Stations of the Cross

Kelly and I drove downtown on Good Friday. We decided to walk around the city. Someone had told us there was going to be a Good Friday service out on the Market Square Mall, so we walked that way. The city radiated with families walking, children playing in the park, and music around almost every corner.

In the middle of the square, a small crowd gathered around a large wooden cross. We joined them. Behind us a group of young, dreadlocked musicians began singing at the top of their lungs. At first I thought they objected to our gathering, but then I realized they were singing, “Will the Circle Be Unbroken.” Not a bad pick for Good Friday.

As the priest climbed up the portable riser and starting reading the Scripture, all other sounds faded in the background. We heard the agony of Jesus as he cried out, “Abba Father, all things are possible to thee; remove this cup from me; yet not what I will, but what thou wilt.” We breathed the words of Jesus in prayer.

The priest called out, “We adore you, O Christ and we bless you.”
We responded, “Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.”

The priest invited volunteers to step up and help carry the cross. Standing only a few feet away, I stepped forward with a few other people. Silently we walked the square. Although we shared the burden, the weight surprised me.

With each step, the weight of the cross pressed us down. We walked by people eating, children running through the park, musicians playing their songs. I cannot help but think of people carrying the weight of suffering while surrounded by a world that never stops. Never notices.

I cannot help but realize that we cannot bear this weight. We are the weak and slumbering disciples. And He is the suffering servant.

“We adore you, O Christ and we bless you.”
“Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.”

At each station a different minister climbed the portable riser. At each station the Word of the Lord was read. At each station we paused and contemplated our Savior.

I thought of the early church remembering the steps of Jesus. Just like the ancient Hebrews remembered Passover by rehearsing the last night in Egypt, the followers of Jesus remembered the Lamb of God by rehearsing His final hours. In the early centuries of the church, processions became a way of remembering.

The processions often lasted for hours as believers walked from church to church with a short ceremony in each church. Historian Jaroslav Pelikan explains that these early processions played an important evangelistic role as the gospel was proclaimed in song and images and sermons.

So we walked from station to station. We listened to the Word of the God. We proclaimed the goodness of God.

“We adore you, O Christ and we bless you.”
“Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.”

As we walked, the cross seemed obscured in a sea of faces. Round faces. Faces full of vitality and beauty. Faces aged and distorted by time and tragedy. Faces worn by the sun. Faces scarred. Faces covered with long and short beards.

As I gazed out, my inward eye beheld a painting by Hieronymus Bosch called, Calvary. In the vivid painting, Jesus is carrying the cross in a mass of people. Eyes closed and head leaning toward his destiny, Jesus is pressing through the rabble.

Calvary by Hieronymus Bosch

Most of the other faces form grotesque shapes of flatted lips, crumbling teeth, bulging eyes, and jutting chins. The faces are distorted and grotesque. They remind me of the orcs in the Lord of the Rings. In the midst of this ugliness, Jesus presses forward. The monstrous crowd is so preoccupied they fail to notice God-in-the-midst.

My inner vision of Bosch’s unsightly painting and my outer vision of the faces surrounding the cross collided. I suddenly realized it. Bosch was painting us. He captured our deformities, our misshapen heads, our twisted mouths and darkened eyes. He painted our corruption.

As Athanasius reminds us, we turned from God toward corruption. The Lord steps into our vile ungodliness and redeems us. He names us. He bears our shame, so that we might bear his glory. He declares us beautiful and we are beautiful.

As the final station came to a close, the crowd sang the old spiritual, “Were you there, when they crucified my Lord.” On this sunny, Good Friday evening, we were there. And ever-so-briefly, we beheld Him lifted up for all mankind to see.

“We adore you, O Christ and we bless you.”
“Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.”

Crystal Garden by Orbital Joe

Not to be confused with the rolling kind, living stones might be more like the dancing kind. Peter speaks of Jesus as the Living Stone, and the family of God as living stones. But before I think about these living stones that take part on a cosmic dance, I might back up to think of the colored, shiny kind. This morning as I read about the breastplate of Aaron, two things jumped out at me:

1. The gemstones are engraved with the names of the sons of Israel. (Exodus 28:9)
2. The gemstones serve as “stones of remembrance” for the sons of Israel. (Exodus 29:12)

This caught my attention because stones as memorials show up again and again in Scripture. After crossing the Jordan, Joshua builds a stone memorial to the event. Stones are used throughout Scripture to mark boundaries, remember key events and record important information (like the 10 Commandments). In other words, stones serve as testimonies. They last from generation to generation and they continually testify to past events, laws, covenants, or people.

Think of stone: precious or otherwise. It is hard. Rain, snow, storm will probably not sweep it away (unless we’re thinking of sandstone or some other soft stone). It is durable. Then at we think about crystal formations within stones, we encounter stones that can refract and reflect light. We engrave everything from life-death notices (gravestones) to laws to images in stone. If something is “written in stone,” we take that to mean it is permanent.

The idea of stones continues to play a role in the New Testament. Jesus tells his hearers that the stones can “cry out,” bearing testimony to his glory. Paul suggests that our life’s work is either made of wood, hay and stubble, or gold, silver and precious stones. Only that which is done in love will endure the fire. The enduring quality as well as the beauty and rarity of stones, silver and gold make them precious. Of course, Peter suggests that one thing is far more precious even than gold–blood.

