Archive for May 10th, 2009

A Year on the Ash Heap

Sunday, May 10th, 2009 | Author:

A Year on the Ash Heap: Travels with Job

The book of Job is considered the oldest book of the Bible. With this in mind, the story becomes even more challenging. After all, if this account is the oldest book, then it follows that all of the other stories, directions, prophetic utterances and guidance was not around when Job saw his life come apart at the seams. He did not have the chance of reflecting on the Psalms of David, the wisdom of Solomon, the accounts of God’s faithfulness is Genesis and Exodus, the history of God’s care in the prophets or the rules for living in the other books. Job had to go it alone.

The record of God’s interaction with Man reduces the devastation of our catastrophes. Perhaps God knew that those of us who were not “blameless and upright” needed to have a source of comfort and direction. God is merciful. We could have been born in Job’s world.

There is another tiny factor that we often overlook when we find ourselves in a Job environment. Job’s catastrophe continued much longer than it takes us to read the forty-two chapters. Disasters are quite different when they stretch along for month after month. Human beings show great courage and resilience when faced with sudden traumas, but it’s the daily grind of unresolved terror that eats up the soul. Just ask anyone who is dealing with a slow losing battle with cancer. Time squeezes the hope from us. We have no idea how long Job endured his suffering. Long enough for him to consider death a pleasant alternative. And Job dealt with the continuation of suffering without the comfort of words like, “I have overcome the world” or “I saw a new heaven and a new earth”. God is merciful in ways we sometimes do not recognize.

Job may not have had the reservoir of Biblical teaching and promises, but Job has some advantages. His interaction with God is not as cluttered as ours. He doesn’t have to sort through 5000 years of theological bickering to decide if some text really applies to him. His faith is first-hand personal communication (much like ours is supposed to be, I would guess). Job doesn’t need to go to the local bookstore and buy the latest thinking on God’s view of crisis, relationship management or career restructuring. Job deals direct. And, of course, Job knows that he is righteous. That is a big leg up. I personally know that I am a long way from righteous. My guess is that most of us will hesitate to raise a hand when God asks, “Who among you is blameless and upright?” God has redeemed me from myself, but He probably wouldn’t say, “There is no one on earth like Skip”. I am a terrible sinner rescued by grace, not deserving of any compliment by God. Job and I might be the same in some ways, but on this one, I don’t seem to be even close.

Uncluttered, blameless and personally connected. Job’s advantages. Of course, my life in Christ puts me in the same camp by adoption. So Job’s advantages become mine by inheritance. I don’t have to sort out the theology in order to know God. God counts me blameless because of His Son and I have a direct channel of communication with the Spirit Who lives within me.

Job’s disadvantages are a little different too. We share the same “friends”. We both have that group of “helpers” whose role in life is to remind us that terrible circumstances are curses directly related to our past performance. We both have the company of spiritual advisors who are anxious to propose solutions but who quickly dismiss our explanations or questions. We are blessed with the group consciousness of moral blame; the ones who are more than ready to point out why we deserved this calamity. And, of course, we are visited often by those who offer God’s advice but withhold substantive compassion. Do you recall any of Job’s companions bringing medication or money or means of support? They had lots to say, but the only thing they provided Job in his trouble was the tonnage of words. I wonder if he might not have appreciated a drink or a meal a bit more.

Job and I have been traveling together for a year now. During that time, we have seen the companions come and go. The first group rushed in to remind us of our failures to prepare. Life is full of potential disasters. You should have known this. Why were to so trusting, so open, or gullible? After they leveled the playing field to the common denominator of fate, they left. What more could they add? They were really Greeks, afraid of undeserved catastrophe. After all, if it can happen to you, it can happen to me. So, better to stay away from any chance that your bad luck will rub off on me. Give advice and get away. If I pretend it isn’t my problem, I won’t have to deal with the fragile nature of my life.

The second group is the “spiritual” advisors. These people mean well. They have good hearts. They truly sympathize. But they just can’t listen. They want to convey God’s direction to those who are suffering but they take the shotgun approach – “Let me tell you all that God can do”. Job and I don’t say much. We try to be polite. But inside we are sort of saying, “You really don’t understand what’s happening here.” They haven’t been on the ash heap themselves. They’ve read about it or heard about it or can imagine it. But that’s the end of the story. They forgot to listen. Kind of like a couple who haven’t had children talking about their plans for parenting. They all sound good. They just haven’t encountered the two-year old yet.

