Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

 

Retired Bible Professor,

Bob Jones University

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On Justice, Part 4: Accomplished

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Part 1: We All Want It | Part 2: The Perp | Part 3: Progress

The second paragraph of Revelation 20 turns its attention to what happens during the thousand years when Satan is confined in the abyss. But in the third paragraph (Re 20.7-10) the focus returns to “that old serpent, the devil, and Satan”—specifically, his behavior once he is released. And—spoiler alert—we find that the confinement has not reformed him; he continues in his evil ways.

He pursues his work as a deceiver (Re 20.8).  During Jesus’ earthly ministry, the Lord taught that “the devil … is a liar, and the father of it” (Jn 8.44). Here Satan continues to be what he is, revealing his nature as an enemy of the truth. He “deceive[s] the nations which are in the four quarters of the earth” (Re 20.8). He lies on a massive scale, deceiving whole people groups, millions strong, across and around the globe. There’s simply no end, temporally or spatially, to his evil.

And these nations, millions strong and utterly deceived, decide that their enemy is not the one lying to them, but the people of God. They gather their forces to surround Jerusalem, “the camp of the saints … , and the beloved city” (Re 20.9).

What chance does a single city have against the combined armies of the world? Why doesn’t he pick on somebody his own size?

Well, because he’s a bully, and attacking the weak is what bullies do.

But we know that bullies are not in fact strong; they attack the weak because they themselves are weak, and they are cowards.

So is the snake.

And when bullies strut their stuff, typically someone stronger, who has a sense of justice, comes along and trounces them. And pretty much every member of the human race loves to see that happen.

Thus we can anticipate the next verse without even reading it.

There is a God in heaven, who is just and right, and whose knowledge and power are infinite. He’s going to know about the 10-year-old thug who’s stealing the second-grader’s lunch money. And he’s going to know about the father of lies who’s deceiving the whole world into turning against his largely helpless people.

The time for justice has come.

As the armies mass around Jerusalem in John’s vision, “fire came down from God out of heaven, and devoured them” (Re 20.9).

Well. That changes things.

But justice requires more. The father of lies himself needs to face payback for the evil and destruction he has wrought.

So we reach verse 10:

And the devil that deceived them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone, where the beast and the false prophet are, and shall be tormented day and night for ever and ever.

Torment. Day and night. Forever.

Intensive, and extensive, and infinitely so.

A fitting punishment for such a being.

We don’t really know how Satan got this way. I don’t believe Isaiah 14.12-15 is telling us anything about that; I think it’s simply a description of the king of Babylon, predicted by Isaiah more than a century before. I do think, though, that Ezekiel 28.11-19 is a double reference to the king of Tyre and to Satan; and there we learn merely that “iniquity was found in” him (Ezk 28.15).

How? Well, because of pride, apparently (Ezk 28.17). But where did the pride come from?

It’s a puzzle, indeed.

But as uncertain as Satan’s origin is, there is no uncertainly about his future. He will face justice, and God’s people will be delivered.

Justice.

Even so.

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On Justice, Part 3: Progress

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Part 1: We All Want It | Part 2: The Perp

So what’s going to happen to this character, “that old serpent, … the devil, and Satan” (Re 20.2), the originator and perpetrator of all the evil in the world?

God is not the sort of person to be overpowered, and he is not the sort of person to let injustice go unresolved. To put it in the vernacular, he takes care of business.

The first three verses of Revelation 20 set the stage for this resolution.

1 And I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand. 2 And he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the Devil, and Satan, and bound him a thousand years, 3 And cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years should be fulfilled: and after that he must be loosed a little season (Re 20.1-3).

This single sentence gives multiple indications that God is greater than Satan. To begin with, he is overpowered by an “angel” (Re 20.1). Now, we’ve learned elsewhere in Scripture that angels are spiritual beings, created by God to be his servants (He 1.14), and particularly to deliver messages from God to humans (e.g. Lk 1.11 ff). They are greater than humans (Ps 8.5), but of course much less great than their Creator, God.

And just one of them is given divine tools sufficient to seize and to bind Satan (Re 20.2). If one angel is stronger than Satan, then God certainly is too.