According to Peter, there is a fire that even gold will not withstand, but the blood of Jesus and our faith in that blood are more precious than gold (1 Peter 1:7, 18-19). This precious life of God in Christ transforms us into “living stones” built into the Living Stone of Jesus Christ (1 Peter 2:4-5). he links this to our role in the holy priesthood to which we’ve been called. This image of us as living stones in a holy temple of holy priests can then be viewed against another image of the stones: the law. The law written in stone is now written in hearts (living stones).

We bear witness. The testimony of Christ is being revealed in us, and it is to us–not impersonal stones–that God points when he wants to show the “powers” his glory (Ephesians 3:10). We are living testimonies, bearing witness to the faithfulness of God. In our brokeness, in our frailty, in our weakness, we are being shaped, formed, perfected into a living, precious stones that will reflect the glorious light of Christ throughout the city of God, the New Jerusalem.

Lately I’ve been paying attention to Paul’s language of “in Christ” and in “one another.” He moves between both ways of talking, and I believe we are encountering a way of life that flows from the Father, through Christ, by the power of the Spirit. In other words, we are encountering “perichoresis,” the dance of life between Father, Son and Spirit. When Jesus Christ speaks of being in the Father and the Father being in Him (John 14:11), we see the express image of mutual indwelling of Son and Father and Spirit.

Instead of speaking and thinking in terms of isolated individuals, the Gospel reveals the Creator as one God in a mutuality of three persons: God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. This idea of mutual indwelling or perichoresis shows up all across Paul’s letters. Here is a quick outline of thinking  about 2 Corinthians in a perichoretic way. (I realize this is rough and is not complete in any way.)

1. Comfort and Affliction (Chapter 1:1-11) – Paul opens with language of comfort that flows from the “God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.” We are comforted in our afflictions and our comfort then flow to others who are afflicted. The affliction and comfort that we share with other is a comfort and affliction that we also share with Christ in His sufferings. So in a few sentences, Paul reveals a mutuality between himself, the people of Corinth and the Triune God. In this mutuality of suffering and affliction, we may know deep despair that even draws near to death, but we also know the Resurrection life in Christ that flows from the Father by the Spirit.

2. Paul and Corinth (Chapter 1:12-3:3) – Paul transitions to a key theme that resurfaces at the end of the letter: his relationship with Corinth. As he introduces the relationship, he highlights a bond between him and Corinth that is established by God in Christ (2:21). This relationship, in the mist of the challenges, is a relation of mutual indwelling that has been created and is sustained by the Father in Christ through His Spirit. Paul reinforces the mutuality of relation by highlighting how those whom Corinth forgives, he also forgives. He is bound with them in Christ.

At the end of this section, Paul discusses how the people at Corinth are the “letter of recommendation” concerning his authority and ministry. This twist is fascinating because he does not point to external documents or some hierarchical form of authority but a relational authority that is still valid even when there is tension in the relationship between him and Corinth.

3. Mutuality in Covenant (3:3 – 5:10) – Paul’s mention of the letter of recommendation written on hearts transitions to a discussion about the mutuality of covenant with God between him and Corinth and between the contemporary followers of Christ and the ancient people of Israel who followed God through Moses by Torah. The law that was written on stone is now written on hearts but it is the same spirit who is bringing His people into life and glory even as they face suffering and pain. Even as our bodies weaken, we are stilling dwelling in Christ and in one another by the power of God’s Spirit who is bringing us all into glory.

4. Mutuality in Reconciliation (5:11-7:16) – Even as Paul celebrates God’s covenant binding of HImself to His people in Christ, he emphasizes how this is externalized in a life of reconciliation. We are reconciled to God and we are called to reconcile the world to God in Christ. Even as Paul talks about reconciliation, he also talks about his own relationship with the people at Corinth. This reconciliation is not simply between God and man, but must take form in relation between Paul and the people at Corinth.

In the midst of this discussion of reconciliation and Paul’s “open heart to the Corinthians,” we hear a warning about being unequally yoked. Paul raises the idea of relationships that are not based on mutuality in Christ but actually opposes the mutuality in relationship in Christ. While the idea of being unequally yoked is often applied to marriage (and rightly so based on some of Paul’s other comments), I think he is talking about relationships that break up the covenantal love of God’s people. And I think he returns to this later in the letter.

At the end of this section, Paul expresses his love and comfort in relationship with the people of Corinth. This comfort is from God mediated by Corinth through Titus (7:6-7). Paul finds joy in Titus who has found joy in Corinth, and this joy is but the grace of godly repentance by the Spirit. So all their lives are intertwined by God’s Spirit. They are being made into the prayer of John 17.

5. Mutuality Between Communities (8:1 – 9:15) – Paul now steps back from his relation with Corinth to focus on the relation between Corinth and the other churches. There is a mutuality of life shared between all of God’s people, even when they don’t know one another personally. This mutuality takes expression in sharing of life and resources. So even as Corinth prospers, they can strengthen other communities that are weak. Interesting that this passage is often used for giving to the church. Paul is encouraging giving, but the focal point of this giving appears to be from communities rich in resources to those who are in need of resources.

