Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

In more than 20 years of parenting and countless moments that warrant correction, I have yet to present any of my children with a list of options and ask them to choose their punishment. Ultimatums, yes. Options, no. In my defense, I was never afforded the opportunity to choose a punishment from a list of options when I was a child either. I don’t know anyone who was. Because I have no experience with the concept, it is not surprising how puzzled I found myself as I read the account of David receiving punishment options. Instead of raining down much-deserved punishment for the deliberate disobedience of numbering his troops, God calmly responds by sending a list of possible punishments from which to choose. 

David was likely caught unawares by this as well. I wonder what crossed his mind as, upon completion of his unadvised census, the prophet, Gad, approached him with God’s list of options? He shouldn’t have been surprised that punishment was coming. David knew he had sinned. It was not an unexpected slip-up. It was not an accidental error. He knew before he numbered the men that it was wrong. He knew as he gave the order that he shouldn’t do it. When Joab urged him to reconsider, he hardened his heart and pressed on. As the final numbers came in, his sin weighed heavy on his heart. In the aftermath, his conscience pricked, David turned to the Lord, begging to be released from the guilty condemnation wracking his soul. (II Samuel 24:1-10)

Wisely, David didn’t ask God not to punish him for his sin. He knew he deserved punishment. But even if he was expecting punishment, he was likely not expecting to choose it from a list. A horribly unattractive list. Not one mild option existed. One was not better than the others. All would end in certain death for thousands of people. Three years of famine. Three months of being chased and hunted by their enemies. Three days of plague. Ghastly options. A torturous choice. David couldn’t make it lightly, couldn’t choose destruction for his people without feeling the inordinate weight of his guilt. It was too much. Responsibility for the lives of his loyal friends and subjects lay heavy on his shoulders. Anxious over his predicament and being forced to acknowledge his own sin had created this abhorrent situation, he makes the only sensible decision. “Let it be God that punishes us, not man. God is merciful, humanity is not.” (II Samuel 24:11-14) And so it was. 

A plague swept across the land. David was left to watch helplessly as his people were struck ill and died. The death toll reached 70,000 men. Still, the angel of the Lord wasn’t done. But God was. As the angel moved to destroy Jerusalem, God’s mercy came to the fore. He called back the angel. Stopped the destruction. Ended the horror. We wonder why. God’s anger had been violently stirred by this flagrant, willful disobedience. So why did He call off the angel of destruction? Why didn’t He just give them the punishment they deserved?  Why did He stay his hand when He was well within the construct of serving just desserts? David answered these questions best when he chose the punishment. God’s mercy doesn’t always give us what we deserve. (II Samuel 24:15-16)

 It’s a good thing, too, this unending mercy of God. We find ourselves in need of it often. Our souls would die without it. It wouldn’t be less than we deserve. Job knew it when he posed the question, “How would it go for you if God examined your heart?” (Job 13:9) What do you deserve in exchange for your innermost thoughts, feelings, habits, secret sins? If God was short on mercy and grace, where would that leave you? What would eternity look like for you then? It takes no genius to answer. It’s quite sobering. If God punished us according to our sins, our eternity would look like hell. Literally. It’s a terrifying thought. 

We don’t hear a lot about hell anymore. Many have decided it doesn’t exist. We have lost sight of Revelation 21:8. Words inspired by God, penned by John, preserved down through time so we could have them as a warning. A warning that sin of every kind from cowardice to lying, adultery to murder, when allowed to flourish in our lives, culminates in death. (James 1:15) Spiritual death in this world. Eternal death in the world to come. We have been warned, yet still we sin. 

It’s not a new development. We are right back to David again. God’s chosen king of Israel. (I Samuel 16) The triumphant warrior child who killed Goliath. (I Samuel 17) The harpist who soothed Saul’s nerves and dodged his spear. (I Samuel 19:10-24) The Psalmist who penned the words of Psalm 18:20, words that sing of being rewarded for his righteousness and clean conscience. We remember the strong king and able leader. We put him on a pedestal. So often we forget that David was no stranger to God’s judgment. He had chosen sin before, incurring God’s wrath and inciting punishment. Painful consequences. Devastating judgment.