So what about those tools? Is this a literal kay and a literal chain? Despite my bias toward taking the Scripture literally whenever possible, I don’t think so. The book of Revelation contains a lot of language that is clearly non-literal, and I strongly doubt that Satan can be bound by a literal chain. When we first meet him, he’s in the form of a serpent, and in Job, he’s a being who appears before God in the heavenly court, with no mention of snakishness (snakitude?). Since it seems that he’s non-physical, then he is bound and locked in a confinement that is effective for his non-physical nature.

We’re told that he is confined this way “for a thousand years” (Re 20.2). Now here I’m going to take the time statement literally (thus identifying myself as a premillennialist), primarily because John repeats it in every verse through the end of the paragraph (Re 20.3, 4, 5, 6, 7), seemingly emphasizing it, making a point of it.

The place of confinement is described as “a bottomless pit” (Re 20.3), literally an “abyss.” This word appears in the Greek translation of the OT a few times, initially in the creation account, where “darkness was upon the face of the deep” (Ge 1.2). Moses describes the Promised Land as “a land of … depths that spring out of valleys and hills” (Dt 8.7). In later Jewish and Christian writings it came to refer to the dark abode of the dead, similar to what we would call “hell.”

So Satan is temporarily bound in this deep (and by implication inaccessible and inescapable) place.

Why?

“That he should deceive the nations no more” (Re 20.3).

Here’s a second indication that God is greater than Satan. God forcibly protects the welfare of his people. He will not allow Satan’s destructive deception to continue. There is coming a time when injustice will end.

Why so long before God does this?

That’s a legitimate question. Many of God’s people, within the Scripture and since, have asked that question, and God does not attack them for asking.

But he also doesn’t answer their question.

The third indication of his greatness is that God chooses the timing, because he is in charge.

As the old child’s prayer reminds us, God is great (empowering his servants to bind Satan at the determined time) and God is good (acting to protect his people).

We’ll trace this story to its complete resolution next time.

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On Justice, Part 2: The Perp

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Part 1: We All Want It 

As we noted last time, we all want justice, but in spite of our best efforts, it continues to elude us. We’re surrounded by accounts of injustices, and while some of those accounts are probably exaggerated, not all of them are, not by a long shot. 

Broken people, broken world. 

The world has not always been broken, however, and it will not always be. 

Scripture tells the story of how the brokenness arrived. It tells of a snake who deceived the first woman and of a man, her husband, who cooperated, even though he knew perfectly well what he was doing (Ge 3.1-6; cf 1Ti 2.14). 

Yeah, a talking snake. A lot of people think that’s just ridiculous, and it’s easy to see why they do. 

But I don’t. I view the Scripture as divinely inspired, inerrant, and authoritative, and I’ve explained why here. 

So I’m biased toward the biblical accounts. All evil, including the world’s injustice, came from a talking snake. 

So who was he? 

The account says simply that he was a snake, and that he was “more crafty” than any other creature. In Job, possibly written even before Moses wrote Genesis, we meet someone named “The Satan” (Job 1.6), or “The Adversary,” who clearly opposes God; but beyond a handful of later references (1Ch 21.1; Ps 109.6; Zec 3.1-2), the Hebrew Scriptures have nothing else to say about him. 

With the incarnation, though, he seems to get busy, throwing all his forces at the Christ when he is apparently most vulnerable. Satan appears in all four Gospels (Mt 3x; Mk 5x; Lk 6x; Jn 1x) and in Acts (2x). 

He shows up often in Paul’s epistles (10x), and he explodes onto the scene at the end of history (8x in Rev). It’s at the very end of the story (Re 20.2, 7) that we find the answer to the question we have had from the beginning: who is the snake? 

John tells us: 

2 And he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the Devil, and Satan, and bound him a thousand years. 

Now, is it possible that Eve’s tempter was a different snake? I suppose so, theoretically, but I note that John has already called this creature a “dragon,” which would nicely continue the flow of the story, but he pauses to add that he’s a “serpent,” which looks an awful lot like an inclusio, a bookend reference back to the beginning of the Canon; and he calls him “that” serpent, a relative pronoun that indicates a previous reference—something that linguists call an “anaphoric” use. And then, John calls Satan “that old serpent,” a strong indication that our “inclusio” theory is correct. 