6. Mutuality of Adam and Eve (10:1 – 13:14) – In the final sections, Paul returns to his relationship with Corinth. He works out from the argument that just as the Corinthians are in Christ, so Paul is in Christ, and his authority derives from this relation (10:7-16). Then Paul does something that is shocking and fascinating, he connects his relationship with Corinth to the bond between a man and wife, and even further he connects specifically to Adam and Eve. I think Paul proceeding argument is based on the mutuality of husband and wife and the responsibility that Adam had to protect Eve (and according to Genesis he failed).

Corinth is in danger of being unequally yoked with people and ideas that are in opposition to mutuality in Christ, and ultimately are in service of Belial (7:14) or the seduction of the serpent (8:3). Satan is testing, tempting Corinth, and Paul will defend and protect his beloved no matter how much shame and humiliation it causes him. He is willing to humble himself if the community is exalted (11:7). He is willing to suffer humiliation, stoning, beating, imprisonment and more for the sake of this call in Christ. Of course, we can never forget that Paul is writing out from the mutuality of relation he shares with the Father in Christ by the Spirit. Even though he may rebuke at times, his heart is for building up the community at Corinth and not tearing down (13:10).

As we consider what does it mean to life in the reality of the Triune life of God, 2 Corinthians fleshes out an image of mutual indwelling in Christ in the midst of severe challenges and threats from inside and out. We also see a picture of Adam defending and guarding Eve with his life. This same image is fully revealed in Christ who steps fully into the suffering of the cross on behalf of his Eve.

Everywhere he looked, “glory.” This autumn sunset marked finale with a stream of gold soaking on every tree, every home, every person. The end was at hand, and the world transfigured into halls of heaven before his eyes.

For the past seven days, Mikhail had celebrated sukkot with his family and his village. His people sang songs of praise unto HaShem for blessing the harvest. His people entered into the sojourn of ancient Israel, traveling across the wilderness and into the Promised Land.

During times of abundance and during times of lack, his people trusted in the Holy One to sustain them. During times of joy and during times of suffering, his people sang songs, prayed prayers and lived in humble obedience to the word of Torah.

Tonight as all things came to an end, Mikhail and the people would gather to hear the final words of Torah, the commands of Moses preparing his people to enter into the Promised Land. Tonight as sukkot faded into Simchat Torah, the people would rejoice in HaShem’s wondrous gift of Torah to His people.

HaShem gathered, remembered and sustained his people through Torah. When their world seemed to be unraveling, Genesis reminded them that HaShem created all things and had the power to sustain them. Exodus rehearsed the call from slavery to salvation and HaShem’s unstoppable mercy in the midst of their stumbling steps. Leviticus reminded them that they were a priestly people called to stand before HaShem on behalf of all nations and to stand before all nations on behalf of HaShem. Numbers captured the great and faithful guidance of HaShem across the wilderness. Deuteronomy prepared them to go forth as a strong and courageous people with the gift of God’s wisdom to live in the land.

These stories and prayers and commands gave order and hope to Mikhail’s little village. Like their forefathers of old, they seemed like a small insignificant group of struggling people, yet they lived and walked and danced before the Creator of all things. They existed because of His good pleasure and they could rest in His lovingkindness.

Their suffering simply echoed the suffering of their ancestors, and HaShem walked in the midst of the dark and the light days. Tonight they rejoiced in His gift.

The scrolls of Torah encircled the dancing congregation and the people sang and danced and laughed and rejoiced in the goodness of HaShem. The rebbe stood before the house and prayer and faced the people, singing,

Come, bless the L-rd, all you servants of the L-rd,
who stand by night in the house of the L-rd!
Lift up your hands to the holy place
and bless the L-rd!

The congregation erupted in shouts of praise for the great gift of light, of truth, of wisdom proceeding from the holy mountain of G-d. All the people sang aloud,

May the L-rd bless you from Zion,
he who made heaven and earth!

Like the earth in flight, the people spent the last 12 months circling through the wisdom of Torah. Tonight as the final words are read, they return to Genesis, back to the beginning, back to the creation, back to Garden.

Mikhail remembered this night as the time when his people seemed grow young again. All the world seemed fresh like a newborn babe. Even as he prepared his heart for the end, he felt as though he stepped into the beginning of all things.

Tonight he stepped back into this world of childlike wonder and faith. The stars overhead and the dust beneath his feet all seemed to join in the dance of the family of God. Joy pulsed through his veins as music echoed from his soul. Like the Hasidim of old, his people lost all sense of time as minutes turned to hours and mourning turned to rejoicing.

In the last hours of the night, a few people remained awake. A few people continued talking and remembering. Mikhail sat in the midst listening, soaking, breathing in the life of his people. This communion of hearts burned like a living fire: a fire that had passed from parent to child for centuries and longer.

As the sun dawned over the distant hillside, he knew this life was finally over. He shed tears of joy with his people as he prepared to leave for Palestine. He would probably never see them again. But golden fire of their song would burn within and he would join that fire to the fire of his brothers and sisters from other villages in distant lands who all had traveled home to the land of his fathers.

