Blog of A Plodding Visionary
Archive for October, 2011
Constructive Conflict
04 months ago
Last time the small group study that meets at my house was together, we studied the difference between “peace-making” and “peace-keeping” in the Sonship course. (That was actually 8 days ago, but I am just now getting around to updating my blog…)
The core material for the discussion was an audio recording of a message by the late Jack Miller. There is a big difference between being a true peacemaker or a peacekeeper in that the nature of peacekeeping is simply avoiding conflict – hiding and not resolving anything. But a peacemaker must instead pursue “constructive conflict” for the greater goal of achieving right relationships.
A peacekeeper will run away from conflict, perhaps due to his or her own pride. Fear of conflict, or of being found out, or just fear of the unknown may lead some to just ignore things that ought to be addressed. We tend to think that life will be less painful this way. Retreating from people, or not ever letting them get close enough to even be able to cause pain, seems like a prudent way to remain safe. But it’s a false safety and a false peace, and can only lead to broken relationships.
In my notes from 2008, I noticed that I defended my own “peacekeeping skills” by saying I was more peaceful than someone else because I avoided conflict, and that I could remain that way by not letting anyone in because I knew what they would do. While logical, there was no forgiveness there. Furthermore, the wall of silence just served to actually give the appearance of approval, and remove any opportunities to work through the root issues. My own comfort was worth more than anything else.
So ironically, the road to peacemaking may actually lead through conflict. Constructive conflict, that is. Constructive conflict must have forgiveness at the core, and be fueled by the Holy Spirit – not self-reliance. Constructive conflict invites the participants to something much better than the present situation, although the way to get there may be rocky. It’s challenging, uncertain, and maybe even painful for a while, but the end result — reconciliation, community, and healing — is worth the cost.
But it still takes a lot of effort. Jack Miller described it as mounting a “love offensive” — peace-making can actually be equated to fighting a war. But the enemy is not the other person, nor is it their ideas. The enemy is pride and self-righteousness. It involves losing the point of a conflict, giving up the right to be right, and instead focusing on winning the person.
The first step is just to constantly preach to ourselves and others of God’s love. Jack Miller said that what reaches another’s conscience is what reaches ours: that God loves us. It’s the hardest thing to believe, and the most powerful, the most wonderful thing to believe. (In fact, we might even be a little embarrassed to hear that God loves us.)
Then we have to deal with issues, not just personalities. This means putting aside prejudice, pride, and even attitudes, regarding others as more important than ourselves, even to the point of seeming to take a temporal or philosophical defeat.
The third aspect is that communication must be open. Jack Miller said this is the core of Sonship: we can be open, because there’s no reason for hiding: God loves us (and knows anyway). We have to be approachable, for one thing, and also go directly to people in case of conflict rather than just talking about them (or talking to them but avoiding the core issues).
And again, this takes humility. Constructive conflict means you will feel like you’re losing the fight with the person you have been in conflict with. They may seem to be not only unrepentant but also winning. But in constructive conflict you – by God’s grace – can see the bigger picture, and know you are ceding the little battles that don’t really matter to ultimately win someone back into a right relationship and into proper community, and ultimately, sharing God’s love and forgiveness with someone who’s probably in major need of both – like you, yourself are.
Calling on God to Testify… Part 3
04 months ago
Continued from Part 1 and Part 2…
“If God is good, why does pain exist?” is a common question asked by those who find it hard to believe the God of the Bible could allow difficult or unexplainable things to happen. Variations of this question were frequently asked in the United States after 9/11/01, for example, at a time when the status quo had been shattered.
It is a question that, honestly, doesn’t have a satisfactory answer in human terms.
Some explain it by saying there is an ongoing struggle between good and evil, and that evil sometimes wins, and good sometimes wins. But this view is inadequate for two reasons: one is that God is more powerful than, and in fact has sealed the defeat of, Satan. The creature cannot be more powerful than the creator. Also, and directly related, this implies that God is not fully sovereign – that he can be caught off guard, defeated, or caught at a vulnerable point.
