Recognition of Joy: the in-between spaces

Read: Psalm143

In Psalm 143, we once again find David, the man whom God hand-picked as king, crying out to the Lord.  David, amid armies who sought his destruction.  David, who seems never to be far from an audience with the Lord.  Again, David is crying out for God to save him, to rescue him from his enemies, to place his feet on solid ground again.

As I mentioned on Friday, the Officer and I have been on unsteady ground this summer.  Not with one another (thank God), but with external circumstances mounted against us.  So I can understand the “level ground” metaphor in verse 10.  I have felt like our path has been undulating beneath our feet for months now.  Sometimes jerking out from under us, sometimes turning sharply so we are thrown to our knees.  And I can’t count the number of times I’ve said to the Lord, “I’m done.  I want off this ride.  I’m so tired of it.”  Yet, with every bend, every day that we thought would bring an end to this rolling path we’re on, there has been an extension.  A date set further in the distance.  And we have had to wait.  Even more.  Again and again.  Like David, I have begged the Lord to “answer me quickly;” to “not hide [His] face from me” [v7].   Yet the answer remains imminent.  So I am left to wait.  Left to trust; left to entrust the space between my cries and His answer to the Lord [v8].

In this gloaming I, like David, must meditate on God’s works, in both my life and in history [v5].  Doing so allows me to recognize from whom my relief will come.  David repeats the same theme throughout this song:

YOUR faithfulness

YOUR name’s sake

YOUR righteousness

YOUR unfailing love.

David recognizes that the only help he can receive will be because of and directly through the LORD.  There is no other source; no one else who could affect change for David.  Not even the to-be-king himself.  Whatever the outcome, however the end to his current situation presents itself, it will only be because of God’s faithful, righteous, and unfailing love.  And it will only be for the glory of God’s great name.

So in my time of waiting on wave rippled roads, I resolve to waiting.  For joy is the recognition of whence my rescue comes.  And worship can be waiting right where you are, for the answer you know is forthcoming.    

"I Will Wait" by Mumford & Sons





What Joy looks like through tears

Read: Job 1:13-22, Psalm 142

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Today was hard.  I had to let go of something that has been a source of deep and abiding joy for me.  And yes, I waited until the last possible moment; hoping for the hail Mary pass that didn’t come.   Instead, I’m left praying it’s not a permanent release.  Yet if it is, God is still sovereign.  This morning also brought with it news that has the ability to stifle hope.  Again.  And the Officer and I, together, are still smack-in-the-middle of a time of decided trial which has been marked with a series of false peaks and mirages; this wilderness has consumed a quarter of our year, and still we have no respite in sight.  Another beloved of my heart has had news of the life-altering flavor; and I can’t but hurt with them.           

So a resolution to joy may seem forced.  But joy isn’t a painted on smile and an “everything’s peachy-keen” attitude.  Joy might be recognition of who attends your situation; the acknowledgement of the One from whom your strength, on the weariest, days comes.    

In the first chapter of Job and Psalm 142, we find two men encountering different varieties of the pain a fallen world can provide.  Both Job and David knew what to do in times of hurt; times of grotto dwelling and ash sitting.  Each first recognized the hurt they felt, and then proclaimed God sovereign over his circumstance.

Within the space of four verses, Job loses his entire fortune, all of his servants, and each one of his children.  We could understand how Job could have lost every shred of joy.  And we do see Job react to the news in an emotionally appropriate way: he tore his clothes and shaved his head in mourning.  Yet immediately afterward, he fell to the ground

…and worshiped.

We are told that in his proclamation that “naked [he] came from [his] mother’s womb; and naked will [he] depart.  The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised,” Job “did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing.”[1]  Job recognized the sovereignty of God, in spite of and even through his circumstances.  And so while he was in full mourning (and appropriately so), Job demonstrated what scriptural joy in crappy situations looks like.

David is known for crying out to God in every situation, good or bad.  In Psalm 142, he cries out to God for mercy and rescue.    He proclaims an expectation that God will be good to him.  He says that the Lord is his refuge, even when rescue is in the future tense.  Speaking thus, David is able to decry his circumstance and still claim God as sovereign over even the situations (and people) that have driven David into hiding, into literally skulking about in a cave, fearing for his life and the as-yet-to-be-made-real promises of Almighty God.  
         
Thus, I submit that joy is neither circumstantial, nor does it mean faking happiness.  Joy allows for truth in our emotions.  We can cry, we can mourn, we can say that our situation sucks.  So long as, at the end of the day, we land firmly on the truth that God is God.  And He is sovereign over our stuff, our circumstances; and He is deserving of our worship.  Even if all we can say is, “You are God.”