So this creature—and he is merely a creature—started all this trouble, this pain and suffering and exploitation and injustice, and now the Scripture is going to tell us what happens to him. 

Some people object that God seems to be taking his sweet time addressing the problem, and they assume that this indicates some sort of moral failing in God—if he even exists. 

I don’t have the time or space here to address the large question of the problem of evil, but I intend to as occasion presents itself down the road. In the meantime, given my own observational and intellectual limitations, and given God’s demonstrated faithfulness to me over a lengthening life, I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt. Suffice it to say that justice is coming, and that God’s view of time infinitely exceeds ours. 

In the next post we’ll turn to an examination of this climactic passage revealing God’s dealing with his persistent but infinitely inferior enemy. 

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On Justice, Part 1: We All Want It 

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“Joseph Sledge’s timing could not have been worse. While serving a four-year sentence for stealing t-shirts in 1976, the 36-year-old man from Georgia escaped from a prison work farm in eastern North Carolina. That same day, Josephine Davis and her daughter Ailene were brutally murdered in their farmhouse in nearby Bladen County. Sledge immediately became the prime suspect and was charged with their murders upon his re-capture” (Matt Ford, “Guilty, Then Proven Innocent,” The Atlantic, 2/9/2015). 

Two inmates where Sledge was being held after his capture told police that Sledge had told them that he had killed a couple of white women. 

Open and shut case, right? 

No. 

Bloody fingerprints found at the scene were not Sledge’s. Several hairs could not identify anyone. The bloody shoeprints didn’t match Sledge’s shoes. 

And those inmates? 

We’ll get back to them. 

Two years later Sledge was convicted of double murder and sent to prison. He insisted that he was not guilty. After 25 years his request for DNA testing was granted. 

For the next nine years, they couldn’t find the hairs. 

Finally, in 2012 they found them. 

The DNA testing excluded Sledge as a suspect. 

Six months later one of the two informants—the only one still living—testified that he had lied by repeating information he’d heard from police and prison staff, in return for a $3000 reward and the dropping of some charges he was facing. 

More than 18 months later, Sledge was declared innocent and freed. He was 70 years old, and he had spent more than half of his life in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. 

Five years later, he died. 

There are more details, if you have the stomach for them. 

The injustices in this story are numerous and pervasive. It’s common for us to assume motives, but I try to resist doing that, because only God knows the heart. But even if we assume everyone involved had the best of intentions—except, of course, those informants—there’s still plenty to criticize. The basis for the original conviction was of course weak. I’ve written of my time on a jury, where half the members would not vote to convict—even though they thought the defendant was guilty—because the entire case was based on the statements of a single witness. A truism in the law is that it’s better to let a guilty person go free than to convict an innocent one. 

Further, the archiving of the physical evidence was at best inept. They couldn’t find the hairs for nine years?! That’s just really hard to believe. 

And another 18 months to release the man after it was indisputable that he was innocent. 

Even at their best—and this is not one of those times—our justice systems are imperfect and frustrating and, well, unjust. 

And we hate that, or at least we should. 

As creatures from God’s hand and in his image, we want justice to be done. We want evils to be corrected, miscreants to be fairly punished. And we especially want the really evil people—the Hitlers and the Pol Pots and the Idi Amins and the Ted Bundys and the Wayne Gacys and the Jeffrey Epsteins of this world—to face what they’ve got coming. We want their evil to end. 

We want peace. We want safety. We want justice. 

And if there’s just one person who’s behind all this evil, who’s responsible for all of it, and intentionally so— 

We want to see him crushed, violently and painfully and permanently. 

Well. 

The Bible talks about that, and in fact its larger story moves to its climax by recounting the final justice given to the Evil One. 

We’ll talk about that next time. 

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In the Image of God, Part 3: One Last Thought 

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Part 1: What It Means | Part 2: So What? 

One last thought. 

Christ perfectly images God.  

In whom [i.e. the lost] the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them (2Co 4.4). 

[Christ] is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation (Co 1.15). 