The next companions are those who really want to help but they don’t think that they have the means. The have forgotten something Job never knew. The story of the loaves and fishes. “I really wish I could do something to help you,” but what they really mean is “I would do something if it were big enough to matter.” So, they don’t do anything. Job could have used a tube of ointment for his sores, but because they could not heal him, they did not bring anything for the relief of a single infection. I am constantly amazed when I discover that someone I know who is in desperate trouble has not received a card or a plate of cookies or a ticket to a movie or an offer to do the cleaning. When life is a total disaster, every sign of care and relief matters. You don’t have to solve the big problem. You just have to solve a problem.

This seems to be an American problem. My friend wrote to me about his effort to raise money for housing for someone who needs a home. The total project is a lot of money. But he only needed $1.00 from each of the employees in several businesses. $1.00! Nothing. Everyone can give $1.00. But no one will. Why? Because they will think, “What will $1.00 matter?” What will a card matter? What will a tank of gas matter? What will paying for a babysitter matter? None of it will matter at all because people in this group will wait for God to do something big instead of doing something big with the very little God has already given them. It is the American view of individualism turned into spiritual dyslexia. You look at the situation and see only the total picture. So, you throw up your hands and say, “Well, only God can fix that” while the victim has the power shut off because the group would not give $0.25 each. The “church” in America is just a collection of individuals, not a community, until each individual makes a life commitment to the welfare of everyone else in the group.

Finally there’s the family. This is a mixed bag. Sometimes someone in the family actually understands. Patience, weeping, shared sorrow and shared encouragement. These people are priceless. They hold your hand, listen to you talk about the sorrows and the joys, say little, pray a lot. We need these people. Usually family also includes the other ones. These are the family members who tell you that whatever you did to deserve this, you need to confess and make it right. They ignore your protestations. They already know you too well to believe that you can change. They remember when you did this or that. They are your human judges, passing out God’s verdict on your life so that you will be brought to the proper place of repentance. They are focused on blame. But the motivation for assigning blame is not because they are anxious to have God relieve your sorrow. They want God to relieve the fallout that your disaster has had for them. Job’s wife comes to him with a plea. “Don’t be so stubborn. Admit that you sinned. Say you’re sorry so God will give us back everything that I lost because of you. Stop pretending it’s not your fault.”

As Job and I travel along this road, we discover that each step of progress is a step away from the expectation of return to the old life. Perhaps that’s the message in the lost children. I have always wondered how Job could ever return to joy no matter what God restored to him if he lived the rest of his life under the specter of the death of his children. But I am beginning to see that the restoration of his fortune is an after-thought. What Job really needed is exactly what I need. Not a return to a better life after collapse but rather a tighter, closer dependence on God so that no external circumstance alters my confidence in His care.

God had to take away the false security I enjoyed to show me the truth of my existence. I am one of the most fragile of His creations. A few degrees change in the global temperature and I am finished. A shift in biological balance, a tiny change in the food chain, a small disturbance in natural resources and my world reveals itself as a very hostile place – from which there is no real protection. The first lesson of life is dependence. It is not a once-learned lesson. It is a continuous reassessment of my daily direction. It goes hand in hand with finite and fragile. Death is not entirely tragic. The presence of death in my world is a very meaningful reminder that I am a totally dependent creature, deliberately designed that way.

The second lesson I learned with Job is humility. Recognizing my inability to provide even the most basic needs of life has given me a new perspective on humility. My existence depends on grace – the grace of God and the grace of God through the hands of others. Desperation is the acid cleanser of pride. Proud people starve. Desperate people bow in humility in order to be fed. There is a reason why Jesus spent his time with the outcasts. They understood what it meant to be unable to care for themselves. Until we learn the lesson of humility, we will be unlikely to see God’s grace when it does come. We will still be shouting, “It’s my right” or “I am entitled.” I must have had a lot of pride because I had to take a great fall. Don’t ask me to be my own god anymore. I don’t have the stomach for it.

