The Adventure of Discipleship

The book of Genesis begins God’s story with Adam and Eve, created to be vice-regents¹ of the earth. Instead, they chose to be co-regents², co-opting God’s story into their story. Our default human condition is that we are writing our story. Life is about us. 

The gospel invitation is not merely about forgiving sin; it’s a profound, transformative call to return home and reintegrate into God’s story. It’s a shift from living our own story, where our significance is limited, to living our story as an integral part of God’s grand meta-narrative. This shift in perspective will redefine our lives.

John’s Gospel presents a unique story from the early days of Christ’s ministry (John 2:1-11). It’s a familiar account of a Cana wedding where Jesus and a few of his disciples were guests. Mary, his mother, played a logistical role and informed Jesus when the wine ran out.   Jesus, in response to her request, sent some servants to fill empty pots with water. The miracle occurred when the pots were full: the water turned into aged wine, bringing joy to the guests, confusion to the head waiter, relief to the bridegroom, and gratification to Mary. 

There are several ways to interpret this story.

1. Jesus wants to be involved in our everyday lives.  By attending the wedding and using his power to make it successful, Jesus shows that God wants to fill our lives with joy and even override the laws of nature to ensure our happiness. Jesus is the new wine of joy that never runs out.
2. Jesus answers prayer. Mary’s request (prayer) demonstrated faith that her son would meet her needs. She didn’t argue, plead, or manipulate when he pushed back at the timing; she confidently told the servants to do what he said and walked away. Jesus answered Mary’s prayer, and he will answer ours.

Although the above two lenses certainly have valid implications from the story, they are not the lenses that John uses. He gives his purpose in verse 11. “This beginning of His signs Jesus did in Cana of Galilee, and revealed His glory; and His disciples believed in Him” (John 2:11).

The wedding narrative tells Jesus’s story. The people in it are supporting cast, not the featured role. This story and the miracle in it gives the disciples, Mary, the servants, and us a glimpse into the nature of the One called Jesus. The guests left happy but probably ignorant of Jesus’s miracle power. Only later, as the story got out (likely from the servants who handled the water detail), would they learn of the miracle. As the story got around, people may or may not have believed the claim, but a few close followers of Jesus did. “He revealed his glory, and the disciples believed in him.”

Jesus’s revelation of his glory at the wedding in Cana was part of the larger story that he refers to in his John 17 prayer: “I glorified You on the earth by accomplishing the work which You have given Me to do…I have revealed Your name to the men whom You gave Me out of the world” (John 17:4-6).

The narrative of The Exodus is another classic example of “Whose story is it?”  Pharoah thought it was about him. The Hebrews thought it was about them. But maybe not. Between the plague of boils and hail, Moses tells Pharoah, “This is what the LORD, the God of the Hebrews, says: Let my people go, so they can worship me. If you don’t, I will send more plagues on you and your officials and your people. Then you will know that there is no one like me in all the earth. By now I could have lifted my hand and struck you and your people with a plague to wipe you off the face of the earth. But I have spared you for a purpose—to show you my power and to spread my fame throughout the earth” (Exodus 9:13-16).

The story is not about Pharoah, Egypt, Moses, the Hebrews, or freedom. It is about YHWH and the glory of his name throughout the earth; everyone and everything else is a supporting cast member. Although not believed, Moses tells Pharoah that his significance lies only in telling God’s story.

Later in the Exodus, with Joshua replacing Moses as leader, the Israelites are finally poised to enter the Promised Land. Crossing the Jordan River, they encounter the fortified city of Jericho. As the leader of Israel’s army, Joshua prepares for battle by inspecting the battle scene; suddenly, he is surprised by a warrior who stands in front of him, sword drawn, ready to fight. 

Joshua challenged the man with the question, “Are you a friend or foe?”  Joshua wanted to know if this warrior was an ally or part of the competition. A binary question:  A or B? The warrior replied, “Neither. I am the commander of the LORD’s army (Option C!).” 

Joshua wanted to know whose side this warrior was on, Israel or Jericho. The answer was that it wasn’t about either Jericho or Israel. It was about God. And with that, Joshua “fell with his face to the ground in reverence. “I am at your command,” Joshua said. “What do you want your servant to do?” The commander of the LORD’s army replied, “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy.” And Joshua did as he was told “(Joshua 5:14-15). He got back into God’s story, ready to play his part. Joshua and Moses illustrate how we can easily co-opt God’s story and make it about us even when committed to God’s mission.