Remember the Bathsheba debacle? The affair resulting from lust and greed. The murder resulting from covering up sin. The baby born from an unholy union. The son Bathsheba birthed from her ill-fated affair with the king became deathly ill. For seven long days, David repented, fasted, mourned, and begged God to save his son. Because of David’s sin, the child died. David had firsthand comprehension of punishment for sin. It should have changed his life. It didn’t. Neither his knowledge or experience changed the fact he chose to directly defy God and count his troops. Nothing would change his mind. Joab tried. In desperation, he attempted to appeal to David’s knowledge of the ramifications for violating God’s orders. It was all to no avail. David had clearly forgotten that the wages of sin bring spiritual death. (II Samuel 12:16-18; 24:1-4; Romans 6:23) 

We don’t hear a lot about that anymore either. Sin. We find it difficult to admit it exists outside of violent murder, adultery, embezzlement. We believe we live above it. It takes an act of God to open our hearts and look inside at the things we’ve been ignoring. What we find is disheartening. Bitterness over past wrongs. Anger over present slights. Hidden lust. Pride. Jealousy. Deceit. See, sin doesn’t have to be some outrageous outward act toward another person. Sin is just as deadly to your soul when it is hidden away in the locked closet of your heart. It is just as deserving of punishment. It is just as damning as if it were done openly. Sin brings death. (Proverbs 28:13; Isaiah 59:2)

Except when it doesn’t. Except when our sin, like David’s, brings us to our knees crying out to God in repentance. (II Samuel 24:10) Except when our punishment options look like grace and mercy. Except when God doesn’t punish us according to what we deserve. (Psalm 103:10) When God punishes us less than we deserve. (Ezra 9:13) When God doesn’t just write us off because His love compels Him to be merciful. (Lamentations 3:22) Sin does not, cannot bring death when we seek the Lord in repentance and find abundant pardon through His blood. (Isaiah 55:6-7) Sin brings death, except for God. 

If we are honest with ourselves, we deserve death and hell. Our sin demands it. Our disobedience, our endless following after the world, our lackadaisical thirst for God all insist upon it. Yet as we stand, holding that great list of offenses, deserving of death, Jesus steps in. He takes that daunting litany of dirty deeds from our hands, erases the debts sin has accrued, wipes away the obligations, and forgives our trespasses all in one fluid motion by nailing that list to His cross. (Colossians 2:13-14) Instead of the death we deserve, God sent His only Son to rescue us, change our lives, sit us at His table overflowing with beautiful, sumptuous fruit, and put a banner of love over our heads. We could never earn it, never deserve it, yet there it is. Because God is too merciful to leave us to die in our sin. (John 3:16; Song of Solomon 2:4-5; Titus 3:4-6)

There will be a million times when you will undergo punishment for your ill-advised actions, misjudgments, and outright sins. Eternity doesn’t have to be one of them. For eternity, you have options. Life or death. Heaven or hell. You don’t deserve to choose. None of us do. Yet still God offers. He is gracious and merciful and longsuffering. So choose life. Choose to love God. Choose to listen to His voice. Choose obedience. Choose blessings. In a world where everyone is busy assigning others their just desserts that cannot be escaped. God is offering an eternal option plan. Choose wisely. Choose Jesus and your soul will live. (Deuteronomy 30:19-20; Isaiah 55:3; John 14:6)

It is amazing they didn’t just hunker down for the long haul. Who would have blamed them? Their world was in chaos. Religious persecution was everywhere. They had been mocked and scorned. Falsely accused, they had been arrested, imprisoned, and forced to sit through kangaroo courts. Stephen had been stoned to death for preaching the Gospel. Men were going door to door arresting Jesus followers. Life for the early disciples of Christ was wildly difficult on a good day, nearly unbearable on a bad one. (Acts 4-8)

We wouldn’t blame them if they chose to pack up, move into a cave, and wait out the raging social storm. We wouldn’t fault them for shuttering their windows, blowing out the candles, and pretending to be away. We, in our dense humanity, might even encourage them to hide out, quiet down, be less conspicuous about their faith. Just reading those events shakes us to our core. Not those early followers. 

In the face of intense persecution and possible death, they don’t sit down and shut up. They spread out and keep talking. (Acts 8:4) Their message doesn’t change. They keep preaching what Jesus preached when He was on earth. Repentance. Forgiveness of sins. The indwelling presence of Jesus Christ. (Acts 3:19) They preach change. Change that lasts. Change that can only be found through salvation by faith in the shed blood of Jesus on the cross. Nothing altered that message. 

As they scattered and preached this unchanging message, they were often met with resistance. Over and over again they ran for their lives, only to stop in town after town to spread a message so stirring, so life-changing they couldn’t help but share it. The audience didn’t change the message. Jews and Gentiles. Governor Felix and cloth maker Lydia. King Agrippa and the paralyzed man. (Acts 3, 16, 24, 26) They all received the same message because the message is for everyone. Jesus Christ came to save sinners. (I Timothy 1:15) You are one. I am one. (Romans 3:23) The blood of Jesus is the only antidote. (Hebrews 9:22) At a time when no one would have faulted them for hiding in terrified silence, they ran and taught, too stirred by the potency of their message to keep it to themselves. 