[Christ] being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high (He 1.3). 

Those who have seen him, he said, have seen the Father (Jn 14.9). 

And God is making us like Him. We are being sanctified into that image. 

28 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. 29 For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brethren (Ro 8.28-29). 

We all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord (2Co 3.18). 

And He will certainly take us all the way there; we will one day be glorified into that image.  

As we have borne the image of the earthy, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly (1Co 15.49). 

[Christ] shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to the working whereby he is able even to subdue all things unto himself (Php 3.21). 

Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is (1J 3.2). 

As surely as the sun came up this morning, God will finish His work in us. He will conform us to the perfect image of His Son. In this life you will never image God as you should; you will never image Him as He deserves to be displayed. But your Savior, the God-Man, has always imaged Him perfectly and completely, and because of His work for you and in you, the day will come—will certainly come—when you image Him in a way that you can’t today.  

And in that day, with a numberless throng of people who don’t look like you, but with whom all of you radiate the image and glory and mercy and grace of God, you will sing His praise: “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain.”  

Take His hand, and follow Him through the trials and the challenges by which He is sanctifying you.  

He promises you that you will love where He’s taking you.  

Image God today. You’ll be better at it tomorrow. And every tomorrow after that.  

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In the Image of God, Part 2: So What? 

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Part 1: What It Means 

We’ve thought about the fact that humans—all of us—are in the image of God, and what that means. We turn now to what difference it makes in how we live on a Monday in February. 

For starters, we’re not animals. We’re not just a fortunate combination of mutations that allows us to survive, even prosper, in the place where we find ourselves. God created us by direct action, and in a way distinct from the way he created all the living organisms that preceded us. We are fundamentally different from amoebas, and slugs, and snakes, and trout, and robins, and even chimpanzees.  

You are not an animal. You are not controlled by your impulses. You don’t have to do everything that occurs to you. You can make choices. You can rise above the evil that screams in your ear. You can be a man. You can be a woman. You do not have to be a victim.  

Yes, you’re a sinner, and there are some things—many things—you can’t do without divine enablement. But you are not a brute beast.  

Further, we’re worth something. Humans—all of us—are valuable. Those of us who are “process people” rather than “people people” need to remember that as we wend our way down crowded hallways or sidewalks. Those bodies around us are not simply obstacles to be navigated around as efficiently as possible; they are eternal beings with stories and histories and loves and struggles and cares. They are worth infinitely more than whatever has us in such a hurry to Get Somewhere. 

And all of them are valuable in that way. People who are not like you. People who look different. People who act differently. People who think differently. People you know, and people you don’t. People who take the name of God in vain. People who are arrogant. People who voted for Trump, and people who voted for Harris, and people who voted for somebody who didn’t have a chance, and people who didn’t vote at all. 

People who have no money. People who have no home. People who live under an overpass. People who smell bad. People who have disabilities. People who are dying of AIDS. Muslim refugees. And Muslim terrorists. People who make you really, really uncomfortable. And yes, people who are still in the womb, and can’t speak for themselves. 

All of them are in the image of God, and all of them are worth infinitely more than all the bank accounts of all the rich people in all the world.  

All humans are valuable. 

One more thing. 

Everything you love about the people you love should move you to praise and worship God, who is the perfect originator of all of it.  

You are surrounded, right now, with thousands of reasons to worship.  

All day, every day, you should be driven to your knees at the glory of this magnificent Creator.  

And you know what? If we were to live that way, the sin that so easily besets us would not seem so appealing. We’d be living for something worth far more than the shiny little trinkets that distract us. We’d start to see victory instead of regular, frustrating defeat.  

Next time, one last thought. 

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In the Image of God, Part 1: What It Means

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In my previous post I mentioned that God’s Spirit is working in us to conform us, eventually perfectly, to the image of the Son. I’d like to follow that up by thinking more deeply about our standing as in the image of God. 

It’s the first thing God tells us about ourselves. After He tells how He made everything else, He describes the last act of the Creation Week:  

26 And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. 27 So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them” (Gen 1.26-27).  

You and I are made in the image of God. What does that mean? And what difference does it make? 