Another example comes from a famous hymn I often heard growing up: “In the Garden.” The song’s lyrics are based on Jesus’ appearance to Mary Magdalene in the garden after his resurrection (John 21). 

I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses. And the voice I hear, falling on my ear, the Son of God discloses.

And He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own. And the joy we share as we tarry there none other has ever known.

The song paints a pastoral scene of intimacy with Jesus, just Jesus and me, where he reassures me that I am loved, cared for, and part of his family.

All the above is true but not part of the resurrection story. In all four Gospel accounts of the post-resurrection scene in the garden, men (angels) and Jesus encounter both Marys, instructing them not to “tarry” but to immediately tell others that Jesus is risen and about to ascend to his Father. The story is not about making the supporting cast comfy but about making Jesus visible.

So, whose story are we telling? Discovering God in the landscapes of our lives is God’s gift to us as supporting cast members. As we lift him up and tell his story, we get the privilege of knowing him.

¹  A deputy regent, a person who acts in the place of a ruler, governor, or sovereign (Collins)

²  A coregency is a situation where a monarchical position, usually held by only one person, is held by two or more (Wikipedia).

For Reflection

1.  Can you think of other people in the biblical narrative who tried to co-opt God’s story?

•  Describe a time when you struggled to fit into God’s story.

As we conclude this series on discovering God in life’s landscapes, I want to reflect on the enigmatic story of Job from the Old Testament. This narrative, often considered the oldest in Scripture, likely unfolded during the time of the Patriarchs, could be called the Song of Job with the initial chapters acting as a prologue, presenting a context that Job himself would not have known.

As readers, we are given a snapshot of the cosmic conflict, a proxy war, between God and Satan that touches the life of a worshipper of YHWH. The prologue to Job’s story provides only sketchy information about the man called Job. We are not told how he became a believer in YHWH, but we are told that his faith in God was known to God and Satan, becoming a case study in the authenticity of YHWH worshippers.  Satan claimed that people worship God only for his benefits; take away God’s blessings, and they will reject him like all other unbelievers.

If the book’s central teaching were about this cosmic battle, we would expect the end to return to the initial discussion, in which God now declares victory, claiming Job is the real deal and his worship authentic. God wins, Satan loses—the end. But it does not. Satan had one plan, but God had another. Job was not just the victim of a proxy battle between God and Satan.  God takes Satan’s attack on Job and turns it into a blessing.  Job’s sacred song is an early example of the promise in Romans 8:28-29: “And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.”

The book also illustrates that all suffering is not the consequence of sin or divine punishment. It raises timeless issues related to life on the resurrection side of the cross, such as suffering, justice, empathy, evil, God’s goodness, and sovereignty.

However, there is one theme that turns Job’s story into a sacred song. It is succinctly expressed in a closing verse in the last chapter. It is Job’s summary statement after his requested and long-awaited audience with God. Job’s “ah ha” moment was not regarding his pressing question of justice; it was about discovery itself.

I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees You (Job 42:5).

There are several questions we could ask considering Job’s conclusion.

1. What did he see?
2. How did he see it?
3. Why did he see it?
4. What is the difference between hearing and seeing?
5. What was the difference in Job’s faith in chapters 1-2 and 42?

Job’s journey is not just about suffering and faith but about a deepening relationship with God through discovery.  He identifies a transition from a distant understanding of God to a personal, intimate knowledge.  At the onset of his trials, he boldly declares to his wife, who has already abandoned her faith, that “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I shall return there. The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the name of the LORD” (Job 1:21). 

We could wonder if that was a popular mantra among YHWY worshippers in Job’s community. Maybe it was like the Apostle’s Creed recited in worship services today, a truth that is heard by “the hearing of the ear” but not yet seen with the eye.  Job had heard about God and was a paradigm of a YHWH worshipper; otherwise, he would not have come to the attention of Satan.  But likely, his knowing God was secondhand.  He could say, “God is _____,” but he had yet to say, “God is my ______.”

God used the stormy landscape of suffering to change doctrine into experience.  Job testifies that in the beginning, he had faith in the head, but now it was faith in the heart.  Job’s song was not about the deliverance from suffering but the discovery of God in suffering.  What Job sees with the eyes of his heart is the real YHWH.

