God in a Box

As humans, we are experts at labeling, categorizing, and boxing everything--including God. In effect, we limit God. How do we do this?

Box #1 -- Moralism

According to this box, God is the definition of good behavior. He came to turn us into good people. All we have to do is learn right from wrong, good from bad and do what is right and good and religious. Everything is black and white. Every decision is made by asking "What is the Right decision?"

Box #2 -- Heaven's Ticket

Here we have the teaching that God is our ticket to heaven. We believe in Christ in order to merit the place of "eternal bliss" and avoid the eternal fire. What you do on this planet isn't that big of a deal, just hold onto that ticket. You'll need it when you die.

Box #3 -- Candy Man

Similar to box #2, this one tells us that God is our supplier. He is who we go to when we need or want something--our personal Santa Claus. Whether it be a pony, a new car, or whatever, all you have to do is believe and ask. God is here to fulfill your every desire.

Box #4 -- "God"

Something about the term "God" just seems so impersonal. He's up there in the sky...somewhere. He is the embodiment of holiness, the perfect being. Only our definition of perfection is an emotionless robot. This box says that God is a force or a law. No feeling, no personality, no free will--He is constrained by the laws of perfection (who wrote these laws?).

Box #5 -- The "Spirit"

Have you been filled with the spirit? Have you felt the emotional ecstasy of knowing God? Forget doctrine and obedience and all that dull stuff. Just get caught up in the spirit, cause that's what it is all about.

Box #6 -- Emotionalism

Close cousin of the “Spirit” box, this one often runs deceptively under the title “relationship” (as if relationships were all about emotional highs and how you feel). Basically, if you feel close to God then you are. If you don’t, you’re doing it wrong.

Box #7 -- Christology

Who is your Messiah? Christ. Who is your righteousness? Christ. What is the Bible all about? Christ. What about the Father? Christ is God. What about obedience? Christ fulfilled the law. What about family? Christ is my family. How are you going to pay your bills next week? Christ.

Box #8 -- Torahology

How do we learn right from wrong? Torah. How do we know what is pleasing to God? Torah. What is the Bible all about? Torah. What about God? He is in Torah. What about grace? Grace is no excuse for Torahlessness. Who is your Messiah? The Living Torah.

Box #9 -- Knowledge

The goal is to know God, right? So, the more we know about God and theology and doctrine, the more we know God, right? Maybe?

Box #10 -- Beauty

When I look around at the wonder and beauty of creation, all I can do is stand in awe. It is all so overwhelming—to the point becoming the very definition of the Creator. Even worship becomes an object to itself.

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All of these boxes give a glimpse at certain aspects of God. Each one has an element of truth to it. Just enough to be deceptive. But they are all boxes, limiting God. And all of them miss one of the most essential characteristics of God--His desire for a relationship with us. We throw that word around in church so often, do we really know what a relationship with God means?

Four simple words can tell you more about God than all of those boxes combined: Father, King, Husband, Creator. These words describe our relationship with God. And they are concrete--we can relate to them. We know what a father-son relationship is. We know what marriage is. We know the respect and honor due a King. We know how intimately a craftsman knows his creation.

Am I suggesting that God stops here? No. The fullness of God is beyond our comprehension. What I am suggesting is that we start here. Learn to approach God as Father and as King. Fall in love with Him. Our God is caring, imaginative, and passionate. Don't believe me? Read Job 38-41, Ezekiel 16:1-14, Hosea 2:14-23, Deuteronomy 4:24. He is beyond comprehension, but He comes to us in ways we can relate to. We are made in His image--we reflect who He is.

There are so many good things that God has for us and has to teach us. But we must never forget that He is the Living God who loves us--my Father and my King.

Why Yeshua Had To Die (A Kabbalistic Perspective)

For a long time I've asked the asked the question "Why did Yeshua have to die?" Several attempts have been made by various people to answer this question. He had to die to fulfill justice because the wages of sin is death. Or because He walked through the pieces in the Covenant with Abraham and we broke that Covenant. Or in order to remarry Israel after God said her away with a bill of divorcement.

