In this present world it is a struggle not to be afraid… We see through a glass darkly; our heart’s desire is often thwarted; we often walk in uncertainty; our prayers may seem to go unanswered. There are many tribulations, sorrows, and pains; we are grieved and often feel lonely; we sometimes struggle to hold fast to our confession and hope; we feel alarmed over the insanity and depravity that pervades the culture around us; we feel powerless to stop the juggernaut of unrestrained evil, yea, we lament over the battle within our own hearts — our own inner fears, outrage, and wretchedness.
We may wonder why God does not directly intervene to help in the midst of our plight; we may pray anguished prayers beseeching heaven’s intervention to deliver us from evil. Many of our brothers and sisters around the world are undergoing persecution, being murdered for the sake of their faith; others languish in prison or “reeducation” camps, being labeled as “enemies of the State,” brutalized, ostracized, marginalized, rejected, and forsaken of the common welfare of others. We shed tears over the burning of churches; we are repulsed by acts of violence against God’s people; we protest that Christians are regarded as political enemies for honestly questioning the logic and veracity of governmental mandates. We are often misunderstood, or worse, vilified for honoring the truth. We are made outsiders, segregated outside the camp, maligned as lepers and deplorables… Indeed, the world system hates us, and for the sake of our faith “we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered” (Psalm 44:22; Rom. 8:36).
So where is God in the midst of our alienation and tribulation? As followers of Yeshua we are called to walk in the truth, to do justice, and to walk humbly with our God. More: we are to die to ourselves, love our enemies, and be faithful to God even in martyrdom. In these darkened days, however, this means walking through the darkness of the valley of the shadow of death, for it is apparent that worldly culture has decisively rejected the truth of God and regards those who esteem it as its enemies. “The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel against the Lord, and against his Messiah, saying ‘Let us break their bonds apart and cast away their cords from us'” (Psalm 2:3-4). Prophetically, we know what is on the horizon; we foresee the terrors of the “End of Days.”
The test of faith in our circumstances, as has always been for God’s people, is to remain steadfast in our conviction of God’s love despite the darkness that surrounds us (Isa. 50:10). The test is summed up by C.S. Lewis this way: “We’re not doubting that God will do the best for us; we’re wondering how painful the best will turn out to be” (Collected Letters). We can’t stay in the limbo of such questioning forever, however; we must shake off our misgivings and find settled determination to press on in faith: Our Lord has a crown and a kingdom prepared for us, and he will give us what we need in the way to attain unto it.
There is a difference between knowing about God in your head and knowing God in your heart… Unlike a merely intellectual idea of faith that passively assents to theological propositions or creeds, trusting in the Lord (i.e., bittachon: בִּטָחוֹן) is an emotional commitment to God’s presence in the midst of the sorrows of our lives; it is the struggle of hope that affirms we are not truly alone, abandoned, helpless… Trust goes beyond the “head knowledge” to engage God personally, existentially, and from within the whirlwind of harrowing pain and pain’s fearful loneliness. Authentic theology is “dialogical” — a conversation of the heart with God – seeking, yearning, protesting, lamenting, and struggling with life’s inscrutabilities and unfathomable questions as it appeals to God for the assurance and comfort of the Holy Spirit. Trust finds courage to voice to our sorrow and fears, inviting God into the midst of our brokenness, often yielding to tearful silence in unknowing expectation. As Dorothy Soelle wrote: “Prayer is an all-encompassing act by which people transcend the mute God of an apathetically endured reality and go over to the speaking God of a reality experience with feeling in pain and happiness” (Soelle: Suffering). This is perhaps the deepest meaning of the Shema – to listen for God’s heart in the midst of your struggle; learning to encounter God’s love in the place of your brokenness and need (Job 13:15).
Hebrew Lesson:
- Psalm 44:22 Hebrew page (pdf)
Reflecting on the role of suffering in the heart of faith, Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945) – who was murdered by the Nazis – once wrote: “Here is the decisive difference between Christianity and all religions. Man’s religiosity makes him look in his distress to the power of God in the world: God is the deus ex machina [i.e., “quick fix”]. The Bible [on the other hand] directs man to God’s powerlessness and suffering: only a suffering God can help” (Letters and Papers from Prison). Bonhoeffer’s comment alludes to the difference between an “Elohim” (אֱלהִים) conception of God as the omnipotent power and Judge of reality, and the “YHVH” (יהוה) conception of God as the compassionate Source and Breath of life – the Suffering God who empties himself to partake of our condition – to know our pain, to bear our sorrows, to heal us from the sickness of spiritual death, and to touch us in the loneliness of our exile… The Spirit enables us to “groan” in compassion, directing us away from the impulse to “kill the pain” to accept it as part of our lament and need for connection with God.
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Some people tend to blame God for their troubles. They get angry. They ask “Why me?” Their hearts turns hard and they become bitter over the course of their lives… I suppose such people assume that if they are generally well-mannered and occasionally helpful to others, they have the “right” to expect a life of relative ease, and if that does happen, they feel disappointed with God. As Tevye ironically said to God (in the Fiddler on the Roof): “It may sound like I’m complaining, but I’m not. After all, with Your help, I’m starving to death.”
The nature of beauty has been an enduring mystery to artists and philosophers over the millennia, and various attempts have been made to define it. For example, some have defined beauty as an order, arrangement, and harmony of some kind (understood either as objective qualities inherent in something beautiful, or as a subjective sentiment of a person experiencing something that is esteemed as beautiful, and most often as a combination of both). In other words, something is regarded as beautiful because it possesses a certain arrangement of qualities that evoke pleasure or satisfaction in the mind or heart of a person.
