Seeking and being sought
Commentary
Some of us have been around long enough to remember a campaign launched by Campus Crusade for Christ in the late '70s, celebrating the discovery of a third-person singular reference-less pronoun. Billboards and bumper stickers across the country were emblazoned with the logo, "I found it!" What was "it"? Eternal life? Salvation? God? Is God an "it"?
Mainline churches were almost unanimous in their critique. The program, they claimed, promoted works-righteousness or denied election. It gave humans the initiative in salvation. Counter bumper stickers were issued that read "It found me!" in an attempt to correct the theology (but not the grammar).
In retrospect, the reaction may have been overblown. The Bible does encourage humans to seek the kingdom of God (Matthew 6:33) and sometimes describes it as a treasure or a pearl or some other "it" that can be "found" (Matthew 13:45-47). The paradox remains, though, and is addressed in all three of the lessons for this day. The overriding theme is our quest for God and God's quest for us. Significantly, none of the lessons develops this theme with reference to conversion, but rather with reference to the experience of the upright, devoted, or faithful. The Bible presents this phenomenon of seeking and being sought, finding and being found, as an ongoing reality for God's people.
Job 23:1-9, 16-17
The famous patience of Job portrayed in last week's lesson appears to have worn thin. Here, we find the poor sufferer lamenting the hiddenness of God. His suffering does not bring him to deny God's existence or power or justice. For Job, the anguish is of a different sort, what we might call a tension between his confession of faith and the realization that this faith (while no doubt true) does not appear to make any difference presently in his life. If only he could abandon his faith! But, he cannot. And this is what makes his heart faint (v. 16), what produces such a sense of dread and despair that he wishes he could simply vanish away (v. 17). Those who have not felt this have probably either not suffered as greatly or believed as deeply as Job.
Ironically, Job's "friends" attribute his despair to a lack rather than a depth of faith. Indeed, this poetic complaint is offered in response to the simplistic advice of Eliphaz, whose philosophy blames the victim for his sorrow and denies the legitimacy of grief. The man who has lost his home and family is told, in essence, to take his troubles to the Lord (22:21, 23, 26). "I would," Job seems to reply sarcastically, "if I could find him. Do you see God in any of this? I don't."
To choose a faith that is guaranteed to bring joy is to create a naive religion of our own design. Job's faith offers no joy at present, but unlike his "friends" he will not resolve this by accepting a resolution that would blame either God or himself for what has transpired. Nor does he look for a silver lining, trying to find some hidden purpose that will make all turn out for the best. Instead, he acknowledges that terrible things happen for reasons that he will never understand, possibly for no reason at all. And he is bound to trust completely in the God who allows this, wherever that trust takes him.
Hebrews 4:12-16
This text offers a necessary counterpart to the first. If even the upright admit that they do not know God, then we may at least be assured that God knows us. Job is groping in darkness, searching everywhere for a hidden God who will not be found. The author of Hebrews speaks from the other side of the veil, revealing the divine perspective. Before this God "no creature is hidden, but all are naked and laid bare" (v. 13).
The well-known metaphor of the two-edged sword is applied here to "the word of God" (v. 12). This certainly includes scripture, but need not be limited to scripture. God speaks in numerous ways, the author of this letter avers, but now in these last days has "spoken by a Son" (1:2). Here, as in John's gospel (1:1, 14), the "word of God" probably refers preeminently to Jesus. He judges us through scripture, preaching, and other means, laying bare our thoughts and intentions. In our modern world, a surgeon's scalpel may provide a better image for such a function than a military weapon. The word of God is not like a knife that will destroy us, but like one that cuts through our pretense of appearances to reveal what we are really like, what we "are made of."
The reason Jesus knows us so well, the text continues, is because he has been one of us. He has endured all our trials and is able to sympathize with our weaknesses. Therefore, we need not fear the God who knows us so well. This intimate knowledge is precisely what inspires us to hope for grace and mercy. God understands! We may not understand God, but God understands us.
