Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

Perhaps you are never stymied by prayer. Never distracted, disoriented, or discombobulated. Maybe, as you bow your head over perfectly folded hands, your words stream out in a logical, all-encompassing flow of penitence, praise, and petition. Perhaps you mention everything in one well-constructed paragraph, forgetting nothing. Maybe, during your prayer time, your children never get sick all over their bedrooms, the dog doesn’t use the floor as the grass, the phone doesn’t ring, the responsibilities of the day never creep in. Perhaps your mind never wanders. Your thoughts never stray. Maybe you can forget the list of errands, the demands of your job, the soccer schedule, the dinner conundrum and settle into an hour of uninterrupted prayer. If so, you have both my respect and admiration. There must surely be a special seat in Heaven engraved with your name.  

Not so for me. Quite the opposite, really. I am consistently stymied by prayer. After the initial invocation, the words take on a mind of their own either coming out in a jumbled rush or failing to materialize at all. I find myself eternally grateful that God can read my thoughts. If answers were dependent on articulate verbalization, I would undoubtedly receive no response. I am constantly distracted. The smoke alarm beeps its reminder for a battery change. Someone knocks on the door. My cell phone indicates a text, call or email. My thoughts seldom follow a logical pattern. They leapfrog from one topic to the next, jumping back again to add something I forgot to the previous request. My words rarely flow beautifully. My requests frequently trump my praise. And, when I finally say “Amen”–if I say it at all–it’s more of a “to be continued as I remember things I forgot” than a final benediction.  

Admittedly, it seems I should be better at praying. This isn’t my first day. It seems my prayers should be focused and organized and structured by now. Surely somewhere, in all the years I’ve been following Jesus, I should have figured out how to pray the grandiose prayers of the liturgy, the flowery prayers of the prewritten variety, or just the simple prayers necessary in a specific moment. Instead, I find myself throwing an elbow, standing on tiptoe, trying to peek over the disciples’ shoulders, desperately straining to hear Jesus’ response to the request I’ve been making for years, “Lord, teach us to pray…” (Luke 11:1) 

The very request is surprising. Whether from one of the twelve or one of the larger group of Jesus’ followers, it stands to reason those devotees would have already learned to pray by following the model they’d heard Jesus use. They would certainly have heard Him pray. They followed Him closely. Listened intently to His teachings. Walked by His side. Obeyed His bidding. Saw His miracles. Their awe was surely constant, their attention to Him complete. How frequently must they have heard Jesus pray? Yet, much to my comfort, at least one of these devout followers of Jesus Christ, distressed over his haphazard prayer life, felt it necessary to implore, “Teach us to pray.” I’m right there with him. 

My heart echoes the sentiment. Resoundingly. Sometimes my voice does, too. Loudly. Why? Because, just like the brave soul that dared to voice this request centuries ago, I want what Jesus had. Direct connection with the Father. Immediate audience in Heaven’s throne room. Relationship with God that transcends my situations, issues and circumstances. I want to pray the way Jesus did because I want the results Jesus got. Results that came from the power of a relationship with God the Father. A relationship built through the conversation of prayer.

Since the dawn of time, God has sought to be in conversation with humanity. Before sin entered the world, when Adam and Eve inhabited the Garden of Eden, God would come in the cool of the day, seek out His people, and converse with them. Those must have been delightful conversations. No suffering to heal. No sin to repent. No evil to report. What, exactly, did God and Adam discuss? Everything was perfect and beautiful. Yet still, God chose to create relationships through personal conversations with mankind. 

When Adam and Eve chose to disrupt the unblemished line of communication, God still came to talk to them. He knew what had happened. He knew the evil one had tripped them. He knew things would never be exactly the same. God could have chosen then to end the relationship, stop the communication, forgo the intimacy He’d been building between Himself and humanity. He didn’t. Although He had to make adjustments, God never disconnected from humanity. Over and again, as His people rejected Him, tossed aside His laws, refused to keep their covenant, God continued to call them into a relationship with Himself through the conversations of prayer. (Genesis 3:1-8, 4:26)

Jesus modeled this throughout His earthly ministry. Time and again He would draw aside, alone, to pray. His mission on earth depended on those conversations with His power source. Healing the sick, feeding the crowds, casting out demons. These all required a constant connection with the Father. Choosing His inner circle, walking on water, preaching in synagogues. They all necessitated wisdom and power and input from God above. Immediately prior to being asked the question burning on my heart, and apparently the heart of at least one other person in history, Jesus was again spending time in conversation with His Father. It seems to be what birthed the request. (Matthew 14:23; Mark 1:35; Mark 6:46; Luke 5:16; Luke 6:12-13; Luke 11:1-4)