“Let them make me a mikdash (“holy place,” “sanctuary”), that I may dwell in their midst” (Exod. 25:8). Though this verse refers to the physical mishkan (i.e., “Tabernacle”), it more deeply refers to the duty of the heart to sanctify the Name of God and bring a sense of holiness to the inner life. This requires that we focus the mind and heart to honor the sacredness of life, taking “every thought captive” to the truth of God in Messiah (2 Cor. 10:5). Since our minds and hearts are gateways to spiritual revelation, we must be careful to not to abuse ourselves by indulging in sloppy thinking or unrestrained affections. God holds us responsible for what we think and believe (Acts 17:30-31), and that means we have a duty to honor moral reality and truth. There is an “ethic of belief,” or a moral imperative to ascertain the truth and reject error in the realm of the spiritual. Since God holds us responsible to repent and believe the truth of salvation, He must have made it possible for us to do so (“ought” implies “can”). And indeed, God has created us in His image and likeness so that we are able to discern spiritual truth. He created us with a logical sense (rationality) as well as a moral sense (conscience) so that we can apprehend order and find meaning and beauty in the universe He created. All our knowledge presupposes this. Whenever we experience anything through our senses, for example, we use logic to categorize and generalize from the particular to the general, and whenever we make deductions in our thinking (comparing, making inferences, and so on), we likewise rely on logic. We have an innate intellectual and moral “compass” that points us to God.
Faith sees the invisible light, the truth of love that overcomes all the powers of darkness, hate, and fear. “I believe. I believe in the sun even when it is not shining; I believe in love even when feeling it not; and I believe in God, even when God is silent” (from an anonymous poem found on the wall of a cellar in Cologne, Germany, where some Jews hid from the Nazis).
When Abraham sought a place to bury his wife Sarah, he said to the Hittites chieftains: “I am a stranger and sojourner among you…” (Gen. 23:4). The righteous invariably feel like strangers to this world, since they are only passing through, and their focus is on the invisible “city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God” (Heb. 11:10). Likewise they are as sojourners, not at home in this world, because their faith sees through the vanity and deceit of the present world, and therefore they regard themselves as on a journey to the place of truth and holiness where God abides. The wicked, on the other hand, regard life in this world as all that exists, and therefore they “absolutize” the moment and forfeit the blessing of the eternal (Matt. 16:26). Abraham regarded himself as a “stranger and sojourner” (גֵּר־וְתוֹשָׁב) because the people of his world considered themselves as “owners” and “permanent residents” who sought their inheritance in the here and now. Abraham was a “resident” of someplace higher, however, and understood this world to be a corridor to the next. The sages comment on this paradox: God says to man, ‘If you see yourself as a permanent resident in this world, then I will be a stranger to you; if, however, you see yourself as a stranger to this world, then I will be a Dwelling Place for you.”
(Originally published July 11, 2020)
Christian (and Jewish) theology insists that truth matters, and knowing the truth about God is absolutely essential for life itself. Nothing is more important. Nothing is more vital. “This is eternal life (חַיֵּי עוֹלָם), that they may know you, the only true God (אֶל־אֱמֶת), and Yeshua the Messiah (יֵשׁוּעַ הַמָּשִׁיחַ) whom you have sent (John 17:3). The truth sets us free; it is the unbreakable seal that bears witness of reality. In the Gospel of John it is recorded that Yeshua said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (i.e., ᾽Εγώ εἰμι ἡ ὁδὸς καὶ ἡ ἀλήθεια καὶ ἡ ζωή). The Greek word translated “truth” in this verse is aletheia (ἀλήθεια), a compound word formed from an alpha prefix (α-) meaning “not,” and lethei (λήθη), meaning “forgetfulness.” (In Greek mythology, the “waters of Lethe” induced a state of oblivion or forgetfulness.) Truth is therefore a kind of “remembering” something forgotten, or a recollecting of what is essentially real. Etymologically, the word aletheia suggests that truth is also “unforgettable” (i.e., not lethei), that is, it has its own inherent and irresistible “witness” to reality. In that sense light is a metaphor for truth: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5). There can be no truth apart from moral reality. People may lie to themselves, but ultimately truth has the final word.
In the Scriptures it is written: “You shall not worship the LORD your God in that way” (Deut. 12:4), which referred to various Canaanite practices of idolatry based on mystery, ignorance and superstition. Unlike religious cults that were based on vain speculations, however, Jews are duty-bound to carry out God’s will as expressed by the truth of divine revelation. Our father Abraham was given revelation of Torah (Gen. 26:5) and at Sinai moral truth was enshrined in the Ten Commandments (Exod. 24:12; Deut. 5:22).
“Unless you turn (shuv) and become like children, you will never (οὐ μὴ) enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 18:3). Such is the importance of simple trust in God… Indeed Yeshua repeatedly taught us to trust God as “Abba,” our Father (אַבָּא אָבִינוּ). He taught that we are warmly accepted as part of his family; that we are under his constant care; and that we live within his household as beloved children… And even though God is utterly transcendent, the Infinite One (אין סוף) and Creator of all worlds, he humbles himself to feed the birds of the air, to water lilies of the field, and to count the number of hairs on your head (Psalm 113:5-6). He is as close as your next breath; he leans upon your bosom at the table; he anticipates what you need before you ask him… The “fear of the Lord” is that you might fail knowing his great love for you — that you will forget or lose sight of your true identity in lesser things. Therefore affirm the truth that you are loved with an unending and everlasting love, that you are safe, that you are surely accepted, and that nothing can ever separate you from the power of love. God your Father hears you, he knows you, and he loves you bekhol levavo (בְּכָל־לְבָבוֹ) – “with all his heart.”