Archive for February 5th, 2009

More Discussion on the Language of Yeshua

Thursday, February 05th, 2009 | Author: Skip Moen

Did Jesus speak Hebrew? The common understanding and teaching of most theological schools of the West is that Jesus spoke Aramaic, not Hebrew. The reasoning behind this is that Aramaic was the language of the Jews during the captivity in Babylon and that the Jews who returned to Israel after the captivity brought Aramaic home with them. But before we try to answer this question, perhaps we need to ask a more fundamental one. Why does it matter? What difference does it make if Jesus spoke Hebrew or Aramaic? After all, they are sister languages with many common words. Furthermore, the New Testament is neither in Hebrew or Aramaic. Anything that Jesus said had to be translated into Greek anyway, so why does it matter?

The reason that the spoken language of Yeshua is so important is this: If Yeshua spoke Hebrew, then the teaching that we have preserved in the Greek New Testament can be correlated directly with Old Testament concepts, idioms and texts. In other words, there is a direct correspondence between what Jesus said and what the Hebrew Bible says. No intermediate step requiring a translation into Aramaic is needed. We do not have to go through the Targums (the Aramaic Old Testament translations and commentaries) in order to understand what Jesus said. This means that wherever we find Hebrew expressions in the New Testament, we have an immediate contextual understanding by going directly to the Old Testament. Furthermore, this implies that Jesus was not teaching something new but rather was restoring the structure and purpose originally revealed in the Old Testament. Jesus’ teaching is a direct extension of the Old Testament context.

The implications are rather staggering. Concepts like salvation, discipleship and the church are to be understood in their Old Testament context. When Jesus proclaims that He did not come to abolish the Law, we now understand that He is speaking directly about the Torah. When He speaks about the faithfulness of God, we now see that He is using language from the covenant with Israel. This changes so many Christian ideas because it draws a solid line of continuity between the Older revelation and the Newer revelation. Yeshua comes to restore, not to replace.

How do we determine what language He spoke? Let’s lay some groundwork. There is no doubt that Hebrew was spoken in the synagogues of first century Israel. It is still spoken in the synagogues today. Rabbinical history proclaims that children were instructed in the Hebrew Torah from at least 150 BC. Since the Jews returned from Babylon nearly 400 years before that, the Hebrew language certainly must have been preserved during their captivity in order for it to be used in childhood education centuries later. Its preservation is the direct result of those who were left behind when Babylon removed Israel’s leadership. Hebrew never stopped being the common language of Israel. It’s just that the people of Israel learned Aramaic when they were displaced from their homeland. When they returned, they found that the Jews still living were speaking the same language they had always spoken – Hebrew.

In 586 b.c.e., the Jews were taken captive to Babylon.  They returned 70 years later.  In Babylon the captives learned Aramaic and many (but probably not all) of those who were born there, grew up speaking Aramaic. We know that the returning captives learned Aramaic in Babylon, because the Bible tells us that when the Jewish people gathered in Jerusalem (after the Exile “ended”), Ezra “read from the Book of the Law of God, making it clear and giving the meaning so that the people could understand what was being read (Neh 8:8). Obviously, Ezra spoke Hebrew and Aramaic.  The need to “render” the Hebrew into Aramaic produced a whole genre of Jewish literature known as the “Targumim” (a “Targum” [singular] is any of several explanatory translations or paraphrases of the Hebrew Scriptures into Aramaic for the benefit of the returning Exiles). But the suggestion that the returning Exiles (who did speak Aramaic) changed the mother-tongue of the inhabitants of Judah (who were not taken captive) seems preposterous. This means that after the return to Israel, the general population spoke both Hebrew and Aramaic. But it is unlikely that the language spoken by the returning citizens became the common language of the country. That would be like suggesting that because America has Spanish-speaking immigrants, America’s native tongue will become Spanish within two generations. Centuries of acculturation do not justify the conclusion that everyone who already lived in the land changed their language to the tongue spoken by those who were returning. It is much more likely the case that those returning needed to re-learn that language of their homeland. This gives us reason to think that both languages could easily have been part of the culture of Israel in the first century. In fact, if Hebrew was the language of the synagogue and certainly of the Torah, Jesus would have been fluent in it even if He also spoke Aramaic and the Galilean dialect.

The current theological teaching that Hebrew was a “dead” language is addressed by Robert Gorelik:

“ Hebrew was not a “dead language” until the Middle Ages.  And, by “dead,” I don’t mean that it wasn’t spoken.  It was after all, and still is, used in the synagogue.

1) People tend to treat Hebrew as if it were an “extinct” language – not a “dead” one.  A language is “extinct” when it is no longer has any native speakers.  It is “dead” when its structure and syntax are kind of “frozen in time” and it no longer adapts to contemporary circumstances.

2) Hebrew, the language of the rabbinic literature was a living language (i.e., it continued to change) at least through the 3rd century c.e.  The Mishnah is written in “mishnaic Hebrew” – not biblical Hebrew.  It is an adaptation of its biblical counterpart.  It attests to the fact that Hebrew was a “living” language in the 1st century – not a “dead” one.  It is the language that Yeshua spoke.

3) We know this because of the idioms, expressions and words that Yeshua uses, e.g., in Mat 5:17-20, Yeshua says; “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.

a) Greek: kataluo, to destroy = Heb: levatel, to cancel.

b) In Yeshua’s time, lekayem (fulfill) was usually the antonym of levatel (cancel, nullify) and used in the sense of “preserve” or “sustain”—As a rabbinical term, it means “to sustain by properly interpreting” (which is precisely the way that Yeshua uses it).

4) Another example is in the Parable of “The Merciful Lord and His Unforgiving Servant” (Mat 18:23-35) (See my “Parables” Seminar).

a. The KJV renders the word “canceled” in v. 27 as “forgave”—it preserves the idiomatic character of mishnaic (not biblical) Hebrew.

1) Debt is not “forgiven”—it is canceled. Sin is forgiven.

2) In biblical Hebrew the word “forgive” comes from the root salach—it is not used of “canceling” debts.

3) In mishnaic Hebrew—the word derived from the root shalach—to send (away), can be used of cancelling a debt and/or forgiving sin.”

Many other examples could be offered. All of them point to the underlying Hebraic structure of New Testament thought and syntax. (See Understanding the Difficult Words of Jesus: New Insights From a Hebraic Perspective by David Bivin and Roy Blizzard, Jr.).