The focus on grace and mercy does not cheapen the text's concern for judgment but defines it. Elsewhere, the author declares that "it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God" (10:31). Indeed! But it would be more fearful still to fall out of those hands. The knife of judgment is itself a sign that God has not abandoned us. We do well to fear it, to experience a dread in time of need similar to that of Job. But, like Job, we may also be bold to "hold fast to our confession," to cling to a faith that does not go easy on us.
Mark 10:17-31
We would have to search hard to find a better example of the piercing judgment described in Hebrews 4:12 than that offered here, in Jesus' encounter with the rich man. The text presents him as an unusually righteous man who keeps the Ten Commandments scrupulously. But Jesus' word cuts him to the quick, slashing through all that is commendable to reveal "the one thing" that he lacks.
The passage remains especially appropriate as a word of judgment on middle-class consumerism and acquisitiveness. It should not be taken literally as a mandate for all Christians to divest themselves of all their worldly goods, but neither should it be diluted to imply mere "spiritual renunciation." Counseling the wealthy to "keep things in perspective" is foolish, for where one's treasure is, there one's heart will inevitably be (Matthew 6:21). Accumulation of possessions is the problem, and divestment the only cure.
How do we do that, practically? The typical method is to demand a symbolic but actual surrender of goods. This is the heart of biblical stewardship. It is the reason we have offerings in church. If we just needed to pay the bills, there would be more effective ways of collecting the funds (bill members, charge dues). The point is that every Christian needs on a regular basis to take some of his or her earthly treasure and literally give it away! The point, also, is that every Christian needs to do this for his or her own sake, not just to help the church or aid the poor.
In light of the other lessons, we may read this story again as an instance of a man looking for something ("eternal life"). He thinks that perhaps there is something he needs to know about God to make his quest successful, but actually it depends more on what God knows about him. When he learns what God knows, he goes away grieving, but the last word concerning him provides a context of grace (v. 27). In a way that once again illustrates what is said in the Hebrews text, Jesus' intimate knowledge of the man's need leads him not to condemn the man but to sympathize with the magnitude of his plight and affirm that God's mercy is greater still.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Job 23:1-9, 16-17
Hidden in the language of thought -- of knowing, learning, understanding, or reasoning -- there lies a notion of power that propels Job's complaint. Powerless, he still won't relent. The good Lord has got it coming.
Job uses all four words to describe his frustration. Knowing, as every freshman Bible student quickly discovers, is also the biblical word for sexual intercourse. Knowing the multiplication table opens up a world of mathematics; knowing a person, even if it doesn't involve sexual contact, forms a relationship, opening up companionship or preventing further risk. Knowing and power go hand in hand, even if both are minimal.
Learning, the second term, sets down a parallel. Learning to walk, to talk; to throw, to catch; to sew, to plane; to fish or to fly, whatever, opens up the world around. "Learning to know you, learning to know all about you," words from the old love song "Getting To Know You," brings the two words together in a relationship closer to the heart. In courtship, lovers learn. Delightful, in the end delicious or disappointing, the knowledge provides a power that either sustains the love or destroys it.
Synonyms for the third word, understanding, are often nakedly powerful: to grasp or get a grip on something, to comprehend. Standing under something can be crushing; like old Atlas, the legendary figure who carried the world on his shoulders, it also can be the controlling position.
Luther once called reason the greatest of all God's earthly gifts. Once the facts are in front of you, reason's job is to uncover the relationships so that the recipe, the equation, the plan, the program will work again and still again, providing all of its benefits. The power of reason is just that, one of the fundamental forces of human life.
The four words sum up Job's predicament. A knower, a learner, someone who has understood and used his reason to fit together the equations of success, wealth, happiness, even integrity, and righteousness, he has come literally head up against it. Job has been rendered powerless.
The problem is God. If God were knowable like the multiplication tables or another person; if God could be learned, understood, or ultimately reasoned, God would no longer be God. Job and each of us would be the powerful; God would be powerless.