Today Mikhail entered into the sojourn of ancient Israel, traveling across the sea and into the Promised Land.

photo uploaded by Harold Laudeus

“Today I arise and thank you Father for calling me from the tomb of sleep yet again to live in the ever-increasing light of resurrection.”

There came a time in my life when I ran out of prayer. I had used up all my words. I wanted to cry out to God, but the words stuck. Sounds fell from my mouth like stones dropping into a dry well.

I’m sure this sounds a bit crazy, but as I tried to pray there were no words. Sometimes cries, moans, or wordless songs ascended from my lips.

In this desert of prayer, I picked up an Christian prayer book and began reading morning prayers aloud each day. In the weeks, months and even years ahead, ancient words rooted in Scripture shaped my cries before God. Basil the Great, Macarius, Ephraim and other Christians from the early centuries of faith taught me to pray again.

In their simple morning prayers to God, I noticed a pattern. Many of their morning prayers began with the phrase “Arising from sleep.” They consistently connected the idea of resurrection to arising from sleep. Sleep seems to mean both the night of sleep, the sleep of sin that kept me blind to God, and even the sleep of this life in light of eternity.

Every morning, these ancient Christians reminded me that I am waking in light of eternity. So every morning is like a day of resurrection, a day of celebration, a day to join the ever worshipping choirs of angels proclaiming the glory of God. In this rhythm of prayer, I began to realize that I am truly waking from glory to glory.

The Father calls us forth into life and into life and into life. The wonder His love continually opens before us in people and places where we dwell. Each new day really is a new day, really is the day of salvation. Each day we awake in light of the Day of the Lord.

In the simplicity of these “rising prayers” I began to notice the hand of the Father who had been calling, waking, leading me into life long before I had any sense of His love, His faithfulness, His ever watchful Spirit leading me forward into the fullness of His Risen Son.

Now I as look back over the last few years, I am aware of encounters, events, and experiences that seem like conversion experiences, like resurrections. The morning I watched the sun rise over the dark water, I experienced the start of a new day, and a New Day.

The stories and songs of the early Celtic Christians awoke me to the simplicity of uplifted hands in ceaseless prays. Their world centered in the bread and cup of communion Jesus serves His disciples. And in this simple meal, we discover that all of life is rooted in thanksgiving. So I join them in realizing that the place where I am standing is holy, yet I also join them in longing for the place of my resurrection.

After taking a year of creative thinking classes in graduate school, I realized something happened. During the weeks and months of the previous year, I had been changed. I woke up. I stepped into a freedom and joy that felt like entering childhood all over again. I had been converted into a child and was prepared to enter the kingdom of God.

Reading G.K. Chesterton’s biography of Thomas Aquinas, I felt the ground shake beneath my feet. Not because it was dissipating but because it seemed like for the first time in my life, I was walking on real ground, in a real world that the Father had created in love for His children. What could I do? Only fall to my knees in praise.

Each day I arise, I arise to new wonder. I arise to a new world of real people and real things. This real world is not an empty space, but all things have been created in and through the Word of God, and all things are reconciled through the Word

In this real world of real trees and real flowers and real beauty, I’ve experienced real suffering. At times, the suffering felt like death. But in the dying, I have encountered the voice of the God who raises the dead. He creates and sustains all things through His Word, Jesus Christ.

In Christ, I’ve encountered a love that passes my reason or my capacity to explain or defend. I simply rest in the faithful love of a God I cannot grasp, but who grasps me, shapes me, breathes into me, and calls me forth into life.

On this day of thanks, I lift up a voice of rejoicing, joining the prayers of my brothers and sisters across time, who’ve encountered the loving Father in the Son by the power of His Spirit poured out on us.

In the words of Basil the Great,
“As I rise from sleep I thank Thee, O Holy Trinity, for through Thy great goodness and patience Thou wast not angered with me, an idler and sinner, nor hast Thou destroyed me in my sins, but hast shown Thy usual love for men, and when I was prostrate in despair, Thou hast raised me to keep the morning watch and glorify Thy power. And now enlighten my mind’s eye and open my mouth to study Thy words and understand Thy commandments and do Thy will and sing to Thee in heartfelt adoration and praise Thy Most Holy Name of Father, Son and Holy Spirit, now and ever, and to the ages of ages. Amen.
O come let us worship God our King. 
O come let us worship and fall down before Christ our King and our God. 
O come let us worship and fall down before Christ Himself, our King and our God.”

Photography from flickr by emdot

2:1 “Then we turned and journeyed into the wilderness in the direction of the Red Sea, as the Lord told me. And for many days we traveled around Mount Seir. 2 Then the Lord said to me, 3 ‘You have been traveling around this mountain country long enough. Turn northward 4 and command the people, “You are about to pass through the territory of your brothers, the people of Esau, who live in Seir; and they will be afraid of you. So be very careful. 5 Do not contend with them, for I will not give you any of their land, no, not so much as for the sole of the foot to tread on, because I have given Mount Seir to Esau as a possession. 6 You shall purchase food from them for money, that you may eat, and you shall also buy water of them for money, that you may drink. 7 For the Lord your God has blessed you in all the work of your hands. He knows your going through this great wilderness. These forty years the Lord your God has been with you. You have lacked nothing.”’ 8 So we went on, away from our brothers, the people of Esau, who live in Seir, away from the Arabah road from Elath and Ezion-geber. (Deuteronomy; ESV)

I’m slowly meandering through Deuteronomy with the Brazos Commentary by Telford Work in hand. I enjoy Work’s midrashic approach and find it deeply devotional. In the passage above, Work writes that Israel “must learn that confessional practices include business practices.” Reflecting on this remembrance, I see how Moses’ narrative provides application for several commandments including the commands not to covet, the command not to steal and possibly the command not to bear false witness.