On days like Job’s or David’s, even my today, joy looks like breathing.   In and out.  In and out.   

And worship can simply mean saying, “God reigns.” 

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[1] Job 1:21-22

An Exorbitant Worship

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Four different people, witnessing any event, will recount what happened in four unique ways.  So when we find accounts of decidedly similar situations in scripture, there is always a discussion among scholars as to whether the events are the same or separate.  One such instance marks our final look (for this series anyway) at an individual woman’s interaction with her Messiah.  I encourage you to read each account, noting similarities and differences.  Find what stands out in each; what seems to be the thrust of the narrative. 

The Anointing at Bethany:

Matthew 26:6-13, Mark 14:3-9, Luke7:36-50, John 12:1-8

Matthew, Mark, and John agree that this incident took place in Bethany; Mark and Matthew concur it was at the house of a disciple, Simon the leper; while John merely states that Martha served and Lazarus ate the food.  Luke does not mention a location and renders the host Simon, a Pharisee.  At the outset, there seem to be too many differences for these to be the same event; yet some scholars claim that the events are too closely parallel and extravagant to have happened more than once.[1]  However, in Matthew and Mark, the unnamed woman anoints Christ’s head; in Luke and John, the woman anoints Jesus’ feet.  In each account other than John’s, the woman is portrayed as an interloper; John states that the woman ministering to Jesus is Martha and Lazarus’ sister, Mary.  Judas, again in the Johannine account, is upset with the waste, whereas in Matthew and Mark it is the disciples who regret the excess; in each text the poor being the reason such extravagance is rebuked. In Matthew, Mark, and John, Jesus rebukes the woman’s accusers for singling her out, when there remain poor within their very communities.[2]  He asserts that what she has done for him is “beautiful,” and that implies that they will have time after his burial to tend to the poor.

For the purposes of our study, we will group the Matthean, Markan, and Johnannine account together, because they deal with the extravagance of this woman’s offering in relation to “helping the poor;” while Luke’s text deals with the woman’s character and suitedness to minister to Christ in such a way. 

Considering that Jesus has spent a good deal of time instructing his followers to care for the poor, to tend the widows and orphans, and himself tending to the least among the Jews, Susan Miller, referencing Mark’s telling, makes the claim that the woman is a prophetic figure.  Miller says that this woman’s act of anointing Jesus indicates his kingship, and her breaking of the jar to pour out the ointment foreshadows the last supper, when at the Passover Christ breaks the bread and pours wine as a symbol for his soon to be broken body and poured out blood, on behalf of the sins of the world.[3] She also suggests that the waste, about which the disciples are upset, represents the coming loss of Jesus’ life.  Baggett agrees with this appraisal, seeing the Markan text as an antecedent that prepares Jesus for his burial.[4]  As a funeral offering, a lavish expenditure of 300 denari is not completely uncommon, and Jesus states that this prepares him for burial.[5]    Dr. Craig Blomberg cautions that while this offering is acceptable to Jesus, who does not require a simply ascetic life from his followers, it is to be the exception in a life devoted to meeting the needs of the have-nots.[6]  Thus in these three accounts, we find a woman who is likely distraught over the thought of losing her Messiah.  She symbolically prepares his body for burial.  Acting in the lavish and tender and intimate way a person who has just lost the love of her life might. 

Certainly, in first century Palestine, it was the women who tended to the bodies after death; the women would wash the earthly shells of their loved ones with tears and perfumes, caring for these spent husks one last time before releasing their loved one into the dust.  Thus we find a woman doing what is culturally expected of her for someone she loves so dearly, merely at a time that is deemed inappropriate by her contemporaries.  Yet this woman, instead of saving her resources for a time when, at least to her mind, Jesus would not benefit from them; pours out her possessions while he is still with her.  Because she loves him.   
And Jesus says this is okay. 

Yes, we are to regularly and habitually use our finances and resources on behalf of the poor.  Yes, we are to give of our time, talents, and treasure daily and sacrificially to benefit the poor and outcast.  Yes, this is to be the practice that marks us as Christ followers: the care of those in need.  But in this woman, we see that it is also good to spend ourselves on behalf of those we love. 

No, this isn’t to say, “Well, I love me, so I’m gonna buy that boat/diamond/Tuscan Villa for myself!”  But imagine the love that would be conveyed if you spent that money (assuming that you have it and aren’t borrowing it) on the person closest to your heart.  Your spouse, your parent, your children, your best friend.  To show them, here and now while they are still drawing breath, that you love and treasure them.  Once.  Sacrificially.  For the sake of love.  Imagine the depths of their spirit to which this would speak.  Imagine their joy in knowing they are so delighted in.  So loved. 