Additional evidence comes from archeological finding. There are a substantial number of artifacts that confirm the Hebrew was also written during the time of Yeshua. In fact, there are more Hebrew language artifacts than there are Aramaic ones.

Perhaps the critical evidence comes from the Gospels. Contemporary theological positions point to the passages in the Gospels where Aramaic is retained in the text and then translated for the reader (for example, Mark 5:41 and 7:34). On the surface, these occurrences are used to support the idea that the “original” spoken word was Aramaic. But this presents us with an immediate problem. If the first readers of the Gospels were Jews (and clearly this is the case since the earliest Christian communities were almost exclusively Jews), then why would it be necessary to translate the Aramaic expressions if the audience already used Aramaic? The only reason for a translation is that the reading audience does not understand the original language. When Mark retains these Aramaic expressions, his word imply that the audience did not understand what he wrote in Aramaic.

In addition, there were many common Aramaic expression in the ordinary Hebrew language of the day, just as English today contain French, German and Spanish expressions (for example, bon voyage and a la carte). There is no need for us to translate these expressions because they are now part of the English language. After 400 years of a mixture of Hebrew and Aramaic, we could certainly expect the same thing to happen in Israel.

Robert Gorelik adds the following:

“Since Yeshua spoke Hebrew and the first Gospel was written in Hebrew, when the first Greek translation was made, the translators retained the Aramaisms, i.e., did not translate them—but simply retained them in the translation. If Yeshua spoke Aramaic and/or the first Gospel was written in Aramaic, then why would the translator preserve isolated terms rather than translate them with the rest of a text (or speech) that he was translating? They were preserved precisely because they were “special” words that Hebrew speakers and writers used, i.e., they had “special” significance.

The issue of Mark’s Aramaic rendering and Matthew’s Hebrew rendering of Yeshua’s words from the cross are the result of a different issue. And, even though Peter (and Yeshua too) probably spoke Hebrew with the Galilean version of a “country” accent—it was still Hebrew. It is NOT possible the Yeshua cried out in Aramaic while he was on the cross —if he did, no one could have questioned what he said, i.e., whether he was quoting Psalm 22 or calling out to Elijah (cf., Mat 27:47) because “Eloi” (in Aramaic, Mark 15:34) does NOT [have the double meaning of] “My God” AND the shortened form of the Hebrew name “Eliyahu” (Elijah), “Eli” like it DOES in Hebrew.

Finally, Yeshua spoke to Paul in Hebrew—not Aramaic (when he was on the road to Damascus) (Acts 26:14) and Paul spoke to the crowd assembled on the Temple Mount after his arrest in Hebrew—not Aramaic (Acts 21:40; 22:2).  The language is rendered “Hebrew” in the KJV but “Aramaic” in the NIV—even though the words in Greek for “Hebrew” and “Aramaic” are different.  Is it possible that Luke (who was probably a Hellenistic Jew like Apollos, Aquila and Priscilla—not a Gentile) didn’t know the difference between them?”

With this additional information, we must ask why the church consistently purports the idea that Jesus spoke Aramaic, not Hebrew, and that the “original” Gospels were written in Greek, not Hebrew. The evidence suggests that shortly after the death of the apostles, the early church fathers began to shift the foundation away from Jewish (Hebrew) roots. These men were heavily influenced by Greek philosophy and the culture of Hellenism. They were motivated by others considerations to break the church from the idea that the Gentiles were grafted into a living Israel. The political and religious history that led to our contemporary mis-understanding is a fascinating study of diverting God’s plan. But it begins here, with the question of language.

Jesus is Jewish. His language is Hebrew. If you want to know what He taught, you will have to reach further back than the first century, for He is the Word become flesh.

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Swamped with Good Things!

Thursday, February 05th, 2009 | Author: Skip Moen

WANT TO SEE WHAT’S HAPPENING ON MY END? Click here to see the video.

Swamped 

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Breaking Point

Thursday, February 05th, 2009 | Author: Skip Moen

Have you brushed up against that moment when you knew that everything was at risk?  When you knew that to take a step of obedience would forever alter your connection to God?  That moment when you knew that what was most precious to you had to be left behind if your were to seek Him first?  There is an emptiness here.  It is not fear.  Fear belongs to the man or woman who believes God exists but does not care intimately about personal life.  No, this emptiness is the gnawing certainty that your evaluation of life’s priorities is about to be shattered.  It is the uneasiness that there is a new dimension of spiritual connection waiting on the other side of total surrender but you just can’t see it.  Right now you are alone in the dark.

 

Abraham stood over that altar, his son bound, ready to be slaughtered.  Everything he believed about life and purpose, everything he held of value was about to be sacrificed.  He faced only one solution – total dependence on God.  All that was left to Abraham was the choice of obedience.

 

Jesus’ agony in the Garden reached the same breaking point, that place where there is nothing left but obedience.  No second agenda.  No promises.  No calculated reciprocity.  Before him was the certainty of death accompanying the certain call of the Father. 

 

Sovereign grace.  Without those two words the only logical solution to life is suicide.  With those two words the only logical solution to life is sacrifice.  Either alternative brings death.  Only one has hope. 

 

Unless I believe that God is sovereign, I face a world of random tyranny where the sheer probability of disaster overwhelms everything but denial.  But even with a sovereign God, I am tormented unless I have grace.  I know in the very depths of my soul that I do not deserve joy.  That is why I stand in front of the altar shaking.  I have only one hope left.  It is God’s covenant of grace.  If God loves me, He brings me to this place in order that His love may be perfectly manifest to me.  I am able to obey only if I am utterly convinced that He loves me.  It is His love that tells me there is something on the other side of the dark.

 

We retreat from this moment of devastating dependence.  It is so hard to see life as we wished it to be slip away from us.  We clutch the fabric of what we have made from living threads as if the cloth were capable of shielding us from the impossible emptiness of Being.  We cannot comprehend being nothing by choice. 

 

God presses another way.  It is the way of surrender.  Abraham’s agonizing release of the son of promise to the Lord of life.  Jesus’ agonizing release of perfect merit to the separation of sin.  What I try to keep, kills me.  What I give away no longer binds me. But it is gone, nevertheless.  Freedom means opening my hand to the wind.

