Several years ago the biblical scholar Richard Friedman . . .

Several years ago the biblical scholar Richard Friedman wrote a fascinating book entitled The Hidden Face of God, in which he chronicles how Yahweh seems to be less and less evident as you make your way through the Old Testament.  At the beginning of Genesis, for example, God plays a very active role in the lives of Adam and Eve.  God converses with them, God gives them explicit instructions on what to do and what to avoid, and perhaps most important, God visits them in the Garden of Eden almost on a daily basis.

However, says Friedman, after the story of the Tower of Babel, God is never again visible to all humankind—at least not at the same time.  The Lord still appears, but only on special occasions and only to certain people.  The last time that Yahweh speaks to a large group is when the children of Israel are presented with the Ten Commandments.  However, they are so overwhelmed and unnerved by the experience that they quickly turn to Moses and say, “You speak to us, and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, or we will die.”  And so, wanting to respect their wishes, the Lord never speaks to all of the people again.

As the biblical story goes on, God continues to retreat.  According to Friedman, Moses is the last person who actually “sees” God.  Samuel is the last person to whom God is “revealed.”  And Solomon is the last person to whom God “appears.”

Even God’s mighty acts and miracles seem to withdraw.  The last public miracle recorded in the Old Testament is at Mount Carmel, when God helps Elijah single-handedly humiliate the prophets of Ba’al.  But after that, God assumes a much lower profile, working miracles for smaller and smaller audiences.  Friedman suggests that, perhaps, the reason God keeps stepping back from humankind is so that we will have room to step forward.

Of course, as Christians, we believe that all of this dramatically changes with the birth of Jesus Christ—the clearest revelation of God’s presence on earth since Mount Sinai!  In Jesus Christ, God is once again made both audible and visible.  As the Gospel of John so eloquently puts it, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”

One of my all-time favorite movies is Amadeus. . .

One of my all-time favorite movies is Amadeus.  It is loosely based on the 1979 stage play of the same name, which is even more loosely based on the lives of Antonio Salieri and Wolfgang Mozart.  It is not a biography of the two men, but rather an imaginative look at Salieri’s own struggle to understand how God could lavish such musical genius on a young, boorish individual like Mozart.

In a sense, Amadeus poses the same question as the biblical book of Job—only inverted.  The author of Job ponders the question of why God would “punish” the most righteous man on the face of the earth, while Amadeus ponders why God would “reward” an undeserving, preadolescent brat.  It just doesn’t seem fair.

But then again, God has a long history of doing things that many of us would call unfair.  For example, why would God choose Jacob, who was a conniver and con artist, over the more dutiful (albeit somewhat duller) Esau?  Why would God specifically instruct Samuel to bypass Jesse’s older sons in favor of anointing a young, inexperienced shepherd boy as Israel’s next king?

Even some of Jesus’ own parables force us to wrestle with the question of fairness.  Is it fair that the prodigal son is welcomed back with a party instead of repentance?  Is it fair that the one-talent servant is cast aside for playing it safe and keeping his master’s original investment intact?  Is it fair that the stalwarts who labored twelve hours under the blazing sun receive exactly the same pay as those who come waltzing in right before the final whistle blows and barely break a sweat?

From our perspective, the answer is a resounding “No!”  In fact, the story of the laborers in the vineyard doesn’t even make economic sense; and that may have been Jesus’ intent.  He is trying to get us to understand grace—not as something we toil to earn, or perform well enough to deserve—but as a gift from God!

Bear in mind that the owner of this vineyard doesn’t cheat anyone.  The full-day workers get paid exactly what they were promised; and more to the point, exactly what the wage agreement was.  Had the owner pulled a “bait-and-switch” and paid them less than what they were promised, then they may have had a legitimate complaint.  But as it is, they are receiving the same rate of pay that their contracts clearly stipulated.

The problem is that, in their minds, it wasn’t what they deserved.  After all, they worked longer than the others, they worked harder than the others, and therefore, they deserved to be paid more than the others.  However, the fact of the matter is that, when it comes to grace, none of us gets what we rightfully deserve—and thank God for that!  I don’t know about you, but if I thought God was going to give me exactly what I deserved, I’m not sure I would sleep very well at night.  What allows me to sleep is the firm belief that God is not going to give me what I most deserve, but rather what I most need!

The Declaration of Independence guarantees us the God-given right to . . .

The Declaration of Independence guarantees us the God-given right to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”  What is not guaranteed, of course, is our success in obtaining such happiness.  We can pursue it all we wish, but obtaining happiness is not a God-given right.  Indeed, some claim that happiness—at least in the lasting, permanent sense—will always elude us!

The reason for this is that happiness is an emotion brought about by the circumstances of our lives.  As the word itself implies, happiness is associated with happenings, or in some cases, with happenstance (luck, good fortune, etc.).  If things are going well in our lives, then most of us tend to be happy.  If things are not going well, then we tend to be unhappy.