Having gathered with the others to hear Jesus teach, the seeker notices Him slightly aside from the crowd, posture reverent, lips silently moving, obviously in prayer. The seeker waited, choosing not to interrupt the holy conversation. Instead he watched, waited, crept closer to eavesdrop, and attempted to deduce what made the prayers of Jesus so successful. He couldn’t. He’d have to ask. So he did. Waiting until Jesus had finished His conversation with God, the seeker pulled up every ounce of his courage and posed the request, “Teach us to pray.” And, with no hesitation or extensive dissertation, Jesus did. (Luke 11:1-2)

Reiterating words He’d spoken before, Jesus gave them a basic outline for conversations that would build relationships with God. Deep relationships. Lasting relationships. Relationships that would stand in the face of trial, tribulation, and persecution. Because all those things were coming. Dark days were ahead. Temptation would haunt them. Evil would hound them. Fear would weave its web over the hearts of the most devout earthly followers of Jesus Christ. People would fall away. Disciples would turn tail and run. Only those in true relationship with God the Father would remain faithful. And Jesus wanted them to be among the faithful, but they could only be found there if they developed a stalwart relationship with the Father through the conversations of prayer. (Luke 11:3-4; Matthew 6:9-13; John 16:23, 33; Mark 14:27) 

It would almost seem we are living in the exact same times as the seeker who begged to learn the art of conversing with God. The spiritual climate of our society has clearly dipped far below the Biblical standard. We are constantly hounded to call good evil and evil good. We are subliminally conned into believing it is so. We are singled out, verbally flogged, culturally canceled for believing a standard undesirable to the world around us. Yet, in a world of uncertainty, surrounded by a persistent air of fear, know this. Your relationship with the Father built through prayerful conversations will withstand any oncoming social storm. Indeed, it will thrive. (Isaiah 5:20; Haggai 2:20-23)

For several years, I’ve been journaling the spirit of the words Jesus taught us to pray. They are never verbatim. I still get distracted, lay down my pen, mentally go off on a tangent that has nothing to do with the words on my page. It’s still a work in progress. Probably always will be. That’s what relationships are. Works in progress. That’s why it is so important for us to continually engage in conversations with God. Conversations that acknowledge His omniscience, His omnipotence, His sovereignty. Conversations that build a relationship strong enough to stand in the face of monstrous adversity and pray the words Jesus taught us to pray, “Your kingdom, not mine. Your will, not mine. Your power, Your praise, Your glory. In and through me. Today and always.” May we pray those words. May we mean them. May our prayers be focused more on relationship with God than receiving gifts from God.  May we never stop asking, “Lord, teach us to pray!” (Romans 8:26; Matthew 26:41; Psalm 40:8; Luke 17:21; Ephesians 3:20)

Sleep clouded their eyes at the sudden wake-up call. Their slumber fogged brains struggled to catch up. They hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Truly, they hadn’t. When Jesus told them to pray for strength in the face of coming temptation, not one question had crossed their lips. No one argued. No one commented. With Jesus’ warnings of impending perilous events still echoing in their ears, they immediately dropped to their knees and began entreating Heaven. Until they fell asleep. Kneeling right where He left them, Jesus would later come back to find them. Their prayerful posture still intact. Hands folded. Heads bowed. Eyes closed. In sleep.

Their exhaustion was understandable. It had been a long day. They had ticked the boxes on quite a formidable Passover checklist. Slaughtered the sacrificial lamb. Found and secured a place to hold the feast. Prepared the meal. Set the table. Served. It might have been bearable had the duties been only physical. They weren’t. The conversations and events around the table forced each man to engage in a formidable amount of mental calisthenics. Their physically weary brains tried desperately to keep up with the flow of words and symbolism. Wine and bread signifying Jesus’ body and blood. Dire warnings of His imminent departure. The suckerpunch of a traitor sitting at table with them. And that ridiculous squabble about who was the greatest among them. That was uncomfortable. More for some than others. Likely less for Peter than the coming revelation. 

They were all surprised by Jesus’ stunning verbiage to Simon Peter. His strong warning effectively quieted any useless chatter among them. As heavy silence enveloped the group, they stared at one another in disbelief. Peter was headstrong and wild. A bit crazy. A lot impulsive. They all knew it. Still, no one doubted his devotion. No one wondered if he truly loved Jesus. They knew he did, impulsive behaviors notwithstanding. Yet the idea that the evil one was stalking him, seeking him, doing everything in his power to gain control of him was alarming. Terrifying. It shook them to their very souls. If the evil one was stalking Peter, was he also after them? Would Peter really deny knowing Jesus? Would the knowledge change his course? Would Peter be friend or foe in a few short hours? And what about them? What about the men Jesus hadn’t mentioned by name? Were they also going to fall prey to insurmountable temptation? Would they give in? Or were their souls strong enough to resist? Were their hearts more devoted? In a moment of quiet introspection, surely each man weighed his own heart to see exactly what was there, suss out the weaknesses, shore up the sagging edges of his own spiritual stability. They all wanted to remain faithful. They wanted to believe they had what it took to stay when everyone else left. In fact, every single man swore he would.