Number three at mile marker 365 is trust. The lesson here is simple: trust takes time. Abraham got up and followed God as a young man. Things looked promising. But over the decades that followed, Abraham learned dependence and humility (in some very stressful ways) until one day, a century after he left home, God said, “Now I know you really love me.” Trust takes time. My battle today is not about dependence. I learned that lesson in relatively short order. When you hit zero, you know it is no longer up to you. Humility took a lot longer. I always thought that if I just worked harder, was smarter, looked for all the angles and did all I could, I would find a way out. I had my pride. I would not take food stamps. But God can’t use a man with pride. Even in bankruptcy, that man is still claiming his own right to the world. Humility is giving up my way.

Trust is a lot more difficult. It is the positive side of the equation. What I have discovered is that trust requires failure. I have to learn through failure that I can’t trust anyone or anything except God and that the only reason I can trust God is because He says I can. Trust is not about being restored. It is about immersion in the character of the restorer, even if nothing ever gets restored. Trust is my learned confidence in who God is, not in what He does. Today, at mile marker 365, my expectations about life are being scraped away. I no longer know where I am going. My personal goal setting has lots of blank spaces. But I am learning to trust the one I follow, even if I don’t know where he is taking me. Some days it seems as though we are heading in the wrong direction. I complain, “But Lord, things looked like they were going to turn around. Why are we walking away now?” He rarely answers me. He just motions – come along. Those are difficult days. For a self-reliant, arrogant, planner like me, becoming a child who just follows along is a big assignment. I’ll need a lot of grace to complete it.

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The Church

Sunday, May 10th, 2009 | Author:

Following the excellent post by Barry Jenkins (see his comment under the Today’s Word “Paradigm Shift”), I thought it might be useful to put back up an article that I posted on the old web site.  Here it is:

The Church

Today Christians stand at a significant crossroads in spiritual growth. On the one hand, evangelistic efforts across the globe seem to be producing record numbers of converts, especially in third-world countries. On the other hand, main line denominations in formerly Christian nations are dwindling. There is a deep concern that the church as we have known it in Western history is in crisis. It’s theology might be sound, but it often seems to be on life-support when it comes to transformational living.

Furthermore, while pastors and leaders readily acknowledge the universality of the “Church”, its spiritual unity and its single head in the Messiah, denominational controversies and an emphasis on the “local” congregation continue to force believers into an “either-or” decision crisis. Churches rarely pool efforts, funds and people in order to accomplish significant cultural change. Most of the time it’s the “not-invented-here” syndrome. Unity has been redefined to mean my local church congregation, a far cry from the kind of unity that Jesus prayed for on the night of His crucifixion.

None of this would matter at all if it weren’t for one overriding fact. When we read about the kind of church described in the New Testament, we know that something is wrong. Something’s missing. That seems to be the general consensus of a large number of those who attend church regularly. We’re not quite sure what it is, but we know that our expectations are often greater than the actual delivery. We want that mysterious something – desperately – and so we travel from congregation to congregation, searching, hoping, waiting for the final spiritual enlightenment that will confirm, “You’re home.” What is most discouraging in this quest is the picture painted of the early church in the book of Acts. It seems more vibrant, more filled with the Spirit, more apostolic. Miracles accompany its proclamation. Power and deep humility attend its leaders. “Why can’t we have that?” we complain. “What’s wrong with us?”

When people don’t know what to do, they do what they know. Like good Christians, we go back to the planning table and come up with another program, another series of sermons or another revival meeting. We see change, but it doesn’t last. And back we go again. We spend millions of dollars and hours on things that don’t seem to really make a fundamental difference. We need to face the hard facts. Unless we radically rethink what we call “church,” all the evidence suggests it is not going to get better. Maybe there is another way.

We could start by noticing some important connections in the words of Scripture (where else? J). First, the Greek word usually translated “church” is ekklesia. You undoubtedly know that. But did you know that the word ekklesia is never used in the gospels (except in Matthew 16:18 and 18:17). You might think that this only means that Jesus and the disciples used the word “synagogue,” but you would be wrong. The only place where the early Christians used the word synagoge (which is also a Greek term) is in James 2:2. Now, this should make us pause. If Jesus doesn’t use the word ekklesia, and the disciples do not use the word synagoge, then how what does this tell us about their understanding of what the church is?