By way of contrast, joy is not an emotion at all.  According to the Apostle Paul, it is one of the fruits of the Holy Spirit.  Hence, joy is something that endures; whereas happiness is usually fleeting.  Joy is something that cannot be taken from us; whereas happiness is contingent upon whatever is taking place around us.  It comes and goes depending on the situation.

My guess is that, at some point or another, we have all encountered people who live and breathe sheer joy.  It is a joy that permeates their very being—and get this; it is a joy that neither ebbs nor flows.  It does not matter whether their immediate circumstance is blissful or troublesome.  It makes no difference if the situation they are facing is serene or traumatic.  To be sure, they may not be happy about it; but they still experience a sense of joy, even in the midst of tragedy.

In his letter to the Philippians, the Apostle Paul reveals that he has learned the great secret of being satisfied with whatever he has.  He knows what it is to have a little, and he knows what it is to have a lot.  He knows what it is to be well-fed, and he knows what it is to go hungry.

Put another way, the external circumstances of his life are no longer determining his level of contentment.  “I am ready to face anything,” he writes, “because of Jesus Christ who strengthens me.”  And knowing that cannot help but bring us joy!

I am of the belief that no intimate relationship . . .

I am of the belief that no intimate relationship—such as a marriage, for example—can exist without there being some conflict along the way.  Regardless of how much you love your spouse, how well you communicate, how carefully you attend to each other’s needs, or how similar your personalities and values—sooner or later, conflicts will arise.  In the life of a marriage, there will always be at least some moments of tension and anger!

For instance, one can easily imagine Adam and Eve exchanging harsh words as they were ushered, rather ceremonially, out of the Garden of Eden.

Adam (accusingly): Just look at what you’ve done; you got us kicked out of paradise.

Eve (defensively): How was I supposed to know that the serpent was deceiving me?
Adam (blaming): Oh, come on; the serpent was hissing the whole time.  Anyone with half a brain could have seen that it was a trick.
Eve (sarcastically): Well, if you’re so smart, then why did you take a bite?  You’re just as much at fault in this as I am!

And so it has gone down through the ages.

Social scientists, particularly psychologists, point out that we don’t really have much control over whether or not we experience anger.  Any time we feel threatened or under attack, an internal “alarm system” goes off within our bodies, preparing us either to fight or flee.  In other words, we’re basically hardwired to experience anger.

However, we do have a choice in how we express it.  The key, in my opinion, is to create a safe environment, so that when we become angry with our spouse—and eventually we all will—we can express it in a manner that is both honest and constructive.  If a couple were to covenant with each other never to get angry, then that would be both naïve and unrealistic.  But a couple can covenant that, when anger occurs, neither party will be rejected, abandoned, or hurt through physical or emotional abuse.

In this way, we remove fear from the equation.  And keep in mind that the scripture never says that “perfect love casts out all anger.”  What it says is that “perfect love casts out all fear.”

Each of the gospel writers records the life of Jesus in a different way. . .

Each of the gospel writers records the life of Jesus in a different way.  Only Matthew and Luke, for example, include stories about Jesus’ birth.  John is the only one who tells us the story of Lazarus being raised from the dead or Mary Magdalene weeping at the Easter tomb.  In Matthew we get the Sermon on the Mount, while Luke seems to recall that the same sermon was actually preached on a wide plain.

But one story that all four gospel writers remember is the miracle of the loaves and the fish.  It is a story that emphasizes Jesus’ desire to provide not only for our spiritual needs, but also for our physical needs.  When people are sick, Jesus heals them; when they are broken-hearted, he comforts them; and when they are hungry, he feeds them!

According to Matthew’s account, there are five thousand men present—so, when you add in the women and children, Jesus ends up feeding a small town.  But it is a miracle that almost didn’t take place because the disciples’ initial suggestion is to send everyone home.  It’s not that they are insensitive or uncaring; they are simply being practical.  After all, night is coming, they are out in the middle of nowhere, and frankly, their own stomachs are beginning to growl!

However, Jesus has a better idea.  “They need not go away,” he tells the disciples.  “You give them something to eat.”

I wish I had been there to see the looks on their faces.  They must have figured that Jesus had been standing out in the sun too long.  “Lord, there are over five thousand hungry people out there.  How can you possibly ask us to give them something to eat?  We barely have enough to feed ourselves.”

“Then bring me what you have,” says Jesus.

If you ask me, that invitation is the key to understanding this whole story, because while God is ultimately responsible for this miracle, the disciples still have their part to do.  Put another way, this is not a story in which the disciples just get to sit back and relax.  It is almost as if Jesus has said, “Stop thinking that bread is suddenly going to fall from the sky and start sharing what you already possess!”

“Bring me what you have”—that’s always the point when true discipleship begins, isn’t it?  We are not called to sit idly around waiting for God to take care of every crisis.  We are called upon to do what we can, where we are, with what we have.  To be sure, there are times when we will look at our meager contributions and think that they are hopelessly inadequate for the task at hand.  But God looks at the very same offering and says, “I can do wonders with that!  Just bring it to me.”