Job claims that in the landscape of suffering, he gains a glimpse of the glory of God.  Upon “seeing” YHWH, his response is like Isaiah’s.  “I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, lofty and exalted, with the train of His robe filling the temple. …. Then I said, “Woe to me, for I am ruined! Because I am a man of unclean lips, And I live among a people of unclean lips; For my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of armies” (Isaiah 6:1-5). I think Job’s sacred song would include the words, “You are sovereign without explanation, good without benefits.”

Job’s sacred song teaches us that God wants to be discovered intimately, not as we would at times like him to be, but as he is.  Job wanted a God he could rationalize, explain, and debate with.  He wanted a God like, well, like himself.  Job’s song claims that we are created in God’s image, not God in ours, that there is a sovereign God of the cosmos, and it is not Job (or us). 

I sense in Job’s encounter with God, a sigh of relief.  He could now stop trying to manage the universe and let God do it.  He did not have to explain to his friends why God does what God does.  His simple faith answer to the question of “Why do good people suffer?” is, “I don’t really know.”  But Job did know by firsthand experience, with the eye of his heart, that there is a God who was both transcendent and immanent, beyond explanation but not beyond knowing.

Job’s sacred song has been sung down through the millenniums of history as a witness and catalyst to the discovery of the glory of God. I think Job would say to us, “Listen to my song and then compose your own.  Let your song echo down through the pages of your history to those in your relational network.” 

God wants us to discover his glory, and he needs and uses a variety of landscapes to do it.  As we look with the eye of faith, we can say with Job, “I have heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you.”

For Reflection

1.  How would you describe what Job saw (Job 42:5)?
2.  Describe a time in your life when you felt like Job.

Failing to remember is often a trait of old age or children. However, aside from normal forgetfulness, we too often forget what we should remember and remember what we should forget. To enhance our memories and keep us from forgetting, we use various methods: scrapbooks, trophies, certificates, and bracelets, to name a few. They each help us recall an event or accomplishment that conveys part of our life story. 

Every generation also uses artistic skills and technology to create pictures or take photographs to remember important events.  Today, of course, our pictures are stored in the memory banks of cell phones and computers where (theoretically) we can access them easily.    

On the other hand, nations use national holidays to trigger memories of the past. Holidays are essential because they anchor us in history and remind us of our identity. Our Judeo-Christian heritage is full of special holidays that remind us of important aspects of our faith, the most obvious ones being Christmas and Easter

Old Testament patriarchs accomplished the same goal by building altars of remembrance when they had a specific encounter with God.  Abraham built at least four altars.  Sometimes these altars were accompanied by giving God a name to commemorate how he showed up.  The altar Abraham built on Mt. Moriah is a good example.  God provided a ram as a sacrifice in place of Isaac, and Abraham appropriately named that altar “God sees and provides” (Jehovah Jireh).

In preparation for the Israelites entering the Promised Land, Moses gave them two final instructions.  The first was to remember and obey all God’s commands (Deuteronomy 4:1), and the second was not to forget all God had done for them.  “But watch out!  Be careful never to forget what you yourself have seen.  Do not let these memories escape from your mind as long as you live!” Notice he went on to say… “be sure to pass them on to your children and grandchildren” (Deuteronomy 4:9 NLT). 

God established several celebrations and festivals (at least seven) to help the Israelites remember how he delivered them from Egypt and brought them to the Promised Land.  The Passover is probably the most familiar.  However, when future generations forgot to celebrate the Passover and all it symbolized, they drifted into idolatry. 

Another memory marker comes from the story of Israel crossing the Jordan River to enter the Promised Land.  God specifically told Joshua to have the elders take 12 stones from the river bottom and pile them up to create a memorial. 

Joshua directed them, “Cross to the middle of the Jordan and take your place in front of the Chest of GOD, your God.  Each of you heft a stone to your shoulder, a stone for each of the tribes of the People of Israel, so you’ll have something later to mark the occasion.  When your children ask you, ‘What are these stones to you?’ you’ll say, ‘The flow of the Jordan was stopped in front of the Chest of the Covenant of GOD as it crossed the Jordan—stopped in its tracks.  These stones are a permanent memorial for the People of Israel.'” (Joshua 4:5-7 MSG). 