 

Tonight I stand before my Lord knowing that He asks me to let go of all that I believed I needed to survive, of all that I believed made me who I am, of all I know He put in my life.  It was never mine.  That reality must sink into the depths of my heart if I am to obey Him in the dark.  It is my death, the death of what I thought I would be, that blinds my eyes.  I have only His word as my anchor.  But a blind man must trust the seeing man’s voice.

 

I ask myself, “Are my choices really motivated by God’s call to emptying or am I still trying to grasp my life?”  “Have I considered my existence a thing to be clutched to myself or have I relinquished my very being to the Father’s will?”  “Am I caught in the web of holding on to the life I have been given or am I standing at the altar, blade raised, ready to sacrifice my hopes and dreams simply because He asks me to?”

 

It is dark here.  I am near the grave.  But I hear His voice.  “Follow me.”  I am not sure if I am able.  But I desperately want to bring the blade down and be free.

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“Deliver us from evil”

Thursday, February 05th, 2009 | Author: Skip Moen

But do we really want to be delivered? Delivered means facing reality as it is, no fantasies, no band-aids, no idol protection. It’s interesting that Isaiah the prophet complains that Israel is seeking alliances with its past enemies as though these enemies will now protect them. God is quite provoked by this attempted alliance. He intends to be Israel’s protector. But they run to the military powers of the world, the same powers that abused and enslaved them in the past.

Isn’t that exactly what happens when we turn back to the idols that we have intended to forsake? We look to the very things that kept us apart from God as though they will now protect us. We turn from the Lord of hosts and retreat to the land of slavery. Why? For protection, of course.

But protection from what? What is it that frightens us so much that we run back to those old patterns? My suspicion is that we are scared to death of ourselves. The reason we don’t want to look for protection with God is that God won’t protect our delusions. God’s protection is reality-protection. It is protection in the wilderness. And the last place we want to be is in the wilderness. The wilderness exposes who we really are.

I heard a preacher say that we need to have the courage to change, but that misses the point. I realize that I need to change (at least some part of my being acknowledges that I do not want to continue like this) but if I am perfectly honest I find that some part of me prefers my idols. I like the house of delusion. It’s comforting. I don’t have to face myself in the mirror. The possibility of loosing these delusions confronts me with great psychological dangers (identity, emotional coping, etc). I want change without hurt. I don’t think that I can really bear what it will take to truly clean up my act. I know that my current idols do not bring me real peace, rest or comfort. But I know them. They are familiar. They have lulled me into a false sense of escape many times. It’s a big temptation to stay there.

There is a reason why God lead the Israelites away from Canaan into the wilderness. There is a reason why He kept them there for forty years. He had to drive out the desire to return to the delusions of Egyptian slavery. He had to remove that false sense of security that comes from the familiar.

Idol worship doesn’t satisfy. It might anesthetize, but it doesn’t cure. So I want to change. But it’s not a matter of courage. The simple fact is this: I can’t change! I not only do not know how, I am also incapable of executing any real change in my behavior because my will has been corrupted by the idol. I’m lost in the house of mirrors. Every direction looks the same. I don’t need courage. I need a guide.

Consider the images of Isaiah 26:3-6.

“The steadfast of mind You will keep in perfect peace, because he trusts in You. Trust in the Lord forever, for in God the Lord, we have an everlasting Rock. For He has brought low those who dwell on high, the unassailable city; He lays it low, He lays it low to the ground, He casts it to the dust. The foot will trample it, the feet of the afflicted, the steps of the helpless.”

The business card said, “Reflection Technician”, so I couldn’t help but ask. “What is a reflection technician?” “Oh”, he said, grinning. “I just put up mirrors.” That’s about the size of it. I just put up mirrors. That’s why I can’t find my way out. I don’t see anything but my own image and that image has been distorted by the idols of my choices.

Isaiah comes to me, bearing the voice of God. He says that those high places, the grand illusions that have dominated my life as I strolled the unassailable fortresses of my own mind, are being laid to waste. God will bring them to dust. And who will walk over their remains? The afflicted and the helpless. That’s the real me. Those images that I used to prop up my false sense of identity and security, the things I ran to when I felt I needed escape, are going to fall. Not because I can knock them down. No, God is going to bring them to ruin. And He is going to do that so that the afflicted and the helpless can tread on those false images. I don’t need courage. I need to realize that I am the afflicted and the helpless. I need to let God destroy my false reality because I am powerless to do it myself.

Did you know it’s OK to be scared in the wilderness? The wilderness is a dangerous place. It is the place of death for those who are not under the care of a guide. But the wilderness is reality. We would prefer to run to the false security of the city, just like Cain. God sent Cain into the wilderness. God marked Cain to protect him. God wanted Cain to face himself and see who was his real guardian and what responsibilities guardianship has. But Cain built a city. So do most of us. And God has to come along and tear down our cities to drive us back into the wilderness where we must confront our helpless condition and run to Him. I don’t need courage. Courage in the wilderness is sheer folly. I need a steadfast mind; a mind that is clear enough to recognize that unless God protects me, I am lost.

Perfect peace. It’s really the same Hebrew word repeated. Shalom, shalom. Anyone encountering modern Judaism knows this word. Shalom! It is the common daily greeting, equivalent to our “How are you?” or “Have a nice day”. The best part about this greeting is that it implies favor and blessing, especially when we realize that real peace comes from God. How much better it is to wish someone God’s peace than to send them a smiley face. God’s peace lasts! This expression reveals a genuine desire for the well-being of another. It says, “I want you to enjoy God’s favor”. Now you have some clue why Paul often opened and closed his letters with a similar thought.

But too many times our lives are more like the Beatles, “Give you everything I’ve got for a little peace of mind.” We just can’t find that repeated goodness. We end up in a Jack Nicholson movie saying, “Maybe this is as good as it gets.” Isaiah gives us the secret to perfect peace. It is all a matter of trust. The man or woman who steadfastly fixes the mind on God will experience doubled-up peace because he or she knows God. I didn’t say, “knows how to trust God”. I said, “knows God.” Trust is not something I can manufacturer or buy. Trust comes from a long time knowing. Trust is not found in legal contracts or agreements. Trust is found in relationships. If you don’t know God, you just can’t find the double scoop good stuff. It takes time.