Others say that God is not good, and instead is a god of anger and unpredictability, that can strike anyone at a moment’s notice. This view makes God seem more like a god of folklore or mythology; for example, a Zeus-figure. Still others say that God is good, but not loving – that he desires to cause pain because it shows his hatred for this earth (his creation). This is the message of many false teachers ranging from fire-and-brimstone “prophets” to the Kansas hate group famous for its “god hates fags” signs.
Some also say that whatever happens is a product of chance, a result of coincidences, forces, and so on, and is not being actively managed. This category would include the popular view of God that he’s present but uncaring; too busy to actually get involved in most people’s affairs. This is the safe, acceptable view in American culture today – a God that’s present enough to people to be aware of him, but not so active as to seem unsafe or any too powerful. Also in this category would be views such as atheism or a belief in “karma” or fate.
Perhaps the closest analogy to the truth is the famous line by C.S. Lewis in The Chronicles of Narnia, describing the god-figure Aslan: “Safe? …Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.” If God were “safe”, that would mean he is basically confined to the limits of our imaginations. We like control, understanding, and so on. If God were “safe”, he’d be domesticated to the point of not looking anything like the God who created the universe, called a people to be his own, orchestrated their redemption, and will rule this creation forever. He can either be “safe” or he can be God, but not both.
So then, what is the answer? If God is safe, why does pain exist? The question remains unanswered. What are we to believe about this?
I have a theory – and it’s just that – a theory. Using the book of Job (refer to Part 1) as a starting place, we see that God does permit (and ordain) painful events to take place in the lives of his people. In Job’s case, God used it to reveal more of himself to Job; there were some enormous truths about God that Job would not have seen without that experience. These things were necessary for the sanctification of Job; or the process of making Job into the person God had ordained him to be.
There is a second aspect as well. Drawing on two concepts from part 2 – the relational aspect of God, and then God’s desire for people to extend that through community – I do not think it is a stretch to say that God chooses to have people go through difficult times so that they can become recipients of mercy from both God and from their communities. Once again, I will refer to a post I uploaded in late August entitled “Burning Down the Bunker”, which contains a hypothetical allegory of the painful refining process God takes us through so as to lead us out of ourselves and into the much better (but “wild”!) environment of community and fellowship with him. (I didn’t originally write the illustration to be a public blog post, but later decided to share it as I think it does depict one aspect of this process of spiritual growth.)
God brings these things to pass so that we will realize how much we need him; how we are actually totally dependent on him. When things are going well, it’s easy to fall for the illusion of being self-sufficient. It is an act of mercy on God’s part to shatter that illusion, give us more than our self-sufficiency can withstand, break down the idol of pride, and draw us back into dependence on him. This isn’t because God wants us to be unhappy, broken, or dejected, but because we must be reminded we were not created to be our own “islands” but rather to be in community with God and one another. We need God and one another. This others-focused community is inherently part of God’s love (see part 2), and so in order to fully experience his love, and be part of the community he desires we be able to enjoy, we must not become too self-sufficient. He desires to make the self-sufficient orphan a son.
All too often, these feelings of self-sufficiency (and perfectionism) drown out our ability to feel God’s love, as we’re too ashamed of being found out as needy individuals. We can’t actually let anyone else see our imperfections, can we?!
Well, we do, if we’re to remember our own need for the gospel – and not just our own need, but also the need of those around us. And we do if we’re ever to be able to receive God’s love communicated to us by those around us. We need to constantly preach the gospel to ourselves and to others. The gospel isn’t just the message of salvation that you respond to once; no, it’s the good news that we aren’t ever good enough, but God is, and has chosen to clothe us with his righteousness and give us all the blessings of being in his family and in community. Hardship can be one way God reminds us of our own constant need. Sometimes, however, we can’t see it or don’t feel it – or are too defeated to grasp onto the promises the gospel offers. In these cases, we need others to preach the gospel to us; to remind us of the only One who can heal any broken situation, and to encourage with a reminder of what God has done (see what he promised in Scripture!), is doing (look around you!), and will do (there’s always hope!). But we must first be humble and transparent enough to be in a position to receive it.