It’s been a lot of years since those first brave Jesus followers took their stand, refusing to be shaken from the truth they knew. A lot has happened since they risked their lives to share a message that burned so brightly in their hearts it couldn’t be extinguished or altered by outside opinions, social pressures, or rocks launched at their heads, intent on death. So much has changed. Religious freedom came to the Western World. We became comfortable, cocksure, complacent. As time passed, we have preached more peace and prosperity than sin and salvation. We have forgotten the shed blood of Jesus. We have crushed the uncomfortable idea of sin. We call it progression. I’m not so sure. 

Regression is more accurate. What we hear today is nothing like what those original fearless followers preached.  Nothing that calls us to change and reformation. Nothing that sets our souls on fire. Nothing that stirs us to the point we have to share it with all and sundry. Today we are much more likely to hide from religious dissent. Capitulate to demands for watered-down beliefs. Alter our theology to fit mainstream ideals. Shaken by the fear of not being liked or accepted, we have quelled the stirring message of the Gospel and replaced it with something that makes everyone feel good but requires nothing of anyone. We have embraced a light version of Jesus. It shows.

Our apathy toward spreading the true gospel of Jesus Christ has brought us to a treacherous state. As people bow to earthly idols of prosperity and popularity, the world lies in wreckage from the rampant havoc of unrestrained evil. It appears to triumph on every side. Choking fear grips society, nurturing anger. Anger breeds hate, pitting people against one another. Violence breaks out in cities all around the world. As the swirling eddy of terrifying news intensifies, we find ourselves running into our homes, our friend circles, our churches, slamming the door and throwing sure the bolt. Feverishly looking for a way to protect ourselves and our loved ones from the alleged coming onslaught, we find ourselves shaken with fear, sick with worry, overcome with anxiety. It seems like a terrifying time to be a Christ-follower.

It is such an exciting time to be a true follower of Jesus Christ. There is so much joy in knowing the God who throughout the entire Bible has delivered His people from trouble over and over again. There is so much peace in resting in the promises of the God who has never failed to keep one word He said. (Numbers 23:19; Joshua 21:45) There is abundant jubilation in the knowledge of forgiven sins and reconciliation with the Father through the shed blood of Jesus on the cross. Unabashed rejoicing in the very same message that so stirred the disciples in Acts that they were willing to risk everything to share it with everyone, because anyone who will, may come. (Revelation 22:17) 

Anyone. Everyone. In Acts 11, Peter shares with his fellow disciples the vision he had of the net full of things deemed unclean. When God told Him to eat of the unclean animals, he, being a stalwart Jew, refused. Three times the net appeared. Three times Peter refused to eat. Three times the message was the same. God doesn’t play favorites. He loves everyone. He died for everyone. And anyone who repents and believes will receive forgiveness. (Acts 10:34-35,43) For Peter and his fellow disciples, it was a command to share the Gospel with the Gentiles. For you and me, it is a command to share the Gospel with everyone, everywhere, no exception. (Acts 10-11)

At a time when the whole world is crying out for something better than the current upheaval, we have the answer, the hope for which they are searching. We should be desperate to share it. We know that God is capable of rescuing people from some significantly noxious places. We know because many of us have been there. We were once those people deemed unworthy, unreachable, undeserving of grace, mercy, love, salvation. Yet someone was so stirred by the change in their own life, by the knowledge of salvation in their own heart, that they talked to us, prayed for us, walked with us until we, too, realized the message of the Gospel could and would change our lives. It excited us then. It should still stir us now. 

We should be excited, stirred to share His message, no matter what is going on in this old world. It’s the greatest message ever told. There is no other like it. No other name under heaven that can save us. (Acts 4:12) From our sins. From ourselves. From our fears and anxieties. Nothing else can do what the message of the Gospel can do. 

Yet we’ve lost sight of it. In the furor of news, politics, and social rage, we’ve forgotten the only news that matters. We’ve forgotten what happened when we knelt at the foot of the cross. We’ve forgotten the rejoicing in Heaven as our names were written in the Book of Life. (Luke 15:10) We’ve forgotten the freedom from burdening sin. We’ve allowed ourselves to be shaken by fear of current events and uncertainties and forgotten the absolute joy that flooded our hearts when we found salvation. We have forgotten the desperate necessity to share it with others. Not to our credit, we have been shaken and shell-shocked instead of stirred and sharing.