The Lord sustained the Children of Israel through manna from the heavens, water from the earth and birds from the air. He has provided for their needs and they must not take from the descendants of Esau but pay them for provisions. First, I see the idea of “not coveting” because the Lord is their provider. Thus they are free to pass through the region without desiring the land or materials of the people.

Secondly, the supplies they do need must be bought. So instead of stealing, they purchase materials at a fair price. The commandment not to steal reminds us to be fair and honest in all our business as well as generous in our treatment of those around us.

Thirdly, they are to honor the ancient covenant. (This idea shows up in other places as honoring the ancient landmarks.) I see a connection hear with bearing witness. They honor the witness of past covenants in their current transactions. To violate those covenants might be a form of bearing false witness since the covenant “bears witness” to a relationship between persons.

Photos by DavidDennisPhotos.com

“A man can grow so tired, so weary that he forgets himself. He loses the stories of his father and his father’s father. Forgetfulness is like blindness. For when we lose sight of where we come from, we stumble forward not knowing whether to step to the right or the left.”

At the sound of Matthan’s voice, a stillness settled over the room. Every eye transfixed by this gentle, broken man. He limped from a battle wound during his years of service as a Centurion. His body bore the marks of serving the emperor and then serving the Lord Jesus Christ.
The years of suffering seemed only to heighten the joy of this aging soldier.

When Matthan chose to talk, everyone listened. His voice carried the weight of years and the weight of love.

“Darkness is all around us in every age. My father knew darkness, his father knew darkness and his father’s father knew darkness. A war rages against our soul, and we continually battle by telling our stories again and again and again.”

In the stories of old, Matthan reconnected to the faith given to Abraham, taught in Moses and glorified in Christ Jesus.

“Our fathers’ suffered years of darkness. They forgot their names, they forgot their songs, they forgot their God. After centuries in the land of Egyptian power, most Hebrews forget their past. They cried out for help, but didn’t even know who to call to for help. So they simply groaned.”

“Their cries came up to our Father. He heard them. He remembered. And through His servant Moses He called them out of the formless void of Egypt and into the mountain of creation, the holy Mountain Sinai. They heard the Voice. The terrifying, uncreated Voice. The Voice that called forth heaven and earth. The Voice the spoke light and darkness. The Voice of the Uncreated God. They heard and they trembled.”

“The Lord came down to His people and He spoke light and life. Just as He created the heavens and the earth, He recreated His people. He gave them Torah to shape their culture, their families, their songs, their dreams. He taught them how to remember.”

At this Matthan paused, leaned back, and looked around the room. As he looked into the eyes of this Gentile community around him, he asked, “Do you remember who you are?”

As he asked this question, Matthan gently laid his hand on the shoulder of Antony, “You are the children of Israel. Our Father grafted you into his family. This is your story. Don’t forget.”

“Our Father reached into darkness to rescue His family. Our Father freed His people from the cruelty of Pharoah. Our Father reached into the darkness to retrieve each of you. Our Father speaks over you just as he did that generation of freed slaves. Our Father is teaching us to be family, teaching us to love.”

“Even as our Father created a new heavens and earth in the midst of the corrupted heavens and earth, our Lord Jesus Christ, creates a new heavens and earth through each of you.”

“Dear friends, even as we eat this meal together, we are not alone. We are eating in the company of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. We are supping with Moses and feasting with David. We are resting in the company of the disciples as our Lord and Savior gives us good food to eat.”

As he said these words, Matthan grabbed a piece of bread from the meal and began to tear it apart.

“It is Christ Himself who serves us and satisfies our appetite. Come and eat. Come and drink, for our Savior has welcomed us to this meal of memory.”

“I was a soldier. I was wondering the deserts of Palestine when I heard the story. In the sweet song of the Savior, I heard my name. I came back to life in the desert of darkness.”

He passed around a cup.

“Jesus is calling us even now. He is calling us to drink of his blood. To rest in His love. To be one people. Drink my friends and lift up thanksgiving to the giver of all life!”

Even as he spoke these words, Matthan trembled under the weakness of his aged body. He was tired and ready for another feast.

“Dear friends. We are not gathered around Mt. Sinai this evening. We are not shuddering at the terrifying voice of the Uncreated Voice. And yet, He is speaking. He is inviting us to feast. He is welcoming us to Zion. He is preparing for a Marriage Supper. And even now we taste the first course. Come and eat, Come and drink. Our Lord has remembered even us.”

The small community began to sing. As they sang a doxology to the Lord Jesus, tears rolled down Matthan’s face like sweet oil.

