Job
38:1-7, 34-41
October 21, 2012
Then the Lord answered Job out of the
whirlwind: “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Gird
up your loins like a man, I will question you, and you shall declare to me.
“Where were you when I laid the
foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its
measurements—surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? On what were
its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone when the morning stars sang
together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy? “Can you lift up your
voice to the clouds, so that a flood of waters may cover you? Can you send
forth lightnings, so that they may go and say to you, ‘Here we are’? Who has
put wisdom in the inward parts, or given understanding to the mind? Who has the
wisdom to number the clouds? Or who can tilt the waterskins of the heavens,
when the dust runs into a mass and the clods cling together? “Can you hunt the
prey for the lion, or satisfy the appetite of the young lions, when they crouch
in their dens, or lie in wait in their covert? Who provides for the raven its
prey, when its young ones cry to God, and wander about for lack of food?
Have
you been following the debates at all? I hope you have because it is an
important part of living in a democracy. Now here's the big question: Have you
noticed how much they misinterpret and intentionally mischaracterize what the
other has to say? It's so frustrating when it happens.
I’m
not talking about Barak Obama and Mitt Romney. I’m talking about the people
watching the debates. I’m talking about us. Depending on which news source I
tune into, I hear completely interpretations and messages about what the
candidates have said. And It's quite amazing the disparity. Depending on their
political sway, these folks only hear bad coming out of the opposite
candidate's mouth, and only sweetness coming out of their candidate's mouth.
Here’s my question: Why can’t people listen more objectively and neutrally to
what the candidates are saying?
The
answer is that we can’t hear what the candidates are really saying because our
egos and our expectations get in the way. If we believe that Obama is a lefty
socialist bent on turning us into European nanny state, then all we'll hear
coming out of his mouth are socialist statements. If we believe that Mitt
Romney is a fascist capitalist bent on turning us into a country of haves and
have nots, then all we'll hear coming out of his mouth will be greedy
selfishness. In both cases we will only hear what fits our expectations. Unless
you are truly undecided, you hear your candidate speaking truth, and the other
guy as speaking lies.
My
focus, though, isn’t that state of politics today. My focus is on faith. I only
started talking politics to get you to pay attention. My point is that the same
dynamic that gets in the way of our political listening also gets in the way of
faith and our ability to truly hear God. For example, when we read in the Bible
we tend to only hear what we either already believe, or what fits with our
theology. We ignore much of the rest. If you are a person who believes the
Bible speaks mainly about personal morality and responsibility, you won't
really hear much of what it says about caring for each other and giving up of
ourselves. If you are a person who believes the Bible speaks mainly about
social justice, you won't hear what it has to say about self-restraint and
self-reliance. The same principles apply to what we hear in sermons. I've
learned that sometimes people hear me saying things that I never said, but it's
because they are listening for a particular point of view, and if I say
something close to it, it will be the same as saying it. Also, when it comes to
prayer, we tend to seek in prayer the answers we already want. Often people
don't go to God in prayer being radically open to only what God wants. We go to
God in prayer and seek answers that correspond to what we want, and so we sense
in God only what we want to hear. Simply put, most of us only hear what we
already believe.
The
problem of only being open to what we already believe is an age-old problem. In
fact the Bible is full of people who get surprised by God. Our story of Job for
today is one such example. You may already know the story of Job, but if you
don't, let me share it with you. Job is a great man and one of God's favorites.
He is upright, faithful, good-hearted, and righteous. He has been rewarded for
his faith by having several wives, many children, and thousands of sheep and
goats. Job is a rich, happy, and blessed man. Up in heaven God has convened his
court and is praising Job for his righteousness. Satan, or more accurately,
Ha'Satan, is skeptical. The name, "Ha'Satan," does not mean
"devil." It literally means "the Accuser." He is like a
prosecuting attorney in God's court, the one responsible for literally being
the devil's advocate. He challenges conventional thought, even in heaven, and
he challenges God saying that Job really isn't that great.
Ha'Satan
tells God that the only reason Job is faithful is due to God's blessing him so
much. Take away all of his possessions, make him suffer, and his faith and
righteousness will crumble. God says that, no, Job is faithful because Job is a
righteous man. To prove his point, God tells Ha'Satan that he is free to do
what he wants to Job, as long as he doesn't take his life.