Not one of them did. Jesus warned them of the fact. They would all eventually turn tail and run. When it came to the most horrific night of His earthly life, Jesus would stand alone. Alone before Caiaphas and the council, alone before Pilate, alone before a ravenous crowd out for blood. Alone to lay down His life on the cross in payment for Judas’ defection, Peter’s denial, our depravity. Alone in that moment to ensure we would never be alone no matter the temptation, trial, tribulation or tragedy. Yet, before running that final, unavoidable gauntlet, Jesus had one last call for His disciples then and us now. A call to prayer. 

Leading them out into what must surely have been commonly referred to by the disciples as Jesus’ personal prayer garden, He solemnly spoke these words. “Watch. Be on guard. Pay attention. Temptation is lurking everywhere. Pray that it does not overtake you.” The words drip with urgency. There’s an insistence, a gravity, an intensity in them. Jesus desperately wants the disciples to hear what He’s saying and do His bidding. Not just in that moment, not just for the next few hours, but in every moment, every day, for the rest of their lives. Why? Because temptation was most assuredly coming. (Matthew 26:17-75; Mark 14:12-72; Luke 22:7-23:25)

Over the next few hours and days, their faith would be tested like it had never been tested before. They would be given cause to question, to wonder, to pause. Times would arise when they would be tempted to forget to Whom they belonged, Who their Father was, and how much power was available through just the mention of His name. As the cry of, “It is finished,” rang out from the cross, they would need to remember and employ the words of the prayer Jesus had taught them to pray in the beginning of His ministry. They’d need to repeat each phrase. Often. So do we. (Matthew 6:7-12; John 19:30;  

Our world isn’t so much different than the world the disciples inhabited. In spite of advancements in plumbing, lighting, and technology, humanity is still the same. Busy. Tired. Overwhelmed by the events and voices around us. Dozing off when we should be on guard. Tending to sleep when we should be in prayer. There is but one significant difference. The disciples were physically asleep. We are spiritually so.  

With few exceptions, the days of crowded mourners’ benches and prayer meetings stretching into the wee hours are simply a dusty memory. Many churches have completely removed the altar rail, choosing instead to ask seekers to quietly approach a staff member or write their need on a card so someone can get back with them. There’s no sense of urgency. No desire to approach God immediately. No time in our busy secular schedules to gather and pray for needs, personal, communal, or national. Because of the lack of time spent on our knees, our religion has become rote, our spirituality lukewarm, our souls adrift from the alertness true prayer affords. Temptation is kicking our collective behinds because we have chosen not to obey the command of Jesus. Our watching is passive. Our prayer lives are tepid. Our flesh has proven it is absolutely weak. We are an exact image of what Jesus was attempting to help us avoid when He first spoke the urgent call to prayer. Apparently, we need a wake-up call. Just like the disciples.

Regardless of what form of exhaustion made them doze off, Jesus found them that way. Eyes closed. Heads lolled to the side. Mouths slack. Soft snores wafting across the cool night air. Nudging the toe of his sandal against their relaxed feet, Jesus woke them. He had to. Temptation was coming. Right then. The opportunity to remain faithful or run in fear was fast approaching. They needed to pray. Right then. Because, both then and now, the only way to stand against the temptation to run, buckle, or bow is prayer.    

In a world brimming with temptation to do exactly those things, Jesus’ words ring out again. Stay alert. Be on guard. Watch yourselves. The evil one wasn’t just preying on Peter, he’s stalking you too. He will take advantage of any little piece of bitterness or unforgiveness to wreck your soul. He will play on worldly desires to draw you aside. He’ll offer you the world, but give you hell instead. So pray. Bombard heaven. Don’t quit. Don’t stop communicating with the Father. Even when you are tired. Even when you are overwhelmed. Even when you are embarrassed, worried, or scared. Just keep praying. You are not alone. The God of strength and power is coming to your rescue. He will never let you down. So, don’t drop your guard. Don’t lower your voice. Don’t back down. No matter the situation. Just keep praying. (I Peter 5:8; Hebrews 12:15; Psalm 56: 3-4, 8-11; Psalm 145:18-19; II Corinthians 12:8-10; Luke 18:1; Ephesians 6:18)