What is the image of God? Interestingly, the Bible never tells us directly what it is. But there are some clues: 

  • It distinguishes the human from the animals, who immediately precede man in the creation narrative.  
  • It characterizes both male and female (Ge 1.27).  
  • It’s something like the way a son resembles his father (Ge 5.1-3).  

 Over the centuries there have been a lot of suggestions. I’ve gone into more details about this in a previous series, but let me summarize the views here: 

  • It’s something we do: Dominion (Ge 1.28) 
  • It’s something we are:   
    • Morality (Ep 4.24) 
    • Relationship (male & female; social health)  
    • Sonship (Lk 3.38; Ge 5.3-5)  
    • It’s something we have:  
    • Creativity (Ge 1.1)  
    • Immortality  

    Or maybe it’s all of the above.  

    You were created to radiate the love and mercy and grace of God.  

     Now, we need to note a critical point: 

    We’re not the way God made us. 

    We’re not the same as the Adam that God created. Something significant has happened to us. Adam chose to sin, and now we’re busted.  

    The image in us has been marred. But it has not been destroyed. 

    After the Flood God told Noah, 

    Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed: for in the image of God made he man (Ge 9.6). 

    Here we’re told that the murder victim, though fallen like everyone else at this time in history, is in the image of God. 

    Further, James writes, 

    Therewith [with the tongue] bless we God, even the Father; and therewith curse we men, which are made after the similitude of God (Jam 3.9).  

     The word similitude here is the word Genesis uses for “likeness.” And it’s spoken of a time when there’s cursing going on—so it’s after the fall. 

    So we sinners are still in the image and likeness of God. 

    Toward the beginning of this post I asked two questions: what does it mean that we’re in the image of God? and what difference does it make? 

    Next time, we’ll get to the second question. 

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    On Winning the War, Part 3: The Flesh 

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    Part 1: Identifying the Enemy | Part 2: The World 

    The second front in our three-front war, according to the common saying, is “the flesh.” The Bible uses this word in a couple of ways, one positive and the other negative. Sometimes the word refers to the sensitive part of us, the tender part, the living part—similarly to the way we use the expression “it cut to the quick.” Twice through the prophet Ezekiel God says, “I will take the stony heart out of their flesh, and will give them an heart of flesh” (Ezk 11.19; cf Ezk 36.26). That’s a good thing. 

    But the Bible, particularly in Paul, also speaks of the flesh as the evil that lives within us (Ro 7.18)—what Paul also calls the “old man” (Ro 6.6), and what theologians refer to as the “sinful nature.” And as I’ve noted in an earlier series, John names “the lust of the flesh” as part of what characterizes the lifestyle of “the world.” 

    I noted in that same earlier post that “the flesh” involves more than just sexual lust; it includes any physical desire that is inappropriate: gluttony, for example, or laziness. It’s interesting to me that all of these physical desires were given to us by God: we need food and sleep every day, and we need to reproduce for the survival of the species. They’re good things, all of them—but they make lousy gods, and they can destroy us if uncontrolled. Like fire, a useful servant but a fearful master. 

    So how do we fight the flesh? Particularly since these desires are things that we ought to exercise responsibly? Are we doomed to be like the alcoholic who has one drink a day and hopes—forlornly—that he can control it? 

    Not at all. The key to controlling the flesh, like the key to controlling physical addiction, is health—physical health for the addict, and spiritual health for the worshiper of the flesh. A helpful passage, I think, is Galatians 5.16-26: 

    16 But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not carry out the desire of the flesh. 17 For the flesh sets its desire against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; for these are in opposition to one another, so that you may not do the things that you please. 18 But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the Law. 19 Now the deeds of the flesh are evident, which are: immorality, impurity, sensuality, 20 idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, disputes, dissensions, factions, 21 envying, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these, of which I forewarn you just as I have forewarned you that those who practice such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God. 22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. 24 Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. 25 If we live by the Spirit, let us also walk by the Spirit. 26 Let us not become boastful, challenging one another, envying one another. 

