Reflections On A Christmas Song's Embarrassing Slip

In Matthew 23:29-32 Jesus condemned Pharisees with words that seem unnecessarily harsh. He said,

"Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You build tombs for the prophets and decorate the graves of the righteous. And you say, “If we had lived in the days of our ancestors, we would not have taken part with them in shedding the blood of the prophets.” So you testify against yourselves that you are the descendants of those who murdered the prophets."

Why did Jesus put a negative spin on good actions and noble sentiments? The Pharisees built tombs for righteous men. That’s good. Instead of commemorating conquerors they honored brave souls who were killed for telling the truth. Shouldn’t the Pharisees have been commended for disavowing murderers and embracing martyrs? Jesus seems impossible to please.

Some time ago it dawned on me that there is a damning subtext to the words that Pharisees used when honoring the worthy dead. Jesus alluded to it, but for a long while it escaped my notice. Now I have detected the same theme cropping up in other contexts too, and it makes me wonder about the ways in which our words betray inner corruption even when we’re trying to be good.

The Pharisees said, “If we had lived back then, we would not have killed the prophets.” Good. But wait a minute. Why didn’t they say instead, “If we had lived back then, we hope that we would have endured persecution like our fathers the prophets”? That thought did not occur to them. It seemed that they knew which group they really belonged to. Ultimately, they identified with murderers, not murderees. They acknowledged their affiliation even when they were trying to say the right thing. They were so at home in the camp of authoritarian persecutors that holy men of God were still “them” and not “us.”

Jesus was saying (if I may paraphrase), “Deep down, you know who your spiritual ancestors are. Your words betray you. And, as a matter of fact, you are cut from the same cloth as they. Despite your disavowals, you are going to do just what your killer ancestors did.”

Jesus’ strong words might awaken us to subtle ways in which we reveal our own corrupt affiliations. Maybe these embarrassing slips of infelicitous expression will help us uncover and repent of character flaws we did not know we had.

Take for example some curious wording in the third stanza of the Christmas hymn “Oh Holy Night”:

Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is Love and His gospel is Peace;
Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother,
And in His name all oppression shall cease,

These are wonderful sentiments right? Especially when you consider that they were written in 1855 when slavery was legal in much of America. Author/translator (and stout abolitionist) John Sullivan affirmed that, under the Lordship of Christ, oppression was to cease, chains were to be broken, and slaves were to be regarded not as property but as brothers (as in Paul’s letter to Philemon, verse 16).

That is great as far as it goes. But ask yourself, “Who is singing this Christmas carol?” I’m afraid the answer is, “Masters and those who identify with them.” The song does not say, “The master is our brother,” which a slave could sing. Nor does it say, “The slave is a brother” or “Masters and slaves are brothers,” which both could sing together. The lyric is written in the first-person voice of masters and their ilk who by their magnanimity grant brotherhood to the enslaved. While seeming to express equality before God, the form of expression actually excludes slaves from joining in the song! It did not seem to occur to the author that they might want to be in the choir too.

Oops.

My lovely (and longsuffering) wife has gotten used to hearing me respond to assorted aphorisms and rhetorical flourishes with, “Why didn’t they put that the other way?” or, “How would it sound if we flipped that perspective?” This technique is useful in undermining popular bits of sage counsel that are supposed to inspire us but that in my mind just fuel self-regard. Take for example that old piece of relationship advice that begins with the words, “Fall in love with someone who wants to know your favorite color…” and there follows a list of the ways in which the person worthy of your love is obsessively focused on you. I like to ask, “Why doesn’t that list instead begin with the words, ‘Fall in love with someone whose favorite color you want to know…’?”

Recently I heard a popular parable in which an undervalued object is dismissed by the ignorant but prized by the knowledgeable. The moral was that you should associate with people who know your true worth and reward you accordingly. You’re a diamond in the rough, so you should gravitate toward people who “get that” about you and are in a position to give you nice things. Hmm. It seems to me that narcissists will find that advice easy to heed. But a humbler approach to the same parable places oneself in the role of one of the evaluators. Then the moral becomes, “Strive to find value in those whom others overlook or dismiss.” (That, by the way, is what Jesus did in Luke 21:1-4 when he exalted a poor widow.)

In the Chicago area where I live there is a very large institution founded by sex abusers that regrettably calls itself a “church.” For many years it has run an annual Leadership Conference in which it pays wealthy people large sums so they can tell us how to be important. I’m still waiting for them to run a Followership Conference. (“Followership?” I imagine them saying. “Is that in the Bible?” Yes, it is, actually. Quite a bit.)

I imagine that bookstores in the Kingdom of God will undergo a serious revamping. The largest section will be labeled “Other-Help.”

If you are a Christian and eager to be a good follower of Jesus Christ, then strive to be aware of and to root out your subtle identifications with murderers, masters, egoists and leaders. Take your place instead with the persecuted, the servants, the self-forgetful helpers and the humble followers. God will take care of your exaltation at the proper time.

A Most Unexpected Gospel

After Jesus was crucified and had risen from the dead, he appeared to his disciples several times. On one of these occasions, in Luke 24:45-48, we read this:

Then he opened their minds so they could understand the Scriptures. He told them, “This is what is written: The Messiah will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things.”

The words that I want to highlight there involve the content of the gospel that Jesus commanded his disciples to preach. Jesus said “repentance for the forgiveness of sins would be preached in his name.” Repentance for the forgiveness of sins in the name of Jesus. One of the ways to summarize the gospel is this: Repentance for the forgiveness of sins in the name of Jesus. Where was that message to be preached? Everywhere. Beginning in Jerusalem, with the Jews. But eventually to all nations – that is, to the Gentiles as well. Everyone was to hear this message.

I want to impress upon you how odd, how unexpected, and how counter-to-expectation that gospel was to Jesus’ disciples. They lived in a different world of priority and hope and expectation. It took years for Jesus and the Holy Spirit to move their priorities and adjust their understanding so that they could embrace this gospel and proclaim it.

