving, but is incapable of doing anything about our suffering.

[5] Cf. James L. Mays, Psalms, 441: “Hope attached to [God’s] reign is founded on a reality that does not pass away. The God of Israel is king of the universe; ‘maker of heaven and earth’ is a title of the God who rules all.” Cf. also ibid., 391, where he says that the formula “maker of heaven and earth” occurs in the Psalms either to reinforce God’s help or God’s blessing: “It identifies the LORD as the one whose power in help and in blessing is unlimited by anything that is.”

[6] Cf. J. Clinton Mccann, Jr, “The Book Of Psalms,” New Interpreters Bible, IV:1264. He says that these verses portray “a God who cares about human hurt and who acts on behalf of the afflicted and the oppressed.” He adds that they constitute “a policy statement for the kingdom of God. The sovereign God stands for and works for justice, not simply as an abstract principle but as an embodied reality—provision for basic human needs, liberation from oppression, empowerment for the disenfranchised and dispossessed.” Cf. similarly H.-J. Kraus, Psalms 60-150, 553: God’s faithfulness “consists of the fact that he sets up the justice of the Creator among all the oppressed and poor.”

[7] The Study Catechism, question 22: “God not only preserves the world, but also continually attends to it, ruling and sustaining it with wise and benevolent care. … God provides for the world by bringing good out of evil, so that nothing evil is permitted to occur that God does not bend finally to the good.” Cf. Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, 171, where he says that what we can do in the face of suffering is “remind ourselves and others of the light that shines in the darkness: the light of a loving God who understands and shares the depths of our suffering and dying; the light of a powerful God whose will for our good will not be defeated, who is stronger than death itself, who makes the dead live again.”

[8] Cf. Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, 171, where he insists that we simply cannot explain why some things happen: “in the last analysis we just do not know, should not pretend that we do, and do not have to feel guilty because we don’t. We can do what we can to relieve our own and others’ suffering. We can stand by one another to share one another’s suffering and grief to make it a little easier. But the one thing we cannot do and should not try to do is explain why—especially with glib talk about the ‘will of God’ or speculation about what people do or do not deserve.”

[9] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, 95: “There is no remoteness from God which the Son in his forsakenness did not suffer, or into which his self-giving did not reach.” Cf. further, Jürgen Moltmann, The Crucified God, 245-48. While he speaks of Jesus taking on the “God-forsakenness” of human experience, he also makes it clear that act was an action of God himself, suffering with Jesus on the cross, taking all human suffering into God’s very own self in order to convey to us all his life. Cf. also Jürgen Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Christ, 173, where he says that, far from abandoning his Son, “in the surrender of the Son the Father surrenders himself too.” Cf. also cf. René Girard, “Job and the God of Victims,” in L. G. Perdue and W. C. Gilpin, ed., The Voice from the Whirlwind: Interpreting the Book of Job, 226: “The Jesus of the Gospels becomes, for the Christian tradition, the decisive event revealing the reality and meaning of the God of victims, of the God, …, by which the world is created and constituted and who takes the side of the poor, the needy, the oppressed.

The Waking Dreamer