Because, poor or otherwise, Christ loved each of us so much that he spent himself once, sacrificially, for us.

An exorbitant sacrifice.  For Love.

And just for fun, here’s a link to the world’s most expensive desserts.  On the off chance that you’re considering a decadent love offering for your special someone…my favorite?  purely for the artistry: The Fortress Stilt Fisherman Indulgence, $14,500.

Enjoying this study?  Here's a link to other articles in this series: The Women Who Knew Jesus

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[1] Same event: William Hendriksen, New Testament Commentary: Exposition of the Gospel According to Mark, (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1975).  Different events: Sharon Ringe, Westminster Bible Companion: Luke, ed. Patrick D. Miller and David L. Bartlett, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995). 

[2] Craig L. Blomberg, Neither Poverty Nor Riches: A Biblical Theology of Material Possessions, (Leicester: APOLLOS, 1999), 142.

[3] Susan Miller, “The Woman who Anoints Jesus (Mk 14:3-9): A Prophetic Sign of the New Creation,” The Journal of the Britain & Ireland School of Feminist Theology 14 (2006) 221.

[4] John F. Baggett.   Seeing Through the Eyes of Jesus: His Revolutionary View of Reality and His Transcendent Significance for Faith.  Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2008. Page 113.

[5] Matthew 26:12, Mark 14:8, and John 12:7.

[6] Blomberg, Neither Poverty Nor Riches, 142.

Jesus wept.

Two words:  Jesus wept [John 11:35].

The shortest verse in Scripture, encompassing the full humanity of the Christ.  Wept, in the original Greek, is rendered dakruō, [δακρύω] meaning “to shed tears.”  It is neither a silent cry, nor a dramatic wailing.  It is visible, possibly audible.  It is a very human reaction to a poignant situation.

Which then begs the question, why was the Messiah weeping?

In the verses preceding, we learn that Jesus received word that His good friend, Lazarus, was ill, possibly dying.  Scripture tells us that “Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus;” Martha and Mary being Lazarus’ sisters [John 11:5].  Jesus stays where He was for two more days before departing to see Lazarus.  Following conversations with the disciples, “on His arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days” [v. 17].  Christ has conversations with both Martha and Mary before Scripture tells us that when Jesus “saw [Mary] weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, He was deeply moved in spirit and troubled” [v. 33].  Then Christ asks, “where have you laid him?

‘Come and see, Lord,’ they replied” [v.34].

In the very next verse we find the heartrending words, “Jesus wept;” followed immediately by, the “Jews [saying], ‘See how He loved him!’” [v. 36].

It bears mentioning that Jesus, being fully God, is omnipotent.  He responded to this news of Lazarus’ illness by saying, “This sickness will not end in death.  No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it” [v. 4].  On the way to Lazarus’ side, Jesus tells the disciples, “Our friend, Lazarus has fallen asleep; but I am going there to wake him up” [v. 11].  Yet the disciples misunderstand, assuming that Jesus literally means a state of sleep as opposed to death; so Christ clarifies in verses 14-15: “Lazarus is dead, and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe.”  He even assures Martha, upon meeting her, that “Your brother will rise again” [v. 23].  Armed with knowledge incomprehensible to our mortal minds, and assurance of the outcome of the entire situation, Jesus weeps when He is taken to the tomb of His friend, “the one [He] love[s]” [v. 3].

Why?  Could His tears have been triggered by the sadness of those surrounding Him as He accompanies His friends to the tomb of their brother?  Certainly.  Could He be exhausted from travel, frustrated with the limited belief of those around Him, even keenly and supernaturally aware of the plot to kill Him brewing amongst the Pharisees?  Possibly.  Or was Jesus overcome by the death of His friend?  Did He feel loss, as we do?  Did He miss Lazarus; think of the joyful times they shared; wish that He hadn’t had to wait, to inflict sorrow upon those He loved, to help them believe in Him?  I can not, with any authority, say for certain.  Every time I try to ascribe a reason for the Messiah’s tears, I look again, only to find a new potentiality.  Scripture, so far as I am aware, does not reveal the complete explanation behind Christ’s tears.

What I do know in examining this passage is this:

1. Jesus had friends, for whom He cared a great deal; to the extent that their pain caused Him pain

2. Jesus knows what it is like to loose someone you love

3.  Jesus is the only true and lasting comfort.

..and his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor,  Mighty God,
Everlasting  Father, Prince of Peace.

~Isaiah 9:6 [part]

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.

~Revelation 21:4