To make this point, I begin with the words of two disciples to whom Jesus appeared on the road to Emmaus right after he rose from the dead. One of these disciples was named Cleopas. We don’t know the name of the other. They were depressed because their teacher had just been killed, and it appeared that all was lost. They explained that to Jesus, not knowing that it was Jesus that they were talking to. Their eyes were shielded from recognizing him. They said this:

“He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed before God and all the people. The chief priests and our rulers handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him; but we had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel.” (Luke 24:19-21)

“We had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel.” What didn’t they say? There are many things they didn’t say – an infinite number of things. But among the billions of things they did not say was, “We had hoped that he would forgive our sins.” Or, “We had hoped that he would justify us by faith before God.” Or, “We had hoped that he would make atonement for us.” Or, “We had hoped that he would build a bridge to God across the chasm created by our sin.” Or, “We had hoped that he would rescue our souls from hell so that we could go to heaven when we die.” None of that seemed to be foremost in their minds or even present in their minds. There was nothing in their words involving atonement, forgiveness, justification, reconciliation with God, or eternal life in his presence. Those two disciples were depressed because their hopes for Israel’s redemption were dashed. They saw Jesus as the one who would liberate their nation from Roman control and restore their political self-rule under God. That is, they would finally have one of their own in power, a Jewish king like David rather than a Roman governor ruling over them, or a puppet tetrarch like the Herod Antipas. Herod was half-Jewish, but he was evil, and he was really no better than Pontius Pilate. But now that Jesus was dead, obviously he could not replace those two and redeem Israel.

Was it just Cleopas and this other disciple who viewed Jesus through the lens of a redeemer of Israel and a restorer of Israel’s political fortunes? The major disciples knew better than that, right? Peter, James, John, Philip, Thomas, etc. Especially after the resurrection. It must have dawned on them by then that Jesus was about something bigger than and different from national restoration.

But no, it seems they still did not get it. Weeks after Jesus’ resurrection, and moments before he ascended to the Father, the disciples had one last question for him. Acts 1:6: Then they gathered around him and asked him, “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?”

I might paraphrase their words this way. “Lord, will you now restore Israel to its former glory? Is this the time? We’ve been waiting so long for that. We thought we were on track for it. But then we had this hiccup with your, uhh, you know, death, and all that. And we lost Judas – good riddance, of course. But now that you’re alive again, now, now do we get the Israelite kingdom? Now do we get the restoration of Israel that we have been yearning for all our lives?”

It makes you wonder how many times Jesus had to say something before his disciples would get it. How many repetitions were needed before his words would sink into their minds and guide their actions and emotions?

For example, he had told his disciples many times that he would be killed and three days later rise from the dead. And despite hearing that over and over again, they did not understand it, believe it, or absorb it. They fought him on that point, and once he was killed they were terrified and broken. They were not saying, “I can hardly wait! Three days more and we’ll see him resurrected!” They still did not expect a resurrection. In fact, when the first reports came back from the women that he had risen they thought the women were crazy. That’s what the text says. And Thomas famously disbelieved all 10 of the other disciples when they said they had seen Jesus alive. Though Jesus had told them many times, they still couldn’t believe it until they saw him and touched him.

Just as there was this extraordinary hard-headedness to understand that Jesus would be resurrected, so also there was an extraordinary hard-headedness to understand that Jesus’ purpose was not to restore the kingdom to Israel, but rather to forgive the sins of Israelites and Gentiles alike. And to make it possible that those sins could be forgiven, he had to die a brutal death at the hands of Israelites and Gentiles. Both groups would kill him. And both groups would stand to benefit eternally from his death.

When the disciples asked Jesus that one last question, “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?” he did not say, “Yes, I’m going to do that now.” Nor did he say, “No, I will do it later.” Instead he batted the question away with an absolute non answer. He said, “It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority.” While that is true, it gives them nothing. It gives them no clue whatsoever about the fortunes of Israel. I think that was deliberate, because their question reflected a priority that Jesus wanted to move them away from. What he did then was re-direct their thoughts along lines that would astonish them. He said, ”But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

That is a complete reversal from the way they were thinking. The disciples were asking, “Will Israel now be restored?” And Jesus said, “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem.” Jerusalem – that makes sense, that’s where the Jews are. All Judea – good, more Jews. But then, Samaria. Samaria? That’s odd. The disciples would think, “The Samaritans are our ethnic cousins, but they’re not true Jews, they’re not true Israel - they’re half-breeds, and their religion is all messed up, and they don’t even want us there! They wouldn’t let us stay the night in their town, remember?” But Jesus said, “You will be my witnesses in Samaria.” And then the crowning blow: you will be my witnesses to the ends of the earth. “The ends of the earth??? That includes the Romans, our overlords. And Greeks, and Egyptians, and the remnants of empires that oppressed us through centuries and tried to wipe us off the face of the earth! We’re supposed to go to them?”

This doesn’t sound at all like the redemption of Israel, or the liberation, restoration of Israel. Jesus wanted the whole world redeemed. And redeemed on his terms. It was a redemption that would involve repentance for the forgiveness of sins in his name. I repeat: repentance for the forgiveness of sins in his name. That’s the message that Jesus wanted his followers to communicate.

With regard to the redemption of Israel, the restoration of Israel, Jesus had already told them in stark, violent terms that it was not going to happen - at least not in their lifetimes. Things would not get better for Israel – they would get worse – far, far worse. Jesus told them that the great temple they so admired would be utterly destroyed, and not one stone would be left upon another. The city of Jerusalem would be annihilated – if you stayed there you would die. That is exactly what happened in AD 70, about 37 years later. Jesus said this generation will not pass before all this happens, and of course he was right. Some (not all, but some) of his disciples would live another 37 years to behold the devastation. It was unimaginably tragic. If Josephus’s numbers are to be believed, the devastation in Jerusalem and Judea in AD 70 was statistically worse than the Holocaust of the 1940s. That is, a greater percentage of the Jewish population alive at that time was exterminated in AD 70 than that represented by the 6 million Jews who perished in Nazi Germany.

Here is an analogy for you. Imagine you are a Japanese laborer living in Hiroshima or Nagasaki in the spring of 1945. Not a lot of news gets through to you about the war but you get the idea that things aren’t going great. You’re nervous about your country, your family, your relatives, your city. But in the midst of your distress, you hear of a champion, a leader, a wonder-worker, a miracle-worker, a god perhaps, one upon whom you can pin all your hopes that he will make everything right and protect your nation and lead it to victory and peace. And then you meet him, and rather than giving you the hope you long for he says, “Everything you see here will be incinerated. Not one brick will be left on another. And when you see the pamphlets fall from airplanes warning that an attack is imminent, flee immediately. Run. Don’t even pack a bag. Just run out of the city as fast as your feet can carry you. Everything you know is about to go up in radioactive smoke.”