Let’s add two more crucial facts. The Old Testament uses two different words for the religious gathering of God’s people. They are almost interchangeable – almost, but not quite. The first is qahal. This word means “assembly” and is used for nearly any kind of gathering, even gatherings in rebellion against God. However, in connection with Israel, it is especially the assembly for religious purposes such as the giving of the Law (see Deuteronomy 9:10). There is another Hebrew word, ‘edah, which also generally means “assembly” and is often translated “congregation.” But, while qahal can be translated by both Greek words, ekklesia and synagoge, ‘edah is never translated as ekklesia. Only the Greek synagoge is used to translate both qahal and ‘ehad. That means that ekklesia can be an assembly, but it can never be a congregation (in Hebrew). Only a synagoge can be both an assembly and a congregation (although we must also note that synagoge almost always translates a derivative of qahal).

This linguistic detective work starts to point us toward something important. There is a clue here that the modern church lost along the way.

Hebrew culture used qahal for a very important concept: gathering to accept the covenant. Qahal is a word that carries the idea of calling by appointment to a particular purpose of God. This is an event, not a place! It is focused on God’s purpose, not our participation. However, when it comes to “congregation,” the word is almost always ‘edah. One hundred and twenty-three times this word is found in the Torah. It is about the unity of those appointed, not about the individuals gathered. It is not bound to a special place or time. It is always about a special people appointed as one unified whole before God.

Isn’t it interesting that ekklesia, the word that we usually take to mean “the church” is never connected to this Hebrew idea of perfect unity in appointment and purpose? Now we see that the two Hebrew words for “assembly” are not quite the same. Qahal focuses on the event of experience with God. ‘Edah focuses on the unity of the whole people whom God appoints. Ekklesia, the Greek word translated “church” is never ‘edah, only qahal.

Since the Hebrew word for synagoge is q’helah (from qahal), Paul would have used this expression in his dialogue and writings to Hebrew-speaking believers. Therefore, when Paul uses the term ekklesia, he is not thinking in Greek. He is thinking is Hebrew and he invests the meaning of the Greek word ekklesia with all the attributes of the Hebrew q’helah.

But this raises a problem. We usually think of ekklesia as “those called out of the world to serve God.” In fact, ekklesia literally means “called out” (from ek and kaleo). But the Greek word ekklesia is never found in other Greek literature with this meaning. In Greek, ekklesia was used to describe any convened assembly of citizens for social and legal purposes. Ekklesia was never used for a religious gathering. What this means is that the use of ekklesia in the New Testament cannot be based in classic Greek. The meaning of ekklesia must be derived from the Hebrew background implicit in Paul’s orientation. Robert Gorelik makes the point crystal clear. If Paul uses ekklesia in all his letters to describe what we call “church,” why is it that no one confused this word with an ordinary town meeting? The answer is obvious. Paul’s audience knew that ekklesia was not to be understood in the classic Greek sense. It was rather to be understood in the Hebrew sense – as an assembly for the purpose of religious expression – namely, a q’helah.

What this tells us in critically important. The background, theology and practice of the early “church” is found in Hebrew thought, not in Greek thought. In other words, Paul is addressing congregations of believers who are Hebrew-thinking followers of the Messiah, and who stand in the same line as the Hebrew use of qahal and ‘edah in the Old Testament.

What can we conclude? We can only point the direction since there is so much more to consider, but we can say at least this much. It appears as though the Hebrew idea behind ekklesia is about a “happening”, an event, not a place. A church is a gathering event called by God for His purposes. It doesn’t appear to be a routine meeting in a particular place with a set agenda. Remember that qahal is found in the idea of a gathering of soldiers for war. It is the purpose that precipitates the gathering, not the other way around. Church, from a Hebrew perspective, is all about why we come together, not about where we come together.

Recently I read a comment by a man who was distraught because he didn’t seem able to plant a new church in his community. You can see how his thinking has been affected by the idea that church is a place. Maybe we should have church rather than go to church. How much more might we accomplish for the Kingdom if we began to think of church as a gathering event for a godly purpose rather than a building?

