This morning I re-read the request that Elisha made of Elijah--namely, that he would receive a "double portion of Elijah's spirit" when his friend and master (he was Elijah's personal servant, if you remember) was gone. After Elijah was taken away, Elisha picked up just where his former master had left off. As usual, I find myself comparing the lives of these two men, and again I have arrived at the conclusion that, while both were great men of God, Elisha had greater faith, and it was because of this huge, unshakable faith that God rewarded him with a "double portion" of anointing.
Don't believe me? I find the basis for this in the difference in how the two men reacted to intense persecution. Whereas Elijah ran from Jezebel and had to get reassurance from God that he was not the last one on earth to believe in God (1 Kings 19), Elisha coolly accepted that the army of the Arameans had surrounded his home, because he was certain he and his servant were not alone--God was with them (2 Kings 6: 16).
When Elisha asked for a "double portion," I don't get any indication that he was asking for more faith than his master Elijah. He already had that faith, and the certainty that he would get what he asked for was what kept him with Elijah until the very end. His was a dogged faith that even the apostles lacked (at least in the beginning), because they fell asleep while their Master prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane (Matthew 26: 36-46).
What Elisha wanted was not greatness among men, but rather to see the greatness of God generously meted out through his life. His request proves that two ways. First, by asking for more than his master had, Elisha demonstrated that he wanted nothing of human origin. It is within a man's power to teach his apprentice all that he knows. It is beyond a man's power to pass on more than what he has. Secondly, Elisha wanted more than just what he had seen of God in Elijah's life. He wanted what he hadn't seen yet, that second measure of God's presence, the part that was beyond the limits that even Elijah, in his weaker faith, had put on God.
Today, I've got to ask, do we have the faith of Elisha? I don't mean the faith that gives us the power to work miracles, although those are wonderful. I mean, do we have the faith that believes that God's power is without limit? As the days grow more evil, will we know for certain that God is greater than our enemy? Will we have the faith to stand and wait for God to deliver us? We need that double portion! I pray that we will seek it.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
God of the Mountains and the Valleys
"He who forms the mountains, creates the wind, and reveals his thoughts to man, he who turns dawn to darkness, and treads the high places of the earth—the Lord God Almighty is his name." (Amos 4: 13 NIV)
Have you ever climbed to the summit of a tall mountain? If you have, you can agree with me that a "mountain top experience" is actually quite humbling.
When I was small, my parents took me on vacation to Colorado, and we rode the tramway to the summit of Pikes Peak, a mountain in the U. S. Rockies that is over 14, 000 feet above sea level. I still remember the awe I felt when a park ranger explained to us that clear day that we could see parts of several states from where we were standing. Whole cities looked like ants from that perspective. I didn't get the "high" of a mountain climber, reveling in the accomplishment of looking down at the whole world (well, at least a big piece of it). Actually, I stood at the railing, studying vast washes of gray, white, and greens, and all the mirror-like lakes I knew were quite large at their level, and I thought about how small and frail I really was compared to it all.
I realize now, having taken a lot of humanities classes in college, that I'm not the only person who "waxed religious" when I saw a mountain or looked down from the summit of it. Mountains are a common symbol in many cultural beliefs, from the ancient Greeks who revered Mt. Olympus to modern-day Armenians who live in the shadow of Mt. Ararat. Frequently mountains show up as the "residence of the gods" or as a place to offer sacrifices to them (see Deuteronomy 12: 2, for instance). They also frequently appear symbolically represented in the shape of important buildings around the world, from Sumerian ziggurats in Iran, to ancient Mycenaean and Etruscan tombs and homes, to ancient Buddist stupas in southern and eastern Asia.
Now, I'm not an archaeologist or a certified scholar of ancient cultures, so maybe my interpretation of this shouldn't be taken too seriously. However, I find the common association of mountains with superior or divine power to be a revealing commentary on humanity. Perhaps my opinion is shaped by my own "mountain top experience," but I think mountains humble us and remind us that we aren't the gods we'd like to think we are. They also remind us of our distance from God and His greatness. Down in the valley, we see each other at the same level, and contend with people whose strength is matched with ours, but from the top of a mountain, one gains an advantage over another. The way I see it, people have always tried to acquire some of the power associated with the "high ground," sometimes venerating that power and other times trying to use it as a step stool to rise to the level of a distant god or gods, so that the problems of man could be heard.
I theorize that mountains hold this power because they make us look small, and draw the human mind to contemplate the power that raised that mountain. This Divine Personality is revealed through this natural wonder to be not only larger than us, but more powerful. Many assume that Divinity with this much power must also be very far away and unable (or unwilling) to see and hear all that goes on in the valleys far below.
Mountains show up in the symbolism of the Bible as well. Many secular scholars use this (among other vague similarities) to place the Bible on the same level as any other religion. However, there's something distinctively different about God's Holy Mountain (Psalm 43: 3, Isaiah 57: 13). Do you know it?