So God tears down the high and protected places in our lives to reveal our affliction and helplessness. And all the while He says, “Trust me.” I don’t need courage to change. All I need it time to trust. God moves me out of my false security in order that I will have the time to learn trust.

“Deliver us from evil” means destroy all those high and unassailable places in my life where I am not confronted with my affliction and helplessness. That’s the part I am most likely to want to hang on to. But it is an evil far worse than my outward actions. It is the evil that prevents me from entering into God’s care.

When you pray, “Deliver us from evil”, are you really asking God to tear down your false images, smash your addictive mirrors and trample under your hidden fortresses? When you pray, “Deliver us from evil” you ask God to go to war for you. Be ready. He will.

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Don’t Call Me “Mr. Mom”

Thursday, February 05th, 2009 | Author: Skip Moen

August 1994

Michael Keyton made “Mr. Mom” a household word.  Quite frankly, I wish he’d passed on the script.  Just because I change the diapers, fix the meals and do the laundry does not mean that I am an out of work, ego depressed, deluded macho male destined to fall from the ladder of corporate grace.  I might be the “at home” parent, but I am not “Mom”.

Five years ago my wife was offered a promotion.  It meant moving from Los Angeles to New Jersey – in 30 days.  I was the one who could accommodate that sort of upheaval.  As an independent management consultant, my income depended more on airplanes than on postal addresses.  So I agreed, quite willingly.  After all, her career was taking off.  She had always been a corporate woman, and that steady paycheck meant guaranteed health care, a smooth bank balance between my contracts and a great credit line.

There was just one small problem.  Actually, the problem began very small and was growing larger every day.  We were the somewhat surprised recipients of a new baby boy, now six months old.  Neither of us planned this one.  In fact, I had not planned on any ones.  But passion often leads to unexpected results and Michael arrived in amazing fashion.  Parents helped out during pregnancy leave.  I curtailed some of my travel after they left.  We managed to get by, in spite of the battles over who was responsible to watch him today.  Then my wife came home and announced that headquarters wanted her.

So, being a dutiful father, I “volunteered” (one arm twisted) to stay at home with Michael until we got through the move, found suitable care and were established in our new lives in the Northeast.

Five years later I have a five year old boy, a two year old daughter (my favorite, of course), have never gone back to consulting, and spend my days kissing bruised knees, picking up toys and watching Barney.  I have an aviator friend who characterized flying KC-135 tankers as “hours of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror”.  I think my life with Barney qualifies.  Hours of frustration.  Moments of panic, insight, awe, bliss.

When I took on the task of managing an infant, there was a certain relief to the job.  The 300,000 miles a year in the airplanes was wearing thin.  The money had less and less appeal.  I needed a break.  And there was a sense of challenge to be able to do the most ignoble job on earth better than a woman.  After all, I was a successful, accomplished, organized, energetic MAN.  “Of course I can do this menial job, and do it to perfection”, I thought.  And the first year I seemed to have it licked.  Michael rolled in the playpen while I hung wallpaper, painted ceiling, decorated and established a reputation as “that man who brings his little boy to swimming lessons with all the mothers”.  Now that I look back on all that happened during the first eighteen months in wonderful, rural New Jersey, I can hardly believe I did it.  There was this intensity about work that simply propelled me from the board room to the baby’s room.  I didn’t do the job of child raising – I attacked it!

But after awhile, the adrenaline stopped pumping.  Life settled into a routine. The slow burn began.

I have a card, given to me by my wife on one of those forgettable birthdays, that carries the title “Bored in the USA”.  The two words in the English language that terrified me the most became descriptions of my existence – normal routine. All of my life I never wanted to be normal.  And all of my life I hated “routine”.  It is little consolation to know that more than half of the people consider themselves better than average.  I didn’t want “better than average”.  I wanted “best”.  But being at home with an infant did not allow the first class junket, executive suite, brilliant insight status that kept my libido lubricated.  I was chafing at the bit.

We searched for day care.  Once we realized that no one was going to come to our home, we tried taking Michael to someone else.  Instant diaper rashes.  Occasional eating fits.  General unhappiness.  No naps and consequently, no sleep for anyone else at night.  Michael liked being with Daddy and he wanted Daddy back.  The consulting assignment I took, telling myself that I needed to get back into the work world, became a marginal motivator.  It was simply overwhelming to try to coordinate commuting, day care, household management and the demands of corporate life (how do women so it?).  Much to my dismay, I gave up, telling myself that I just had to wait until Michael was a little older and could be left at a pre-school.

Then I encountered the almost insurmountable obstacle of “potty training”.  The pre-school staff were very nice but very firm.  No potty training, no attendance.  “We’ll be glad to have Michael in the Fall, Mr. Moen, if you will just make sure that he is potty trained”.  I spent the summer sitting on the bathroom floor pleading, cajoling, screaming, begging him to cooperate.  Two year olds are incredibly impervious to adult influence.  Summer came and went.  The pediatrician was not very sympathetic.  “Don’t worry.  He’ll do it when he’s ready.  Just forget it for awhile.”

Fall arrived.  No potty training, no pre-school.  Oh, well, there’s always the “after Christmas” session.  Doubts about my incredible abilities to get things done began to surface.  The $1000 a day MAN who could not get a two year old to forego diapers.  That armored exterior of total self confidence began rusting at the joints.  Soon I quit complaining about my inability to get Michael through this hurdle to my piece of mind.  It was simply too embarrassing to admit to all of those mothers that I could not manage this toddler.   I read the books (children do not come with instruction manuals), talked to the MALE pediatricians and generally grew more frustrated and intolerant.  How Michael survived my fury I will never know.  Perhaps in his adult life those sessions in the bathroom will come back to haunt me and I will be branded an “inadequate parent”, but I did all that I could.  To no avail.  We waited together until one day he simply walked into the kitchen and announced that he was going to go to the potty.  It was God’s grace.  My penance was over.  There is life after purgatory.

Michael was soon attending pre-school.  I experienced a new freedom (three hours a day without a child).  But things in my life had changed.  I found that I was not so anxious to rush out to the work world.  I liked being with this little guy who loved to snuggle with me, sit on my lap, read stories and watch Sesame Street.  There were days when I envied the frenzy of the corporate jet set, but now there seemed to be just as many when I was happy just to have the time to make a really healthy dinner.  Nevertheless, forty years of “success” training could not be undone in two and a half years of parenting.  In the deep recesses of my mind I knew that next year Michael would be out of the house from 8 to 5 and I could let the adreneline flow.  The very thought of it made me jumpy.  Too bad someone did not point out that I was exhibiting all the signs of a work junkie.