They had already done it. Dispensed with the covenant. Discarded the rules. Although they had yet to see them carved in stone, the people of Israel had thrown the commandments aside like yesterday’s news. The covenant they had been so eager to make after their grand exit from Egypt and narrow escape across the Red Sea lay broken at their feet, along with its inherent implications. While Moses was up on the mountain getting a crash course in laws and rules and ramifications, the people down below were busy violating the very commandments he would soon be reciting. (Exodus 19:2-8)

The length of his alleged vacation chafed. He’d been gone a long time, who knows what. They’d been stuck in the same place. Camped out. Waiting. Day after day of the same routines. Day after day of manna. Day after day of nothing new, nothing changing, nothing exciting. It didn’t seem fair that Moses would get to go on a trip up a mountain to talk with God, but they had to stay put in dullsville. They couldn’t go anywhere. Literally. Moses was the map. He was gone. And he’d left strict instructions, “Don’t cross the line. Don’t go up the mountain. Don’t even touch the edge of the mountain. Death awaits the one who disobeys.” (Exodus 19:9-25)

As Moses disappeared into the thick cloud of God’s presence, the people waited in expectation. Surely he’d be back for dinner bearing news of their next course of action, a new travel direction, a different menu option. He wasn’t. Moses didn’t show up again that day. Or the next day. Or the next week. Indeed, several weeks passed and Moses had yet to return. The people were growing restless. Tired. Bored. Weary of the monotonous waiting, the people took a flying leap off the deep end, cannon-balling straight into defection.  

Impatient with the waiting and certain Moses was never coming back, the people began to make choices. Poor choices. Choices certain to taint their relationship with the God they had vowed to serve, the One with whom they had happily, willingly entered a covenant. They were done with all that. They wanted a tangible god. A visible god. A god that required no covenant or command. They’d do whatever it took to erect it. Sacrifice anything to have it. No price was too steep. They would have their way even if it took every gold ring and earring in the congregation to make it so. 

Whatever made Aaron concur remains a mystery. One would think, as their last line of defense against the crazed workings of the evil one, Aaron would have planted his feet on God’s ground and remained immovable. Turns out he was quite lily-livered without Moses by his side. Perhaps he was jealous of Moses’ extended mountain stay. Maybe he was irritated that the upper conference hadn’t included him. Perhaps he was infuriated that he’d been left to run herd on a bunch of former slaves tasting freedom for the first time. Or maybe Aaron was simply exhausted. Whatever the case, he quickly capitulated to the fierce demands of the fickle people. Gathering the collection of golden jewelry, he melted it enough to meld it together. Then, using a graving tool, he formed the mass of gold into the form of a calf. 

The people couldn’t have been more ecstatic. Their new god was everything they wanted. Blind. Deaf. Mute. It couldn’t see or hear their sin. It couldn’t issue commands. Yet they could still blame it for any inconveniences along the way. Immediately they began to exalt the statue. Stripping the glory from the God to whom it rightfully belonged, they proclaimed this new god, created by their own hands, as the one who had gloriously brought them out of Egypt. Aaron built an altar before it. Scheduled a feast. Directed burnt offerings and peace offerings to their new god. The people celebrated with eating, drinking, games and dancing. And the omnipotent God of the universe, their Deliverer, who sees every action, knows every thought, reads every intent of the human heart, stopped mid-sentence, consumed with anger at the travesty unfolding near the foot of Mount Sinai. (Exodus 32:1-10; Psalm 44:21; Jeremiah 17:10; Psalm 139:2)

As their unholy sacrifices smoldered before an unworthy statue of gold, the God to whom vengeance belongs vowed to act. This defection would cost them. The covenant, now in tatters at their feet, would never be renewed. The people would never be God’s chosen, they had opted out of being His peculiar treasure. They clearly wanted nothing to do with Him, They had wastefully thrown away His mercy, trampled His grace, traded His magnanimous offer of love for a god they could manipulate and control. And it would cost them. His presence among them. His power before them. His blessings over them.   

History records few individuals owning the steel spine that must surely have been encased in Moses’ back. Knowing the power and greatness of God Almighty, feeling the pain and anger radiating from His presence, Moses still stood and spoke on behalf of the unworthy people below. Invoking the covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob that he knew God would never break, he pleaded for their lives. And God relented. (Exodus 32:7-14)

Racing down the mountain at break-neck speed, Moses’ feet screeched to a halt as his eyes took in the blasphemous scene unfolding before him. Rage burned in his veins. Hurling the precious tablets inscribed by the finger of God to the ground, he stalked through the cavorting crowd. Little by little, the people became aware of his presence. The music silenced. The dancing stopped. Plates of food were set aside. The celebrations ended. Moses was back and their actions had left them in no position to rejoice. Their lips were full of broken promises. Their hands were filthy from sullied sacrifices. (Exodus 32:15-20)

Surprisingly, I take no umbrage with the people’s impatience at Moses’ lengthy absence. We would have felt the same way. Wondered where he was. Worried he wasn’t coming back. Wrestled with how to survive and thrive if we were left without a leader. We would have made alternate plans. Designated a backup leader. Maybe even found a backup for the backup. Things happen in the wilderness, you know. It’s best to be prepared. Impatience and boredom would have pushed us to our breaking point. Complaints would have crossed our lips. Yet, for all the human normalcy of that impatience and irritation, I find their course of action unconscionable. 