That is not an encouraging message, is it? But it would be true, and that is the message Jesus gave to his disciples and to anyone who would listen in the Olivet discourse recorded in Matthew 24, Mark 13 and Luke 21. Maybe you can sympathize with the disappointment and distress and heartache of those Jews who thought, “This is our Savior, our Messiah, the rescuer and redeemer of our nation! O Lord, will you now restore the kingdom to Israel?”

This understanding of who Messiah was and what he would do was a deep-rooted conviction shared by all godly Israelites. Go back to when Jesus was just one month old. Mary and Joseph brought him to the temple in Jerusalem where they met two saintly people: Simeon and Anna. Luke 2:25 says: “Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was on him.” What was Simeon waiting for? The consolation of Israel. Even if we take the phrase to be just a synonym for “Messiah,” note how it is worded. It’s not the consolation of Rome. It’s not the consolation of the Greeks, or the consolation of any of the pagans – it’s the consolation of Israel. Israel’s redemption was in view.

Simeon said to Mary at that time, “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel.” Simeon mentions the Gentiles, but even there he draws a distinction between Gentiles and Israelites. He says to God, “My eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all nations: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of your people Israel.”

In that statement, the Gentiles get revelation, and that could be ambiguous – it could be a revelation of judgment – but Israel gets glory. Revelation for Gentiles, glory for God’s people Israel.

After Simeon, the prophetess Anna spoke up. Verse 38 says, “She gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem.” There it is again. To whom was she speaking? To people who were looking forward to Jerusalem’s redemption. Little did they know Jerusalem was not going to be redeemed. Quite the opposite: it would be destroyed. Once again, if Josephus’ numbers are to be trusted, Jerusalem’s death toll would be greater than Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined.

Two more examples of the longing for Israelite redemption. Go back to the time just before Jesus’ birth. Read the prayer of the priest Zechariah when he learns that he will be the father of John the Baptist, forerunner of Messiah. Here is how Zechariah interprets the message that the angel Gabriel communicated to him. He says,

Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel, because he has come to his people and redeemed them. He has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David (as he said through his holy prophets of long ago), salvation from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us— to show mercy to our ancestors and to remember his holy covenant, the oath he swore to our father Abraham: to rescue us from the hand of our enemies, and to enable us to serve him without fear in holiness and righteousness before him all our days. (Luke 1:68-75)

Very interesting. Zechariah thought that Messiah would rescue them from the hand of their enemies – that is the Romans. It did not seem to enter his mind that after Messiah came Jerusalem will be obliterated by its enemies. Zechariah was expecting his people to serve God without fear in holiness and righteousness right there where he was standing at the temple. But in reality the place where he was standing would cease to exist as a structure. As Jesus said, “Not one stone would be left upon another.”

My last example is the Virgin Mary, the mother of Jesus. After she learned that she would be mother of Messiah, she offered up a psalm of praise popularly called “The Magnificat.” There she says of the Lord God, “He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful to Abraham and his descendants forever.” (Luke 1:54-55)

As best as I can tell, all good and faithful Jews, without exception, from before Jesus’ birth to minutes prior to his ascending back to the Father, saw his Messiahship in terms of a liberation of Israel, a redemption of Jerusalem, a vindication of the descendants of Abraham, a rescue from Roman oppressors, and a defeat of Israel’s enemies.

Do I blame them for mainly thinking along those terms? No, absolutely not. I think it was perfectly understandable. Given what they knew and given the oppression that they experienced (some of them on a daily basis) I think it was reasonable to view their deliverer along nationalistic lines. But I also think it is instructive for us to keep in mind the difference between the gospel they were expecting and the gospel that Jesus delivered. It was a most unexpected gospel. It was a gospel made possible by Jesus’ death and resurrection. And it was a gospel that Jesus ordered his disciples to preach everywhere – even to those Romans who would destroy their nation. It was a gospel of repentance for the forgiveness of sins in the name of Jesus.

The reason I think it is helpful to contemplate the way Jesus redirected and reoriented his disciples’ understanding of the gospel is because we will find that the audience to whom we speak, and we ourselves from time to time will need to be redirected and reoriented in order to understand, believe, and delight in the true gospel of Jesus Christ.

Here is why I say that. As we go out into the world we see that people everywhere have a variety of concerns that preoccupy them. There are major issues that will be foremost in their minds. And they may look to God as a solution to their problem. If you are a French patriot living in Paris in 1943, then the consuming passion of your life is liberation from the Nazis who control your country. And it is good that you resist the Nazis and look to God to deliver your country from them.

On a more personal level, if you are chronically ill, then health may be your main concern. And it is good to get treatment for your sickness and to pray to God for healing.

If you are unemployed or your business is facing bankruptcy, your immediate concern may be, “I will soon be homeless and hungry and unable to provide for myself or my family. Help me God!”

If your spouse is unfaithful and abusive, then your controlling thought might be, “How do I get him to repent so that our marriage can be happy – or failing that, how do I escape so as to protect myself and my children from this beast?”

In all of these things, the gospel of Jesus Christ comes along and says, “You have a bigger problem than all of those things put together. And that is the fact that you have sinned against Almighty God and stand condemned before him. And that remains a problem even if your city is liberated from the Nazis, even if you are restored to robust health, even if you inherit millions and never have to worry about money again, even if your husband miraculously repents and becomes a godly saint and every woman’s dream. You can have all that more – but as a sinner, you are still lost, alienated from God, and facing his judgment.”

But do not despair. There is good news. Jesus Christ died for sinners. He died for sinners just like you. And in him there is forgiveness of sin for all who repent and trust in him.

And that forgiveness holds even if your city is bombed out and completely destroyed. Even if your sickness is terminal and ends in your death. Even if your finances never recover and you go hungry. Even if your husband murders you and your children. Nothing can separate you from the love of Christ. God’s forgiven loved ones will stand before him in joy no matter how this world has distressed and victimized them. In Jesus Christ there is eternal forgiveness of sins for all who repent and trust in him.

For that reason our gospel will make the most sense to, and will be received with greatest gratitude by, those who know themselves to be sinners. They know that they are sinners and they feel bad about that. They want to be forgiven and they want to be good and they are afraid of God. But the same God whom they rightly fear is the one who loved them so much that he gave his only begotten Son, so that whoever believes in him will not perish but have everlasting life.