Ha'Satan
gets to work. He causes all sorts of calamities to happen to Job. The result is
that Job's wives die, his children abandon him, his sheep and goats are stolen,
and his home is destroyed. Job is left in the rubble of his home, covered with
sores, scratching himself with pieces of broken pottery. Everyone has abandoned
him except three friends. They sit with Job, but they accuse him, telling him that
God is good and would never do this to anyone unless that person had done
something to deserve curses. Job defends himself, telling them that he has done
nothing, and that he will neither curse nor accuse God. He will not admit to
something that he has not done. Job remains faithful.
In
the end, God is vindicated and tells Ha'Satan to restore everything to Job plus
more. Job is upset, though, and in his anger questions God about why God would
do these things to him. In essence, he tells God that a good God would never
treat Job in such a way. Job calls God to defend God's self. And God's answer
isn't gentle. God says, “Who is this that darkens counsel by words
without knowledge? Gird up your loins like a man, I will question you, and you
shall declare to me. Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?
Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements—surely you
know! Or who stretched the line upon it? On what were its bases sunk, or who
laid its cornerstone when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly
beings shouted for joy? Can you lift up your voice to the clouds, so that a
flood of waters may cover you?”
In
essence, God challenges Job, saying, “You know so little of anything. How can
you assume that you could understand anything I do? If you know so much, show
me your wisdom so that I can compare it to my own.” God smacks Job down, saying
that he thinks he knows so much when he knows so little. I don’t know that we
get smacked down by God much, but certainly we think we know so much when we
know so little.
In
the world of faith and spirituality today, people tend to only be open to their
already preconceived ideas—to what they think they know. They tend to be open
to what they already expect. For example, let's take the issue of church
worship. If you are a person who only believes that traditional worship, with
all music being played on an organ, is what God wants, then you will only
accept that kind of worship. About two years ago I spoke with such a person. I
was spending a weekend giving a talk and preaching in a very traditional,
wealthy church in which virtually all the music was played on the organ. During
one of my talks I mentioned that organ music never did much for me. I never
said it shouldn't be played. I just said that as an instrument it grated on my
nerves rather than inspiring me.
A
woman came up to me during the break and told me that she was bothered by what
I said. Se told me that my problem was that I probably had never heard the
organ played well. I responded that I had grown up in a church in which the
organist was virtually always a professor of music at Duquesne University or
the University of Pittsburgh, and that I had heard organ played as well as it
could be played. I told her that the problem wasn't the quality of the playing,
it was the instrument itself. She then went on to tell me her theory that
traditional, classical music—especially played on the organ—was God's music.
And that while God accepts lower forms of music if it's the best a church can
offer, God's preference is for classical music. I mentioned the fact that we
have the Wayside Choir (an Africa-American choir of recovering addicts) come to
our church periodically, and that their music was outstanding. What did she think
of African-American gospel music? She said, "God accepts it because it's
the best they can offer, but it's not the pinnacle of God's music."
It's
interesting that apparently God's favorite music was the kind of music she
liked best. What a coincidence! My point? She could only accept spiritually
what she already expected. She expected that God's music was the same as her
favorite music. So in a church like that, there's not much chance that they
could sense a call to branch out into other forms of music.
In
contrast, there are a number of contemporary churches that reverse this kind of
thinking, believing that their music—new music—is the only true kind of
inspirational music, and that other forms, such as organ music, are archaic,
passé forms of music. Again, they can only hear what they already believe.
It's
not just in worship that this dynamic of only seeking what we already believe
comes into play. This kind of closedness to what we don't value or expect is
common when it comes to our theology and spirituality. The fact is that
typically members and pastors of Mainline churches, such as the Presbyterian
Church, don't read much of what is published in the Evangelical church world.
It's almost like an unwritten rule that we can't read their stuff because
somehow it might taint us. Meanwhile, Evangelicals really won't read much of
what Mainline church denominations write. Personally, I have been formed not
only by writings from both traditions, but also from writings from the
Catholic, Orthodox, and other traditions. I discovered that it’s amazing what
you can learn when you are willing to listen for God as God speaks through all
traditions.
I
do some work, as part of my ministry, working with pastors as a counselor or
spiritual director. Many are either stringently Mainline or stringently
Evangelical. When I find them to be closed to the other perspective, I'll push
them to read materials from the tradition they are not. The reason is that I
want to expand them to discover how God may be speaking to them beyond their
expectations. And it's amazing to see the transformations in them when they
discover not only that these writings aren't evil, but that they open them up
to God in ways they never expected.