Why take their anger at Moses out on God? Why purposely walk away from the God who has delivered and rescued and provided for them? Why flagrantly construct gods that aren’t God and offer sacrifices meant for God alone to empty idols? Whether or not they read the words inscribed on those stone tablets before Moses splintered them into pieces, it takes no mental gymnastics whatsoever to know that offering sacrifices to a god made by human hands would never be the proper course of action. They weren’t being ignorant or obtuse. They purposely, willfully traded their God for a god.  (Exodus 20:3-6; 22:20)

 Apparently, humanity never changes. We are still engaging in the very activity that tripped up the ancient Israelites so long ago. Instead of focusing on Who we are and where we are going, we’ve gotten bored in the interim waiting space and started casting a wandering eye at all the pretty things around us. We’ve become envious of what others have. We’ve started longing for status and fortune and fame. In less time than we thought possible, those longings and desires have become all-consuming and we find ourselves making sacrifices on the altar of a god that was never meant to be our God. We rise up early and stay up late working and for what? A shot at the corner office, a gold nameplate, a designer wardrobe? We wear ourselves out at the gym. Why? To be the perfect size, the right muscle tone, the most attractive? We spend thousands of dollars on beauty products and treatments, herbal cleanses and health spas in a desperate effort to stop the effects of aging, hold off the march of time, and give ourselves longer to attain the earthly goals we hold so dear. We sacrifice our children, our families, our friends, ourselves on the altar of gods who aren’t God. We are no different than the ancient people we judge so harshly for worshiping a golden calf. 

In the final utterings of Ecclesiastes, the learned preacher writes this profound conclusion. “Here’s the deal. When everything is said and done, fear God only. Obey God only. Follow God only. This is your entire life’s duty. Why? Because every thought, action, word, and secret will be weighed and measured by God, the Just Judge of all the earth.” He wasn’t wrong. The message the preacher spoke was the same truth God proclaimed to His people in Exodus. And the message hasn’t changed. There can be no gods before God. There can be no sacrifices made on the altars of earthly, worldly things. You can only serve one master. So you have to choose. Now. Today. God or god. Eternal or earthly. Desirable sacrifices of a broken spirit and contrite heart humbly laid before the God to whom we will all give an account. Or sullied sacrifices offered to a nameless, powerless, useless god that isn’t God at all. The choice is yours. Choose wisely, no matter how frustrated you are with the limitations and waiting of your current circumstances. Choose wisely, intentionally contemplating the spiritual outcome of each option. Choose wisely, for you are choosing your eternity. (Ecclesiastes 12:13-14; Exodus 20:3-4; Psalm 51:17; Deuteronomy 17:2-3; Matthew 6:24; Joshua 24:15; I John 2:15-17; Romans 14:11-13)

The relative peace and prosperity brought about through political stability had certainly changed things. Not necessarily for the better. While it was wonderful to live without constant upheavals, the people had become complacent. Serving the God with whom they had promised to remain in covenant had become rote. They observed the feasts and assemblies. They offered burnt offerings, grain offerings and peace offerings. They played their religious music and sang their songs, but no matter how pious they appeared to onlookers, their hearts weren’t where they needed to be. They’d lost connection with God. They had broken their part of the everlasting covenant. (Amos 5:21-23)

It hadn’t happened all in one day. The evil one is more cunning than that. It likely happened a bit at a time. Perhaps it began subconsciously. Maybe he posed a nagging list of questions and suggestions similar to the one he presented to Eve in the Garden of Eden. Did God really intend for them to follow all those requirements when their land was peaceful and prosperous? Was God simply trying to keep them from having fun? Would a loving God make earthly opulence attainable, yet require them to abstain? What purpose could He possibly have for holding them back from the lifestyle wealth could give them? God surely didn’t mean all those statutes and requirements to be enforced when they were clearly living under His blessing. (Genesis 3:1-5)