Those who have no desire to repent and who refuse to acknowledge Jesus as Lord will receive what they deserve – no more, no less. Speaking perhaps only for myself, I’m terrified of getting what I deserve. The idea of receiving from the hand of God exactly what I have merited is, for me, a nightmare beyond reckoning. But thanks be to God. He hears the prayers of those who cry out to him in the name of his Son Jesus Christ. He grants them repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth. He forgives their sins, removing those sins and their condemnation as far as the east is from the west.

If you have not cried out to him for forgiveness - the forgiveness of sin made possible through his Son Jesus Christ – then for the love of God do so now as I close in prayer.

Lord God, perhaps at some other time I will ask for a lesser thing, like the healing of my body, or the restoration of my country, or relief from a violent oppressor. But in this moment all that matters is that I have defied you by my sins – both those that I am aware of and those that have yet to alight upon my conscience but certainly will someday, filling me then with deep regret and holy terror. Be merciful to me, if not for my sake then for the sake of your holy Son Jesus, so that his agonizing death on behalf of sinners will not have been suffered in vain, but will suffice to bring to glory all who trust in him. Count me among those sinners saved by your grace alone. In Jesus’ name, amen.

There's No Such Thing As A Bad Atheist

My son once overheard a conversation between two students from India. One was appalled to discover that the other ate beef, and said to him,

“You’re a bad Hindu!”

The rebuke provoked laughter, but musing about it later inspired some thoughts that intrigued me. The young man did not say that his friend was a bad person but a bad Hindu. What’s a bad Hindu? I suppose it’s someone who professes Hinduism but eats beef – or, more generally, who does what his religion forbids or does not do what it commands.

We can extend the principle. What’s a bad Jew? A bad Jew eats pork and does not have his son circumcised. A bad Muslim drinks whiskey and neglects to pray five times a day. A bad vegan downs a pepperoni pizza. A bad communist exploits market forces to enrich herself at the expense of the poor. A bad Christian does what megachurch preachers have been doing these days.

So what’s a bad atheist?

That’s a tough one. I imagine a bad atheist sneaks off to prayer meetings on Wednesday nights to intervene for the souls of the lost. He hopes nobody finds out that he donates to Wycliffe Bible Translators. Under the floorboards of his room he has hidden a stash of gospel tracts, and in weak moments he goes to distant neighborhoods to hand out Christian literature. He crosses himself when he drives by a church.

That is to say, I don’t think there are any bad atheists. Of course there are atheists who are bad people, but they’re not bad atheists. The reason is simple. Atheism, as atheism, commands nothing of its adherents and forbids nothing to them. There is nothing to be bad about – no higher power to offend, no canon law to transgress, no sacred writing to desecrate, no holy name to blaspheme, no faith-communal expectations to fulfill. Atheism grants its partisans a privileged status – one that renders hypocrisy a sin almost impossible to commit.

For that reason atheists can target religious people’s inconsistencies all day long while remaining invulnerable to return fire. It seems a little unfair. If a pastor or priest does something bad you will hear about it, because the shockwaves resonate through churches and the media. But if a serial pedophile or school shooter turns out to have no religious affiliation, you will probably not be directly informed of the fact. It will go unnoticed because it isn’t news. You have never heard someone say, “How strange! She feared no God and thought the 10 commandments were a man-made concoction – who would imagine she could do such a terrible thing?” Everyone knows that wicked actions and nihilistic unbelief are not intrinsically incompatible. That is why you have heard tales of abusive nuns but not abusive Nones. The former is newsworthy while the latter is a shrug and a “What did you expect?”

I’m not complaining about the imbalance that makes “bad Christian” a recognizable category and “bad atheist” a nonentity. If I call attention to atheist privilege it is not out of envy or pique. I actually think the dichotomy reveals a healthy dynamic, and I hope it is maintained. I want people to expect more of Christians and be outraged when they misbehave. The name Christian comes with – and ought to come with - loads of expectations so heavy that only Jesus would call them “light” (Matthew 11:30), and it demands a self-discipline so rigorous that only God’s constant supply of grace could sustain it.

I’m a Christian. Ultimately it is for God to determine if I’m a good or a bad one. But as a Christian I believe that Jesus rose from the dead, and his word is absolute, and one day I shall appear before him to render account of deeds done in the body. Among other things, that means I must daily honor my Master by loving my enemies, telling the truth, helping the weak, opposing injustice, refraining from self-indulgence, and just generally shunning the vices that tempt me while struggling to attain the virtues that are alien to my nature.

And if I fail, then friend and foe alike would have every right to label me a bad Christian. And that would be no laughing matter.

A Time To Weep

There are three verses in the Bible that say that Jesus wept. One of those is Hebrews 5:7, which says, “During the days of Jesus’ life on earth, he offered up prayers and petitions with fervent cries and tears to the one who could save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission.” That verse seems to suggest that Jesus cried more than once. The nouns “prayers,” “petitions,” and “tears” are plural. The prophet Isaiah had foretold that Messiah would be a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief (Isaiah 53:3).

Two specific occasions where Jesus cried are recorded in John 11:35 and Luke 19:41. John 11:35 is famous for being the shortest verse in the Bible. Just two words: “Jesus wept.” It happened at the tomb of his friend Lazarus who had died four days earlier. That text does not tell us why Jesus wept, but it does tell us why the bystanders thought he wept. The next verse reads, “Then the Jews said, ‘See how he loved him!’ They interpreted his tears as a sign of grief over the loss of his friend. But some were puzzled. It says, “But some of them said, ‘Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?’”

That’s a good point. He could have kept Lazarus from dying. In fact he could do a lot more than that. He could raise him from the dead, as indeed he did just a few minutes later. When Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus, it was evidently not for the same reason that we weep at the funeral of a friend. We weep because we miss our friend, and know that this side of eternity we will not see him again. That was not the case with Jesus. He was going to see Lazarus alive and well in a few minutes. So why did he weep?

The text does not tell us why. But I believe that other texts give us a clue. The other time recorded for us where Jesus wept was on Palm Sunday when Jesus was welcomed into Jerusalem with celebration and praise. Luke 19:37-40 say this:

When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen: “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!” “I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”

That seems like a moment for real rejoicing. Even inanimate rocks were ready to burst forth in joyful song. But not Jesus. The next verse says, “As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it.” And unlike the account of Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus, this passage tells us why he wept. He wept because he knew the future, and he saw what great sin and suffering it contained. In verses 42 through 44 he speaks to Jerusalem as though it were a person and says,

“If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes. The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God’s coming to you.”