1Behold, how good and pleasant it is
when brothers dwell in unity!
2It is like the precious oil on the head,
running down on the beard,
on the beard of Aaron,
running down on the collar of his robes!
3It is like the dew of Hermon,
which falls on the mountains of Zion!
For there the LORD has commanded the blessing,
life forevermore.
Psalm 133

Excitement rings through the in air in a soft win of hushed voices asking, “Could he be the one?”

They’ve been waiting a long time. Centuries. Tonight a child will be born to the tarnished house of David. Will he bear the ancient prophecies? Will Jesse’s root would bloom in him? The people long and pray, “Remember, O LORD, in David’s favor.”

Oh that the Son of David might rise up and strike down the Goliath’s of this age, the wickedness of Herod, the enslaving power of Rome.
All through the night, people gather around the house, asking “Could he be the one?” “Will he rebuild the house of the Lord?”
He inns not the one.

His father names him Joseph. And he grows in his father’s footsteps, a simple man bearing the quiet dignity of a royal family that had long since lost its status. They are simple people, simple carpenters. Their lives revolve around God’s precious gift to the His people: the Torah.

Joseph, like his father and like his father’s father, observes Torah. He worships the Holy One of Israel expressing his devotion through obedience. A man of few words, Joseph’s actions defines his faith. He sings out to the Lord of the Covenant.

8 Arise, O LORD, and go to your resting place,
you and the ark of your might.
9Let your priests be clothed with righteousness,
and let your saints shout for joy.
10For the sake of your servant David,
do not turn away the face of your anointed one.

In the fullness of time, Joseph seeks a righteous wife from a righteous people. The family must observe Torah. The family must walk in the ways of the Lord. The family must be a trustworthy, holy people. Joseph finds such a family. And within that family, he finds Mary.

Joseph’s family and Mary’s family covenant together and celebrate the betrothal between Joseph and Mary. As the time of feasting come close, Joseph takes Mary by the hands, looks her in the eyes and announces, “I am going now to prepare a place for you, but I will come again and take you into my house.”

As Joseph and his family travel home amidst laughter, teasing and rejoicing. Excitement dances in the air. He dreams new dreams. Soon his life his house will echo this rejoicing, overflowing with the voices of children. This poor man will treat Mary as a princess. The royal blood of the House of David will still shine in their simple life and their simple home.

11 The LORD swore to David a sure oath
from which he will not turn back:
“One of the sons of your body
I will set on your throne.
12If your sons keep my covenant
and my testimonies that I shall teach them,
their sons also forever
shall sit on your throne.”

Months passed and one night Mary’s brother suddenly appears at Joseph’s home. Marked with the anguished look of a man bearing news that split through his heart, he tries to speak. Joseph assumes the worst: “Is Mary dead?”

“No. She’s with child.” Falling to his knees, her brother begs for mercy upon her and the family.

Stunned, Joseph stumbles to the floor.

He grieves as though Mary really has died. God’s surprise appearance in Joseph’s life is unexpected and unwelcome.

He grieves for the betrayal. He grieves for the dreams now dead He grieves for her family who could not escape her shame. He even grieves for her.
He wants to spare them, yet the Torah constrains Joseph to act in certain ways. How can he act faithfully and yet with mercy toward her family? A dismissal would be quiet. No trial. No public shame.

A weak and weary man lay to sleep with a heart torn between betrayal and compassion. His sleep offers no respite. Suddenly his room lit up like the Eastern sky at sunrise and an angel of the Lord appears in his dream, “Son of David!”

These three words resounded deep within his soul, deep within his blood, deep within his family, and Joseph wakes up for the first time in his life.
His family bears the shame of a fallen house. “Son of David” echoed through his soul. It comes as blessing, a song of deliverance. It comes as a surprise of love. In these words of life, God’s “hesed,” his lovingkindess, his unrestrained mercy, his unfathomable love inspire Joseph back to life.

“Do not be afraid to take to you Mary your wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit. And she will bring forth a Son, and you shall call His name Jesus, for he will save His people from their sins.”

13For the LORD has chosen Zion;
he has desired it for his dwelling place:
14″This is my resting place forever;
here I will dwell, for I have desired it.
15I will abundantly bless her provisions;
I will satisfy her poor with bread.
16Her priests I will clothe with salvation,
and her saints will shout for joy.
17There I will make a horn to sprout for David;
I have prepared a lamp for my anointed.

Joseph arises.

The once dead root, now stirs. God calls Joseph forth, and he obeys. His heart burns from the visitation, from the word of God. And now his mind now races with a flood of dreams, memories and new responsibilities.

For some reason an old legend about Moses’ father captured his imagination. A similar dream, a similar visitation, a similar command, “For he will save the Hebrews from their bondage in Egypt.” Moses’ father faithfully and quietly obeyed. He received no glory and simply faded into the shadows, and yet his faithfulness made a way for the redemption of God’s people.

Now Joseph has been offered a similar commission.

A love burns for Mary and for the baby within her womb. He will lay down his life for them. From now on, his life will serve of their lives. He will name the child “Jesus.” And by naming him, he legally claims Jesus as his own child.

As the Son of David, Joseph obeys the commission of God and makes way for the long awaited, true Son of David to come forth, restoring David’s fallen house and restoring God’s people.