The
fact is that our egos and our expectations always get in the way of our truly,
deeply, and expansively, experiencing God. Let me show you what I mean. A long
time ago there was a small village that sat below a great dam. One spring
torrential rains hit the area, overwhelming the dam. With a loud “CRAK!” the
dam broke. The waters rushed toward the town. The people ran for their lives. In
the village lived a pastor of deep faith. He was working on a sermon on
trusting in God. Listening out his window he heard people running and yelling,
calling for everyone to evacuate. He wasn’t sure what to do, but finally he
decided that this was a time for him to practice what he was about to preach. He
wouldn’t run away like all the others. He would stand and have faith, waiting
for God to save him—demonstrating what faith can do. Slowly the waters rose
around his house. In time, a man in a rowboat rowed by and yelled to him,
“Reverend, Reverend! Get in the boat! I’ll take you to safety.” The pastor said,
“No, no, friend. I have faith. God will save me.”
The
waters rose higher, and they forced him to retreat to the second floor. Soon, a
couple in a motorboat came by and said, “Reverend, Reverend! Get in the boat!
We’ll take you to safety.” The pastor said, “No, no, friends. I have faith. God
will save me.”
Eventually
the waters rose so high, they forced him onto the roof. A helicopter came and
hovered over him. The pilot yelled down, “Quick, man! Grab the ladder! We’ll
pull you to safety!” The pastor yelled back, “No, no my friend. I’ll trust in
God. You can leave me here.” In time, the waters rose even higher, and the
pastor drowned.
Standing
before the pearly gates, St. Peter welcomed him. The pastor was furious: “How
could this happen? How could God have let me die? I had faith! God was supposed
to save me!” Peter smiled a sad smile and said, “What did you expect? God sent you a rowboat, a motorboat, and a
helicopter.”
We
often are like the pastor on the roof. We desperately want to hear and
experience God, but we’re only ready if God acts in ways we expect,… in ways
that we DEMAND. It’s really hard to let go of our ego that demands God be in
our image, and our expectations that God works in our ways.
So
how do we let go of our ego expectations? Let me offer you two thoughts:
First, assume you don’t know: I think that one of the biggest problems we have is
that as little as most of us know about religion, we often think we know a lot.
And sometimes it's the ones who know the least who think they know the most. It
is said that the more you know the more
you know you don’t know. There's a reason for this. I've discovered,
through all of my education, that the more answers I get, the more questions I
have—new questions, different questions. And the more I've learned, the more
I've understood the impossibility of ever learning enough. No matter how much
we know, we eventually get to the point that the great Renaissance theologian,
Thomas Aquinas got to. Near death after a terrible illness, and after writing
amazing books on theological understanding, he had a vision of God. It left him
saying, "My words are like straw." What he meant is that he got a
glimpse of God's greatness, and nothing he had written came even close to
capturing it.
Thinking
that we really know is the greatest arrogance of all. And too many religious
people think they know waaaaay more than they really do. We only get glimpses
of God’s truth. We never get the full scope of it. We only get a fragment of
it. And we have to figure out the rest of it based on the little we have. The
problem is that too many people think their glimpse of everything IS everything.
The
way I think of this is much like looking at the church’s stained glass window,
which portrays Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. Imagine that you only
saw the glass of Jesus’ hands praying. What theological system would you create
out of that? You might say that the hands are praying hands, but the way they
are curved could also lead you to think they were hands cupped around a mouse,
or a piece of bread, or that were just relaxing. Any number of theologies could
be developed around them. We get these kinds of glimpses and think that they
can help us recreate a whole stained-glass window. A glimpse of God’s truth is
not the same as the whole truth.
We
get only glimpses, so we don’t really know anything to the depth that we think
we do. The first step of letting go of our ego expectations so that our faith
can really grow is to begin assuming that no matter how much we know, we really
don’t know.
Second, learn to live in wonder and
awe. I think that this may be one
of the biggest antidotes to stumbling on our own arrogance. Too many of us
think we know so much in this day and age that we’ve lost the ability to see
the world as a wonder. We’re so scientifically, philosophically, and
historically advanced that we get lulled into looking at the world with
rationalistic, reductionistic eyes.
The
world is filled with God’s wonder, and everything reveals God by giving us
glimpses of the divine. What we need to do is to pay attention as though God is
speaking through everything,… and everyone. God is speaking to all of us all
the time. And we can sense God’s presence and wonder, if we can just get out of
our own way. To live in wonder and awe means to see every moment as potentially
being filled with God’s presence, God’s grace, and God’s love.
Are
you able to let go of what you expect and demand in order to see what God is
doing?
Amen.
