The Prophet of Flying Bugs
A fake interview with Joel about God's wrath, judgment, and … mercy.Sam O'Neal
For a long time, I've been wanting to interview a genuine fire-and-brimstone prophet who got to forecast doom and death to sinners. But, the prophet Joel wasn't what I expected.
Is it true that you're a real Old Testament prophet?
Yes, that's correct.
You were sent by God to pronounce judgment on the nation of Israel?
I was sent to the Israelites, yes. But I'm one of the minor prophets—Habakkuk, Obadiah and so on. People usually have a hard time remembering guys like us.
But you got to do the doom and judgment thing, right? You went around shouting, "Thus saith the Lord!"
Oh, yes. I told the Israelites to weep, mourn, and despair. I told them a day of darkness and gloom was coming because God was going to send an army to punish their sins.
All right! This is getting good. And was it a big army?
It sure was. I remember saying, "Before them the earth shakes, the sky trembles, the sun and moon are darkened, and the stars no longer shine."
Wow—was it the Assyrians?
No.
It had to be the Babylonians, then. I heard those guys would go nuts with their bronze swords and …
Actually, it was a big army of locusts.
Um, you mean those mutated freak locusts from Revelation? The ones with heads like lions and tails like giant scorpions?
These were regular locusts. They were a couple of inches long and ate plants.
Wait a minute. You, a big time doom and gloom prophet, threatened Israel with flying bugs? What kind of punishment was that?
There were millions and millions of locusts, and they ate up every piece of vegetation in the whole country! They even stripped the bark away from the trees, so the branches looked like white bones rattling in the wind. That meant the animals had no food to eat, which meant the people ran out of food pretty quickly, too.
That's kinda inconvenient, but …
Also, the fact that God sent locusts was a very big deal because of what the bugs symbolized. Locusts were one of the 10 plagues God used to free the Israelites from slavery in Egypt, remember? So when they attacked Israel, it was like God was saying, "You guys have become as bad as the Egyptians because of your sin."
That makes sense. I guess it was pretty cool punishment after all.
Are you crazy? It was a horrible tragedy; there wasn't anything "cool" about it! I think you've got the wrong idea about prophets. We never enjoyed telling people that bad things were going to happen—except Jonah, I guess. That guy was a little off.
But wasn't it a little satisfying to be a messenger of God's wrath?
You're missing the point entirely. God didn't send us to yell at the Israelites. He sent us to warn them about the consequences of their sin, and to give them a chance to ask for forgiveness. He was being merciful, not angry.
Yeah, I guess I do appreciate God forgiving my sins instead of sending flying insects after me.
Exactly.
Copyright © 2008 by the author or Christianity Today International/Ignite Your Faith magazine.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
What We Don't Deserve
What We Don't Deserve
What Jesus means when he says "Blessed are the merciful."
by Mark Galli
"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy." —Matthew 5:7, ESV
At first, Matthew 5:7 seems to imply that Jesus is making a deal with us: If we go out and show mercy to others, God will show mercy to us.
And it seems like a good deal. I mean, how hard could it be to show mercy to others?
So we'll practice a little mercy, and then God will act the same toward us, and all will be well with the world. And for eternity.
Except that it's not that easy to be merciful.
Your brother borrows your iPod, and when he gives it back, it doesn't play. He says, "Sorry."
You say, "'Sorry' doesn't cut it. You need to replace what you broke."
He says, "OK. That's fair. But I don't have any money till next week. And then I need to buy a gift for Mom's birthday, and I need to start saving money for the prom."
You say, "I don't care. You ruined my iPod, and you need to replace it."
He says, "I know. I'm sorry. But things are tight right now. Can't you give me a break?"
And that's when it's really hard to forgive. To let it go. To be merciful.
Just as it's hard to leave your own friends to sit down by the class reject sitting alone at lunch.
Or to give your last $15 to the food drive for the hungry when you had your heart set on going to a movie with friends that afternoon.
Or to want to even talk to the person who made the cut on the basketball team when you didn't.
That's when "Blessed are the merciful for they shall receive mercy" doesn't seem like much of a good deal. It feels like a curse.
All we can think about is how unmerciful we can be when we're self-centered, or indifferent, or even cruel. Then we're thinking, I'm in trouble. I'm never going to receive mercy at this rate. I don't deserve it.
And that's when the turning point comes. It's at that point that the mercy of God starts making its way into our lives. It begins by us turning that hopelessness into prayer:
"Lord, I'm in trouble. I'm self-centered. I don't deserve your mercy, but I need it."
And the Lord gives us a break. He forgives. He shows mercy.
And that's why it's easier to give your brother a break. And to practice mercy in all sorts of difficult situations.