The time, the time, the time. He must hurry.

In a moment, he’s running. Running to his parents’ house, alerting them that there’s going to be a wedding. While he does not mention the baby, he explains the Lord told him the wedding must happen right away. Soon the whole town is percolating with energy as everyone joins in the preparation.

Then a few nights later, Joseph dresses in the full regalia of the bridegroom. Flowers and robe flow around him. The Son of David goes to claim his bride.

The wedding party slips away in the middle of the night with torches, music, dancing and celebration. He appears at Mary’s house like a thief in the night. Mary’s grieving family had awaited his appearing for days with terror. They feared the trial, the public shame, the end of their family name. Their feared the curse over their poor, foolish daughter.

But Joseph doesn’t show up as the judge. He comes as the bridegroom to claim his bride.

Photo posted by alan(ator)

He never asked for this. He never sought this power, this recognition, this throne. Tomorrow David would covenant with the elders of Israel. Tomorrow they would anoint him as king. Tomorrow the long years of wilderness would finally be over.

He never asked for this. The call came as interruption, as surprise. Over seventeen years ago, Samuel appeared on his father’s land, requesting to see his sons. After a long day of prayers and waiting, Samuel summoned Jesse to bring forth the remaining son. David appeared as a ruddy shepherd boy. Could this young man be the future king of God’s chosen people? Could this young man carry the weight of shepherding the tribes of Israel?

From lonely days of song and solitude, this young man was suddenly thrust into years of political intrigue, battle and dangerous pursuit. He lost everything. He almost lost his life. He lived as an outlaw, hunted by the king of Israel and his army of henchman. He lived in caves and in enemy lands. He wandered. He wrestled. He questioned.

It’s funny how a few moments can forever change the whole course of your life. In one day, his life of peace was turned upside down into tumult, chaos, and struggle. Why would God call him only to abandon him?

Tomorrow David would be king over all Israel. Today he is a broken man, ruling the tribe of Judah by God’s grace alone. Broken by the hand of God in a wilderness of suffering and struggle, he has no presumption about his own greatness.

Even now groups are forming around David. Even now sects are plotting for power and favor with the new king. In the midst of all the excitement, all the clamoring, all the anticipation that pulses through Hebron, David slips away into the solace of his chamber and begins to sing.

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;
my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
too great and too marvelous for me.
Ps 131:1; ESV

Assuming the position of a servant, he kneels before the true king of Israel. He looks to the Creator of the land and the sea and the sky. He sings like a child in the presence of his Father.

But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child is my soul within me.
Ps 131:2; ESV

Silence. David rests, Sabbaths before the Lord. He remembers the faithfulness of the Lord. He remembers the lovingkindness of the Lord. He remembers the story of His people, delivered from the cruel slavemaster of Egypt to the land of Promise in Canaan. He rejoices in the goodness of the Lord. He sings on behalf of the people and the land.

O Israel, hope in the Lord
from this time forth and forevermore.
Ps 131:3; ESV

A knock at the door. David rises and follows his guards, follows his Lord, follows his people into a period that will change not only Israel, but the whole world.

Flickr photo by stuant63

There are times in life when troubles surround us, stresses choke us, problems overwhelm us. There are times when we simply cannot see the way ahead, and each day feels like a struggle to survive.

The cry of Psalm 56 is the cry of God’s people facing immanent destruction. Will God forsake us in the hour of our deepest need? Will his silence continue even while the wolves devour us? Will He abandon us to the fire?

David articulates the desperation of God’s people in the midst of the terrors that hound us by day and night. And in his cry, we discover the possibility of trust that clings to God even as the flames rise around us.

David is running for his life.

The wolves are baying for blood. Terror on all sides. Death looms. God is silent.

In response to the peril of Achish’s bloodthirsty court, David writes a psalm celebrating the unshakeable faithfulness of the Lord. But first, it might be helpful to back up and understand how David found himself in the lap of enemy dogs ready to devour him.

David is king of Israel. Or at the least the “King elect.” The house of King Saul has been judged and found wanting. Samuel strips the kingdom from Saul and pronounces it’s inevitable demise. Under the guidance of God’s Spirit, Samuel anoints a new king: the unlikely son of Jesse.

David comes in the from the fields to go out in service of Israel. Samuel calls this shepherd-poet to serve the people and the land as King. But there is a slight catch. He will learn kingship from the house of Saul. He will become a true king in service of the king that is in rebellion to YHWH.

At first, he soothes Saul’s torments. His healing songs drive Saul’s terrors out of doors. But then another terror. From the land of Gath comes yet another raid by one of Israel’s enemies, the Philistines. Surrounded by warring tribes, this period in Israel’s history is intertwined with the threat of Philistines, Moabites, Edomites, Amalekites, and Ammonites.

Goliath, the leading warrior of the Philistines, threatens Israel and mocks Israel’s God. Saul the forsaken one has no power, no authority, no wisdom on how to fight this baying wolf.

Cowering in his tent with the rest of Israel, Saul is paralyzed in terror. David steps in for Saul and acts as the true king of Israel. He mocks the mocker of God’s people and assaults this beast in the name of YHWH of the Angels Armies. Cutting off Goliath’s head with his own sword, David delivers Israel.