The Psalmist echoes this theme in Psalm 78:2-8 (NASB)   

“I will open my mouth in a parable; I will tell riddles of old, which we have heard and known, and our fathers have told us.  We will not conceal them from their children, but we will tell the generation to come the praises of the LORD, and His power and His wondrous works that He has done.  For He established a testimony in Jacob and appointed a law in Israel, Which He commanded our fathers that they were to teach them to their children so that the generation to come would know, the children yet to be born, that they would arise and tell them to their children, so that they would put their confidence in God And not forget the works of God…”

Like the Old Testament, the New Testament also has its celebrations for remembering; the most familiar is often called the “Lord’s Table.”  

“And he (Jesus) took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you.  Do this in remembrance of me.” And likewise, the cup after they had eaten, saying, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.  Drink in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19-20). 

In all the above examples, God uses specific symbols to help people remember his calling. The Passover celebration, the Feast of Booths, and the Lord’s Table are full of symbols.

Those are biblical examples, but what about us today?  What stories can we tell about how God showed up in our past?  What are our “memorial stones” that cause our children to ask, “What are these for?”  God knew that Israel needed memory aids to help them remember; so do we.  We may forget significant encounters with God in our past because we fail to recognize them in the first place, and/ or we fail to create appropriate “piles of stones” that trigger our ability to remember.

It should be noted, however, that remembering how God showed up in our past defining moments is more than just recalling events.  If we only recall the defining moments/the stories, we, by default, get the credit for whatever happened.  The story soon becomes all about us and little or nothing about God. 

Nehemiah 9 gives us an excellent example of remembering how God showed up.  After Nehemiah rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem, a revival broke out, and the people gathered to listen to the priests read Scripture.  Part of their celebration was recalling how God showed up in the past.  Read that chapter and notice that God is repeatedly credited for his intervention.  The people not only identified how God showed up, but they also declared an attribute of God or gave him a name, thereby giving him the glory for what he did.

We can also use symbols as triggers that help us connect with what we need to remember.  Over our journey, my wife, Mary, has created several scrapbooks containing pictures that symbolize God’s divine touch on our lives.  One is a picture of an old barn on the property God provided in our move to Kansas City. The old barn triggered a long list of divine touches on our family journey when our children were growing up.  The old barn is no longer standing, but the symbol is.   We love to pull out that scrapbook when the grandkids are over and show them pictures of the old barn.  In the motif of Joshua’s pile of rocks at the Jordan River, when the grandkids say, “Why is that old barn in your scrapbook, grandma?” she can say, “Well, let me tell you the story of how God put his divine touch on our journey back when your mom and dad were your age.”

In addition to giving God the glory and passing on to others what God has done, there is another reason why remembering is so essential for us.  In Deuteronomy 8, Moses continues to remind the Israelites not to forget, but this time, he includes a warning against hubris. 

When you have eaten your fill, be sure to praise the LORD your God for the good land he has given you.  “But that is the time to be careful!  Beware that in your plenty you do not forget the LORD your God … For when you have become full and prosperous and have built fine homes to live in, and when your flocks and herds have become very large …, be careful!  Do not become proud at that time and forget the LORD your God, who rescued you from slavery in the land of Egypt (Deuteronomy 8:10-16).

Does that not sound familiar? Our culture not only does not give God credit for our country’s successes but also denies that God had anything to do with them. The attitude in America is that we are so wealthy and strong we do not need God. We must not follow this example and become proud and self-satisfied with our accomplishments, which breeds an attitude of self-reliance rather than reliance on God.    

God is the Almighty and faithful Father who must be central to our life story.  Otherwise, we rob our children and grandchildren of the real power behind our story; the real meaning is lost, and our story is no longer a sacred song.

For Reflection

1.  What stands out to you from reading Nehemiah 9?
2.  Describe a “pile of rocks” that you have created to help you remember.

To stress the effect of a single, lone punctuation mark on the meaning of a sentence, English teachers, throughout the decades, have passed on an anecdote from the telegraph age.

In the mid-19th century, the telegraph was the internet of the day. It first spanned the continent and then reached Europe with the transatlantic cable. Priced by the word, it was costly, necessitating short, abbreviated messages. One version of this anecdote is as follows.

The Price of a Comma

A woman touring Europe cabled her husband the following message: “Have found wonderful bracelet. Price seventy-five thousand dollars. May I buy it?”