So what's left? A complaint and a longing. Given what has happened to Job and others, God should listen -- if there is any justice at all, God has it coming. Then maybe, hopefully, God will speak, that we might know as we have been known in Christ.
Mainline churches were almost unanimous in their critique. The program, they claimed, promoted works-righteousness or denied election. It gave humans the initiative in salvation. Counter bumper stickers were issued that read "It found me!" in an attempt to correct the theology (but not the grammar).
In retrospect, the reaction may have been overblown. The Bible does encourage humans to seek the kingdom of God (Matthew 6:33) and sometimes describes it as a treasure or a pearl or some other "it" that can be "found" (Matthew 13:45-47). The paradox remains, though, and is addressed in all three of the lessons for this day. The overriding theme is our quest for God and God's quest for us. Significantly, none of the lessons develops this theme with reference to conversion, but rather with reference to the experience of the upright, devoted, or faithful. The Bible presents this phenomenon of seeking and being sought, finding and being found, as an ongoing reality for God's people.
Job 23:1-9, 16-17
The famous patience of Job portrayed in last week's lesson appears to have worn thin. Here, we find the poor sufferer lamenting the hiddenness of God. His suffering does not bring him to deny God's existence or power or justice. For Job, the anguish is of a different sort, what we might call a tension between his confession of faith and the realization that this faith (while no doubt true) does not appear to make any difference presently in his life. If only he could abandon his faith! But, he cannot. And this is what makes his heart faint (v. 16), what produces such a sense of dread and despair that he wishes he could simply vanish away (v. 17). Those who have not felt this have probably either not suffered as greatly or believed as deeply as Job.
Ironically, Job's "friends" attribute his despair to a lack rather than a depth of faith. Indeed, this poetic complaint is offered in response to the simplistic advice of Eliphaz, whose philosophy blames the victim for his sorrow and denies the legitimacy of grief. The man who has lost his home and family is told, in essence, to take his troubles to the Lord (22:21, 23, 26). "I would," Job seems to reply sarcastically, "if I could find him. Do you see God in any of this? I don't."
To choose a faith that is guaranteed to bring joy is to create a naive religion of our own design. Job's faith offers no joy at present, but unlike his "friends" he will not resolve this by accepting a resolution that would blame either God or himself for what has transpired. Nor does he look for a silver lining, trying to find some hidden purpose that will make all turn out for the best. Instead, he acknowledges that terrible things happen for reasons that he will never understand, possibly for no reason at all. And he is bound to trust completely in the God who allows this, wherever that trust takes him.
Hebrews 4:12-16
This text offers a necessary counterpart to the first. If even the upright admit that they do not know God, then we may at least be assured that God knows us. Job is groping in darkness, searching everywhere for a hidden God who will not be found. The author of Hebrews speaks from the other side of the veil, revealing the divine perspective. Before this God "no creature is hidden, but all are naked and laid bare" (v. 13).
The well-known metaphor of the two-edged sword is applied here to "the word of God" (v. 12). This certainly includes scripture, but need not be limited to scripture. God speaks in numerous ways, the author of this letter avers, but now in these last days has "spoken by a Son" (1:2). Here, as in John's gospel (1:1, 14), the "word of God" probably refers preeminently to Jesus. He judges us through scripture, preaching, and other means, laying bare our thoughts and intentions. In our modern world, a surgeon's scalpel may provide a better image for such a function than a military weapon. The word of God is not like a knife that will destroy us, but like one that cuts through our pretense of appearances to reveal what we are really like, what we "are made of."
The reason Jesus knows us so well, the text continues, is because he has been one of us. He has endured all our trials and is able to sympathize with our weaknesses. Therefore, we need not fear the God who knows us so well. This intimate knowledge is precisely what inspires us to hope for grace and mercy. God understands! We may not understand God, but God understands us.