So although the disciples rejoiced when Jesus arrived in Jerusalem, Jesus himself wept. He wept because he saw what was coming. He saw his own rejection and crucifixion. He saw the persecution of his followers. And he saw the destruction of the city with all its accompanying barbarisms and cruelties.

Jesus’ tears in that moment call to my mind the tears of Elisha in 2 Kings 8. This was more than 800 years before Jesus was born. The prophet Elisha was meeting with a man named Hazael, emissary of Ben Hadad, king of Syria. At one point in their discussion Elisha stared at Hazael and began to weep. Hazael was embarrassed and said, “Why are you weeping?” Elisha said, “Because I know the harm you will do to the Israelites. You will set fire to their fortified places, kill their young men with the sword, dash their little children to the ground, and rip open their pregnant women.”

Hazael said, “Who, me? Impossible.” But of course later he did that and more.

If Elisha knew in advance that this man would commit unspeakable atrocities, why didn’t he do something about it? Why didn’t he nip it in the bud? You would think it might occur to Elisha to slit Hazael’s throat on the spot – the way some people fantasize about what you might do if you could go back in time and kill Hitler before he had a chance to start WWII and slaughter 6 million Jews.

Maybe someone would respond, “Well, probably Elisha wasn’t like that. He must have been a gentle, delicate man of God who wouldn’t think of doing something so crude and violent.” Biblical evidence suggests otherwise. Neither Elisha nor his mentor Elijah had any qualms about killing bad people, or calling upon God to do the killing for them.

Elijah, after contending with and defeating the prophets of Baal in 1 Kings 18 had all of them killed. There were 450 of them. Some years later when King Ahaziah sent a captain with 50 men to arrest Elijah, Elijah called down fire from heaven to kill all 51 of them. Then the same thing happened again. That story is in 2 Kings 1. In 2 Kings 2 a group of young ruffians harassed Elisha, saying “Get out of here, baldy!” Elisha cursed them in the name of the Lord, and a couple bears came down and mauled 42 of them. If you’re keeping track of the numbers here, the body count between Elijah and Elisha of dead and or mauled opponents now stands at 594. They were not squeamish about invoking the power of God’s lethal justice (or using violent means themselves) to thwart evildoers. So why not make Hazael victim number 595? He’s clearly the worst of the lot, and he will do the most damage. Elisha doesn’t even have to kill him personally. He could call down the fire of God or the claws of a bear to do it for him. Or maybe he could pray for a quick, natural, unsuspicious death. The Bible says that his predecessor Elijah was a man like us, and he prayed that it would not rain, and for three and a half years it did not rain. So, why not pray for, say, a heart attack to take out Hazael as he walks out the door? As far as that goes, Hazael doesn’t even have to die. Elisha could just afflict him with isolating leprosy as he did to his corrupt servant Gehazi in 2 Kings 5.

Elisha has so many options here. And all he does is weep? Really? That’s his solution, that’s the best he can do? What’s the matter with him? Did he lose his faith in the power of God? Did he lose heart and forget how to act with the decisive boldness that typically characterized him?

I believe the answer is straightforward. Somehow – I don’t know how – God made clear to Elisha that the terrible future involving Hazael was going to occur. Period. No matter what. It would all unfold under the authority and sovereign will of God, and Elisha was to take no steps to prevent it. Just as Jesus was to take no steps to avoid the cross. Instead he marched toward it. You may remember that Peter tried to prevent him a couple times. The first time Jesus said to him, “Get behind me, Satan” (Matthew 16:23). The second time, Jesus explained that if he wanted to he could call upon his Father to put at his disposal 12 legions of angels (Matthew 26:53). But that would be contrary to the will of God, and it would leave God’s Scriptures unfulfilled. So all the means of self-protection typically at Jesus’ disposal were not to be employed. Likewise with Elisha - all the weapons normally at Elisha’s disposal, whether physical or spiritual, were to be held in check as the worst imaginable things played out, including the violent death of children and pregnant women. What then can you do but weep? What other recourse do you have?

Over 40 years ago I heard a pastor tell the story of a time when he served at a phone bank of volunteers who received calls on behalf of a Billy Graham crusade. Back in the day you could watch Billy Graham preach on TV and there would be a phone number at the bottom of the screen that you could call for questions or spiritual counsel. The volunteers had some training and did their best responding to people who called in. They also had a little sign with the word “Help” on it, and if they got a call where they felt out of their depth they could hold up the sign and the pastor would come over and take the call. This pastor said that in the course of the evening a volunteer held up the dreaded “Help” sign, so he went over.

The caller was a woman who had experienced, or was experiencing, severe distress. The pastor did not reveal the nature of it. Whatever it was, it was really bad. The caller wept as she spoke, and before long he began to weep too. I don’t know what the resolution was, if there was a resolution.

But afterward the person who originally took the call went up to the pastor and said, “What do you say to somebody in those circumstances?” And the pastor said, “Sometimes you just cry with them.”

I don’t know if that is necessarily wise counsel for counselors. But I do know that sometimes weeping is the right and appropriate thing to do. Sometimes it’s all you can do. It is altogether fitting and proper to weep when you cannot or must not prevent a terrible thing from happening.

I think that is why Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus. I think his tears dropped into the same well (metaphorically speaking) where Elisha shed his tears over Hazael, and where Jesus would shed more tears over the city of Jerusalem. Jesus knew - of course he knew - that he was about to resurrect Lazarus and restore him to his sisters Mary and Martha. And there would be rejoicing and awe and wonder, and the faith of his followers would be strengthened, and new people would come to faith in Christ. But I think Jesus also knew what would happen right after that. And it was appalling. There would be blood-curdling evil.

In the next chapter, John 12, we read these words in verses 9-11:

Meanwhile a large crowd of Jews found out that Jesus was there and came, not only because of him but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. So the chief priests made plans to kill Lazarus as well, for on account of him many of the Jews were going over to Jesus and believing in him.

The chief priests, the religious leaders of the day, made immediate plans to kill Lazarus. Just assassinate him in cold blood. They were already planning to kill Jesus in the most gruesome way possible, and we know they succeeded at that. But their hatred of Jesus, while evil, was understandable in one sense. Jesus had called them sons of the devil in front of everybody. He had cursed them out repeatedly and pronounced many woes against them. He told parables where they were the villains who would be judged and cast out by God. He told his disciples and the crowds not to be like them, and he outlined their sins in painstaking detail. Of course, while everything he said about them was true, you could understand why they might not be warmly inclined toward him and would be happy to get rid of him.