The shepherd-poet turned warrior continues pursuing the Philistines. Even as David threatens the enemies of Israel, King Saul begins to believe that David threatens him. Fearing for the power of his house, he turns into a wolf and starts seeking David’s blood.

David is running for his life.

Israel hounds him, chases him, seeks to destroy him. The chosen king and deliverer of Israel is running for his life from the Saul and armies of the land. In their bloodthirsty pursuit, they chase him into Nod.

Ahimelech feeds David holy bread and gives him the captured sword of Goliath. David keeps running. Saul’s wolves catch up to Ahimelech, slaughtering him and the city of Nod, including priests, women, children and animals.

The wolves are still baying for David’s blood.

Driven from the land of promise into the arms of the enemy. He runs to the camp of the Philistines in city of Gath before King Achish. But Gath is no refuge for David. The generals are baying for his blood.

No matter where he turns, David is surrounded by wolves. Wolves from his people and wolves from his enemies. He is encircled, and there is no where to turn. He turns his faces, twists his limbs, drools on himself and plays the fool. In the face of his enemies, David humiliates himself.

Yet even as he is outwardly wasting away, David is inwardly crying out to God. After Achish sends away this madman, David will write,

Be gracious to me, O God, for man nips at my heals, tramples on me, seeks to swallow me;
all day long an attacker oppresses me;
my enemies trample on me all day long,
for many attack me proudly. (Psalm 56:1)

The wolves are baying for blood. Terror on all sides. Death looms. God is silent.

In the grace of God, David has stepped into the position of Israel. Just as the nation is surrounded by tribes seeking to swallow the land and the people, David is surrounded by enemies seeking to swallow and destroy him.

Even as David is crying out to God, he is acknowledging his fear.

When I am afraid,
I put my trust in you.
In God, whose word I praise,
in God I trust; I shall not be afraid.
What can flesh do to me?  (vs. 3-4)

He is afraid. He is trusting. Terror surrounds him. He is out of control. The deliverer has been delivered into the hands of the enemy. He is helpless. He is battling fear and trusting God at the same time.

Outwardly he is powerless, humiliated as a drooling fool. Inwardly, he is crying out to YHWH of the Angel Armies. Stripped of power, assaulted by terror, he can only rest in the purposes of God, rejoice in the word of God. In this place of pressure, of pain, of fear, YHWH is shaping a king. A king that trusts the absolute faithfulness of God’s Word even in the face of absolute terror.

Just as the Father is shaping and training David in the midst of living, he is shaping and training us in the midst. Those who trust in the Lord are not abandoned even though the wolves may consume them. We may never stand before an enemy king. We may never run for our lives as the king and his army seeks to kill us. But we may know the fear of being surrounded by problems, struggles, crisis.

We may know the flames of suffering, the pain of living, the anguish of sorrow. In the mystery of His grace our fears, terrors, and doubts cannot consume His faithful love. The terror of Saul and the terror of Achish may be the places where our Father trains us and shapes into His image.

Outwardly we may waste away. Outwardly we may know the terror of emotions. But inwardly we also rest in the objective faithfulness of a Savior who is absolutely trustworthy. In Jesus we are not alone.

In Jesus, God enters into the pain and terror of life. Like David, this deliverer was delivered into the hands of the enemy. The leaders of Israel delivered him into the court of the Pontius Pilate. Like David, they were baying for his blood. Like David he was not abandoned.

Jesus was consumed. Humiliated. Beaten. Hung. Killed. And yet he was not abandoned. The Spirit of God raised Him from the dead. In his resurrection life, we encounter the Living One. He conquered the Evil One. He overcame the curse of death. He lives and lives and lives.

Even as we stand in the midst of terror, fear, pain, suffering and overwhelming circumstances, we are standing in the midst of the Living One, the Loving One, the Lord of Heaven and Earth.

We are not forsaken. Nothing can separate us from the love of God. Not even death.

So we may fear, doubt and struggle. Yet we can still rest in His absolute, unshakable faithfulness. Whether we live or die, we live or die in Him.

And in his faithful love, He is ever transforming us into the image of His love.

1    Be gracious to me, O God, for man tramples on me;
all day long an attacker oppresses me;
2    my enemies trample on me all day long,
for many attack me proudly.
3    When I am afraid,
I put my trust in you.
4    In God, whose word I praise,
in God I trust; I shall not be afraid.
What can flesh do to me?
5    All day long they injure my cause;
all their thoughts are against me for evil.
6    They stir up strife, they lurk;
they watch my steps,
as they have waited for my life.
7    For their crime will they escape?
In wrath cast down the peoples, O God!
8    You have kept count of my tossings;
put my tears in your bottle.
Are they not in your book?
9    Then my enemies will turn back
in the day when I call.
This I know, that God is for me.
10    In God, whose word I praise,
in the Lord, whose word I praise,
11    in God I trust; I shall not be afraid.
What can man do to me?
12    I must perform my vows to you, O God;
I will render thank offerings to you.
13    For you have delivered my soul from death,
yes, my feet from falling,
that I may walk before God
in the light of life.  (Psalm 56; ESV)