I started several alternative life style “projects” with the same addicitive intensity.  I wrote two books (but have not found a publisher), invented a children’s high tech game (but have not found a marketeer), created a profitable charity fund-raiser (but could not find a backer), restored a house (and finally found a buyer).  God just kept closing the doors to my view of success.  I had severe withdrawal pains.  But I never gave up believing that my happiness depended entirely on the results of my efforts.

Fortunatley, God was not quite finished with my re-education in values.  In October of 1991, after a few weeks of nausea, my wife took the at home test.  It was blue.  So was I.  How could this happen now?!  Just when I was finally going to be free of constant fatherhood!  It just wasn’t fair.  I had visions of miscarriages (or other less acceptable solutions).  I felt cheated out of my “real” life, trapped in this alter existence, wasting away in the 2900 square feet at 101 Center Street.  Those nine months were horrible.  She was sick every day.  I was sick at heart every day.  I fought it by being angry at the world, bitter, unbearable.  There were days when I contemplated running away (my usual fantasy pattern when I am faced with really deep crisis).  But there was Michael.  He has the most wonderfully loving eyes, innocent, adoring.  I stayed, of course.  And when that day in June arrived and I saw Rachel leave the protection of her mother’s body to be herself, my anger evaporated in a moment of awe.  God intended me to learn that His little ones are more precious than gold.

Life at home is still frustrating.  I often feel that being the chief cook and bottle washer makes me about as appreciated as a live in maid (self pity reigns supreme in those moments).  Mom struggles with a work load that would kill less addicted executives.  And them there is guilt.  Guilt about not having spontaneity with each other.  Guilt about being frustrated with children.  Guilt about life sytles that demand too much too often.  We know we need a vacation, but we’re too tired to take one.

Parenting miracles don’t seem to be flashy ones.  God does protect us, but mostly from our own mistakes I would guess.  I now have two to manage.  I’m no longer sure that “manage” is a term which can be applied to the art of parenting.  Some days they seem to manage me much better than I can corral them.  But we find that we are still together at the end of each day, that we have had moments of triumph, trials and tenderness.  And we still love each other, just a little more for having survived what life presented that day.  We are Father, Mother and Children.  God is good.

My life has taken many unanticipated turns in these last few years.  There are moments like this one when I can see that the other path would have led me to “successful” emptiness.  I still have the tendency to move into fifth gear without waiting for the light to turn green.  But these two little ones who have been entrusted to me are teaching me that life’s real joys are found in the view from a snail’s pace.  I am sure now that I can never go back to the old ways.  I like those little hands clutching my big hands.  Time to watch the rain drops paint rivers on window panes, count petals on a dandelion and “bat the ball way up in the ‘ky”.  Thank God He knew what I really needed all along.  Enough of His grace to become grateful.

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New audio online, “The Hebrew view of Prayer”

Thursday, February 05th, 2009 | Author: Skip Moen

I just flew back to Orlando from Pensacola, Florida.  I taught twenty-five Masters’ graduate students about the “flow” of Hebraic prayer.  Patrick Sullivan, my loyal friend and tech geek, just posted the audio for The Hebrew view of Prayer.  Enjoy!

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Happy on Purpose: Living Life Backwards

Thursday, February 05th, 2009 | Author: Skip Moen

Does God want you to be happy?

Before you jump up with an answer, perhaps you need a moment to reflect. We’ve all heard the quip “I never promised you a rose garden”, but is that God’s attitude about life? Is God interested in your happiness or is happiness incompatible with the purpose-driven life? How often have you said, “Lord, I’m doing all that I can to live like You. I believe with all my heart that I am here to serve You and be a part of Your kingdom. But my life just seems to be one struggle after another. What is wrong with me?”

If God wants me to be happy, then why do I encounter so much trouble in life? If God wants what’s best for me, then why is my life so difficult? Is happiness not part of God’s purpose? How do I enthusiastically give my life to God if the consequence does not produce happiness? Maybe Job was right, life nothing more than trouble and trial, a wisp of smoke soon departed.

Jesus explained God’s perspective on many central human concerns. Happiness is high on the list. If we begin to grasp what Jesus says about happiness, we discover that God’s purposes for our lives are designed to produce incredible happiness – happiness that exceeds anything the world has to offer. But God’s view of happiness is not quite what we expect. The difference between our view and God’s view means radical changes in the application of purpose in our lives.

God has purposes for much more than human existence. Once we know that it’s not about us, we need a bit larger perspective than the human arena. He has plans for everything that He creates. God wastes nothing. The Bible tells us that He even has purposes for the experience of meaninglessness and suffering. He frustrates existence in this world on purpose. Until we begin to see things from God’s perspective, we often feel as though our deepest struggles are uncontrolled intersections of life gone wrong. Until we really grasp the scope of that phrase “It’s all about Him”, we will be confronted with a giant question mark about some of life’s hardest moments.

God has deliberately designed life to involve the process of struggle. Life hurts because it’s supposed to. The purpose of life is not to bring us to a place of pleasure and comfort. The purpose of life is to shape us into images of the Man of Sorrows acquainted with grief. Why? Because the motive behind all God’s purposes is sacrificial love, the love that gives up what it deserves for the benefit of others. If we are to become God’s children, we will have to be intimately acquainted with the call to sacrifice.

When Jesus taught us to pray, “Thy will be done on earth”, he made the greatest statement about purpose that anyone has every uttered. Buried in that tiny phrase is the full realization that God’s will is the final purpose of all creation. We are not the center of any universe, not even the spiritual one. What is is about God. If we really pray, “Thy will be done”, we are aligning our choices and behavior with His ultimate purpose, even if we cannot see the goal.

That’s the real problem, isn’t it? We just don’t see the whole picture. We live with less-than-eternal vision. Our spiritual myopia keeps us focused on that little bit of clarity right in front of us. When our lives encounter heartaches, we begin to question God’s eyesight. But God has something in mind that we just can’t see yet. And to reach His goal, He employs the strategy of struggle.