But Lazarus? What did Lazarus ever do to them? What was his crime? The only thing he did wrong was get raised from the dead. But that fact was leading people to believe in Christ. So, according to the cold consensus of chief priests, Lazarus had to die. Again. The sooner the better. And this time violently, at the hands of evil men.

I believe Lazarus was dead again very soon after this. Which means his sisters had to grieve him all over again and make yet another trip back to the tomb. There would be sorrow upon sorrow, as we sometimes see in our own lives. Or if we do not experience it ourselves, we have only to watch the news and see what happens in places like the Ukraine where the wicked go on committing atrocities, one after another, and in their monstrosities they seem to thwart every good thing.

Elisha wept, Jesus wept, and we, if we are righteous, will sometimes weep. That too is part of the perfect will of God. The righteous weep while Hazael and Caiaphas and Vladimir Putin do not.

I am not trying to depress you. But I am seeking to forewarn you and equip you. Because in recent years I have heard more and more sermons designed to get people cheering, applauding, shouting “Amen!”, even stomping their feet in religious excitement which is something I heard some years ago at a stadium rally. And the messages tend to run along the lines of how God will make a way where there is no way, and you can become that one-in-a-million who unleashes the power of God in your life and receives all the blessings that God has in store for you if you will only let him.

I have two problems with the kind of teaching that regularly provokes “Amens!” and enthusiastic shrieks and standing ovations, and that never seems to vary from the upbeat, energetic performance that seeks to convince us that we can overcome any obstacle in the power of God. For one thing, I don’t think anybody can simultaneously applaud and repent of sin. Those two don’t go together. No one who says, “What a great sermon! He really knocked it out of the park!” is in a frame of mind to be convicted by the Holy Spirit of sin and righteousness and judgment, and to turn in humble faith to God Almighty. People do not repent when they cheer. They repent when they weep.

Secondly, within the context of gospel preaching there must be an acknowledgement, somewhere, somehow, that there will be occasions to weep. There will be, even for the holiest of the holy – and perhaps especially for them - problems that admit no solution in this life. There will be future horrors that no prayer can turn aside, that no physical effort can mitigate, that no amount of righteousness can conquer. Hazael will commit atrocities. Lazarus will die again. Jesus will go to the cross. Jerusalem will be laid low.

There will be tears. For all righteous souls in this unrighteous world there will be tears. But for those who belong to Jesus Christ and remain faithful to Him who wept while others rejoiced, they can rest in the sweet assurance that their tears are not eternal. Those tears will be wiped away and never renewed. In Revelation 21:3-4 John describes heaven with these words: “I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.’”

As Jesus said in Luke 6:21, “Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.”

Let us pray.

Father in heaven, there may be some who hear or read these words and who wonder if this life will ever afford them freedom from tears or an occasion to laugh. Give to them a special measure of grace whereby they might trust you through the tears, and obey your good will, and look forward to that day in your presence when all weeping shall cease. Amen.

(Below is the full text of 2 Kings 8:7-15 alluded to in the sermon)

Elisha went to Damascus, and Ben-Hadad king of Aram was ill. When the king was told, “The man of God has come all the way up here,” he said to Hazael, “Take a gift with you and go to meet the man of God. Consult the LORD through him; ask him, ‘Will I recover from this illness?’” Hazael went to meet Elisha, taking with him as a gift forty camel-loads of all the finest wares of Damascus. He went in and stood before him, and said, “Your son Ben-Hadad king of Aram has sent me to ask, ‘Will I recover from this illness?’” Elisha answered, “Go and say to him, ‘You will certainly recover.’ Nevertheless, the LORD has revealed to me that he will in fact die.” He stared at him with a fixed gaze until Hazael was embarrassed. Then the man of God began to weep. “Why is my lord weeping?” asked Hazael. “Because I know the harm you will do to the Israelites,” he answered. “You will set fire to their fortified places, kill their young men with the sword, dash their little children to the ground, and rip open their pregnant women.” Hazael said, “How could your servant, a mere dog, accomplish such a feat?” “The LORD has shown me that you will become king of Aram,” answered Elisha. Then Hazael left Elisha and returned to his master. When Ben-Hadad asked, “What did Elisha say to you?” Hazael replied, “He told me that you would certainly recover.” But the next day he took a thick cloth, soaked it in water and spread it over the king’s face, so that he died. Then Hazael succeeded him as king.

Don't You Wish God Would Kill Bad People? Reflections on Psalm 139

(The full text of Psalm 139 is given below at the end of this sermon.)

Three times in my life I have heard sermons on Psalm 139 that skipped verses 19-22. Preachers read through verse 18 and say, “Now let’s go down to verse 23.” The shunned verses are a paragraph where David talks about how much he hates bad people and wishes God would just kill them. He writes,

Oh that you would slay the wicked, O God! O men of blood, depart from me! They speak against you with malicious intent; your enemies take your name in vain. Do I not hate those who hate you, O LORD? And do I not loathe those who rise up against you? I hate them with complete hatred; I count them my enemies.

I can see why preachers like to skip that.

I should say that I believe it is perfectly legitimate to preach from isolated parts of this psalm. It is a rich prayer-poem with several units worthy of focused contemplation. But if you are going to take the psalm as a whole and try to discern its meaning and pattern and application, then I think it is a big mistake to cut out verses 19-22. David’s rant about hating bad people and wishing God would kill them is, I believe, a tent pole that holds up the whole psalm. Ultimately it makes this prayer compelling, convicting, and righteously frightening in a personal way.

The first and last paragraphs of this psalm seem (at first glance) to be out of order. If I were David’s scribe I might have pointed that out to him. I would say, “Your Majesty, you may have goofed the arrangement there. Let me fix this for you.” I will explain what I mean. David begins verse 1 by saying to God, “You have searched me Lord, and you know me.” And then he goes on at length about how perfectly God knows him. God's knowledge has no conceivable gaps. Verses 2 and 3:

You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.

God’s knowledge never needs to be updated or refreshed, and never needs to respond to unforeseen circumstances. Verse 4: Before a word is on my tongue you, LORD, know it completely. God knows not only what you have said, but what you are going to say, and what you are going to think. You know my thoughts from afar. God knows your past and present and future.

In the past, David says to God, you created me. Verses 13-16: you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body;

God not only saw you, he made you - he fashioned you bit by bit. Before there was a “you,” before there was anything that could call itself a person, you existed in the mind of God. We could compare this to the way a house "exists" in the mind of an architect before any brick has been laid or a single line has been drawn on a blueprint.