And so it began. A little editing of the law here. A bit of boundary-pushing there. A half-truth. An outright lie. A blatant refusal to adhere to God’s statutes. A quick edit of the commandments. When immediate retribution failed to materialize, they became more flagrant in their disregard for the very guidelines that had rescued and preserved their people for centuries. Wealth, status, and extravagance became their gods. Their lust for hedonistic lifestyles sent them barreling past all the commands to look after the poor and, instead, saw them selling the poor into slavery so they could fund their opulent desires. They weren’t interested in listening to true prophets anymore, commanding them not to prophesy. They didn’t want to hear from God. They had no desire to change. So far down the selfish, wilful path of least resistance were they, it would take something horrendous to turn them around. (Amos 2:4, 6-8, 12; Deuteronomy 15:7-11; Leviticus 19:9-10, 15, 25:35; Exodus 21:16; Proverbs 22:22-23)

Something came. Many things, actually. Nothing phased them. Famine didn’t turn their heads. Drought didn’t stop them short. Blight, mildew, and locust infestations didn’t force them to rethink their stance. Pestilence and war had no effect. Even through the death of their young men they remained unmoved. Blinded by their affinity for wealthy accouterments, they chose not to return to God. Sacrificing justice and righteousness on the altar of self-gratification, lust and pride. It comes as no surprise then, that once the plagues had passed and not one soul turned back to God, He would instruct the herdsman Amos to sound the alarm through the terrifying words, “Prepare to meet your God!” His wrath. His judgment. Their consequences. (Amos 4)  

The words have a chilling tone to them. Ominous. Threatening. The God they are going to meet is mighty. His power is above every power. It is unfathomable, incomprehensible. Rising mountains. Blowing wind. Twinkling stars. Flowing waters. Day. Night. It is all in the power of His voice, the strength of His hand. He can kill and make alive with just the barest of thoughts, yet in steadfast love and abundant mercy, the great God of the universe who holds all power in the palm of His hand, who owes them nothing but wants to give them everything, offers to stay His hand. He required just one simple act on their part. Seek the Lord. (Amos 4:13-5:15)

It was such a small thing to ask. Return to the Lord. Seek good. Hate evil. Re-establish justice. There was nothing new there. Nothing they hadn’t heard before. Nothing God’s laws and directives hadn’t previously established. What God required of them had not changed. Love justice. Be filled with righteousness. Unfortunately, they were no longer interested. So drawn aside by their own lusts were they, that the call to repentance, to righteousness, was left unheeded. They would go on hypocritically performing their religious rituals, having a form of godliness void of any true spirituality, deceiving no one but themselves. When the days of bitter mourning and destruction came, as they sat bemoaning the loss of their extravagant lifestyles, there would be no one to blame but themselves. They silenced the prophets. Kicked Amos out of Judah. Chose not to hear. Opted out of listening. They effectively chose significant punishment over spiritual prosperity, leaving us to wonder about the choice. (Amos 3:2:11-12; 5:14-24; 6:12-14)

Why didn’t they just choose to return to the old paths? How hard could it be? They already know what to do. Why not just do it? Why not allow the rolling waters of true justice to flow through their nation, clearing out the things hindering their relationship with God and making way for the torrential, overflowing stream of righteousness to cleanse their hearts and lives? What was the holdup? Freeing justice and cleansing righteousness was the cry of God’s heart over them. He deeply, desperately wanted them to lay aside their dedication to rote religious habits. Their belief that keeping the offerings and assemblies and music flowing would be enough to preserve their souls was an abject fallacy. He wanted the waters of righteousness to roll over them in a never-ending stream, cleansing their hearts and making them truly spiritual through unequivocal dedication to God alone. I can’t help but believe He wants the same for you and me. (Amos 5:24)

The deal is this. You can go to church every Sunday, teach a class, preach a sermon, sing with the praise team, beat a drum or shake a tambourine, but if, when you leave that place, your life exhibits nothing of true godliness, you are wasting your time. God is not impressed or fooled by your ability to keep specific religious rituals, speak church lingo, or participate in special services. God wants to see Himself, His Word, His laws reflected in the dealings of your everyday life. He doesn’t want you to simply say you are His child. He wants you to live like it. (Matthew 3:8; Mark 12:31; I John 3:17; Proverbs 27:19; Ephesians 4:22)

God wants you to apply His justice to your life. He wants you to scrutinize and evaluate every nuance of your heart, every word on your lips, every thought in your mind. He wants you to measure each one by the law of His justice, carefully determining if there is something, anything that keeps you from living exactly as He requires. He wants your church attendance, your good works, your adherence to His laws to be more than just an act put on to enhance your religious appearance. God wants you to allow the rolling waters of his justice to cleanse your heart, push aside every obstruction, impediment, and hindrance, allowing you to live completely awash in the overflowing stream of His righteousness. And he wants your life to show it. (James 2:14-26; Hebrews 12:1; II Corinthians 13:5-7; Psalm 19:14)

There’s a little stream that flows through two of our pastures. For several months of the year, we pay it little attention as it babbles on its way to a waterfall down the mountain. Except in spring. In the spring we keep our eye on the creek. It floods every year. Some years modestly. Some years immensely. This year, as I read the words of God spoken through Amos, my mind immediately went to that creek. Although our pastures have ponds in them right now due to the overflow, in a month or so warmer temperatures will dry up the excess and the creek will recede. I have no concerns it will dry up, though. It never does. In even the hottest temperatures and driest conditions, the creek keeps flowing, fed by water rolling down from mountain stores. 