Her husband immediately responded with the message: “No, price too high.” However, the telegraph operator missed one small detail in his transmission — the signal for a comma after the word “No.”

The wife in Europe received the reply: “No price too high.” Elated by the good news, she bought the bracelet. When she returned to the United States and showed the new bracelet to her shocked husband, he filed a lawsuit against the telegraph company — and won!

From then on, telegraph rules required operators to spell punctuation rather than use symbols. No price was too high to avoid the same mistake.

The last blog discussed four “Spiritual Rules of Grammar.”  In this blog, I want to identify one more. This rule is frequently violated and often brings about unintended consequences of a “price too high.”

Rule #5:  Don’t turn a sentence into a paragraph. (Paul in Acts 21; King Saul in 1 Samuel 13,14; Elisha/servant in 2 Kings 6)

We have a tendency (learned or innate) to build a big picture from a small piece of information, even a single sentence. From this snapshot, we create an entire paragraph or a whole movie. 

During my year in Vietnam, I would send home small cassette tape reels that I usually recorded at night. It took a few weeks for the tapes to reach my parents in Iowa and another two weeks to get their reply. Therefore, several months passed before I learned that my parents heard explosions in the background of my taped messages. They assumed that, since I was in a war zone, I was under attack each time I made a recording. Once I learned of their concern, I explained that they heard outgoing artillery, not incoming. Extrapolating a sentence into a paragraph (a sound became an attack) brought them undue worry and concern.

King Saul made the same grammatical mistake early in his rule as king over Israel. In 1 Samuel 13, we learn that Saul faced a daunting attack by his Philistine neighbor. The Philistines had massed an army of 30,000 chariots and 6,000 cavalry, plus too many to count infantry. Saul had started with 3,000 men, but his numbers dwindled from desertion. Saul was down to about 600 men when the Philistine attack was imminent—hardly a fair fight.

Saul then does what we would naturally do: he panicked. 1 Samuel 13:8 tells us that Saul waited the appointed seven days for the prophet Samuel to arrive and make an offering to God. Sometime during the seventh day, Saul took the compound sentence: “Samuel had not arrived, and his army was shrinking,” and turned it into a story of defeat and disaster. His imagined scenario led him to make a fateful decision. He stepped outside his role as king into the role of a prophet, making the sacrifice himself. His false narrative led to unexpected consequences: Losing his heritage as king. (“a price too high”)

A chapter later, we learn that King Saul and his small contingency of soldiers were in a planned retrograde movement:  avoiding enemy contact.  His son, Jonathon, however, along with his armor-bearer, went on a recon mission to see where the Philistines were camped. He discovers a garrison of Philistines (approximately 200 to 300 soldiers) camped on a prominent hilltop. He turns to his armor bearer and suggests they climb the hill and take on the garrison single-handedly.

Rather than projecting a losing outcome considering their scant resources, Jonathon says to his armor-bearer, “Come, and let’s cross over to the garrison of these uncircumcised men; perhaps the LORD will work for us because the LORD is not limited to saving by many or by few!” (1 Samuel 14:6). In other words, let’s climb the hill and let God write the story. They did, and God did. God wrote a story they couldn’t have imagined. Not only was the Philistine garrison routed, but it also encouraged Saul’s fearful army to join the battle. Even the Hebrews who had defected to the enemy rallied to the cause of Israel.

When we expand our current human knowledge into a future reality, we easily exclude the “X factor” in discipleship. I define the X factor as the unknown or unpredictable influence on a given situation. To some, the X factor in life is “luck,” “fate,” or even “faith.”  But for the disciple, the X-factor is none of the above but God himself. 

Living by this rule of grammar requires humility, faith, and wisdom. We need to admit that we don’t have all the information needed to project a future outcome, and even if we did, we should not impose on God an outcome based on our logic.

Violating this grammatical rule comes from two errors. One is to think that our current knowledge of reality (the sentence) is adequate to project future results (the paragraph). Thus, we build a false narrative based on inadequate information.

The second is assuming that our current knowledge of reality is all we can and should know, being content with only a partial picture rather than seeking to understand more. The prophet Samuel made this mistake when God sent him to anoint a new king over Israel. He correctly went to the house of Jesse but evaluated his selection based on externals rather than the internal condition of the heart, which God was after. After God rejected all of Jesse’s sons except the youngest, Samuel probably reflected on the choice of King Saul, who looked kingly externally but was devoid of faith internally. How did that turn out?

