Gross food (and other reasons I'm glad I'm not an OT prophet)

I'm reading through the prophets right now.  I do love the prophet part of the Bible--always a little eyebrow-raising, not to mention that prophetically I often don't know what's going on, and generally I have no idea if things like "the tower of Syene" are important--and all the extra question marks compel me to do extra homework, which is sort of fun.  Mostly because I'm a nerd and I like to do fun research.  But I was thinking the other day:  I love reading the prophets, but is it because I like to learn from them, or because it's sort of like watching a train wreck?  I know stuff is crazy and I feel undeniably sorry for those prophets, but I just can't seem to look away. So bear with me as I ponder some of the many, many, many reasons why I think being an OT prophet was pretty much the least desirable job.  Ever.

Gross food.  I know I've referenced Ezekiel 4 in my blog in times past, as being wildly misunderstood by my brother and I for way too long, but seriously, regardless of the fuel, or the ingredients of Ezekiel's bread (sorry, but any combination of lentils, millet, barley, etc. sounds gross to me), the fact that he had to eat it for more than a year is enough to make me dislike it out of hand.  There's nothing that could possibly be desirable after more than a year of intake.  Sorry, Ezekiel.

Indecent exposure.  Dear Isaiah had a very strange assignment.  Although the barefoot part sounds reasonable (those would be some serious callouses, though, after three whole years of barefootedness!), the zero clothes is just weird.  Those prophets were really willing to do whatever the Lord asked of them.  Hard core is the word that comes to mind.

Arranged marriage.  Honestly, marriage is already a somewhat tricky business, but for the Lord to ask Hosea to take Gomer to wife to be a picture of Israel?  Yikes.  There is almost nothing happy about poor Hosea's story.

The opposite of marriage.  Ever wonder why there aren't any Biblical fiction books about Daniel like there are about King David and Isaac and Rebekah?  One word.  Eunuch.  I'm sorry, Daniel.

The occasional no-tears policy.  We all know Jeremiah as the weeping prophet, but what about poor Ezekiel, who couldn't even cry when his wife died?  That's just... depressing.

Doom and gloom.  I'm not going to cite anything specific, because we all have read the verses about blood flowing in the streets and pestilence and ripping up women with children.  Suffice it to say, I can't imagine that the prophets slept very well at night.

Time fails me to tell of miry pits, tales of captivity, and disturbing visions.  I'm sure you all agree that happiness abounds in the thought of not being a prophet. 

I'm guessing that's a pretty common rejoicement amongst most people who don't live in the Old Testament.

I wonder

Do you ever get really curious about things while reading the Bible?  Because sometimes when I read, and especially the Old Testament when the stuff that happens is mostly drama-full (I'm in 2 Thessalonians right now, and as much as I love Paul's stuff, it doesn't have quite the same flavor as in the time of the Kings and such), I have questions that aren't important, but that I'm looking forward to having answered in Heaven one day.

For instance, does anyone else wonder what happened to Goliath's sword?  In 1 Samuel 21:9 it was given to David to protect against Saul (again) and we know the results of that: Saul had the priests killed.  But what happened to it after that?  One might assume that a weapon of such size might be slightly difficult to conceal.  But (as far as I remember, anyhow) it's not mentioned again in the Bible, leading one to assume that it just disappeared somewhere.  Maybe beaten into a plowshare at some point or something, haha.  But it's always been curious to me.

Speaking of, in the next chapter it talks about David going to the King of Moab to help hide his parents.  All good and well, we know David did a lot of weird things to prevent being killed off by Saul, but when he went to Moab was it with a specific purpose?  Because when you hark back to the story of Ruth and Boaz, you see that Jesse was actually their grandson, making David a great-grandson to a Maobitess.  But that's what I wonder:  did the king of Moab know that when David brought Jesse and the Mrs. to him for protection?  Did he partially do it because they were kind of related to his country?  Or did he just like the whole political intrigue of hiding high-profile parents?  

Those are just two examples.

I totally can't wait for Heaven.

A little update

The grandparents are doing well, my job is about a day and a half away from being done, and life is good, albeit busy!