It is an amazing, exciting time to be a Jesus follower. It is an amazing, exciting message we have to share. Jesus Christ came to die on a cross so filthy, detestable sinners could inherit spotless, beautiful eternal life. (John 3:16) Me. You. The murderer, the rapist, the angry mob, the politician, the preacher, the philanthropist. Everyone is a sinner. Everyone needs salvation. Everyone can have it through repentance and faith in the shed blood of Jesus Christ at Calvary. (Romans 10:13; Acts 2:21) Let that sink in. Let it stir you more than your fear shakes you. Let it stir you to action. There’s so much to do. So many people who clearly don’t know. The ripest harvest we have ever seen lies before us, but we can only reap it if we are stirred, not shaken. (John 4:35)

Years ago, around the time dinosaurs roamed the earth, I spent a couple of years at a small Christian college. One of the classes my course of study required was Wisdom Literature–a study of Job through Song of Solomon. The professor, a stern, normally unsmiling doctor of theology, would stalk into class each day and start off with the words of Psalm 34:1, “I WILL bless the Lord at all times.” He spoke it just as I wrote it. Emphasis on “will”. As I’m certain it was meant to, it lodged in my mind and has yet to depart. I’ve been saying it that way ever since. “I WILL bless the Lord…”

It causes me pause, though, vowing those words. Saying them is easy. Keeping them, not so much. Not every moment of every day fills me with praise. Sometimes it seems not an ounce of blessing can be found in my barren soul. As I peer through the shadowy darkness of my bedraggled life, I often despair. How do you bless the Lord in times like these? In times when everything that can possibly go wrong, does, indeed, go wrong. When life’s waters are choppy. When I’m buried in a pit of despair. When a shroud of despondency settles over my heart. How do I bless the Lord in the middle of adversity, fear, sorrow, disappointment, pain? Is it even possible to bless the Lord at times like this? 

One of the most intriguing Biblical accounts is that of Job. He’s a pillar among men. His life appears flawless. Perfect integrity. God-fearing. Rejecting evil in all its forms. The father of 10 children and owner of an enormous estate, he was considered the greatest man in his region. Job had it all. Local respect and status. The perfect life. A perfect spiritual pedigree. He was the perfect man. Perfect for unimaginable trials. (Job 1:1-3)

At least God thought so. When Satan comes looking for someone to bother, God actually offers Job on a platter! “Have you looked at Job? He’s perfect.” (Job 1:8) Like a pouting child, Satan pokes out his lower lip, folds his arms over his chest, and bemoans the fact that God’s protection surrounds Job, his family, and all he owns. He goes so far as to allege that Job serves God faithfully only because God prospers him. It’s easy, he points out, to follow God when He is raining beautiful circumstances down on you! In an unprecedented and hugely unexpected move, God agrees to withdraw His hand and allows Satan free rein with everything Job owns. Only Job himself is not to be touched. (Job 1:9-12)

Satan has a field day. Chasing on the heels of one another, escaped servants rush to report calamity after calamity crashing down on Job. His large herds of oxen and donkeys were stolen. His 7,000 sheep were struck by lightning. His 3,000 camels were stolen. His servants died–with the exception of those who escaped to report. His children, all 10 of them, were killed when the house they were partying in collapsed. And Job, upon hearing the news, wracked with grief and overwhelmed with disbelief, shredded his clothes. Shaved his head. Fell to his knees. And worshipped. (Job 1:13-21)

My jaw drops with incredulity. How? How could Job possibly find something, anything, to bless the Lord for in those circumstances? How was his grief not all-encompassing? How is it possible that in all of this, through every worsening report, through the loss of everything he owned and loved, how did Job not cry out in anger, grief, disappointment, pain? How did he manage to stare insurmountable adversity in the face and not sin, not lash out at God? How did he find the strength to bless the Lord in that breathtakingly horrible moment? (Job 1:22) 

But Satan wasn’t done. Angry that his plan had failed and wanting another chance, he takes himself back to lodge a complaint with God. Apparently being wrong once wasn’t enough for Satan. He’s a slow learner. Regardless, he presents himself to God and suggests that Job would surely curse God if he were to fall horribly ill. So God, knowing Job far better than anyone else does, grants permission for him to be struck with miserable, painful illness. Satan does a little jig, strikes Job with boils from his soles to his scalp, and rubs his hands together gleefully thinking surely this will do the trick. Job will fall. In an ugly twist that seems composed by Satan himself, Job’s wife turns against him as well.  His helpmeet, his partner, his last remaining family member, comes to gaze on him in evident disgust and say, “Obviously your dedication to God is misplaced. You might as well give up on Him and die!” (Job 2:1-9) 