But there is more. When we point in this direction, we realize that there is an element in the Hebrew idea that is not present in the Greek word ekklesia. ‘Edah – the unity of the gathered assembly – is never picked up by the word ekklesia. The event of church does not entail unity. The event is focused on the reason for the event, namely, the call of God. We gather because God calls us to gather, and we gather because He has something to tell us and something for us to do. But that is not the same as being in unity. If we are going to experience ‘edah, our gathering cannot focus on the individuals in the group. It must focus on the whole group all together. Does this give you a clue about Paul’s comments on sharing the single mind of Christ or Jesus’ comments on unity?

The “church” is a unity, a single body (remember Paul’s body language) where every individual fades into the whole, integrated unit, where no single member is any more valuable than any other and where every member is vital to the functioning of the whole. ‘Edah is a body without hierarchy, without “professionals”, without status-seekers and without individual glorification. It is the one assembly, doing all together what God commands.

What directions begin to emerge? Perhaps we need to re-think “church.” If the Bible’s view of church is an event called for a purpose operating as a single, completely unified body, a lot of things will have to change.

There is one more pointer. L. Coenen says, “If one compares the two Hebrew words, it becomes clear . . . that ‘edah is the unambiguous and permanent term for the covenant community as a whole. On the other hand, qahal is the ceremonial expression for the assembly that results from the covenant . .”

Only one of these ideas is captured in the word ekklesia, that is, the ceremonial expression of the assembly. If that is true, then “church” is not only event oriented, it is also a formal occasion built on ritual. So, God calls His people. They gather (the event) under certain, prescribed ordinances (the ritual) for a particular purpose (the reason for the gathering). This is qahal. The result is q’helah.

But there is also ‘edah. In order for the church to also be ‘edah, it must belong, not as individuals, but as a whole unit, to God’s permanent, covenant family. Let this sink in a bit. The conclusion is shocking. The covenant is not about individuals. I do not have a personal covenant relationship with God. My covenant relationship with God is based in the community as a whole. Furthermore, church as ‘edah is not for the non-believer. If you are not part of the covenant family, you are not part of this assembly – and you shouldn’t be there!

This is a dagger in the heart of the “seeker-friendly” idea of church. The seeker-friendly church is not a church from the Bible’s point of view. It is a meeting of mixed minds and motives. It is equivalent to the crowd who heard Peter preach on the day of Pentecost. He had only one message – Repent! All of the rest of the teaching, training and equipping is for the family of the covenant community, not for the outsiders.

Now we might realize why our churches are so bland and anemic. First, we have the wrong audience. When we mix family and strangers, what kind of signals are we sending? How can you gather at God’s call for His purposes when half your crowd doesn’t even know Him? How can you be of single-minded unity when your audience is filled with rebels? What made you think that God even called those idol-worshippers to His event? In our efforts to make the “church” relevant, we have destroyed it. We no longer gather at His request to receive His purposes and act as a single body in the world. We gather in a meeting, filled with all kinds of agendas, rebellious enemies standing side-by-side with devoted followers. And we hope to encounter God!? How crazy is that? We have converted the “church” from its Hebrew roots to a truly Greek base. It is now nothing more than a convened assembly.

Secondly, not only is the contemporary, seeker-friendly church the wrong mix, it usually doesn’t fit the proper “event for purpose” direction. The local church is a place, governed by a hierarchy, committed to a schedule, run by programs. It can hardly be called a spontaneous event resulting from the call of God for a particular purpose. In fact, the more we move in the direction of making the “church” a locally operating organization, the less we seem to be moving toward God’s plan. God’s ways are not our ways. Why should we think that His view of church would be merely human organizational capacity set to the melody of hymns?

Our churches are filled with the great unwashed, and, as a result, our focus is anything but pure. Of course, we must reach to the lost, but separate church from meetings and you just might discover that the body is nourished.

Ekklesia reminds us that the true church is called out. But unless we understand the Hebrew background behind this Greek word, we will only be a half-church. The ekklesia is called by God for the purpose of accomplishing His will on earth. That’s pretty clear. That call has been in place since Israel crossed the Red Sea. The church is not a new invention of the first century. It is as old as God’s choice to bring into existence a people called to be His own.