Also, community isn’t just about telling one another, “God loves you,” but rather living it out in practice. Tim Keller said that “Nobody actually learns that ‘God loves you’ by being told. They have to be shown.” In community, we not only need to speak words of encouragement, but also to make compassion and forgiveness part of our lifestyles. (Believe me, nothing will bring out your own need to hear the gospel than trying to forgive someone else and not take offense for real crimes committed against you!) Actually living out God’s love, however, requires investment – time, effort, longsuffering, and vulnerability. Which, in turn, comes back to the need for all of us to be in community with God and with one another, because as stated before, a self-sufficient helper will soon run out of all ability to help once that sufficiency runs dry – and it will.
So again, if God is good, why does pain exist? It exists so that we will not be content with the status quo, but rather long for something better. So that we will look forward to that future time when everything is healed and redemption is complete. And so that in the meantime, we will experience a foretaste of it by letting ourselves be vulnerable enough to experience God’s love in community with him and one another.
One more thought on this in conclusion. Some may still be having difficulty with the idea that a good God knowingly ordains difficult times, even if the purpose of those times is a greater understanding and feeling of God’s love, and a closer-knit community. This may not make it any easier to take, but — contrary to pop-culture perceptions of God as being distant and emotionless – I am confident that God is not only aware of, but is also compassionate toward, and even saddened by, our pain. Even though it is necessary for our own growth, I think it still grieves a relational God. Consider Hosea 11:8-9 (“How can I give you up, O Ephraim? How can I hand you over, O Israel? How can I make you like Admah? How can I treat you like Zeboiim? My heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender. I will not execute my burning anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim; for I am God and not a man, the Holy One in your midst, and I will not come in wrath.”), Zephaniah 3:17 (“The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.”), or Luke 19:41-42a (“And when he drew near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, “Would that you, even you, had known on this day the things that make for peace!”) God cares. Earlier this year, during an especially rough day, I heard someone comment, “Look at the rain. God is crying – he’s sad too.” This may have been meant as an attempt at humor during a hard time, but in retrospect, it was a very profound statement – a reminder that our sorrow is not lost on God, nor is it ignored, nor is it despised. It is just the precursor to God turning mourning to happiness as he works his love into our lives.
This concept is also depicted well in the lyrics of a new song by Downhere called “For the Heartbreak”. “Thank You for the heartbreak / Thank You for the pain / Thank You for the sadness / On the gloomy days of rain. / Thank You that the hard times / Have a reason and rhyme / Thank You that the healing makes the beauty shine / Thank You for the heartbreak. / When there’s no sign of You / When I’m lost, hurt, and used / You are there hurting, too…”
He sympathizes. And not only does he sympathize, but he came. He did something about it, which involved more pain that any of us will ever know. He made it so that we are now blameless in his eyes and he calls us his children. And he loves us anyway, even when we want to proclaim ourselves “messiah” because we think we know better. And he loves us too much to let us stay in that prideful state long.
So again, when we feel like we deserve an answer from God, as Job did; when we demand that he come into our courtroom and testify for his actions… or even when we proclaim ourselves to be “messiah” and save ourselves because he isn’t doing what we’d like to see him do… I think we have our answer. He loves us anyway, and as proof we need to look no further than the cross. What more proof do we need that God loves us more than we could ever imagine, will go beyond any limit we could dream of to reconcile us to himself, and will do whatever it takes to get us to that place where we can experience the love he showers on us, and the blessings we can get by being in community.
“Shower, O heavens, from above, and let the clouds rain down righteousness; let the earth open, that salvation and righteousness may bear fruit; let the earth cause them both to sprout; I the LORD have created it.
Woe to him who strives with him who formed him, a pot among earthen pots! Does the clay say to him who forms it, ‘What are you making?’ or ‘Your work has no handles’?
Woe to him who says to a father, ‘What are you begetting?’ or to a woman, ‘With what are you in labor?’”