Enthroned on a pile of ashes, clothed in rags, scraping oozing sores with a piece of a broken jar, Job made a pitiful picture. Bereft of all his earthly possessions and mourning the loss of his children, he is now worthless to his wife. He is completely alone in the world. Yet in the face of all this adversity, the horror, the pain, Job speaks words of truth that echo down through time to reverberate in our hearts today, “Is it fair to think we will only receive good things if we follow God? Shouldn’t we accept, even expect, adversity as well?” (Job 2:10) 

It is easy to do all the religious things, be grateful, bless the Lord, when our lives are full of unicorns and rainbows. When everything is going well. When we get our way. When the test results are negative, the bonus check comes in. When the cupboards are full, the checking account fat, and the family healthy. It’s easy to bless the Lord in the good times. But can we, do we, choose to bless the Lord in the middle of adversity? Is God not still good when situations are bad? Do we resolve to bless the Lord at all times, no matter what, or do we let our trials define our faith? How can it be possible to bless the Lord when everything around us seems bad?

Perhaps the answer to the conundrum is wrapped up in the words of Job. As he kneels there in his ruined clothing, economically broken, grieving extensive familial loss, Job speaks words we all know but don’t truly grasp. “I was born with nothing. I can take nothing with me when I die. Everything is God’s. He can loan it to us and He can call in the loan. Regardless what He chooses to do. I choose to bless the Lord.” (Job 1:21) Everything, from your pennies to your person, belongs to God. If He is allowing you to borrow it for a while, you have reason to bless the Lord. If He decided to take it back, you have reason to bless Him for the time He allowed you to borrow it. Blessing God during the first is easy. Nothing will be more difficult than blessing Him during the second.  

Over the last 18 months, I have watched two friends journeying through cancer diagnoses. I have seen health fail. Vacations desist. Milestones missed. Frustrations and fears abound. Through it all, I have seen faith flourish. I have watched both individuals, though years apart in age and on opposite ends of the prognosis spectrum, choose to bless the Lord in the middle of their adversity. When life as they know it has changed completely and is possibly slipping away entirely, they still find a way, a reason, to bless the Lord. It is beautifully inspiring. 

Their attitudes have made me introspective–and extrospective. At what point did we become so far removed from God that we blatantly refuse to bless Him? Do we really believe the prosperity gospel telling us there will be no adversity in the life of a believer? What if that adversity is the blessing? What if that adversity changes your life, your world for the better? What if you learn a lesson from a tough situation? What if your adversity helped you breach a gap that seemed uncrossable? Did it heal a relationship? Draw you closer to God? Is adversity awful? Undoubtedly. Is God still worth blessing? Yes upon yes upon yes. 

Adversity is the blessing that draws us to God.  When entitlement runs rampant, when we mistakenly believe God owes us something, when we harbor sin in our hearts, God allows adversity to draw us back to Himself. Toward the end of the book of Job, God speaks. As you read the words, you can almost hear His voice roaring through the whirlwind, reminding Job, and us, that everything in every corner of the universe is the result of His hand. The upkeep of the world is managed by His supreme power. The wind, waves, rain, and sun are at God’s command. Indeed, the whole of creation–planets, animals, and man–all survive and thrive by the acts of God. (Job 38-41) There is every reason to bless the Lord at all times because everything exists through Him and for Him. Without Him, we are nothing. (Nehemiah 9:6; Colossians 1:16; John 1:3)

When the world is in chaotic disorder, when horror story after horror story unfolds before you, when adversity dogs your every step, choose to bless the Lord, to worship, to allow that adversity to draw you closer to God. No matter what comes, what happens in your life, what travesty goes on in the world around you. No matter how tempted or taunted you are by circumstances, people, or the evil one himself. When the outlook is so dark you can find nothing to be grateful for, bless the Lord for the adversity that draws you back to His side over and over and over again. You can make no better choice.   (I Thessalonians 5:18; I Peter 1:6-9; James 1:2-4; Psalm 84:4)

Each day, as we pull out of the school carline, my children have questions for me. “Did you make Jello? Did you go to the store? Did you remember to wash my softball jersey?” A few days ago, when the answers to that day’s questions were negative, my oldest daughter asked the question I hear so often when the things they wish for don’t happen on their schedule, “So what did you do all day, Mom?” 