Furthermore, the assembly of the children of God is not a collection of individuals. It is a single unit, undifferentiated before God, a covenant community. If the church is only an ekklesia, then it is only half of what God intended. If the church is only about its called-out purpose, then it is only a fifty percent operation.

Think of it like this: The outward function of the church is to complete the mission of the Lord on earth. We are called to that task. That’s what the ekklesia is all about. If your chosen assembly of worship is not fulfilling the mission of the Lord, then you are not an ekklesia. But, there is another part. There is something more than just proclaiming the good news. There is ‘edah, a word that describes the homogenization of the church, the undifferentiated unity of all the pieces in covenant community. Paul does have a word for this in Greek. That word is “body”. A church is not just the called-out ones with a purpose. A church is also the unity of all the individuals in a single body.

Paul’s thought is very much like the new clothes of the new man. The clothing is the outside purpose-driven view. The “body” is the inside unity of every member that gives shape to the clothes. If you (plural) are an assembly, an ekklesia, without a body, an ‘edah, then you have only half of God’s design in place. You will know that it is only half the story because you will know that there is something missing in spite of the purpose-driven activity. You will know that the inside is empty. There is no body under the clothing.

This is the biggest problem in the Western church. The body has shriveled and died. The clothes are draped on a mannequin. There is no unified, singular, Spirit-filled manifestation of God underneath the activity. It’s just outward, glorious emptiness.

The covenant community does not exist as the local assembly. Just as God’s covenant does not apply to the individual, so it does not apply to the collection of individuals who meet at some building and call themselves a church. The covenant community is the whole family of God. There is one God. There is one covenant. There is only one covenant community. Perhaps it’s time for us to start thinking and acting according the Deuteronomy 6:4, “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is your God. The Lord is One.”

Skip Moen

April 2008

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A World of Difference

Sunday, May 10th, 2009 | Author:

that He might deliver us out of the present evil age Galatians 1:4

Deliver Us Out – “I do not ask You to take them out of the world.” Wait a minute! Paul just says that Yeshua sacrificed Himself for our sins so that He might deliver us out, but Yeshua Himself prayed that we not be taken out. What’s going on here?

Frankly, I would prefer Paul. I’d like to be delivered out of this evil age. No more problems for me. Just tap my heels and think of home and off I go. Oops! That Hollywood, not reality. In fact, if we look closely at Paul’s choice of words, we will find that he says the same thing that Yeshua prayed. We are here to stay. We just moved to a new house.

The Greek expression is exeletai hemas ek. The verb, exaireo, means to take out, to pluck out, to deliver. It is used to describe rescue from danger and removal from affliction. This is the Christian exit strategy, accomplished by the death of the Messiah. Does that mean that I get an instant pass to heaven? Of course not. It means that I am instantly transferred from bondage in the kingdom of the evil one to liberty in the kingdom of my Savior. I stay right here, but I move into a different world. One moment I was held captive by my sin, bound to the patterns and passions of the systems of this evil age. My illusion of self-determination keep me fettered to rebellion against my Creator. I inherited the terrible consequences. Yeshua broke those bonds. As the blameless and perfect sacrifice, His full obedience is reckoned to my miserable moral account. He substitutes Himself for me and takes the punishment I deserve. I am set free from the consequences of my rebellion. In a moment, I move into a new relationship – and a new house – while I stay right here in the same place. But now I have been delivered, rescued, taken out of that old kingdom of terror and entanglement and given life in a kingdom where I can joyously obey and know His blessings. John’s gospel makes it clear in a single preposition, eis. I move into Jesus, into His kingdom and into a relationship with Him that I didn’t have before. I am delivered from the present evil age without leaving. It’s kind of like space travel in Dune – traveling without moving.

So, we see that Paul and Yeshua say the same thing. I’m not going anywhere – spatially, that is. I am right here being a citizen of the Kingdom on location. But now there is a world of difference. I don’t see things the way I used to see them. I don’t act the way I used to act. I have a different allegiance and a new lease on life. Over time, my change in perspective affects everything about me until I don’t even recognize that old person who once strained against the invisible chains. Chances are that others don’t recognize me either. This is what Paul calls the “renewing of your mind.”