Though God is often described as dwelling on the mountain, He frequently invites man to join Him where He is. God spoke to Abraham and Moses on the mountain tops, giving and affirming His covenant with them. He also was pleased to dwell in a temple built by Solomon on Mount Moriah. God didn't use mountains to distance Himself from people below; rather, they were a step to reach down to the level of the people He had made. Take, for instance, this dialog between God and Moses at Moses' calling:
But, there is something further. Remember when I said earlier, "Down in the valley, we see each other at the same level, and contend with people whose strength is matched with ours, but from the top of a mountain, one gains an advantage over another"? God doesn't use the great heights on which He dwells to dominate or bully us. He is near to us, even reaching out to us at our level, so that the whole world can know Him and praise Him (Deuteronomy 30: 11-14). This was revealed to us in the character of Christ, who humbly walked among us but was in His very nature, God.
Because of Jesus, I look at the mountains with a different kind of awe. All the other so-called or self-made gods may dwell on mountains, dominating the people who serve them and enjoying the power their stations hold, but my God was not satisfied with this. He loved me enough to seek me out in the valleys, because I was too small to reach Him. He humbled me, so that in the end, He could raise me up to join Him on His mountaintop. Because of this, I praise Him! Do you know Him? This is what He says to you today:
Have you ever climbed to the summit of a tall mountain? If you have, you can agree with me that a "mountain top experience" is actually quite humbling.
When I was small, my parents took me on vacation to Colorado, and we rode the tramway to the summit of Pikes Peak, a mountain in the U. S. Rockies that is over 14, 000 feet above sea level. I still remember the awe I felt when a park ranger explained to us that clear day that we could see parts of several states from where we were standing. Whole cities looked like ants from that perspective. I didn't get the "high" of a mountain climber, reveling in the accomplishment of looking down at the whole world (well, at least a big piece of it). Actually, I stood at the railing, studying vast washes of gray, white, and greens, and all the mirror-like lakes I knew were quite large at their level, and I thought about how small and frail I really was compared to it all.
Mountain Symbolism in World Religions
I realize now, having taken a lot of humanities classes in college, that I'm not the only person who "waxed religious" when I saw a mountain or looked down from the summit of it. Mountains are a common symbol in many cultural beliefs, from the ancient Greeks who revered Mt. Olympus to modern-day Armenians who live in the shadow of Mt. Ararat. Frequently mountains show up as the "residence of the gods" or as a place to offer sacrifices to them (see Deuteronomy 12: 2, for instance). They also frequently appear symbolically represented in the shape of important buildings around the world, from Sumerian ziggurats in Iran, to ancient Mycenaean and Etruscan tombs and homes, to ancient Buddist stupas in southern and eastern Asia.
Now, I'm not an archaeologist or a certified scholar of ancient cultures, so maybe my interpretation of this shouldn't be taken too seriously. However, I find the common association of mountains with superior or divine power to be a revealing commentary on humanity. Perhaps my opinion is shaped by my own "mountain top experience," but I think mountains humble us and remind us that we aren't the gods we'd like to think we are. They also remind us of our distance from God and His greatness. Down in the valley, we see each other at the same level, and contend with people whose strength is matched with ours, but from the top of a mountain, one gains an advantage over another. The way I see it, people have always tried to acquire some of the power associated with the "high ground," sometimes venerating that power and other times trying to use it as a step stool to rise to the level of a distant god or gods, so that the problems of man could be heard.
I theorize that mountains hold this power because they make us look small, and draw the human mind to contemplate the power that raised that mountain. This Divine Personality is revealed through this natural wonder to be not only larger than us, but more powerful. Many assume that Divinity with this much power must also be very far away and unable (or unwilling) to see and hear all that goes on in the valleys far below.
Mountains and God in the Bible
Mountains show up in the symbolism of the Bible as well. Many secular scholars use this (among other vague similarities) to place the Bible on the same level as any other religion. However, there's something distinctively different about God's Holy Mountain (Psalm 43: 3, Isaiah 57: 13). Do you know it?
Though God is often described as dwelling on the mountain, He frequently invites man to join Him where He is. God spoke to Abraham and Moses on the mountain tops, giving and affirming His covenant with them. He also was pleased to dwell in a temple built by Solomon on Mount Moriah. God didn't use mountains to distance Himself from people below; rather, they were a step to reach down to the level of the people He had made. Take, for instance, this dialog between God and Moses at Moses' calling:
"Then [God] said, 'I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob.' At this, Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God.This is an image repeated many times in the Bible. God is not distant from us, nor does the heights at which He dwells prevent Him from hearing and seeing all that is going on below. I'm here to say that God is not merely a God of the mountain tops, but also a God of the valleys (1Kings 20: 23-28). God was powerful enough to raise the mountains, so why should we think that He isn't powerful enough to come down from them?