I just finished reading Psalms and it made me remember how much I love that book.  I really can't say that there are parts of the Bible I like less or more than others (though there seem to be parts of the Bible I'm more enthusiastic about!) but there's something about reading through Psalms and picturing David at the different stages at his life, sometimes rejoicing, vibrant and secure, and other times writing with a despairing hand.  It feels like an intimate glance at his life, where you learn more about the author than the subject in most of the Psalms.  Of course, about half of the Psalms were written by other authors (Asaph, Moses, Korah, Solomon, some others) but when I read the Psalms I like to picture the shepherd David, growing from boy to King with a pen in his hand and praise on his lips.  I want to be more like David.  Only, well, minus the adultery and Kingdom and enemies.  So....  pretty much I take that back.  Never mind.

Second Chances

My brother and I were talking about second chances the other day. Sure, there are second chances, but can we really go back to the way things were? When something starts over can it really be a continuation of the original product, or does it have to be built on a new foundation?

Actually, we weren't really getting that philosophical about it, it went more like this:

My brother: "It was stupid that [so-and-so] said that they could never start again."

Me: "I know, right?"

But I sort of ended up thinking about it a little more on the side, so these thoughts were what I've been pondering about it.

The song Castaway by Chasen (love these guys!) always reminds me of this thought. The last line of the chorus says, "And I know You gave me a gift of a second chance." Even though I was saved when I was quite young, and sometimes bemoan the fact that I don't have a dramatic story of being saved from a live of unhealthy addictions (actually, I'm fine with that fact, trust me), I still love knowing that my whole life is a second chance. And when I mess up (and I do, sigh), the Lord stands, waiting, holding out His hands, willing to give me that second chance.

It's only through His grace that such opportunities exist. His grace extended to Rahab, giving her a whole new life, a new chance, and a lineage of joy. To King David a second chance was given, even after his indiscretion with Bathsheba and murder of Uriah. To me, when I stray, and cease to seek His voice in favor of my own way, He stands, giving chance after chance.

Oh, plus, there's Israel. Nearly every chapter in the Bible has an account of yet another time the Lord gave them yet another chance, and saved their day yet again.

He's a God of second chances. And even though we humans are weak and can't go back to where things started and truly start anew, God can. The cross was the starting point for all of our second chances, and through his gift to us of our second life, we have the assurance of knowing that in His eyes, we begin through the work of the cross. My second chance is possible because of His sacrifice. My eternal life--and rescue from the second death--is mirrored out in everything I do, or He does through me, because Jesus Christ gave His life for me.

It makes every day worth living. And every second chance that we extend, worth giving.

Bosom Buddies

My friend Firefly and I think freakishly alike. Just so we're all clear.

Here's what I was pondering the other day. Jonathan seemed like a pretty cool guy, and pretty fine with the fact that David was (one day) going to have the kingdom instead of his father, Saul. We are discussing the Biblical Jonathans and Davids, by the way, in case I jumped into this story too swiftly for some.

So Jonathan straight-up told David, "You'll be King, I'll be second in command, we'll be cool." Right. And he could have. Jonathan and his armour-bearer slew a ton of Philistines that time in 1 Samuel 13, after all. Jonathan was clearly an excellent soldier as well as an inspirer of the people.

But... Jonathan died. In a tragic twist, Jonathan was slain among his father's people, fighting a battle he knew he'd lose. David was left with a kingdom in the absence of Saul, but without a right-hand man. Now it was David in the place of authority, trying to keep afloat without his confidante.

But David needed a chief captain. Jonathan was no longer an option, and David needed someone else. I Chronicles 11 tells that David set up sort of a contest for the position. And the man who won was none other than Joab, David's nephew, trouble-maker extraordinaire.

David encountered so many problems with Joab at the helm of his battles. Joab was many things, but a peacemaker was not one of them. Sometimes, when I read this account, I get so sad just thinking about all the things that could have gone better had Jonathan not died during the chaos of the battlefield.

And what stops me every time is the thought, "Did Jonathan really even have to die?" What if, instead of going back to his father, Jonathan had stayed with David? What if he'd given up those years in the seat of the kingdom for the rest of his life at David's right hand?

I, for one, tend to think that David's kingdom would have gone more smoothly, not just on account of Jonathan being a superior captain, but because Jonathan, being Saul's son, could have promoted peace in a fractured kingdom. I know we all like to think that we'd do better--chosen the life with David instead of the comfortable palace bed--but Jonathan seemed to be doing his part by keeping his ears to the wall, so to speak, to listen to what his father was saying, and simultaneously being able to keep alongside David in spirit and encourage him.