Admittedly, the question always puts my back up. The beautiful stacks of freshly laundered, neatly folded clothes waiting to be crammed haphazardly into dresser drawers go unnoticed. The clean, orderly house is taken for granted. The from-scratch meals placed before them each night are eaten with relish, but no real comprehension of how much effort it takes to put them there. They aren’t ungrateful children. They express gratitude often. (Especially for food!) What they lack is the understanding that it takes time and planning to create and maintain the pleasant atmosphere we enjoy inside the walls of our little abode. I have been busy, even if they don’t see the specific results they were looking for.

Honestly, we all find ourselves in the same position. Although you may have chuckled at my children’s graceless interest in my day as you read their less than complimentary question, a moment of soul transparency will remind you that you have often posed a similar question. Hopefully not to your mother! Most likely to God. On days when things have gone unbelievably wrong. When the word from the boss’s office wasn’t what you expected. The days when your heart has felt irreparably broken. When you have read the news and looked around at the terrifying social demise of this world. In frustration, in fear, in anxiety, in pain, you threw back your head and screamed up at the heavens, “What are you doing up there anyway? Don’t you see this mess? Why aren’t you fixing this? What have you been doing all day, God?”  

Unfortunately, there is an odd God concept permeating our society. It is the idea of God as a distant Being, completely uninvolved in our lives, our society, our world. We have constructed a mental image of God sitting on a golden, jewel-encrusted, plushly upholstered throne, feet comfortably propped on a neighboring planet, a bowl of popcorn in His lap, watching the goings-on of earth as if it’s the latest blockbuster. We expect Him to simply snap His fingers or wave His hand and make all the “bad” things go away. When He doesn’t, when we don’t get our way immediately, when we think the plan we have made is better than the plan He is implicating, we decide He isn’t invested, doesn’t care. He can’t, we argue, or He wouldn’t let good people suffer. He wouldn’t let bad people prosper. He wouldn’t allow things to get so far off the rails. He’d fix our situation, bestow all our wants within the timeline we have allotted. He’s God, right? He can do anything, right? So what’s He doing all day, anyway?!

The children of Israel must have been at this same crossroads. Trapped as slaves in a country not their own, they found themselves in a wretched situation. Their sons had been ordered slaughtered, breeding fear in every mother’s heart. They were slaving every day to make bricks for an unpleasable Pharaoh. They were gaining nothing of their own, the future was dark. Change didn’t seem to be coming. Their children had nothing to look forward to but abuse and brick building. Hearts burgeoning with the pain of their situation, enshrouded in the feeling of abandonment,  and beleaguered by the bleakness of the future, I wonder how many of them threw back their heads and cried out to Heaven, “What are You doing up there, anyway?”

But God wasn’t just hanging out, gazing at flower gardens and smiling at frolicking animals. Every cry from every broken heart was like an arrow stabbing through to the heart of God. Cries for help. Cries for a rescue. Cries for something more, something better than their current situation. (Exodus 3:7-9) He wasn’t just sitting up there ignoring their brokenhearted wails. No. God was working a plan. Step by step, He worked the plan even when the people were angry with Him, blamed Him for not listening, or nearly gave up hope. God was busy. Around the clock, He worked. Bringing Moses to a place of willingness. Gathering Aaron to help. Giving instructions. Sending opportunities for Pharaoh to obey. Sending plagues when Pharaoh was stiff-necked. From the moment the people began crying out to God, He began working. Even if they couldn’t see the progress, even when they couldn’t see any results, God was working out the plan that would rescue them. 

Their rescue didn’t come overnight. Their release from captivity wasn’t quick. There was no instant gratification, no flicking of the wrist, no snapping of the fingers. It required patience and perseverance. It took strength when Pharaoh doubled the workload. It took multiple rejections of their request. It took a few plagues and some really rough times. It took a sacrifice and a special meal and blood on the doorposts. It took a flight out of Egypt that turned into a narrow escape. Just because it took some time and had to follow a particular pattern didn’t mean God wasn’t listening. Rather, it was proof God was listening. God had a plan. God was working even when human eyes couldn’t see what He was doing. Because God is always busy on humanity’s behalf. (Exodus 1-14)

  We find that concept hard to believe. As society falls farther and farther short of the mark of quality or even remote godliness, a niggling doubt crowds our minds. Perhaps God doesn’t care. Perhaps He’s not invested. As we watch hate and anger boil over, causing mayhem, disaster and death, we wonder if God even notices our dire straits. Suffocating under a shroud of oppressive fears of illness, failure, people, and life itself, we question if God is even aware of what’s going on. When evil sprouts willingly on every corner, in every neighborhood and is condoned instead of condemned, we are tempted to believe He has spun the world into space and left us to fend for ourselves. We can’t see God working through the social disasters happening around us, so we decide that since we can’t see what He is doing, He must be unconcerned. We throw our heads back and holler at the heavens, because surely, if God cared, He’d stop the madness, change the people, fix the mess. What is He doing all day, anyway? 