So, God, you know my past. You know my present –whether I’m standing up or lying down, going out or coming in. As for my future (or that which is future to me), verse 16b: all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

God knows us from before we were conceived until after we’re dead. It is all in his book. Maybe we can get some feeling for this when we read a biography. Recently I read a book about Jonathan Edwards. In this moment I can open that book to page 33 when he’s 12 years old, or to page 239, when he’s a 37-year-old pastor, or to page 493 where he is the 54-year-old president of Princeton and about to die of smallpox. That is, I can open up the story of Jonathan Edwards to any point in his timeline of history because I stand outside the book of his life which I hold in my hands. In a roughly analagous way, God can do the same with us because he stands outside the book of universal reality. He is outside, above and beyond a universe (or multiverse) that is structured in space-time. And because he stands outside of it he can see it all at once.

And there is more to God than that. David emphasizes that God is not only omniscient (knowing everything); he is also omnipresent (existing everywhere). You cannot escape him, you cannot hide from him. Here David engages in a kind of thought-experiment where he tries to imagine getting outside the range of God’s perception. Verses 7-10:

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

In David’s day there were silly people who thought that God had a realm of jurisdiction beyond which he could not go. In 1 Kings 20, for example, servants of the king of Syria tell him why they just lost a battle to the Israelites. It was a matter of terrain - the Israelite god must be a god of the hills. So, if you just get off the hills and get on to the plains and valleys, then Yahweh wouldn’t be able to do anything – he would become superman on kryptonite. They were wrong of course. God has no boundaries. His jurisdiction is all reality.

And nothing can cloak us from him. David suggests that God has (as it were) x-ray vision that pierces through every cover – including the cover of darkness. Verses 11-12: If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,” even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.

Sometimes people speak of “searching for God.” And I grant that that can be a legitimate way to describe a spiritual quest. The Bible itself speaks of searching for God: Jeremiah 29:13: You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. Isaiah 55:6 Seek the Lord while he may found, call upon him while he is near. When St Paul addressed Greeks in Athens he said that God arranged human history in such a way that “people would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him.” But then Paul is quick to add, “though he is not far from anyone of us. For in him we live and move and have our being.” (Acts 17:27-28)

Though we may speak of "looking for God" and trying to find him, the fact is God is always there. He is right next to you now. How do you feel about that? Are you comforted by that thought or terrified by it? Many people should be terrified. In C. S. Lewis’s spiritual autobiography Surprised By Joy he writes: “Amiable agnostics will talk cheerfully about ‘man’s search for God.’ To me, as I then was, they might as well have talked about the mouse’s search for a cat.”

Honest people throughout history have regarded God’s nearness has a horrifying prospect from which they would run if they could. Poet Francis Thompson wrote,

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways of my own mind;
and in the mist of tears I hid from Him, and under running laughter.

Thompson was saying, “I did everything I could think of to hide from God. But he chased me down.” In one part of that poem he writes, “Fear wist not to evade as love wist to pursue.” “Wist” is an archaic word that means “know how.” So that line means, “My fear did not know how to evade God as well as his love knew how to find me.”

In sum, what we have in Psalm 139: 2-18 is a thorough, logical, poetically imaginative discourse on the knowledge and presence and sovereignty of God as applied to the individual. God is everywhere, and he knows everything. Nothing about his presence is bound by space, and nothing about his knowledge is restricted by time. He stands outside of time and space and matter because those are things he created. Therefore he knows all our days from beginning to end and all our thoughts before they have occurred to us. So, when David says in verse 1, You have searched me O Lord and you know me, the next 17 verses can be understood as an unfolding of that statement – all that it means and implies.

And that is what makes the very end of this psalm so puzzling. In his conclusion in verses 23 and 24 David writes, Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.

This is where, if I were David’s scribe, I would come to his rescue and explain how he could make his psalm better. I would say, “Your Majesty, what you need to do is start with verses 23 and 24. Begin with a prayer that says ‘Search me O God...’. And then you rhetorically slap yourself on the forehead and say, ‘Wait a minute. What am I saying? Stupid me. God, you don’t need to search me. You have already done that! You have searched me, Lord, and you know me [Verse 1]. You know everything about me - my past, present, and future. You know my thoughts before I’ve thunk them. You know everything I’ve done, including the things I’ve tried to hide from you. You’re everywhere. You made me from scratch, and you’re perfectly informed.’ Etcetera. Then, Your Majesty, you conclude with the verse you actually started with: ‘You have searched me, O God, and you know me.’ Amen. The end.”

Is that better?

One thing I have managed to do in this reconstruction is cut out those troublesome verses about how much David hates bad people and wishes God would kill them. If you frame the psalm my way you can banish those nasty verses and plunk them down in another psalm where they belong.

But at this point I can imagine David looking at me and shaking his head slowly and saying, “I think you have missed what I’m trying to say.”

As David celebrates God’s wisdom and knowledge and omnipresence and timelessness in verses 2 to 18, there arises, I think, a troubling thought that won’t go away. There is a piece of the puzzle that does not fit, a background noise that rumbles louder and louder and must be addressed. It is this: with God’s perfect knowledge and complete control, his flawless vision and inescapable presence – why in the world are there still wicked people? Why are there these awful people running around wreaking havoc and creating misery? They ruin it for the rest of us! They even mock God in the process. Things would be great if it weren’t for them.

God, O God - you know everything, and you see everything, and you have power over everything – so, why do you let this wickedness go on? That I do not understand. These people are violent and destructive. They contaminate reality. I hate them, I really hate them. I know you see what they're doing - why don't you stop them? If only you would kill them! Could you please get rid of the wicked so that the rest of us could live in peace?

If that thought does not resonate with you at some level, I might have cause to wonder to what extent you have had to confront true evil, to witness its effects, to be victimized by it yourself or see how people’s lives – children’s lives! - have been brought to agony and grief through the malice, selfishness, greed, neglect, and rapaciousness of others.

And if you yourself have not been the target of such evil, all you have to do is open your eyes and read the news. Even if I limit myself to things I read in the past 24 hours, the news is bad enough. Last night I read about yet another megachurch pastor (is it all megachurch pastors??), Tavner Smith, who enriched himself to a lavish lifestyle by defrauding churchgoers and then (of course) committing adultery with a married church employee - destroying at least two marriages in the process and wrecking a church. Then I read a report on the crimes of Bill Cosby, who drugged and raped dozens of women for decades going back to the 1960s - all while maintaining a wholesome image as America’s Dad. And then I read about 2 very young cops in New York, just in their 20s, shot by a creep. One cop is dead, and the other barely clinging to life. And so on and so on.