I hope the same can be said for us. I hope we stay under the rolling water of God’s justice and allow it to cleanse us from every impurity. I hope our lives reflect the ever-flowing stream of righteousness that follows in the wake of that cleansing. I hope we never move from that place to dry up and become nothing more than an oozing mud hole or dried-out creek bed of our own attempts at righteousness. We couldn’t survive that way. We weren’t meant to. Our needy souls require water. The same thing the people of Amos’ day needed. Rolling waters and rising streams that cleanse and dedicate our hearts to God alone. (Psalm 42:1-2; II Corinthians 5:21; Matthew 7:19-23; Psalm 119:131)

The promised outcome made the list seem daunting. Enormous knots of nerves formed in the stomach of every adult as they ticked each box, doubling back to ensure its completion. Tenuously balanced on their adherence and obedience were life and death, deliverance and captivity. So they meticulously set about following instructions. On the tenth day of the month, choose a perfect, blemishless, male lamb, one year old. Keep it until twilight on the fourteenth day. Slaughter the animal. Gather your family into your home, making certain no one leaves until morning. Using a branch of hyssop, wipe the still warm blood of the lamb above and beside the door frame of your house. Roast the flesh. Gather at the table prepared to walk out the door. Fully dressed–belt, sandals, staff. Eat the roasted lamb with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. Eat quickly. You need to be ready. Deliverance is coming. Their desperate hearts hoped it was true. (Exodus 11-12)

Ugly uncertainty lurked in the recesses of their minds. Their hopes had been dashed before. For years they had cried out to God, begging for deliverance from their afflictions and sufferings. They’d been crying out for a rescue for decades. When Pharaoh’s daughter pulled Moses from the water and chose to raise him as their own, they thought surely this was the long-awaited answer to their anguished pleas. It wasn’t. Fleeing to Midian after murdering an Egyptian, their hope of escape fizzled and died. Their cries to Heaven intensified. And God heard their groans. Looking down from Heaven God saw His people. Abused. Afflicted. Tormented. Tired. Surviving but not thriving. And God was stirred to action. (Exodus 1-2)

Appearing undercover as a burning bush, God spoke to Moses in the wilderness. The message wasn’t met with rave reviews. Moses had excuses. He wasn’t on Pharaoh’s guestlist. He wasn’t eloquent. Frankly, he simply wasn’t inclined. But God is persuasive. He didn’t need someone with a fluid tongue of beautiful speech. He would provide the words when the moment warranted them. He wanted someone who would faithfully, willingly obey. He wanted Moses. (Exodus 3)

Surely the people’s hearts soared with hope upon hearing that deliverance was coming. Deep discouragement turned to reverent worship. Dark mourning to radiant joy. God had heard their cries! He had seen their blood and sweat and tears! He understood the physical and emotional toll the current situation was taking on them! He felt their helplessness and despair! He was moved by their groaning! He cared about their circumstances and had a plan to rescue and restore His people. God was fixing to move! 

They thought it would happen immediately. Humming quietly to themselves, mothers excitedly began sifting through household items, clothing, and food stuff, determining what could be used before leaving, what should be taken, what must be left behind. Men began using spare time to repair carts and assess flocks, preparing for travel. In their excitement at receiving the promise of deliverance, they assumed God would send Moses in with force and they would be miraculously released from their captivity at the first attempt. It was not to be. (Exodus 4)

As Moses and Aaron came away from that first ill-fated meeting with Pharaoh, their expectations took a beating. In spite of God’s promises, no one was going anywhere. Not today. Not any day if Pharaoh could help it. His wrath poured out on them in intensified work requirements. They struggled to collect enough raw materials to meet the demanded number of bricks. The foremen endured the sting of the whip as demands exceeded their abilities. The people suffered as Pharaoh’s rage refused them mercy and necessary help to meet the added criteria. With every rebuke, every beating, every added requirement, hope wavered. Grew dim. Yet still it lived. God had promised and God is faithful. (Exodus 5-6)