Thus says the LORD, the Holy One of Israel, and the one who formed him: “Ask me of things to come; will you command me concerning my children and the work of my hands?”
(Isaiah 45:8–11)
Calling on God to Testify… Part 2
14 months ago
Continued from part 1:
Has God proven his love in human terms? And is it necessary that he do so?
Yes, God has proven his love in human terms. God entered this world in the Second Person of the Trinity taking on human flesh and becoming a man (while also remaining fully God) in the person of Jesus. There could be no more “human” way for God to prove his love, as this action involved Jesus taking on all aspects of humanity except sin. For 33 years, he experienced hurt, sadness, isolation, and everything else we go through – and infinitely more, as he experienced utter isolation and wrath in our place.
Furthermore, humankind’s very existence can be seen as an act of love.
Theoretically, God could have existed for all eternity (specifically, the three persons of the Godhead) without creating the world, human beings, etc. But he chose not to. 18th century theologian Jonathan Edwards wrote that God is inherently interpersonal, and God’s desire to create is not to fill some void, but rather to extend that perfect interpersonal communication and love that exists within the three persons of the Godhead. Creation exists to display, to extend if you will, these qualities of God. As Tim Keller puts it, “God did not create us to get the cosmic, infinite joy of mutual love and glorification, but to share it. We were made to join in the dance.”
So if Edwards is right, one could say that God “had” to demonstrate his love (if it is even possible to say God “has” to do anything) because it is inherent to his character, and part of the essence of the Trinity. Likewise, Christ’s death on the cross serves as an ultimate depiction of the love of God. Christ did not have anything to gain himself in dying on the cross; he already had everything (including perfect community in the Godhead) so this action was also an act of extending the love to many more; spreading the benefits. The act of redeeming creation was a pure act of interpersonal relational love, just as the initial act of creation was.
Building on this, what does it mean for us to “join in the dance”, as per the Keller quote a couple of paragraphs previous? The first thing is to avoid self-centeredness. Nowhere in this “dance” do we see self-centeredness, or even a self-serving focus. (Some might contend that this is different for God, who requires that we worship and glorify him; but theologians such as Edwards and Keller point out that the Godhead is also others-centric, as each person of the Godhead seeks to serve and glorify and extend the other two!) This is also how the whole law of God is summed up in two things: love Yahweh (God), and one’s neighbor (others).
While self-centeredness seeks one’s own improvement (whether reputation, pride, security, strengths, pursuits, or identity), love instead demands that others be at the center: God first, and then others – in harmony. In doing this, we not only seek to give God glory, but also to lift up and dignify others.
There are two other observations about this process: one is that this exaltation of God and others (our “neighbors”) serves as but a foretaste of the future glory of the new earth, when God will restore all things; when everything sad will come untrue (to borrow a line from J.R.R. Tolkien), and when all will bow the knee and acknowledge God as king. The other is that self-sacrificing love that exalts others and seeks for their betterment is, in some way, a snapshot of the great substitution Christ did for all the redeemed.
In “The Reason For God”, Tim Keller describes it this way:
“…It is impossible to love people with a problem or a need without in some sense sharing or even changing places with them… There is no way to listen and love [emotionally wounded people] and stay completely emotionally intact yourself. It may be that they may feel stronger and more affirmed as you talk, but that won’t happen without you being quite emotionally drained yourself. It’s them or you. To bring them up emotionally you must be willing to be drained emotionally.”
He then goes on to explain further: “All life-changing love toward people with serious needs is a substitutional sacrifice. If you become personally involved with them, in some way, their weaknesses flow toward you as your strengths flow toward them.”
Then here’s the clincher — Keller quotes John Stott to explain why this is significant:
In “The Cross of Christ”, John Stott writes that substitution is at the heart of the Christian message: “The essence of sin is we human beings substituting ourselves for God, while the essence of salvation is God substituting himself for us. We…put ourselves where only God deserves to be; God… puts himself where we deserve to be.”