A few days ago I heard from an old college friend. His son's life was in disarray because his wife had just left him to go pursue lesbian relationships. Somehow I have found myself to be a go-to guy for these stories of woe. Three very close friends of mine, colleagues in full-time ministry, left God and deserted their spouses in order to pursue same-sex relationships. So - did I have any words of wisdom to share with my friend? No, not really, I'm sad to say - just the brutal observation that some people are selfish and unfaithful and wicked. They defy God, they transform themselves into wrecking balls of pain in the lives of others, and they just don’t care. They feel no guilt, they seek the company of those who laud their cruelty, and they leave the rest of us to pick up the pieces as best we can and endure the misery and simply trust God.

I can understand why David hated wicked people. I can also understand why he had trouble reconciling his understanding of God’s knowledge and presence with the galling fact of constant, devastating human wickedness. How can these things co-exist in our reality?

But that prompts a further thought, a thought which perhaps too few people are willing to entertain - a chilling and brutal thought which we hardly dare face and would gladly suppress.

What if I’m one of those wicked people?

Is that possible? What if my hatred of the wicked and desire for their death is legitimate and justifiable – but also true of me? What if I’m wicked and don’t know it? What if I myself have not felt that guilt which I know others ought to feel? Could it be that while I have been alert to other people’s depravity I have been ignorant of my own? What if – horror of horrors! - someone is praying the awful prayer of verses 19-22 about me?

This is not just a hypothetical for David. He actually experienced it when the prophet Nathan told him about a rich man who was evil incarnate – a man so monstrously wicked that he stole the sole prized possession of a poor man. David was outraged - rightly outraged - and said, “That man must die!” And Nathan floored him by responding, “You’re the man.”

I’ve had the idea of writing a short story someday from the perspective of the father of Uriah the Hittite – that is, the father of the man whom David murdered so he could steal away his wife whom he had impregnated. I imagine Uriah’s father mourning his son in bitter grief, and praying earnestly to some Hittite god (Tarhunt perhaps) to avenge his son’s death. The distraught father cries out, “My son, my son! My dear son Uriah! He was worthy and noble and honest and brave. And David – that depraved Hebrew despot! - raped his wife and had him slaughtered in cold blood. May the name of David perish from the earth! This cursed wretch has dared to write love poetry to his god Yaheh, and some even call him ‘a man after Yahweh’s own heart.’ May his poetry perish with him! May no one ever sing his songs again! O Tarhunt, Tarhunt, why do you allow this foul fiend of darkness, this damned Hebrew wretch, to go on living? He pollutes every square cubit of the ground on which he steps! I hate him with a perfect hatred. Tarhunt, please, please, if only you would slay him as he slew my son.”

Can you see how David’s prayer in verses 19-22 could be applied to him? Rightly applied to him?

Could it be applied to us?

In the Bible, the finger thrust in outraged accusation against wicked people is never allowed to be pointed in that same direction for long before it curls back on itself and dares to ask, “Am I guilty too? Could I be the object of the indignation that I feel?” And I’m afraid the answer is, “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes, much more than you would ever know.” A goodly proportion of our depravity consists in the fact that that it is hidden from our eyes. We blind ourselves to it. The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked. Who can know it? (Jeremiah 17:9). Well, a man cannot know it unless God enlightens him. For that reason it is good for us to pray for that enlightening. We pray for God to search our hearts because we are so bad at doing it ourselves.

When David concludes his Psalm by saying, Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting, he has the order right after all. God does not need to search us in order to inform himself of something he does not know. But we need him to inform us of what he knows, and reveal to us that to which we have been so blind. We need that in order to repent of the wickedness that till this day, to our discredit, has provoked no guilt within. We must seek forgiveness for those sins which never landed heavily on our conscience, and for which God might justifiably lump us together with the wicked and the damned.

I conclude by taking you back to the 1750s, to a slave ship crossing the Atlantic Ocean. Imagine a young individual chained and fastened to a wooden board in the darkness of the cargo hold, surrounded by stench and a few dead bodies, wondering if he will survive the trip - and also wondering, given what awaits him, if he even wants to survive. What curses might fill his prayers as he contemplates the captain of that ship? I can see him praying as David prayed: "If only you, God, would slay the wicked!" God, why don't you strike down that evil man?

Only God knows the full answer to that question. But I do think we have a piece of the answer. Rather than destroying the wicked as they deserve, God would rather search their hearts, and reveal to them the results of that search so that they might be moved to sorrow and repentance, and so that he might bestow upon them an extraordinary, unmerited grace that gives some hint as to the depth and breadth of his love. (If God can forgive such a wicked man, whom might he not forgive and restore?) That is in fact what happened to David, and it also happened to the evil slave-trader I just referred to. He was a man so wicked that he once boasted that there was no sin he had not committed. But God searched his heart and broke him, and filled him with remorse, and kept before his thoughts his many murders, and eventually turned him into a crusading abolitionist. God also gave to him, John Newton, a special measure of grace to pen the words we love to sing,

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now am found
Was blind, but now I see.

Let us pray.

Lord God, you know everything about us. But we don't know everything about ourselves, and truth be told we're afraid to look. Search us, O God, and know our hearts. Try us and know our anxious thoughts. See if there be any wicked way in us. And lead us in the way everlasting. Deliver us from the evil that we know about and from the evil to which we must be awakened so that we can repent of that too. Conform us to the image of your Son Jesus, for he is the way, and the truth, and the life, and we have no hope of pleasing you apart from him. Amen.

Psalm 139:

1 You have searched me, LORD, and you know me.2 You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.3 You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. 4 Before a word is on my tongue you, LORD, know it completely. 5 You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. 6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. 7 Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? 8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. 9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, 10 even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. 11 If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,” 12 even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you. 13 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. 14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. 15 My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. 16 Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. 17 How precious to me are your thoughts,[a] God! How vast is the sum of them! 18 Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand— when I awake, I am still with you. 19 If only you, God, would slay the wicked! Away from me, you who are bloodthirsty! 20 They speak of you with evil intent; your adversaries misuse your name. 21 Do I not hate those who hate you, LORD, and abhor those who are in rebellion against you? 22 I have nothing but hatred for them; I count them my enemies. 23 Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. 24 See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.