Jesus’ greatest explanation of connection between struggle and happiness is found in the Beatitudes. “Wait”, you shout. “The Beatitudes? The Beatitudes aren’t about struggle. They’re about spiritual blessings, gifts from God to be handed out at the end of the age because we have been merciful or pure or peacemakers or persecuted. What do these have to do with happiness?

The truth is that the Beatitudes are not about spiritual blessings at all. They are about happiness on purpose. How can we be confident about this? Because the opening word of every Beatitude is not “Blessed” but rather the Greek word that should be translated “Happy”. This word (makarioi) is not a verb. It is an adjective. Makarioi describes the emotional state of the subject. The Beatitudes are not secret recipes for God’s hand-outs. The people described in the Beatitudes are happy because they share God’s perspective on life’s great secret – the secret of suffering.

“Happy”, says Jesus. Not “blessed”. The reason these verses are called the Beatitudes is that the translation of the Greek first word into Latin produces the Latin word beatitudo, which means blessing. This Latin word was transported into the English Bible without being translated. When that happened, we all got confused. We began to think that Jesus was giving us a new set of rules to live by. We missed his point entirely. Those who are happy live life backwards.

There may also be an ecclesiastical reason behind this transliteration. The idea of a blessing conveys the thought of someone in higher authority granting a favor to someone in a lower position. From the position of God’s supreme authority, blessings are granted to His children, just as a king grants favors to his subjects. But the church also enters into this hierarchy. “Blessed” would make us think that we are going to be given something. It might make us think that we are some special class of people who will be granted an incredible favor from the King of kings. “Blessed” makes us think that these statements are about actions of lofty, divine entitlement. The idea of “blessed” radically affects the interpretation of these verses.

Consider for a moment the strange view of happiness that Jesus teaches.

Happy are those who are spiritually desperate beggars.

Happy are those who area at this very moment experiencing grief and mourning.

Happy are those who are afflicted with suffering and pain.

Happy are those who are feeling the signs of judgment.

Happy are those who are not getting what they deserve.

Happy are those who know that they don’t measure up.

Happy are those who place themselves at risk.

Happy are those who are driven out.

This seems completely backwards. How can anyone who fits these descriptions be happy? Yet, says Jesus, in God’s world these are the luckiest people alive. They have hit the jackpot in a lottery where they didn’t even buy a ticket. Jesus announces the good news. God wants His children to be overwhelmingly happy.

The purpose of being alive is to be happy God’s way!

But happiness is not the absence of need. Happiness is just the opposite. It is the acceptance of impossible, undeniable, unconquerable need. Happiness is found in complete dependence on Him.

The happy one are those who:

Cry out for His kingdom

Hope beyond death

Let God decide

Feed on His sufficiency

Let go of their rights

Claim only His righteousness

Sacrifice ourselves for others

Find grace in Him alone

Happiness God’s way looks like total insanity.

It is so tempting to move away from this critical center. We do not easily embrace this kind of happiness. Our ideas, even if they are baked in the spiritual oven, usually imagine happiness as bliss, that place where living is easy and fulfilling without tension, stress and exhaustion. Jesus reminds us that God does not share this opinion. Peter puts it bluntly. Arm yourselves with the purpose of suffering, just as Christ has suffered. Paul’s quest was to “know him, the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his suffering.” James points us to the prophets as examples of suffering. Should we expect any less of life than what life produced for Jesus who “learned obedience from the things which He suffered”?

Put aside your religious history for just a moment. Listen to Jesus as though you were sitting on the hillside. Forget the clutter that surrounds our current thinking about the Beatitudes and discover something amazing.

Backwards 1: Jesus begins by telling us that the happy ones are those who are spiritual beggars. These people can’t survive as they are. Their condition is critical. Pride is no longer an option for them. Unless they find a merciful soul to provide for them, they will be dead by morning. So they do the only thing that they can do – they beg. The spiritually destitute can only do one thing – get on their knees and plead. Matthew uses a word to describe these people that tells us they are the lowest of the low. They are the ones we avoid, the homeless, the bums, the gutter people. Yet Jesus says that when we are in the gutter begging for God we are the luckiest people on earth. We have “jump for joy” happiness. Why? Because God hears us. His reign arrives just for those who know they have nothing left in themselves. God’s glory belongs to the ones who have given up.

Backwards 2: There’s more, says Jesus. Happiness God’s way shows up when we are in the middle of grief. When life kicks us so hard we can’t breathe, God calls us the luck ones. Those who are mourning are experiencing life at the raw edge. They are on the cusp of the spiritual/physical slice through the universe. Mourning means that they have given up their self-delusions about control, power and protection. They know that life is fragile, and that they are not in charge. Mourning brings about the acute awareness of powerlessness – an essential ingredient in spiritual growth.

Why are we happy when life cuts us? Because our pretensions are shot to ruin. We see life as it really is – under God’s control. And we discover the only thing that matters in the face of grief – God is compassionate. We all try desperately to avoid exactly the condition necessary to experience this happiness. We want to avoid the grief of loss, trying to escape the clutches of death. But until we see that this world is truly broken, that death is here and we are not in control, we will not be ready to be comforted by God. So, grief comes upon us, not as a judgment or a punishment but as the single most clarifying moment of life – the moment when I see that my life is not my own, that it is not mine to keep. At that moment, when I know my limits most intimately, I am ready to hear God’s message – comfort is upon me.

The grief and loss of death hold a promise. It is a promise that only those who know their true condition can see. It is the promise that God is still in control. It is the promise that God is able. It is the promise that God Himself will wipe away the tears. It is the promise that the jagged edge of human life is not the end.

Backwards 3: Happy are the meek. Now put away everything you thought you knew about “meek”. Jesus quotes Psalm 37 where the Hebrew word means “happy are the forcibly oppressed”. Happy are those who live in internal emotional affliction and external pain. What? Nobody thinks these people could be happy; yet the Bible says that God uses exactly this condition to bring His people to joy. Why? Only those who know that God’s will prevails, that God is the rightful Judge who will bring peace and justice to a forsaken world. They are the only one who can rejoice because they know that God’s will is being done. This happiness is about heroic deliberate transformation – taking what life throws at us and turning it into a celebration of praise for God’s craftsmanship. Jesus makes us see that suffering and affliction are the privilege of those who are under God’s rule.