The focus on grace and mercy does not cheapen the text's concern for judgment but defines it. Elsewhere, the author declares that "it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God" (10:31). Indeed! But it would be more fearful still to fall out of those hands. The knife of judgment is itself a sign that God has not abandoned us. We do well to fear it, to experience a dread in time of need similar to that of Job. But, like Job, we may also be bold to "hold fast to our confession," to cling to a faith that does not go easy on us.
Mark 10:17-31
We would have to search hard to find a better example of the piercing judgment described in Hebrews 4:12 than that offered here, in Jesus' encounter with the rich man. The text presents him as an unusually righteous man who keeps the Ten Commandments scrupulously. But Jesus' word cuts him to the quick, slashing through all that is commendable to reveal "the one thing" that he lacks.
The passage remains especially appropriate as a word of judgment on middle-class consumerism and acquisitiveness. It should not be taken literally as a mandate for all Christians to divest themselves of all their worldly goods, but neither should it be diluted to imply mere "spiritual renunciation." Counseling the wealthy to "keep things in perspective" is foolish, for where one's treasure is, there one's heart will inevitably be (Matthew 6:21). Accumulation of possessions is the problem, and divestment the only cure.
How do we do that, practically? The typical method is to demand a symbolic but actual surrender of goods. This is the heart of biblical stewardship. It is the reason we have offerings in church. If we just needed to pay the bills, there would be more effective ways of collecting the funds (bill members, charge dues). The point is that every Christian needs on a regular basis to take some of his or her earthly treasure and literally give it away! The point, also, is that every Christian needs to do this for his or her own sake, not just to help the church or aid the poor.
In light of the other lessons, we may read this story again as an instance of a man looking for something ("eternal life"). He thinks that perhaps there is something he needs to know about God to make his quest successful, but actually it depends more on what God knows about him. When he learns what God knows, he goes away grieving, but the last word concerning him provides a context of grace (v. 27). In a way that once again illustrates what is said in the Hebrews text, Jesus' intimate knowledge of the man's need leads him not to condemn the man but to sympathize with the magnitude of his plight and affirm that God's mercy is greater still.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Job 23:1-9, 16-17
Hidden in the language of thought -- of knowing, learning, understanding, or reasoning -- there lies a notion of power that propels Job's complaint. Powerless, he still won't relent. The good Lord has got it coming.
Job uses all four words to describe his frustration. Knowing, as every freshman Bible student quickly discovers, is also the biblical word for sexual intercourse. Knowing the multiplication table opens up a world of mathematics; knowing a person, even if it doesn't involve sexual contact, forms a relationship, opening up companionship or preventing further risk. Knowing and power go hand in hand, even if both are minimal.
Learning, the second term, sets down a parallel. Learning to walk, to talk; to throw, to catch; to sew, to plane; to fish or to fly, whatever, opens up the world around. "Learning to know you, learning to know all about you," words from the old love song "Getting To Know You," brings the two words together in a relationship closer to the heart. In courtship, lovers learn. Delightful, in the end delicious or disappointing, the knowledge provides a power that either sustains the love or destroys it.
Synonyms for the third word, understanding, are often nakedly powerful: to grasp or get a grip on something, to comprehend. Standing under something can be crushing; like old Atlas, the legendary figure who carried the world on his shoulders, it also can be the controlling position.
Luther once called reason the greatest of all God's earthly gifts. Once the facts are in front of you, reason's job is to uncover the relationships so that the recipe, the equation, the plan, the program will work again and still again, providing all of its benefits. The power of reason is just that, one of the fundamental forces of human life.
The four words sum up Job's predicament. A knower, a learner, someone who has understood and used his reason to fit together the equations of success, wealth, happiness, even integrity, and righteousness, he has come literally head up against it. Job has been rendered powerless.
The problem is God. If God were knowable like the multiplication tables or another person; if God could be learned, understood, or ultimately reasoned, God would no longer be God. Job and each of us would be the powerful; God would be powerless.
So what's left? A complaint and a longing. Given what has happened to Job and others, God should listen -- if there is any justice at all, God has it coming. Then maybe, hopefully, God will speak, that we might know as we have been known in Christ.