Every time Moses and Aaron made the trek to speak with Pharaoh, they watched in anticipation, desperately hoping this would be the time Pharaoh would relent. It never was. The water turned to blood before his eyes. Pharaoh refused. Frogs and gnats and flies infested the land. Still he resisted. Egyptian livestock died of the plague. Pharaoh would not relent. Painful boils afflicted their skin. Hail decimated the remaining livestock and the already budding flax and ears of barley. Pharaoh wavered. For a moment it seemed he would change his mind. He didn’t. They were still stuck. Locusts came and devastated any remaining crops, ate the foliage off the trees, made general pests of themselves all across the land of Egypt. Darkness, thick and black and suffocating, covered the face of the land. Still Pharaoh stubbornly refused to let God’s people go. (Exodus 7-10)

As their hope began to shrivel, their faith started to shrink, their hearts became overwhelmed with the idea of having to stay put and endure more treacherous treatment, Moses came with this new message. A checklist, really. He said this was it. The final moment. They needed to prepare. The final, devastating plague was coming. A horrifying event that would release them from their torment. Their moment of deliverance was dawning. God had heard their cries. He saw their suffering. He knew their dire need. And, even if it hadn’t happened the way they thought it should, even if it had taken longer than they wanted, even if the whole series of escapades seemed ridiculous to them, God was working out his purpose. He was delivering them, not on their timetable, but on His. Why? So the entire earth would know He was the omnipotent, sovereign God of the universe and nothing was too difficult for Him. (Exodus 11-12:28)

Surely some wondered if it would be real this time. Would Pharaoh really let them go? Would he let them walk out of Egypt with their livestock and wives and little ones? Beside the sprig of hope, a seed of doubt must surely have tried to take root. They had watched Pharaoh stare down affliction, infestation, and devastation with hardly a raised brow. His heart was clearly made of stone. He didn’t care for his own people, let alone a group of slaves. This game of cat and mouse was clearly all about power for him. After every horror, he simply took a deep breath, flexed his muscles, and foiled their plan of escape again. How would this time be any different? 

Having followed all the instructions of Moses, the Israelites gathered in their homes and waited. Newborn babies held in their arms. Young children asleep on their knees. Parents huddled in silence, waiting for the next instruction, the next guidance, the direction to move. As midnight struck, so did the hand of God. Within minutes, the wailing cries of bereaved Egyptians rang out across the land. There was no mistaking the sounds of mourning as mothers clutched lifeless children to their breasts. Fathers bent in agony over the beds of unbreathing sons. From the palace to the dungeon, death swept the nation. Except in Goshen. Except in the houses of Israel. Except in the places the blood had been applied. And in the aftermath of the midnight atrocity, Pharaoh finally relented. He let God’s people go. 

Everyone in Egypt did. In a “Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?” moment, the Egyptians gladly ushered the Israelites out of Egypt. Immediately. No one tried to keep back one ox, one lamb, one goat, one person. Indeed, their hearts were filled with generosity. They happily gave the soon-to-be travelers gold and silver jewelry and clothing for their journey. Because when God promises deliverance, a rescue, a rout, His strong hand and outstretched arm comes through exponentially. Too bad the Israelites didn’t really learn to trust Him. (Exodus 12:29-42)

It wouldn’t be long before the people who had been gloriously rescued would once again become the people who doubted God’s ability to care for them. They would whine and moan over water and food. They would grow weary in the desert waiting for Moses to reappear and build themselves an idol. They would frustrate and anger both God and Moses regularly. I’d like to say I wonder why. Why did they act like spoiled brats when they knew from past experience that, even if they didn’t understand His plan or see His hand, God was always working on their behalf? As the question falls from my lips, a voice inside my head responds, “Why do you?” (Exodus 14:10-12, 15:22-26, 16-17, 32) 

Good question. Knowing all we do about the miraculous power, the sovereign knowledge, the impeccable timing of God, why do we act like the wilderness wandering Israelites? Why do we throw tantrums every time God doesn’t immediately zap down the answer we want? Why do we assume we know the best timing and methods for every issue in our lives? Why do we immediately think God isn’t doing His job simply because we can’t see Him moving, preparing the way, setting the stage for our own rescue? Why do we think every missed date on our human calendar is a failed promise of God? 

It isn’t. God never misses an appointment. He never breaks a promise. If He said He is bringing deliverance, you can absolutely rest in His word. I don’t know what you are struggling through today. I don’t know what answer to prayer you’ve been waiting on for the last few months or years. I don’t pretend to fully understand the dark valley your soul has been traversing the last few weeks. But I do know this. God sees you. He sees your situation, your fears, your tears, your burdens. Your cries have come up to His ears. Your groans of pain and frustration. Your sighs of anxiety and concern. Your prayers for help, a rescue, a respite have not gone unheard. So hold on. Keep the faith. Trust His word. God is fixing to deliver you. Just as He promised. (Job 5:19-27; Psalm 34:19; Psalm 56:8; I Peter 3:12; Mark 11:22; Isaiah 40:31; Lamentations 3:25-26)