Jesus makes the most startling announcement that any of us could ever here. Do you want to know why bad things happen? Suffering has a purpose, says Jesus. Suffering is not accidental. Only those whom God loves enough to want to change them are given the privilege of suffering. Reverse your thinking. Suffering is homework, preparing you for your fair share responsibilities under God’s command. The question “Why do I suffer?” is answered by the response “God loves me so much that He cares enough to shape who I am”. The blacksmith has to heat and beat the iron to make it conform to the design he sees hidden in its structure. The sculptor has to break and hit the granite to make the piece of art hidden in the rock. We are works in progress. God’s tools are affliction and oppression.

Backwards 4: Hungry for righteousness. This doesn’t look backwards. People who crave a right-relationship with God can take solace in this Beatitude. They will be filled. But once again Jesus turns the tables. Hunger and thirst is not about spiritual attitudes. It is about God’s wrath. The imagery of Isaiah, Nehemiah and Lamentations make it clear. God punishes with hunger and thirst. If this Beatitude is about wrath, how can these people be happy. Jesus uses this imagery to show us that the luckiest people alive are those who know they are chronically deficient in righteousness. They know that no matter what they do, they are under God’s wrath. They have no ability to save themselves.

“Those of you who know that you cannot provide what you need by yourselves, who know that life is not giving you what you must have, who know that you are dying without what only God can provide, JUMP FOR JOY! Your day has arrived.”

Everything about this proclamation by Jesus was wrong, according to the religion of the day. God could never count as worthy those who were essentially unworthy. Don’t we say the same thing today – “God helps those who help themselves”. Every belief in “bearing my own cross”, every effort to earn God’s blessing, every bit of striving to make myself into something acceptable to God – all of it – Jesus cast aside. God was for those who knew they didn’t have a prayer.

What essential element of life do these people lack? It is not bread. It is not water. It is God’s righteousness. And HALLEJUHIA! God is going to feed them what they need. “They will be filled” is more accurately translated “they shall be fed”. They could never do it by themselves. And God does not empower them to do it by themselves. Righteousness is all on God’s side of the ledger. These people are jumping for joy because God is going to feed them.

Backwards 5: Mercy. Jesus’ concept of mercy does not come from the Greeks. For the Greeks (and for most of us), mercy is an emotional condition. We feel sorry, moved, empathetic. We relate to someone else’s tragedy because it could happen to us. All of that is about as far away from the Biblical idea of mercy as we could get. For Jesus, mercy is the basis of the covenant. Mercy is about commitment and cost, not about how I feel. Mercy is my deliberate decision to let go of my rights and take on the cost of someone else’s sin. Mercy happens when I pay for the release of my enemy. Mercy makes life possible because without it all of us deserve punishment.

So why is this backwards? Because in order to show mercy I must give away what I deserve. These happy people are the ones who are not getting their rights. They are voluntarily given them away.

When mercy becomes personal, it is not about sympathetic affiliation. It is not about emotional compassion and identification. It is about giving up my right to justice. Only those who deserve justice can show mercy because mercy means that the rightful consequence of justice is no longer applied. You can sympathize, empathize, identify, show compassion, understand, care or be supportive without being merciful. In order to show mercy you must have something at stake. You must make a sacrifice. It has to cost you something. Mercy is giving up what’s mine – not because the other person deserves a break, but because I realize that mercy is valuable by itself. What I discover is that mercy produces personal psychological freedom. I place my right to justice in the hands of God. It is no longer a weight that I carry. I am free.

Mercy is the summary word of the life of Jesus. He made a choice that cost. He gave up being God to be like God’s enemies – one of us. And mercy cost God too. He lost His only son to the sacrifice for those who deserved to die. Punishing Jesus for our sins cost God the Father the unfathomable sorrow of turning away from a person He loved forever. A person who didn’t deserve any of it. To show mercy is always expensive.

Jesus says, “Happy are those paying the price of being merciful. They understand why mercy will be shown to them”. I don’t show mercy in order to be rewarded with mercy. I show mercy as a result of knowing why mercy in essential for me. It is the fact that I am a candidate for mercy that makes me willing to pay the price of mercy now. It is not my reward; it is my obligation.

Backwards 6: Jesus proclaimed “Happy” those whom the world would consider the least likely candidates. Instead of the religiously respectful, Jesus said the spiritually destitute were fortunate. Instead of the jubilant, Jesus announced happiness to those who grieved. Instead of victors, Jesus said the oppressed should jump for joy. Instead of the prosperous, Jesus announced the happiness of the chronically needy. Instead of the rightful winners, Jesus tells us happiness belongs to those who give up their rights. Now Jesus says something even more amazing. Now he says that the happy people are those with clean hearts. And we already know that not one single person in the world can make such a claim. Each Beatitude applies joy to a small group of the vast majority. This one delineates a group of zero. No one has a clean heart.

So, who are the happy ones in this Beatitude? There can be only one answer – Happy are those who have experienced the creation of a new, clean heart. They will see God because God saw them first. You bet they are happy. They are ecstatic! Nothing on earth can match what only God could do for them. A MasterCard can pay the rent for the sanctuary, the cost of the hymnals and the price of the communion. But a clean heart is priceless!

In order to see God, we must have the eyes of a pure heart. The impossibility of being clean in heart is no more impossible than seeing God. Neither can be accomplished by human effort. Both occur in the moment of God’s choosing. Happiness comes when God makes me clean for then I lift up my face and see Him.

Backwards 7: Peace, peace, just give me some peace. We all want it. But it seems so hard to get. The Beatles knew how we feel when they said, “Give you everything I’ve got for a little peace of mind”.

Unfortunately, Jesus is not going to make things easier with this Beatitude. Happiness here is not for those who want peace but for those who make peace. And you can’t make peace unless you put yourself at risk. Peace in the New Testament is the normal state of affairs. War with God is not God’s plan. So God did something about war. He declared peace. Peace is the result of God’s salvation provided to men. God guarantees the security of citizens of His Kingdom. In the New Testament, peace and life are opposed to strife and death. Peace, then, is a word that summarizes the life of those who are citizens of the Kingdom of Heaven. At last, they have clarity, security and contentment as God intended, under God’s protection and guarantee.