But it wasn't enough. When the battle was over, Jonathan fought and died on the wrong side. David was left without a friend; Israel without a stable captain. David's kingdom was less than it could have been, because Jonathan remained in the comfort of his father's kingdom, unwilling to suffer the rejection of David's daily walk.

Safe

So, I'm not feeling very wordy today. I'm feeling, however, that I love knowing that I'm safe in Christ's care.

Wow. I just had the weirdest feeling ever. I all of a sudden remembered that when my Dad told us that my brother had passed away, he jumped out of the van where we were waiting for news, and (I think) he said to my mom, "He's safe." That's not weird, it made sense (remember when David from the Bible asked if the young man Absalom was safe? I think it was reminiscent of that), but what's weird is... I'm not sure.

Fine, fine, it was six years ago, but the details of that day seemed like things I'd never forget. Sitting on the porch swing for hours, trying to read my book (ironically, Calm My Anxious Heart by Linda Dillow), but being worried sick about what could have happened. Kneeling in the living room, praying with my family for the safety of the members of the family we were worried for. Trying to go through the motions of the day, playing games, making meals, exactly as if we were going to sit down that night like a normal family and have dinner together.

But all of a sudden, I don't quite remember if my dad said those words, "He's safe." I can ask someone and refresh my memory (and I will!) but it's been so far archived in my brain that it's not retrievable with 100% accuracy.

Sorry. Sad moment alert. Good thing I know I'm resting safe in the Father's hand, right?

How delightful

Our family is reading in 2 Samuel during morning readings, and I loved a verse in chapter 22, verse 21 says something about how the Lord delivered David because He "delighted in him." Isn't that the coolest thing ever? I think it's awesome that David could say with such assurance, "Y'know what? The Lord delights in me."

I think verses about delight are cool in the Bible. I was just memorizing this verse from Isaiah the other day, and it said to let your soul delight itself in fatness. I thought it was pretty amusing, but nobody else did, I don't know why.

But verses about delight are such fun to read, for some reason. I love reading about people in whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and how the Lord delights in His saints, et cetera. I think I just like to hear the word "delight." But just think: we delight in what the Lord has given us, and He delights right back at us.

Enough to keep one smiling till the rapture, don't you think?

Saul & Co.

There are some stories in the Bible that just make me sad. Anything to do with Tamar (either one, really), stuff about eating children, etc. But our family was just reading about the time there was a famine in the land, and it was because the Gibeonites were feeling upset because of the whole Saul thing (for a more complete rendering, please read 2 Samuel 21).

Anyhow, long story short, David up and killed a ton of descendants of Saul, just to make the Gibeonites happy. I think it's nice that the famine stopped, but seriously, at such a cost? That story just hurts me to read. Not to mention that it's not long after the whole Absalom story, which breaks my heart every time. Regardless, I'm discussing David and Saul.

I just find that whole Old Testament thing so hard to swallow sometimes. I mean, really, they had to kill those dudes to stop the famine? Wasn't there something else they could have done? Couldn't they have sent them some gift certificates to Camels, Ltd. or something? And when you think about Rizpa, the unfortunate concubine of Saul whose two sons were killed and left out to rot in the sun, you realize what a cruel situation it was.

Of course, I always wonder about Michal in all of this. Did she care about any of these going's-on? You'd better believe she was keenly aware of the fact that her sons with her ex-husband Adriel were being strung up by her current slash also-ex-husband David. How could she not? But did she care about Rizpa's sons? Did she care that Mephibosheth was living in the city, maybe even not too far from where she lived? I wish there was some way we could get a peek into the lives of the minoresque characters in the Bible. The dynamic between Michal and David is fascinating to me, and I often wonder if Michal, Jonathan, and David hung out, back in the day, when David was still just that kid who played the harp part-time for Saul. I know family dynamics these days aren't quite what they were back in the OT times, but still, the sense of family is pretty important, I think, no matter what era you're living in.

So the moral of the story is simply that the whole situation with David and Saul's kin makes me sad. Mephibosheth got a pretty good deal, but nobody else seemed to end up too happily. So much for the life of royalty, eh?