“If that is true, how can God be a God of love if he does not become personally involved in suffering the same violence, oppression, grief, weakness, and pain that we experience? The answer to that question is twofold. First, God can’t. Second, only one major world religion [Christianity] even claims that God does.”
Amazing. And, for those who will see it, this can serve as proof of God’s love to those who are deeply hurting. That someone cares enough about them to voluntarily give up their own well-being for another’s sake. To sacrifice their own happiness, strength, peace, and comfort so that others can be lifted up out of their sad, hurting state. The one who decides to get involved in the life of someone going through a hard time may very well end up having days where he or she feels a whole lot worse than the one going through the tough time in the first place. I have personally experienced this. But if we dig a little deeper, we’ll see that three things are happening:
One is that the person who is giving up his or her own strength for another is only able to do this because they themselves have been shown love and mercy by Christ. This is where the principle that “you can only love as much as you have been loved, and you can only forgive as much as you have been forgiven” seems to really come into play.
Another thing that is happening is that the person being ministered to is being shown a human picture of an invisible reality: that even though they may think they’re abandoned, misunderstood, and too far gone, there’s someone (ultimately, they need to look to “Someone”) who cares enough to sacrifice for them. Helpful, caring “neighbors” are still not the saviors themselves – they ought to just be pointing to the real Savior that cares deeply, loves infinitely, and saves mightily. The God who sympathizes with weaknesses and trials (Hebrews 4:15) because he became man for 33 years and experienced the pain we do – and then infinitely more on our behalf.
And the third thing is that the helpers will soon realize they can only give so much under their own strength before running dry, getting disillusioned, or succumbing to the pressure they have taken off another’s shoulders. This goes to remind that we are not saviors, not in ministry for our own enrichment, status, or for praise or appreciation, but can only draw on the endless supply of grace and strength we have in Christ. We will fall flat anytime the source of strength is anything other than Christ, and the motivation for action is anything other than sharing what we know we have been given through Christ. We ought to view such experiences as real-life illustrations of what God has done for us – taking our own well-deserved punishment on himself, in exchange for giving us perfect righteousness.
Part 3 of 3 will continue to expand this topic by addressing why difficult times should not be viewed as times when God is absent, but rather as times when God is working closely to mold and refine his beloved people – even though we may cry foul and accuse God of forgetting, or committing an injustice. It will also address why a loving God may, in fact, give us more than we can handle…
Calling on God to Testify… Part 1
24 months ago
In the popular CBS crime drama, Criminal Minds, Derek Morgan is a FBI agent who is strong, confident, yet very compassionate. Nearly every episode depicts him as a strong hero, boldly kicking down doors and finding the bad guys, while also compassionately noticing the pain of those around him. But also, one of the recurring plot lines with Morgan is his faith, or more specifically, alleged lack thereof. Morgan states how he used to believe in God until confronting the problem of pain and suffering; specifically, how could a good God allow such unexplainable things to take place? Frequently investigating gruesome crime scenes caused by deeply depraved individuals, Morgan copes by denying God’s existence so as to not have to address the problem of pain and suffering. In one episode, a former church member has become a serial killer, and Morgan confronts the priest at the church: “When I was a kid, something bad was happening to me and I went to church every day, and I prayed, oh I prayed for it to stop. You know what God did? Nothing.”
The priest responds by saying, “He never gives us more than we can handle.” Perhaps true (with qualification), this still is not necessarily the wisest thing to say to someone who is grieving or struggling, as they will already feel that it is more than they can handle. However, it’s also a safe response for American network television…
Morgan responds with, “Your God expects way too much of thirteen-year-old boys,” and leaves, visibly irritated with the priest. But the episode ends with Morgan forced to face that if there is supernatural evil, there must also be good, and is seen sitting alone in a church, head bowed. At the beginning of the next episode he says it was the first time he had prayed in twenty years, and then discovered right at that time a close friend – who maintained that “everything happens for a reason” – was in an intensive surgery.