We can avoid this grammatical error by learning to ask more questions. Rather than assuming I know all that I need to know or can know, I should assume there is more going on than I currently know – or maybe I can know. We should assume that each situation is more complex than we think. For example, when the checkout clerk is rude to us, rather than assuming they are just a rude person or we have done something to offend them, we could consider that maybe they just got the news that their spouse has terminal cancer. How would that thinking affect our response to their rudeness?

When tempted to extrapolate the current sentences of our own story into paragraphs of disappointment, defeat, and disaster, we should remember this spiritual rule of grammar. We need to let God finish the paragraph and write the complete story.

For Reflection

1.  Reflect on when you projected disaster, and it turned out well.

• Why do you think we so easily assume we know all we need to know about a given situation?

There is a reason schools do not make grammar classes optional. Who wants to know about syntax,  verb moods, adjectives, nouns, adverbs, prepositions, conjunctions, clauses, or punctuation? Right? Diagraming sentences is right up there with eating spinach. Yet effective communication, both spoken and written, depends on grammar. A missed place comma or wrong verb tense can change the meaning of a sentence. Communication is hard enough as it is without adding poor grammar.

Launched on July 22, 1962, Mariner 1 was the first planned fly-by of Venus to collect scientific data.  It never made it.  Less than five minutes after launch, an error in the computer code took it off course, necessitating its intentional destruction, sending $673 million up in smoke.  The problem?  A misplaced hyphen.  It was called “the most expensive hyphen in history.”  Even computers need grammar.

Since God is writing his story into the fabric of our lives through Scripture and our life landscapes, we need to apply spiritual rules of grammar to understand what he is saying. In writing to the Corinthian church, Paul said, “Your very lives are a letter that anyone can read by just looking at you. Christ Himself wrote it—not with ink, but with God’s living Spirit; not chiseled into stone, but carved into human lives—and we publish it” (2 Cor. 3:2-3 MSG).   

Here are a few spiritual grammar rules to help us understand what God is writing.

Rule #1:  Don’t put a question mark where God put a period.

Satan’s strategy is to get us to violate this spiritual rule of grammar, causing doubt about what God has clearly said. God gave an explicit command to Adam and Eve, yet when Satan engaged Eve in a discussion on what God said, he replaced a period with a question mark.

Now the serpent … said to the woman, “Has God really said, ‘You shall not eat from any tree of the garden’?” The woman said to the serpent, “From the fruit of the trees of the garden we may eat; but from the fruit of the tree which is in the middle of the garden, God has said, ‘You shall not eat from it or touch it, or you will die.'” The serpent said to the woman, “You certainly will not die!”  (Genesis 3:1-4).

Every generation of believers must struggle with “What has God said?”  There are areas of uncertainty when it comes to Scripture.   Still, our most significant problems are not the hard-to-understand passages but the easy-to-understand ones we do not want to accept. It is then that Satan whispers in our ear, “Surely, that is not what it says, nor what it means – You certainly will not die!”

Rule #2:  Don’t assume a period where God put an ellipsis. 

The word ellipsis may not be familiar to you, but the (…) is. The word comes from the Greek meaning “to leave out.”  It is an omission from the text without altering its meaning.   An ellipsis can also indicate a break in the action: “to be continued.”

In our own narrative, we may come to a point where it looks like the end of the story. Nothing will ever change; it just is what it will be. But rather than the end, think of it as only an uncomfortable break in the story. Think of it as a “to be continued” moment.

With man’s rebellion in Genesis 3 and the resulting consequences, it looked like it was all over:  Satan sabotaged God’s plan. Satan won.  However, God interjected an ellipsis by promising a Redeemer who would bring ultimate victory.  There is a great deal of painful history between man’s exile in Genesis 3 and his homecoming in the Book of Revelation, but there is no break in God’s plan.

Between the events in the books of Malachi and Luke, there are 400 years of divine silence.   Was it a period or an ellipsis? The book of Malachi ends with the promise of a prophet who would “turn the hearts of the fathers back to their children and the hearts of the children to their fathers” (Malachi 4:6). Four hundred years later, Luke picks up Malachi’s theme as the angel of the Lord came to Zechariah and quoted Malachi referring to Zechariah’s future son, John the Baptist, “He will turn many sons and daughters of Israel back to their God” (Luke 1:16).   While generations of Jews waited, God was working (Isaiah 64:4).