Central to my worldview is the Sovereignty of God. He is the Creator of heaven and earth, the Most High King. He is not bound by any law or any human understanding. We talk of free will--if we who are made in the image of God have any sort of free will, how much more does God who brought forth the heavens from nothing? So, by very definition, I start to have a problem when anyone says "God must do such and such."

The anti-missionaries frequently make the argument that God does not require a sacrifice for atonement--and rightly so. There are numerous examples in Scripture where God forgives without sacrifice. Ezekiel 18 is a favorite. More to the point, why should God be restricted in how He extends forgiveness? Did not God write the Torah and establish the principles of justice? If He did declare that a sacrifice is required, why?

This is where I want to offer some thoughts inspired by the kabbalistic understanding of sacrifice. This won't provide a satisfactory answer to the question of why Yeshua had to die, but I think it will shed some light onto why God may have chosen this method of atonement. To be sure, this is simply one understanding--by no means do I claim it to be the understanding.

The kabbalists cite two reasons for the sacrifices. The first is to move the heart to repentance. The act of shedding the blood of this innocent animal shows the gravity of sin and the importance of walking in God's Torah. This same concept can apply to Yeshua. In order to keep a consistent message, God has to show that sin is not a trivial matter that can simply be winked away. The idea that sin must be punished is not an arbitrary justice system, but rather a disciplinary teaching to keep our eyes on the path--to instill in our hearts how important it is to fear God.

How does one reconcile disciplinary justice with mercy? In the TNK, we see several examples of this. Sometimes the punishment is lessened or delayed. For example, when Moses pleads for Israel over the golden calf, God extends mercy but still promises to visit their iniquity upon them at a later date. The sacrificial system is another example, where unintentional sin is forgiven on the basis of repentance and sacrifice. It is said that a piece of our animal soul is placed on the altar with the sacrifice. It is after this pattern that the sacrifice of Yeshua follows. Mercy was extended, but in order to preserve disciplinary justice and show that sin is no trivial matter, God offered up His Son as payment. But this is only meaningful if we do as Paul said and die to ourselves in Yeshua--if we place a part of our soul upon that cross so that our hearts may be moved to repentance. Otherwise, it is to us as the vain offerings that Isaiah speaks of and we find ourselves guilty of trampling upon the blood of Yeshua. I will return to this idea of dying with Messiah, but first let's go on to the second principle.

It seems the kabbalists are never satisfied with such a simple explanation as that put forward above, so they also claim that through sacrifice the soul of the animal is elevated in holiness. I find this curious because we find exactly the same idea being taught about Yeshua. In the last section of Isaiah 53 we find that because the suffering servant poured himself to death for his people, he earned himself a position of honor. This is echoed in Revelation 5:9-10 where it is stated that only the Lamb is worthy to open the scroll, not simply because of who He is, but because of what He did on the cross. This is the kabblistic principle that to go up you must first go down, to become refined you must pass through fire.

In doing so, Yeshua set an example for us. Over and over, Yeshua taught an upside down Kingdom where the one who would be first must make himself last, the one who would be greatest must make himself a servant, the one who would save his life must lose it. The one who will be a part of the Resurrection of Messiah must take part in His death. This is the command to take up our cross daily, deny ourselves, and follow Him.

One of the fundamental misunderstandings of Christ's atonement that I frequently see is that "Christ died for my sin so I don't have to." While in a sense this is true--He did take away the full punishment of sin--it is incomplete for we are still required to die to self. Romans 6:3, "Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus have been baptized into His death?" This is where other explanations for Yeshua's atoning sacrifice fall short and why I think the ideas presented here are important. The matter is not purely academic; there are practical implications. If Yeshua was simply a substitute, then what is our role? But if He was also the firstfruits, the forerunner setting the example for us all, then it is for us to follow in His footsteps--Fearing God and denying our own selfish desires; taking on the form of a servant that we might be raised with Him in glory.