Things happen that shake what we believe about God. When things are going well, it’s easy to trust in God and glibly say that he is working all things for good. When things are not going well, we cling to the promises that there is still a reason; that God will use it for good. But then there are also times when things make no sense to us at all, catch us off guard, and we are forced to reckon with a side of God that we are not used to seeing. One temptation may be to then doubt whether God is sovereign, caring, loving, or even good. Another might be to angrily decry God’s injustice – effectively putting one’s own standards of right and wrong on a high pedestal, assuming the role of judge, and demanding that God testify.
Singer-songwriter Eric Peters describes this in the brutally honest lyrics of his song, “I Had To Tell You”: “I crowned myself Messiah since Messiah was not near / I shook my fist at heaven, I told God to go to hell.” This effectively describes what we do whenever we question God’s right-ness (not “righteousness”, but “right-ness” – whether God’s actions are justifiable, or right, in our eyes) – we’re saying we know better than God as to how God should be treating his people.
A few years ago, PBS aired a drama entitled “God on Trial”, depicting Jewish prisoners being held in a death camp during World War II. The Nazis are selecting prisoners to exterminate, and the prisoners begin to complain about the injustice that is taking place. However, the target of their accusations are not their Nazi captors, but rather God. The prisoners choose to put God on trial, accusing him of a breach of contract for “breaking his covenant with the Jewish people.” Some of the prisoners angrily accused God and denounced him. They did not see God as good. Others held on hope, despite what was going on. They still believed God was using these things for their good, though they could not see why nor provide a convincing human argument as to what God might be doing: “I know He is here, even though I don’t understand Him… Maybe God is suffering with us.” And so the prosecution and defenders traded arguments as to whether God had become the enemy, or whether he was permitting these things to happen for a reason.
The book of Job depicts a similar instance, where a few humans basically called on God to defend himself for his actions. God has permitted Job to be tested in ways far more excruciating than just about anyone on record. Job’s wife has suggested that he just “curse God and die,” but Job refuses to do so. Job’s friends insist that he is receiving punishment for wrongdoing, but Job stands his ground and insists his innocence.
“Behold, he snatches away; who can turn him back? Who will say to him, ‘What are you doing?’ God will not turn back his anger; beneath him bowed the helpers of Rahab. How then can I answer him, choosing my words with him? Though I am in the right, I cannot answer him; I must appeal for mercy to my accuser. If I summoned him and he answered me, I would not believe that he was listening to my voice.” (Job 9:12–16)
But by saying he is in the right, Job is claiming to know better than God. He expresses frustration that although he is right, God is more powerful and so he will not have an audience with God so as to be able to air his grievances.
“For he is not a man, as I am, that I might answer him, that we should come to trial together. There is no arbiter between us, who might lay his hand on us both.”
(Job 9:32–33)
“But I would speak to the Almighty, and I desire to argue my case with God.” (Job 13:3)
Job’s belief in God, and knowledge of God’s sovereignty, does not seem to waver. He does not fall for the false counsel of his friends, who “speak things they do not understand”, but still appeals to his own sense of justice: God is sovereign, has every right to do what he pleases, but still must be held accountable for injustice.
“Though he slay me, I will hope in him; yet I will argue my ways to his face.” (Job 13:15)
“Behold, I have prepared my case; I know that I shall be in the right. Who is there who will contend with me? For then I would be silent and die. Only grant me two things, then I will not hide myself from your face: withdraw your hand far from me, and let not dread of you terrify me. Then call, and I will answer; or let me speak, and you reply to me.” (Job 13:18–22)
But eventually, though Job does not curse God nor doubt God’s existence, nor his sovereignty (vs. 10), he does seem to doubt God’s goodness, justice, and presence, expressing frustration that he cannot see God at work in what he is going through.
“Then Job answered and said:
“Today also my complaint is bitter; my hand is heavy on account of my groaning. Oh, that I knew where I might find him, that I might come even to his seat! I would lay my case before him and fill my mouth with arguments. I would know what he would answer me and understand what he would say to me. Would he contend with me in the greatness of his power? No; he would pay attention to me. There an upright man could argue with him, and I would be acquitted forever by my judge.