During an ellipsis, we need to believe God is working while we are waiting. During an ellipsis, we may feel our life is on hold, that we are on an unexpected and unwanted detour. King David had a 20-year ellipsis between being anointed king and becoming king.  David’s men wanted him to end the ellipsis by eliminating King Saul, but David had the wisdom to know that God would restart the storyline when he was ready. In the meantime, David gained wisdom through experiences that helped prepare him for his role as King of Israel. 

Rule # 3:  Don’t substitute a subjunctive for an imperative

The subjunctive is a verb form used to express a hypothetical scenario, wish, or desire. When God states an imperative (command), he intends that it is to be obeyed and not considered optional.               

King Saul failed to understand this grammatical rule, costing him his kingdom. The prophet Samuel passed on God’s instructions to King Saul in 1 Samuel 15. Saul, acting as God’s hand of justice, was to eradicate Amalek and his people (vs. 15:3). Maybe it sounded too harsh to Saul, or maybe he considered it a waste of good resources, but whatever his rationale, he considered God’s imperative to be an option:  a suggestion rather than a command.

Moses also forgot this rule of grammar when God told him to provide water for the people by speaking to the rock. Moses changed God’s imperative by striking the rock (after all, it worked before), costing him entrance into the Promised Land (Numbers 20:7- 11).

Rule #4:  Recognize the use of a synecdoche.

You may not be familiar with the word synecdoche, but chances are good that you have used it in casual conversation.   A synecdoche is a figure of speech that uses a part to reference a whole. It is a form of literary shorthand. We say, “He offered his hand in marriage,” referring to his whole person.   A lookout shouts to his captain, “Four sails on the horizon,” referring to four ships. Or a new car owner might say to a friend, “Come over and check out my new wheels,” referring to his new car. 

If we understand the context, the synecdoche is easily understood.   Scripture often uses a synecdoche as shorthand, referring to a much larger picture.   Returning to our Genesis story, God used a synecdoche when he said rebellion would end in death (“You shall die”). If we think God was only referring to physical death, we make the mistake of thinking of tires vs. cars. The result of rebellion is not only physical death but guilt, shame, fear, exile, conflict, alienation, slavery, blindness, etc. If we think only a part of the whole, then what Jesus accomplished by his life, death, resurrection, and ascension is truncated, and we miss the grandeur of the big picture. We cannot truly appreciate the mission Jesus Christ completed unless we understand the term “death” as a synecdoche.

Applying this rule of grammar to discipleship means moving from the parts to the whole. We need to move from:

• Commands to alignment

In the great commission, Jesus said we should “teach them to obey all that I have commanded you.”  Jesus wasn’t suggesting we look up all the imperatives in the Gospels and teach them, replacing the Mishnah with a new list of rules. He was referring to aligning our lives with everything he taught about living in his kingdom.

• Obedience to love

Jesus said in John 14:21 that we express our love by keeping his commandments and that he rewards obedient love with greater intimacy with the Trinity. Obedience is the tires; love is the car.

• Compliance to abiding

Jesus summed up his three years of teaching in his final discourse with the disciples (John 15). He raised the disciples’ eyes from simply obeying to actually having an abiding, intimate relationship with Christ.  He related obedience as a part but abiding as the whole. Therefore, abiding is much more than compliance.

If we are to interpret what God is saying correctly, we need to pay attention to the spiritual rules of grammar. Each one helps clarify the message, the “song” God is writing in our hearts, which can then be composed and passed on to the next generation.

For Reflection

1. Reflect on a time in your life when you thought there was a period, but discovered later it was only an ellipsis.

• Thinks of other Scriptural examples when a person took God’s command as a suggestion.

What is the top song of all time?  The answer would depend on who you are asking, the genre you think of, and your culture.  A quick Google search on the subject turns up a variety of answers, including:

• “Imagine” by John Lennon
• “Respect” by Aretha Franklin
• “White Christmas” by Bing Crosby

My answer would be different.  In the #2 spot, I would put “Amazing Grace” by John Newton.  This song, written in 1772, is still sung by various artists in almost every genre.  Each of the four stanzas/verses describes how God touched the life of Newton to change him from a slave trader to a devout pastor.  In the process, Newton describes God as his Savior, Seeker, Healer, Peacemaker, Shield, and Hope.