    Here’s how that works: 

    • Recognize the fact of victory (Ga 5.16). We do not need to lose this battle; indeed, it has already been won (Ro 7.24-8.1). Many are discouraged that their struggle with the flesh is ongoing; but on the contrary, that struggle is a good sign. It indicates that the Spirit is doing his convicting work and conforming you, bit by bit, to the image of Christ (2Co 3.18). It indicates a tender heart, a “heart of flesh,” rather than a hardened one. 
    • Be led by the Spirit (Ga 5.18). This is simply sanctification, or growth in grace. It’s the result of spiritual exercise through absorbing the Scripture, wrestling in prayer, and actively fellowshipping with other believers. Filling one’s mind with God’s thoughts will help drive out one’s own—or rather, transform them (Ro 12.2) from self-focused to outward- and upward-focused. 

    It’s a long haul, and it requires faithfulness. But victory is certain, in God’s good time. 

    Next time: dealing with the devil. 

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    On Danger, Fear, and God’s Care

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    We all face challenges. Some people face genuine dangers from genuine enemies. And most of them face fear. 

    God doesn’t experience any of these things. He faces nothing that could be described as a challenge to his omnipotence, and though he has powerful enemies, he is greater than them all, and their defeat is sure. And consequently, he is never afraid. 

    So how does someone like that respond to someone like us? Does he understand challenge, and enemies, and fear? Does he care? 

    King David, who had plenty of challenges and enemies and fears, had some thoughts on that in many of his writings. Today I choose to consider Psalm 6. 

    David is facing a fearsome trial. He mentions physical issues (Ps 6.2), but I’m inclined to think his real concern is “enemies” (Ps 6.7). He clearly thinks his life is in danger (Ps. 6.5). 

    And so he meditates and writes out his thoughts. 

    The Psalm has three sections. He begins by presenting his appeal to God (Ps 6.1-5); then he lays out the anguish that his situation is causing (Ps 6.6-7); and then he finishes by describing the assurance he has in God’s care and deliverance (Ps 6.8-10). 

    Appeal (Ps 6.1-5) 

    David begins by admitting—implicitly—that God has reason to be angry with him (Ps 6.1). He doesn’t go into detail. Here we see someone who is in the same situation we are: we need deliverance by God’s hand, but we know we don’t come to him from a position of strength. We need grace; we need mercy (Ps 6.2). 

    David’s situation is desperate; he expresses himself in broken phrases, in grunts (Ps 6.3). Interestingly, Jesus appears to use David’s words as he prays in the Garden of Gethsemane (Jn 12.27) before his arrest, trial, and crucifixion. 

    David asks God to “turn” to him, as if he had turned away for some reason (Ps 6.4). The Hebrew word is shub, a word commonly used for turning from sin in repentance (e.g. Is 30.15; 44.22; 55.7). David asks God to change his mind. 

    He cites two motivations for God to deliver him: God’s “mercies” (Ps 6.4), or hesed, and his glory (Ps 6.5)—that is, the thanksgiving he will receive for acting to deliver. 

    Is that an appeal to some selfish motive in God? I don’t think so. First, God’s glory, unlike ours, is something actually deserved and appropriate; God is not like his limited creatures. And second, is there anything wrong with enjoying being thanked? Don’t we like to be thanked when we do something for someone we love? Is it selfish to revel in someone else’s joy? 

    Anguish (Ps 6.6-7) 

    David lays out the evidences of his anguish, which in turn is evidence of the seriousness of the danger he faces. 

    • He is exhausted by the constant pressure of the situation (Ps 6.6a). 
    • He weeps through the night (Ps 6.6b) 
    • His perspective is colored—poisoned—by the stress of the situation (Ps 6.7). 

    Assurance (Ps 6.8-10)  

    During his prayer, David receives assurance that the Lord has heard him and will answer (Ps 6.8-9). We don’t know exactly how this worked; it may be as simple as his believing God’s earlier promises to hear the prayers of his people (Ex 22.27), or knowing God’s character well enough to anticipate similar future promises (Is 65.24; Zec 13.9). 

    For whatever reason, David knows. And so he begins to address his enemies directly, and he flips the situation against them. At the beginning of his prayer, he is the one who is deeply troubled (Ps 6.2); but now, his enemies find themselves in that situation (Ps 6.10). Earlier, he has asked God to turn, to change (Ps. 6.4); but now, he calls on his enemies to turn and change (Ps 6.10), with the same verb he used of God earlier. 