Puzzle Pieces

I've heard it said that each of us holds a piece to the puzzle. I believe that each of us *is* a piece to the puzzle. Torah is all about bringing those pieces together, about teaching us to look outside ourselves and create real connections with other human beings.

The adversary opposes this. He will tell you that you stand alone as the whole in yourself. Or that you are misshapen and unfit for the Creator's masterpiece. He will try to force you into holes that you do not fit to dishearten you. He will point out how different everyone else is and tell you that they must conform or that you must conform. He works with fear and pride--fear that you are mangled and do not belong; pride that you exist for yourself or as head of the puzzle. This is the lie.

Torah teaches us to Shema, to listen. To hear another for who they really are, to understand them. To walk in their shoes as Messiah walked in ours. To identify with their struggle, their pain, their joy, and their dreams. That means that sometimes we have to be still and listen. We have to stop talking like we know it all and admit that we can never completely understand the journey of another. We have to stop judging each other because we do not look alike, do not act alike, do not believe alike. The truth is that each one of us has a unique role in the story that our Creator is painting across the canvas of life--a role inseparable from the lives of others.

Torah is about relationship. The opposite of Torah is self-centeredness. Torah is about reaching out, courageously taking the hand of another and recognizing the signature of divine within that person. This is love.

Doorkeeper

I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God
than dwell in the tents of wickedness. -- Psalm 84:10b

I've always wanted to be a world changer, to do something great for God. Anything less seems like a waste of time and energy.

When I was younger I went on several mission trips with dreams of becoming a missionary. Not a single salvation can be attributed to my presence there. Holding on to thoughts of helping the less fortunate, I thought about pursuing a career as a doctor. I had plans to take some classes in this field at the local vo-tech. However, I didn't meet the age requirement and was diverted to an engineering class (looking back, I'm pretty sure it was for the best).

I've gone on reading books about radical Christianity, wondering why can't we just give our all and do great things for God right here in our towns. Seems like there is just so much we could do if we just were not afraid / not selfish / more compassionate / [insert missing component here]. There's always something holding me back it seems. And so, I live in a constant state of failure.

____________________
"Better a doorkeeper..."

Last year, this phrase started playing over and over in my mind. I'm not sure why. Perhaps God was trying to tell me something. Every once in a while the words will come back: "Remember...better a doorkeeper..." These words would come to mean so much to me.

____________________
"I'm willing to serve, but on my terms."

Coming to Norman, I had my own ideas of how I would serve God. I was going to start community, get involved in church, help the less fortunate, start my writing career. These were my plans. A year later, there is no community and my church attendance is erratic at best. I did find a food pantry to help at occasionally, but none of this was how I dreamed. I still feel like I'm sitting here idling.

I wanted to change the world from my little apartment. Or at least my town. Or even just the apartment complex. Seems I can't even get to know my neighbor. My plans had fallen flat. When you get right down to it, I was trying to impress God. "Look, God, at how much I can do for you!" When we seek to impress or call out for attention, we forget who God made us to be.

____________________
"If I cannot step outside these four walls to be a blessing to people, then I will be a blessing to others from within these four walls."

I wrote the words above as I struggled with the failure of my plans. The truth is I'm not an outgoing person. I am more comfortable typing than talking. That's how God made me. It is not for me to rebel and say "Why didn't you make me like him or her. Why didn't you make me so that I could do this or that." God has given me talents--I can choose to use them or bury them as I despair over my failure to do things I was never meant to do. I can scold myself for not walking up and talking to a stranger or I can use my energy to write a note to a friend.

The problem is my pride. I want to do something that I see as great, that will earn a name for me or make me feel fulfilled, like I've done something that really mattered. And so, "Great" becomes the goal. A doorkeeper isn't good enough.

____________________
"Some days the only thing that keeps me going is knowing that I have made a difference in somebody's life."

This is the one thing I keep coming back to. I may have made a failure out of all my projects, all my schemes of greatness. But I know that I have made a difference in somebody's life. And for that it is all worth it.