My choice for the number one song of all time must be the “Song of the Good Shepherd” by King David.  “Psalms” means a Sacred Song, and David wrote many of the recorded Psalms in the Book of Psalms.  However, Psalm 23 is undoubtedly the best-known Scripture passage wherever Christianity has spread. 

All kinds of people have quoted Psalm 23 through the 3000 years since it was first written (and sung).  People quote it in funerals, fox-holes, and “fiery furnaces.”  Believers and unbelievers alike have found comfort in the words of David’s song.

In hymn writing, there is usually a chorus along with several verses.  David’s song begins with the chorus: “The Lord is my Shepherd I shall not want.”  This opening chorus line is followed by several verses describing how the Good Shepherd performed his role in David’s life.    

Notice David’s song expresses a personal relationship:  “God is my shepherd” rather than “God is a shepherd.”  This song is a personal account of how David experienced God during his lifetime.  Drawing from his life experience as a shepherd, David presents God as the ultimate Good Shepherd. 

Based on the track record of the Good Shepherd, David concludes, “I shall not want” (vs 1).  He is confident that God will be his Shepherd whatever landscape/circumstance he faces; his future is secure.  When we remember how God has shown up in the past defining moments of our lives, we, too, experience security and hope for the future. 

After the introductory chorus, David adds several verses to his hymn.

• He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters (vs. 2).  Sheep do not lie down unless they feel secure and at peace.  Here, David declares God is his Leader and Provider of Peace (Jehovah-Shalom).

• He restores my soul (vs.3A) identifies God as his Healer (Jehovah-Rapha).  David sometimes felt his soul crushed, beaten up, and worn down by people and circumstances.  Yet God showed up each time and restored his soul.  In this Psalm, David doesn’t specifically identify how God did it, just that he did it.   

• He guides me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake (vs. 3B).  In this verse, David reflects on the Shepherd Leader, who knows the right way to go and leads accordingly.  Note that the result is that God’s name is honored, and the goodness of his nature is revealed.  David declares that God is his Banner (Jehovah-Nissi), leading the way to righteousness.

• Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for you are with me (vs. 4A).  Here, David declares that God is Immanuel, God with us, not in a mystical way but in a tangible way where the power of God’s presence overcomes fears and the threat of evil.  David is declaring God as his Protector, his Shield (Jehovah-Magen).

• Your rod and your staff comfort me (vs. 4B).  There is a wealth of understanding found in the tools of the Shepherd that we miss in our modern culture.  However, the main idea behind these tools was that they brought comfort and guidance to an anxious heart.  In the defining moments of stress and anxiety, God was David’s Comforter (Jehovah-Nechama).

• You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies (vs. 5A).  A good shepherd in David’s time was responsible for seeking out and providing pasture (a banquet, so to speak) for his sheep.  David experienced a spiritual banquet while his enemies were watching.  Here, God is not only his Provider (Jehovah-Jireh) but his Defender:  the one who fights for him (Jehovah-Tsaba). 

• You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows (vs. 5B).  In ancient times, oil symbolized joy and gladness (See Psalm 45:7; Isaiah 61:3); anointing was an act of respect and honor.  David refers to God as his source of true over-flowing joy, whether in the landscape of a storm or having a mountain-top experience.  God is his exceeding joy (El Simchah Giyli; Psalm 43:4). 

•  Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life, And I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever (vs. 6).  David’s confident expectation for the future is not based on merit but on the grace-filled nature of YHWY.  God will never leave him or forsake him.  God is David’s Hope (Miqweh) and Refuge (Jehovah-Metzudah), full of goodness and lovingkindness. 

David sings his song as a catalyst for those following in his footsteps of discovering YHWY.    So, where are we in that discovery process?  When we have a similar experience of God’s loving intervention, do we recognize it as such?  By faith, do we see the fingerprint of God in our lives?  Can we point to a time when God was our Shield or Provider?   Do we celebrate as David did?  Do we remember and tell others how the Lord is our Good Shepherd?  Or have we failed to give God the credit due to his name?

For Reflection

1. Reflect on the narrative of David’s life as recorded in 2 Samuel and discover the times he refers to in his life song.
2. What names of God would make up your life song?