The answer to our exasperated question lies in the beautiful verbiage of Psalm 68:19, “Day after day He bears our burdens.” (HCSB) Every. Single. Day. We forget that. Somehow we seem to think the sacrifice of Jesus on Calvary for our sin burdens was the end of the burden-bearing. We act like we have to shoulder all the things that trouble us, shake us, beset us on our own. But God didn’t step away after Calvary and leave us to handle the rest by ourselves. At Jesus’ final breath, He didn’t dust His hands together and say, “Well, there, that’s finished.” No. It was just the beginning. He is waiting, daily, to bear our burdens. Not just burdens of sin, but every burden. The anxiety, fear, worry, frustration you’ve been hauling around? Give it to Jesus. That conundrum you don’t share with anyone, but haven’t been able to solve on your own? Bring it to Him. Future uncertainty? Drop it at His feet. He’s happy to bear your burdens, to work on your behalf to bring you peace and rest.  Because bearing your burdens is what God is doing all day. Every day. As long as you will let Him. (Matthew 11:28)

And that’s what it really takes. Letting God do what God does best. Plan. Work. Part waters. (Exodus 14:21) Make donkeys talk. (Numbers 22:21-39) Whatever it takes to get the job done, God will do it. There is no situation that stymies Him or for which He has no answer. There is no cry that goes unheard.(I Peter 3:12) He is touched by our pain. (Psalm 34:18) And He is working, daily, to bring results that honor Him and enrich your walk with God. (Romans 8:28) All you need to do is roll all your cares on Him and allow His strength to sustain you through the good times and the bad. (Psalm 55:22) Because shouldering your burdens and sustaining your soul is what God is doing.  It’s not always easy, trusting God with your burdens and not micromanaging His response. I know. I’ve been there. I’ve done my share of screaming at the heavens. I’m sure I’ll do some more. I’ve also watched God move and work in ways I would never have imagined to accomplish things I could barely believe were possible. But everything, even the impossible, is possible with God. (Matthew 19:26) So go ahead. Throw your burdens down at His feet, trust Him to deal with them and walk on. You don’t have to carry those burdens anymore. That’s not your job. It’s God’s job. He does it every day. All day. That is what He is doing whenever it crosses your mind to ask. 

I’ve just finished slogging through the book of Leviticus for this year. If you have ever taken the time to read it, you likely echo that sentiment. It’s just so much. So many sacrifices and offerings. So many rituals and laws. So many clean and unclean animals. So many statutes and ordinances. My mind gets foggy from one chapter to the next. I find I have questions. How did they keep track of it all? Where did they get all the animals to sacrifice? Was anyone in the priesthood squeamish? Did they ever feel nauseous as the warm blood of yet another animal ran through their fingers? And what, if anything, am I, in the 21st century, supposed to gain from reading the book of Leviticus apart from deep gratitude mingled with relief that we no longer have to sacrifice animal after animal to atone for our sins? 

Admittedly, this is the fourth year in a row I’ve read Leviticus. Four times I’ve read these laws. Four times I’ve been stymied by the list of sacrifices and how to perform them correctly. Four times my mind has drifted every day while reading the endurance of its 27 chapters. Four times I have entered Leviticus with a set jaw and determination to read it again on principle. Few notes. Few lessons. Lots of daydreaming. What could I possibly gain from reading a book about blood and guts sacrifices that made my stomach turn? I always seek to learn something, but what can one learn from this?

Apparently, quite a lot. More than halfway through the book, I came to the final sentence of chapter 16, “Everything was done as the Lord commanded Moses.” (Leviticus 16:34) The words brought me up short in amazement. They did everything exactly like they were told?! There was a lot contained in those first 16 chapters. A lot of laws and ordinances. Specific times and ways to do things. Specific actions required of the priest. Specific offerings brought by the people. So many things to remember. So many things to do. How did they ever do it exactly?

Truthfully, they didn’t have a choice. They needed to do everything according to the instructions God gave them. Their salvation depended on it. At a time when the only way to remain in relationship with God was to obey all the ordinances and statutes He had spoken to Moses, make the sacrifices, observe the holy days, they had no other choice if they wanted to be God’s people. And they very much wanted to be God’s people. He had miraculously rescued them from captivity and slavery in Egypt. He had promised to be their God. He promised they would be His people. His promise had one caveat, they had to obey. (Leviticus 11:44-45; 26:11-13) 

Everything was wrapped up in that obedience. It was obedience that would set them apart, make them holy, designate them as his precious possession. (Exodus 19:5) It was obedience that would make them a people with whom God would make His residence. It would not necessarily be easy. It would involve sacrifice. Not just the ones made on the altar by the priests, either. It would involve personal sacrifice.