That's what it means to be a doorkeeper. To live without worry of how you measure up to the standard, of how "great" your deeds will be, of how you will measure up to other believers--but simply be light. I would rather make a difference in one person's life than speak to thousands who simply nod and applaud.

Whatever you have to offer, however insignificant it may seem--give that. Don't try to give what you don't have or to be someone else. Just do what you can, day by day. Let go of pride. Be the least. Be a doorkeeper.

Writer's Bane (or "Not Writing")

Here I sit at my desk, surfing Facebook while cooking stir-fry and doing laundry. And writing. Well, writing about not writing. I have an email starred in my inbox labeled "How to write whether you feel like it or not." I read it once, then marked it as something to come back to later...that was about a month ago.

If you look online you'll find the majority of articles on writing are about overcoming the myth of "writer's block" (aka procrastination), each of them claiming to hold the secret to jump starting your writing career (each one written in the same self-help format that I rarely find helpful). Of course, in the end they all come back to the same fool-proof principle: Just write. So that is what I am doing. Writing about not writing.

Sometimes I write because I have to. Because it is the only thing that will keep my mind from descending into insanity. Some of my better blog posts have come out of these journaling sessions. But sometimes I write because I have a story to share. Those are the hard kind to write. They take time, lots of time, to get them just right. And writing them is a lonely endeavor.

And then there's the fact that I'm still figuring out my writing process (writing a story is not quite as linear as you would expect).

If only I could convince myself to write short stories (something more fit to my level of patience). But, no. I want write novels. And not just one novel--a whole series of them. Maybe even a series of series. A trilogy here, a heptalogy there...

How is it that last year I was able to write a novella in a month and now I can't seem to write anything? Last year I wrote during NaNoWriMo. There were deadlines. There was community. There was craziness and I was out of my mind (and the dishes piled up).

And, so, instead of writing, I am "not writing." I could go on, but I will end lest my "not writing" become excessively long, and you become excessively bored and never read anything I write (or don't write) ever again for fear of boredom.

The Page That Divides Us

Over the last few weeks, I've been involved in a few discussions regarding Messiah and his identity. Conversations where the veracity of the New Testament and the role of Yeshua have come under question. It doesn't take much for these kinds of conversations to turn sour. Heaven and Hell seemingly hang in the balance; one is called an idolater, the other accused of denying the Son of God.

To dismiss the question would be to ignore the Sovereignty of our One God. If God had a son, would He not take issue with those spoke against his son? On the other hand, would God tolerate us giving our worship to an impostor? Someone is right and someone is wrong, the question is not easy and the ramifications are not simple. And yet, we should all be wary lest we turn against our brother with hatred and deny the character of God in our hearts and our speech. We tread on thin ice. No wonder our culture has signed an unwritten agreement of silence. But we cannot be silent.

Too often we relegate God to the background in our discussions. We do this in different ways. Sometimes we use Him as a symbol for all that is good and moral. As love takes the place of God, our Father becomes nothing more than a metaphor to hold us together, and the differences are smoothed over as irrelevant. Sometimes we run out ahead in our zeal for truth. We take it up as our divine duty to uphold the truth against all who would dare deny it. Truth becomes our Master and the will of our Father is forgotten. God is Love. God is Truth. God is NOT an abstract idea.

He is our Father and our King.
We are His children--brothers and sisters trying our best to serve One God.

___________________________________

I want to tell you about this friend I have. He's a pretty cool guy, loves to dance. He cares about this earth and extends kindness to everyone he meets, but a bully he will not tolerate. He saved my life once. Those who have never met my friend claim he is imaginary--like santa, either a harmless fairy tale or dangerous lie. But I have met him and he is real. You might think he would be angry that there are people who would deny his very existence. He hasn't spoken to me too much on this issue except for this: whoever is a friend to me is a friend to him.