    So what do we see here? 

    • God’s people call on him when they are afraid. 
    • He hears, even when they don’t “deserve” it. 
    • And he answers by reversing the situation, judging his enemies, and protecting his people. 

    Timely advice whenever we’re afraid. 

    Photo by Alexandra Gorn on Unsplash

    On Labor Day

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    Today is Labor Day. These days it’s pretty much lost its original meaning and serves for our culture as just a day off that signals the end of summer. And so we have the irony of calling a day off “Labor Day.” 

    The kids must wonder about that. 

    Originally, of course, it was a fruit of the labor-union movement in the United States, a celebration of and a recognition of the importance of the work done by “laborers,” or what we’ve come today to call “blue-collar workers.”  

    Much has been written from a Christian perspective on the importance of work, and particularly of all work; work is a sacred calling, a “vocation,” directed by a wise and loving God. Any obedience to that God has value and meaning. Some people are paid more than others for their work, and some kinds of work are seen as more “respectable,” but theologically speaking, all honest work is a virtue and contributes to the overall good of society and the furtherance of God’s plan. 

    I’d like to meditate on the topic from another angle, one of my favorite theological concepts. 

    As I think back over my working life, I realize that is filled with good things, great blessings—but things that I didn’t recognize as good at the time. 

    At first I wanted to be a pilot. But that costs money, so I thought I’d let the government pay for it. Set out for an Air Force ROTC scholarship; I thought I’d get it, because I had good SAT scores. But I flunked the flight physical—bad hearing from a childhood ear injury—and that was the end of that. I remember riding the Greyhound bus home from Otis Air Force Base, wondering at the age of 16 what on earth I was going to do with my life. (I still get wistful in airports.) 

    Well, maybe I can be an aerospace engineer. Applied to UMass Boston and was rejected. Good grades, in-state resident, financial need. No dice. Why? 

    Hmmm. Must have applied too late. Reapplied immediately for the next year and worked in a sandwich shop. 

    Rejected again. UMass just plain didn’t want me. 

    I had applied to BJU to get my Dad off my back, and wouldn’t you know it, they accepted me. Drat. 

    Off to college, where within hours I was confronted by my spiritual need and challenged to get serious about life. Everything changed. 

    Maybe I should be a pastor. Nope. It became clear that I was not gifted or inclined to what that work entailed. 

    OK, maybe I should be a Bible teacher. My senior year I applied to be a Greek GA—had a Greek minor and high grades. Nope. 

    After graduation I returned home to Boston and got a job to save for grad school. Midsummer BJU offered me a GA in English. I took it. 

    So they paid for the terminal degree—that was handy—and I learned a lot about English grammar and writing style. 

    Any chance I could join the Bible faculty? Nope. Those guys are as stable as they come, and since they don’t smoke or drink or drive over the speed limit, they tend to live a long time. 

    But with the English skills, I could get a job as an editor at the Press. Maybe I can work there until a spot opens on the faculty. 

    A decade later I realized that if no such spot ever opened, I’d be content to work there for the rest of my life. I liked my bosses, my coworkers, the customers, the creativity, the business of navigating the industry’s change from analog to digital. 

    A decade after that, I got restless. I could be doing more with the PhD. Maybe I should get a teaching position somewhere else. 

    And then one of my Seminary profs stopped me in the Dining Common and asked if I’d like to teach. 

    That was 25 years ago, and I’ve been deliriously happy ever since. 

    What about that boyhood dream of flying? 

    I realized later that, first, I don’t have the kind of personality that keeps pilots alive for any appreciable length of time, and second, I’d have been entering the job market just as all those high-time pilots were coming back from Viet Nam. 

    God led differently. 

    And, to no surprise, his leading has been good, and fulfilling, and perfect for how he designed me. 

    Just saw a headline in the Wall Street Journal: “America’s Teachers Are Burned Out.” 

    Not this one. 

    Happy Labor Day. 

    Photo by Scott Blake on Unsplash