Everyone wants peace. That is to say, everyone wants to experience life where they themselves enjoy peace. But not the peacemaker. The peacemaker is one who actually gives up personal harmony and tranquility in order to put himself at risk for the sake of peace. He stands in harm’s way because he attempts to bring someone else’s conflict to an end. You can’t be a peacemaker without stepping into a war. You can’t be a peace-maker if you watch from the sidelines, waiting for well being to come to you, waiting for political freedom to be given to you, waiting for God’s wrath to be turned from you, waiting for the Messiah to make things better for you. Peacemakers are active. They engage the battle – not to fight but to diffuse, not to aggravate but to appease, not to control but to counsel. But peacemakers are in and of themselves a paradox. The very thing they long for is exactly what they relinquish. In order to bring peace, they must become part of the strife – step into the fire.

Jesus says, “Happy those who give up their peace for the sake of someone else’s peace”. The peacemaker knows his own peace is built on self-sacrificial relinquishing of peace. He is just reflecting what was given to him. The sacred paradox is this: the peacemaker joyfully relinquishes his own peace for the sake of ending strife between men for no other reason than reflecting the character of his Father. The peacemaker knows God’s peace is found in standing in conflict. The peacemaker knows that he can bring peace only by letting go of peace. And God recognizes that this decision reflects exactly what He does.

Incredibly happy are those who deliberately step into their Father’s shoes in efforts to bring peace between men. God considers them symbols of His family image.

Backwards 8: Happy are the persecuted. Too often we stop with this phrase, seeing images of prison, torture and death. But Jesus is not talking about persecution. He is talking about persecution for the sake of righteousness. And what does that mean? It means that anything which comes between God’s free gift of grace and our acceptance of that gift is persecution of righteousness. The word means “to drive out”. That is exactly what happens when men insert any other requirement between God’s grace and our forgiveness. After all, forgiveness is dangerously reckless. We would rather have rules than free grace. We want to keep the ledgers even if God doesn’t.

Jesus proclaimed that God’s grace was an unconditional invitation to everyone. If we add anything to this invitation, we harm God’s message. Jesus taught that God draws all who respond to this invitation. If we qualify the ones He draws, we harm God’s message. Jesus announced that the only condition of salvation was repentance. If we add burdens to this process, we harm God’s message. And finally, Jesus commanded that the only measure of a follower was submission to Him. Wherever men demand anything more or tolerate anything less, they step outside God’s righteousness.

Happiness backwards – life on purpose. If we are going to embrace the purpose-driven life, we will discover an amazing

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Ownership

Thursday, February 05th, 2009 | Author: Skip Moen

Put me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm. For love is as strong as death, jealousy is as severe as Sheol; its flashes are flashes of fire, the very flame of the LORD. Song of Solomon 8:6

Ownership

Seal – In one of the finest love poems from the ancient past, Song of Solomon places sexual intensity, passion, desire and fulfillment under the authority of the “seal.” At the conclusion of this great love poem, the woman instructs the man to “put me like a seal” over your heart and on your arm. Once we know the cultural background of this word, we see God’s view of sexual intimacy also reverses the cultural expectation.

The word translated “seal” is hotham. It describes a cylindrical piece of stone with an external carved inscription. When this cylinder is rolled over a soft material, it leaves a raised impression that establishes legal ownership over the object. Like a signet ring, the seal permanently establishes an unbreakable legal and moral bond.

There are interesting, and powerful, nuances associated with this word. First, the Hebrew word hotham is most likely a loanword from Egyptian. Hebrew has another word for “seal” that is used exclusively in religious rituals. But this loanword is associated with magic, not ritual, in its Egyptian heritage. How appropriate that it should be chosen to describe the bond of intimacy between a man and a woman. Secondly, while there are numerous occurrences of seals establishing male ownership in the archeological record, the occasions of female ownership are very rare. But that is precisely the intention of this verse. The woman asks the man to roll her seal on to his heart and over his arm, branding him as owned by her. In perfect harmony with the context of Genesis 2:24, the man leaves behind his old life and becomes the property of the woman who loves him. He submits to her ownership. This is in alignment with Proverbs 31:11. The man places his life in the hands of the woman. He is hers exclusively, just as he is his Lord’s exclusive property.

This all sounds really great.  A wife might think that as owner she can do what she wants with her property – the husband.  Husbands might rebel, saying that if their wives are going to act like typical domineering owners they want nothing to do with this “redeemed” marriage.  Both would be wrong.  The standard is God’s ownership.  The ‘ezer must act as the substitute owner in God’s place.  What does that mean?  It means that wives are to act toward their husbands as God acted toward His people.  Yes, He protects.  Yes, He provides.  But He is also long-suffering, merciful, forgiving, gracious, loving and full of compassion.  He never gives up on Israel.  He never acts in ways that are not in the best interests of Israel.  He is eternally committed to doing everything He can to bring Israel to the place where Israel fulfills its divine mission.

Is that the way you, as ‘ezer, act toward your husband?  Are you so much for him that you will never give up on helping him become all that God has called him to be?  Or do you have your own agenda for ownership? Is your position as ‘ezer governed by holiness and compassion, or is it practiced with personal demands and desires?  When you look at your behavior toward your husband, no matter how he behaves, are you faithfully committed to God’s best for him?  Even if you have to put your agenda on the back shelf?

The role of the ‘ezer is a dangerous one.  That’s why God put it in the capable hands of the woman.  It is dangerous because it walks the knife edge of managing obedience or obedient management.  On the one hand, most wives know that with enough prodding, persuasion and persistence, they can get their husbands to do what they want.  But that is managing obedience.  God calls the ‘ezer to obedient management – being the living proof of holiness in the presence of the husband, calling him to greater self-sacrifice for his God.

The ‘ezer does not sin in her weakness.  Her sins are not due to defects.  The ‘ezer sins in her strength.  She takes her God-given capacity and power and uses it for her own purposes.  She defeats her husband.  The result is tragic – as a great many of us know.

“Lord, help me to live as the obedient manager, putting his relationship with You ahead of my agendas.  Let me bring him to the place where he is used completely by You, and I will glory in my role in making him Yours.”

(For more, read the article Balancing Act, Parts 1 & 2 that I put on my site yesterday.  And/or download and listen to the 82 minute audio lecture The Scriptural Role of ‘Ezer.)

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