The Lord said, "I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering. So I have come down to rescue them from the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land..." (Exodus 3: 6-8 NIV)
But, there is something further. Remember when I said earlier, "Down in the valley, we see each other at the same level, and contend with people whose strength is matched with ours, but from the top of a mountain, one gains an advantage over another"? God doesn't use the great heights on which He dwells to dominate or bully us. He is near to us, even reaching out to us at our level, so that the whole world can know Him and praise Him (Deuteronomy 30: 11-14). This was revealed to us in the character of Christ, who humbly walked among us but was in His very nature, God.
Because of Jesus, I look at the mountains with a different kind of awe. All the other so-called or self-made gods may dwell on mountains, dominating the people who serve them and enjoying the power their stations hold, but my God was not satisfied with this. He loved me enough to seek me out in the valleys, because I was too small to reach Him. He humbled me, so that in the end, He could raise me up to join Him on His mountaintop. Because of this, I praise Him! Do you know Him? This is what He says to you today:
"Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest, and repent. Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me. To him who overcomes, I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I overcame and sat down with my Father on his throne." (Revelation 3: 19: 21 NIV).
Friday, September 3, 2010
Weekly Trivia Files: Degrees of Badness
You may have noticed at some point that every culture in the world, and practically all of the world religions have some sort of "hierarchy of badness" in place--that is, some offenses that are considered worse than others. For example, murder is viewed as an almost universal evil, but lying is usually considered to be a pretty mild transgression.
Again, speaking in generalities, these "degrees of wrong" are usually assigned different levels of punishments, and can often be reversed using another system of "levels of merit." In this way, lying to your neighbor or the judge are less wrong, and more easily "worked off," than, say, burning your neighbor's barn or killing a child.
All of this tends to contribute to the notion that we have some leeway when we sin, depending on how bad it was or how easily reversible it is.
Christianity is different, because (despite what some churches teach), the Bible makes no distinction between different kinds of sin or their punishments. In fact, we read the dreadful verdict, "There is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God," (Romans 3: 22b-23 NIV). There is no hierarchy of badness and goodness here, because all are measured by the same measure, and none are above reproach. By this measure, lying and murder are equally abominable, because they are both transgressions that testify against us and come against the very nature and glory of God (see Jeremiah 14: 7; Isaiah 59: 2, 12-14). There are no levels of sin; all receive the same punishment, which is the curse of death (Romans 5: 12).
The story of Adam and Eve's fall even backs this up. The first sins were not murder or some other "extreme" kind of sin, it was simple disobedience, followed by lying. Adam and Eve both lied, shifting the blame for what they had done onto someone else, and at the same time, implying that their disobedience was somehow less grave than the sin the other had done (Adam: "I ate it, but she ate it first." Eve: "I ate it, but the snake tricked me first"). God didn't treat the sin of lying with any less harshness than the sin of murder that their son later committed (see Genesis 4: 10-16); both sins resulted in banishment from God and from all that they knew--this is just a foreshadowing of what death would be.
There are no degrees of badness, and we are all judged by the same standard, so no one can look down upon another for having done a "worse sin." As Christians, we know that without Jesus' sacrifice to take away the reproach of sin, we would all be going to the same end. Because of this, we should all be honest about ourselves, and be humbled before God, so that He can exalt us.
Again, speaking in generalities, these "degrees of wrong" are usually assigned different levels of punishments, and can often be reversed using another system of "levels of merit." In this way, lying to your neighbor or the judge are less wrong, and more easily "worked off," than, say, burning your neighbor's barn or killing a child.
All of this tends to contribute to the notion that we have some leeway when we sin, depending on how bad it was or how easily reversible it is.
Christianity is different, because (despite what some churches teach), the Bible makes no distinction between different kinds of sin or their punishments. In fact, we read the dreadful verdict, "There is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God," (Romans 3: 22b-23 NIV). There is no hierarchy of badness and goodness here, because all are measured by the same measure, and none are above reproach. By this measure, lying and murder are equally abominable, because they are both transgressions that testify against us and come against the very nature and glory of God (see Jeremiah 14: 7; Isaiah 59: 2, 12-14). There are no levels of sin; all receive the same punishment, which is the curse of death (Romans 5: 12).
The story of Adam and Eve's fall even backs this up. The first sins were not murder or some other "extreme" kind of sin, it was simple disobedience, followed by lying. Adam and Eve both lied, shifting the blame for what they had done onto someone else, and at the same time, implying that their disobedience was somehow less grave than the sin the other had done (Adam: "I ate it, but she ate it first." Eve: "I ate it, but the snake tricked me first"). God didn't treat the sin of lying with any less harshness than the sin of murder that their son later committed (see Genesis 4: 10-16); both sins resulted in banishment from God and from all that they knew--this is just a foreshadowing of what death would be.
There are no degrees of badness, and we are all judged by the same standard, so no one can look down upon another for having done a "worse sin." As Christians, we know that without Jesus' sacrifice to take away the reproach of sin, we would all be going to the same end. Because of this, we should all be honest about ourselves, and be humbled before God, so that He can exalt us.
To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told this parable: "Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: 'God, I thank you that I am not like other men—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.'
"But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, 'God, have mercy on me, a sinner.'
"I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." (Luke 18: 9-14 NIV)
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