Not because we're trying to prove something, or get something from God, but simply because God has proven something to us by giving us something we didn't deserve: mercy.
We become merciful because we've been shown mercy.
When Jesus says blessed are the merciful for they shall receive mercy, he assumes that you really can't be merciful until you've received mercy in the first place. Mercy is not a deal, but an ongoing lifestyle.
We receive mercy then we show mercy and as a result we receive more mercy, and as a result, we then show more mercy—and on and on.
It's like we're rolling a snowball downhill. We start with a small one, maybe the size of a baseball. As we toss it down the hill, immediately gravity starts to pull it farther downhill. As it rolls over, of course, it collects more snow. Now it's bigger and heavier, and so gravity pulls it even harder. It rolls over even faster, and collects more snow, and gets heavier, and rolls faster. And so on. Before you know it, it's a huge ball, bounding down the hill.
That's how it is with mercy: The more we receive mercy, the more we give mercy.
Because we get distracted and have long bouts with selfishness, we collect sticks and branches in our little ball, and that slows us down. Sometimes we come to a complete halt, stuck halfway down the mountain. So we find ourselves remembering that we didn't deserve to roll as far as we had in the first place, and that without God's mercy, we'll go no farther.
And that's when God comes along, trims off the branches sticking out from us, and gives us that little push to start us rolling downhill again, so that we can practice and enjoy mercy upon mercy upon mercy upon mercy.
What Jesus means when he says "Blessed are the merciful."
by Mark Galli
"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy." —Matthew 5:7, ESV
At first, Matthew 5:7 seems to imply that Jesus is making a deal with us: If we go out and show mercy to others, God will show mercy to us.
And it seems like a good deal. I mean, how hard could it be to show mercy to others?
So we'll practice a little mercy, and then God will act the same toward us, and all will be well with the world. And for eternity.
Except that it's not that easy to be merciful.
Your brother borrows your iPod, and when he gives it back, it doesn't play. He says, "Sorry."
You say, "'Sorry' doesn't cut it. You need to replace what you broke."
He says, "OK. That's fair. But I don't have any money till next week. And then I need to buy a gift for Mom's birthday, and I need to start saving money for the prom."
You say, "I don't care. You ruined my iPod, and you need to replace it."
He says, "I know. I'm sorry. But things are tight right now. Can't you give me a break?"
And that's when it's really hard to forgive. To let it go. To be merciful.
Just as it's hard to leave your own friends to sit down by the class reject sitting alone at lunch.
Or to give your last $15 to the food drive for the hungry when you had your heart set on going to a movie with friends that afternoon.
Or to want to even talk to the person who made the cut on the basketball team when you didn't.
That's when "Blessed are the merciful for they shall receive mercy" doesn't seem like much of a good deal. It feels like a curse.
All we can think about is how unmerciful we can be when we're self-centered, or indifferent, or even cruel. Then we're thinking, I'm in trouble. I'm never going to receive mercy at this rate. I don't deserve it.
And that's when the turning point comes. It's at that point that the mercy of God starts making its way into our lives. It begins by us turning that hopelessness into prayer:
"Lord, I'm in trouble. I'm self-centered. I don't deserve your mercy, but I need it."
And the Lord gives us a break. He forgives. He shows mercy.
And that's why it's easier to give your brother a break. And to practice mercy in all sorts of difficult situations.
Not because we're trying to prove something, or get something from God, but simply because God has proven something to us by giving us something we didn't deserve: mercy.
We become merciful because we've been shown mercy.
When Jesus says blessed are the merciful for they shall receive mercy, he assumes that you really can't be merciful until you've received mercy in the first place. Mercy is not a deal, but an ongoing lifestyle.
We receive mercy then we show mercy and as a result we receive more mercy, and as a result, we then show more mercy—and on and on.
It's like we're rolling a snowball downhill. We start with a small one, maybe the size of a baseball. As we toss it down the hill, immediately gravity starts to pull it farther downhill. As it rolls over, of course, it collects more snow. Now it's bigger and heavier, and so gravity pulls it even harder. It rolls over even faster, and collects more snow, and gets heavier, and rolls faster. And so on. Before you know it, it's a huge ball, bounding down the hill.
That's how it is with mercy: The more we receive mercy, the more we give mercy.
Because we get distracted and have long bouts with selfishness, we collect sticks and branches in our little ball, and that slows us down. Sometimes we come to a complete halt, stuck halfway down the mountain. So we find ourselves remembering that we didn't deserve to roll as far as we had in the first place, and that without God's mercy, we'll go no farther.
And that's when God comes along, trims off the branches sticking out from us, and gives us that little push to start us rolling downhill again, so that we can practice and enjoy mercy upon mercy upon mercy upon mercy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