Here’s the best part. I don’t have to deliver myself. Actually, I couldn’t do it. The prisoner does not set himself free. Yeshua rescued me. He did it all. I just benefitted from His obedience. My deliverance had nothing to do with my efforts, good or bad. That’s the foundation of the letter to the Galatians, and it is the foundation of our freedom as well.

Topical Index: delivered out, exaireo, rescued, move house, Galatians 1:3

Día 26 – Genio Malvado

Sunday, May 10th, 2009 | Author:

a ti será su deseo, y tú te enseñorearás de él” Génesis 4:7

Pecado – Una vez más reconozco mi deuda al esplendido trabajo del Rabino David Fohrman por éste análisis. Ésta palabra (teshukah), utilizada  en la Biblia tres veces, es realmente una palabra sobre la energía sorprendente de creación que reside en cada uno de nosotros. Es el anhelo más profundo que poseemos – el anhelo de hacer algo que perdure. Este es el análisis del rabino Fohrman. ¡Teshukah es parte de lo que somos! Sin él, dejaríamos de ser humanos.

Esto es desconcertante. ¿Por qué? Porque esta palabra se usa en la historia del asesinato de Caín. La mayoría de nosotros creemos que éste “deseo” es algo feo, algo malvado y elemental, y que debemos deshacernos de él.  Pero el hebreo no nos permite esa reacción. Teshukah está construido dentro de lo que significa ser mujer (vea Génesis 3:16), lo que significa amar profunda y apasionadamente (Cantares 7:10), y aquí, donde toma un matiz de algo letal que desea unirse a Caín. Nota la advertencia de Dios. “Debes enseñorearte de él.”  Eso no es lo mismo que “debes negarlo” o “Debes removerlo.” Esta fuerza vital profundamente arraigada dentro de nosotros debe ser domesticada, no borrada. Debe ser contenida para usarse como Dios manda. El peligro más grande de teshukah no es su presencia sino su insistencia de que la dejemos ser libre.

Caín no ha pecado; aún no. Sólo está consciente del poder rugiente dentro de él, un poder que ruega que le permita convertirse en su compañero de cama. Si, aquí existe una conexión muy intima. En las películas se llama “Durmiendo con el Enemigo,” pero eso aún no es completamente  correcto. Teshuka no es el enemigo. Soy yo, suelto de la mano del gobierno de Dios. Es la pasión sin el juicio, el deseo creativo sin la disciplina. Es precisamente a lo que Santiago llama el precursor al pecado. Es parte de cada hombre y mujer desde la Caída. Eva lo conoció. Ahora su hijo lo conoce. Y nosotros también, los engendros de su  teshukah.

Esto es terrible y maravilloso al mismo tiempo. Verás, cuando alineo mis necesidades más profundas de crear con las restricciones suaves de Dios, El y yo producimos algo fabuloso, algo que lo glorifica a Él y bendice a otros. En el proceso, experimento quien soy en verdad y me inundo de gozo (quién El es en verdad). Pero cuando permito que mi energía feroz me sirva a mí, cuando la utilizo para adquirir mi propio destino, entonces sucede algo desastroso. Creo algo sin Dios – y el resultado solo puede ser impuro. Dios advierte a Caín que tiene la amenaza de esa fuerza, una mucho más poderosa de lo que puede imaginar. Es la fuerza de actuar según su propia voluntad. Una vez suelta, ésta fuerza no regresará a su botella.

Dios no ordena a Caín que destruya la fuerza. Le dice a Caín que la controle. Que la lleve a alinearse con los propósitos de Dios y el uso de Dios. A fin de cuentas, ésta fuerza divina de creación le pertenece a Dios. Sólo la prestamos un momento mientras vivimos con Su aliento. Claro que como la utilizamos es una pregunta realmente escabrosa, porque puede convertirse el poder de matar. Tú y yo tenemos ésta misma teshukah. Si la usamos en sociedad con Dios, creamos vida. En sociedad con nosotros mismos, provocamos muerte. Estas son las únicas opciones. Aquí no hay opción de “no usar.” Así que, ¿qué haces con tu pasión más profunda?

Category: La Palabra de Hoy  | Tags:  | 3 Comments