This illustration is probably overly simplified, to be sure. The point is that we are not simply arguing about ideas and theologies--we're talking about a person. My Dad has said that a person who denies Yeshua has never truly met Him. It seems so absolute and so irrational--it grates our logical culture of tolerance. And yet, if He truly sits in heaven speaking on our behalf, no less can be true. We can question, challenge, and midrash all we want (and we should), but in the end each one of us has his own unique relationship with the Creator.

Walking On Water

Sometimes the plans we make don't always pan out like we hoped. Like this holiness series I started on my blog for the omer count. For the first two weeks I felt like what I was writing and what I was learning went hand in hand. After that, my posts felt more and more forced. God is continuing to teach me and grow me, but instead accepting that, I try to continue with my own pre-planned agenda.

Today is the 36th day of the omer. Over the last 35 days, I've drafted up two or three blog posts that I never published (and probably won't publish). One's called "My boat" in reference to Peter walking on water with Yeshua. The other is called "Poor in Spirit", the first of the beatitudes. The third one I already deleted some time ago. I bring this up because these drafts were the kind that are written as an outlet for myself rather than a show for everyone else. Both of them center on my lack of faith.

I don't think it's God's power that I have trouble believing. I mean, He created the universe--is it such a far leap to say He can do whatever He wills with it? Nor is it His wisdom. How can an omniscient God not be wise beyond our understanding? I think the part that is hardest to believe is His love.

Why would an omniscient, omnipotent, ever-present God, the King of the universe, whose voice most of the time I cannot hear--why would He care to attend to the details of my life? When I approach Him in prayer, I always hasten to say at the end of each request "not my will, but yours" and then wonder, why am I making the request in the first place if His will is just going to override mine?

A few things God put in my hands these last few weeks: A book about George Muller. He ran an orphanage in Bristol. He started for one primary purpose--to prove that it could be done by solely relying on God. The way he prayed and the way God answered his prayers are just amazing. Everything George prayed for he jotted down in a journal, and then when God answered he jotted that down next to the request. What's most amazing about his story is that he started out in his youth as a crook who thought prayer to be childish. God transformed this man into an amazing example of faith and prayer.

A verse from the book of Matthew: "And Peter answered him, 'Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water'" (Matt. 14:28). Command me to leave the safety of my boat to walk on the unsteady waves? Did Peter seriously just ask God to pull out his safety net, his security blanket from under him? The culture today says "God expects you to take care of yourself." That if we do not build our boats securely, we will sink beneath the crashing waves. That those who say they will walk on the water are either too lazy or too naive to build a sturdy boat. But to intentionally ask God to teach me to fully rely on Him--well, that's a dangerous prayer.

Truth be told, I don't know how to walk on water and I don't know George Muller's "formula" for successful prayer. Most of the time, I don't even know how to listen for God's voice. So, I fall back on what God taught me several years ago: "Even if you fall, I will catch you." Because of that, one thing that I can believe God for is that He will not desert me and leave me to my own devices. That He will not give up on me. And through His infinite wisdom, He will find a way to get through my thick skull and soften my hard heart and get me to a place where I can grow (after all, He knows me inside and out).

Maybe if I stop trying to force my own self-growth plan and let the Father do His work in me. Maybe if I stop trying to figure it all out for myself and just trust Him to guide me. It's like that first year of piano lessons, when you want so badly to play something epically awesome, but instead you feel stuck playing scales and learning the basics. And you just "know" that if your teacher let you jump ahead to the hard stuff that you could do it. And maybe you could learn to play one or two songs like that--but the learning would not be the same. In my efforts to live righteously, it's the same thing. I feel like there's no time to be playing around with the small stuff--that I've got to learn it all at once. But that's not how growing works. Most of the time growth is so slow you hardly even notice it is happening. And this can result in the feeling of going nowhere. That's when you have to trust that God is doing His work in you. Imperceptible sometimes, but very real.

So, I won't despair over comparing myself to Muller or other believers, but thank God for such people and the encouragement I can find in their stories. And I may not know the first thing about walking on water (I'm not sure Peter did either), but I will pray that God will call me out onto the waves so that I may learn to fully trust Him. And when I fall, as Peter did, I know His arms will be there to catch me.