In an alarming account that makes my parental heart twist, we see Aaron witness the death of his own sons, Nadab and Abihu, because they chose not to obey. For incomprehensible reasons, they place fire and incense in fire pans and present it, unauthorized, before the Lord. I have no idea what they were thinking. The unfortunate result of their disobedience was immediate, fiery death. As if the story itself isn’t gut-wrenching enough, God instructs Moses that Aaron is not to mourn the loss of his sons. 

It’s unimaginable. I have a son. The loss would be unbearable, the pain intolerable. But being told not to mourn, not to weep, not to allow the shroud of loss to change your countenance? It seems impossible. Aaron could not have been pleased to hear this decree.  Yet, in an act of obedience that garners my hard-earned respect, Aaron does not engage in any of the acts of mourning popular in that day. He keeps his hair from disarray. He doesn’t tear his garments in an outward display of inner agony. He leaves the mourning to those outside the tent of meeting and goes about his duties. Because even when God gives us directions that are less than pleasant, seem unreasonable, or are downright hard, obedience is still what sets us apart as God’s people. (Leviticus 10:1-7)

And we are called to be set apart as God’s people. In a world that eschews sacrifice and obedience, God calls us to engage therein. The God who has delivered us from the miserable slavery of sin, who desires to dwell in us, walk with us, make us His peculiar people, asks just one thing–complete, sacrificial obedience. Obedience to God that sets us apart from the world. The obedience Paul spoke of in his second letter to the Corinthians when he exhorted the believers to obey God and walk pleasing to Him no matter if they were surrounded by believers or encased by the world. (II Corinthians 5:10) The obedience Moses spoke of when he relayed God’s message to the Israelites saying, “Don’t follow the practices of anyone around you. Only follow God.” (Leviticus 18:1-5) An obedience that we, in the easy, no-multiple-sacrifice culture of a 21st century, first world country, find it hard to heed.

Our easy chairs are too comfortable. Our lifestyles are too lush. We are not fans of obedience. We are not lovers of sacrifice. We are thrilled that Jesus died on the cross for our sins, eliminating the necessity of a herd of sheep in the backyard and a bloody sacrifice every week, but we are not thrilled enough to live in unquestioning obedience to His ordinances. We treat His sacrifice with flippancy. We want that forgiveness. We want the promise of Heaven. We decline the obedience. We reject the renouncing of the world. We don’t want to be different, look different, act different. We like fitting in. So we sacrifice the power and awe of being God’s people for the fleeting pleasure of social acceptance. 

Unfortunately, there are consequences. Our souls are starving when they should be flourishing. Our faith is shaky when it should be stalwart. Our witness is tarnished when it should be gleaming. The only way to rectify our mess is obedience. Obedience that brings forgiveness of sins and keeps you in right relationship and fellowship with God. Obedience that makes you remember every law, ordinance, rule, and regulation and keep them meticulously. The kind of obedience that sets you apart from the world and marks you as God’s holy people. A people God dwells in, lives among. A people set apart for His purpose. People that act differently, react properly. A peculiar people.  Because God’s people are different from everyone else. 

Cringing at the word “different”, we ask through gritted teeth, “How different do I have to be?” The answer comes through words spoken to Moses by the God who wanted to set the Israelites apart for Himself, “Don’t follow the customs of the land from which you came. Don’t follow the customs of the land where you are going. Obey me, my words, my laws.” (Leviticus 18:1-5) The answer didn’t change from the Old Testament to the New Testament. Inspired by God, Paul preaches the same thing to us in II Corinthians 6:17, “Come out from among the unbelievers and be separate.” Be different from the world. Let your obedience to God make you stand out from the crowd. Show them Jesus by the way you live your life. 

The situation is this–Your obedience affects more than just you. It affects everyone around you. You are God’s letter to the world. Your obedience, your willingness to be different, may be the only Jesus they see, the only Bible they read. (II Corinthians 3:3) Jesus has called you to be a witness for Him. (Acts 1:8) With that in mind, how do you measure up? How do you act and react? What do you say and do? How do you handle yourself in the face of adversity, criticism, and trauma? Does your life, your propensity to follow God no matter what, properly reflect to whom you belong? Have you chosen a path of obedience, a life as God’s peculiar treasure? Or have you decided to join the world in exchange for your soul? (Matthew 16:26)