“Behold, I go forward, but he is not there, and backward, but I do not perceive him; on the left hand when he is working, I do not behold him; he turns to the right hand, but I do not see him. But he knows the way that I take; when he has tried me, I shall come out as gold.”
(Job 23:1–10)
This doubt of God’s justice gives way to a dark terror – that perhaps God is arbitrary and just chooses to deal out suffering for no reason. Instead of a healthy fear (respect) of God, Job’s stance is now that of terror and dejection – sort of like the modern pop-culture view that God sits holding a lightning bolt, enjoying the power to strike whomever he pleases.
“But he is unchangeable, and who can turn him back? What he desires, that he does. For he will complete what he appoints for me, and many such things are in his mind. Therefore I am terrified at his presence; when I consider, I am in dread of him. God has made my heart faint; the Almighty has terrified me; yet I am not silenced because of the darkness, nor because thick darkness covers my face.”
(Job 23:13–17)
Job’s younger friend Elihu has finally had enough, and lets Job (and the other three friends) have it. Job’s error has been that he justified himself (by repeating that he knows he is in the right, and if he and God were on trial together, it would be clear) – but Job does not know God’s plans.
“Then Elihu the son of Barachel the Buzite, of the family of Ram, burned with anger. He burned with anger at Job because he justified himself rather than God.”
(Job 32:2)
“Behold, in this you are not right. I will answer you, for God is greater than man. Why do you contend against him, saying, ‘He will answer none of man’s words’? For God speaks in one way, and in two, though man does not perceive it. In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falls on men, while they slumber on their beds, then he opens the ears of men and terrifies them with warnings, that he may turn man aside from his deed and conceal pride from a man; he keeps back his soul from the pit, his life from perishing by the sword.”
(Job 33:12–18)
Finally, after Job has stated his innocence, Job’s three friends have insisted on Job’s guilt, and Elihu has called Job on his pride – accusing God of injustice – God speaks!
“And the LORD said to Job:
“Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty? He who argues with God, let him answer it.”
Then Job answered the LORD and said:
“Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth. I have spoken once, and I will not answer; twice, but I will proceed no further.”
Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind and said:
“Dress for action like a man; I will question you, and you make it known to me. Will you even put me in the wrong? Will you condemn me that you may be in the right? Have you an arm like God, and can you thunder with a voice like his?
“Adorn yourself with majesty and dignity; clothe yourself with glory and splendor. Pour out the overflowings of your anger, and look on everyone who is proud and abase him. Look on everyone who is proud and bring him low and tread down the wicked where they stand. Hide them all in the dust together; bind their faces in the world below. Then will I also acknowledge to you that your own right hand can save you.”
(Job 40:1–14)
God then shows Job such illustrations as the behemoth and leviathan (possibly dinosaurs and dragons!) – God’s own creation – and how even those creatures are subject to God’s will. All creation is subject to God’s will – Job included – and the creation cannot justifiably question the will of the Creator. Job is humbled by this fact, and realizes his fault. God cannot be held to Job’s standard and expected to testify for what he has chosen to do, and make himself right by Job’s standard; instead, all creation – great creatures, the earth, the whole universe! – are depictions of God’s power and his control over all that takes place. Job repents.
“Then Job answered the LORD and said:
“I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. ‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’ Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know. ‘Hear, and I will speak; I will question you, and you make it known to me.’ I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you; therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes.””
(Job 42:1–6)
After this, God restored Job to an even higher standing than before God had made him low, and forgave Job’s friends for their misrepresenting of both Job and God.
But at this point, one key question seems to be left unanswered: Though God is all-powerful, and as the Creator has every right to do what he pleases with his creation, are his actions really loving? This is at the core of why many people choose to lie to themselves about God’s existence, proclaim themselves “Messiah” because the real Messiah isn’t answering to their terms, or demand that God prove his goodness by a human standard of what seems “right”.
Has God proven his love in human terms? Does he even have to? What proof of God’s love can be presented to someone who is deeply hurting, or who feels God has committed an injustice? These questions and more will be addressed in Part 2.
