Jesus' Upward Journey

The core of the ministry of Jesus lies in his communion with the Father. Communion with the Father is Jesus’ first priority in ministry. The ministry of Jesus is to be in that Father-Son relationship, maintain it, nurture it, enjoy it, and do the will of the Father willingly. All aspects of ministry flow out of this upward journey.

“And rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, he departed and went out to a desolate place, and there he prayed” (Mk. 1:35, ESV). This is Jesus’ upward journey. This is his routine. In Mark 1:21-45, the power of the Kingdom of God is demonstrated through the healing power of Jesus. All these healing miracles point the crowd to the Performer, not the miracles themselves. Most importantly, these miracles direct the disciples’ attention to the Caller, who is the object and subject of their faith (Mk. 1:16-20).

In the midst of the power demonstration, Jesus’ upward journey is subtly inserted into the narrative. On the surface, it seems that Jesus’ outward ministry dominates his entire ministry. However, I think that communion with the Father is so subtle and hidden even though it is the core and source of ministerial life. Upward ministry is easy to miss. It’s easy to be overshadowed by outward ministry, such as healing, teaching, and caring. It’s easier to be a worker than a lover. We know how to do things, but we usually don’t know how to be content with a relationship.

It is hard to travel upward because we are used to being preoccupied by many things in life. Once we travel upward, we need to deal with our longings and adjust our habits. We can remain the same when we keep performing in ministry. But no one will be and can be the same when we are in communion with the Father. Upward ministry requires change. Any outward ministry flows out of the upward ministry. Otherwise, we are enslaved to ministerial works. If upward ministry is not the core of whatever we do in the church (or in life), ministry is just a place where we fulfill our ambitions in the name of Jesus.

“Knowing the correct password—saying ‘Master, Master,’ for instance—isn’t going to get you anywhere with me. What is required is serious obedience—doing what my Father wills. I can see it now—at the Final Judgment thousands strutting up to me and saying, ‘Master, we preached the Message, we bashed the demons, our God-sponsored projects had everyone talking.’ And do you know what I am going to say? ‘You missed the boat. All you did was use me to make yourselves important. You don’t impress me one bit. You’re out of here.’” (Matt. 7:21-23, The Message)

In Henri Nouwen: A Spirituality of Imperfection (Mahwah: Paulist, 2006), Wil Hernandez notes:

Throughout the Gospels, Jesus modeled the utmost priority of his own relationship with his heavenly Father. Henri Nouwen stresses that Jesus’ “primary concern was to be obedient to his Father, to live constantly in his presence. Only then did it become clear to him what his task was in relationship with people.” Jesus never claimed anything for himself; he always viewed his work as accomplishing the will of God, his Father. The very core of his own ministry lies in his intimate relationship with his Father. In short, Christ’s ministry simply flowed out of his deep communion with God. (p. 29)

Doing the will of the Father comes from knowing the Father; knowing the Father comes from being with the Father. We don’t just do something (e.g. cast out demons, preach the gospel, etc…) in ministry. We respond to the Father in ministry. In order to respond, we must remain in Him. Doing what is secondary; being with is primary.

Being with is the foundation of growth: being stripped off and built up. Being with calls us to create a space to be in fellowship with the Father. Being with confronts and exposes the fragmented self and the false self, respectively. Being with allows us to face our fragmented self, which is mingled with inner fear, uncertainty, incompetency, inability, and inconsistency. We live in a fragmented world with a fragmented self. In order to find a sense of coherence, we ought to come to the Giver of life who alone can give us meaning (see Jn. 10:10).

Jesus habitually goes upward because he realizes the importance of coherence in life and ministry. Upward journey protects Jesus from living a fragmented self in ministry. How easy it is to live in a fragmented world. It is always against nature not to swim along with the stream. When we go up regularly, we are declaring that we are willing to live a counter-cultural, yet spiritual life.

David's Nephew

“But Amnon had a friend, whose name was Jonadab, the son of Shimeah, David’s brother. And Jonadab was a very crafty man.” (2 Sam. 13:3, ESV)

Shimeah (or Shammah; see 1 Sam. 16:9) was David’s third brother. Jonadab, the son of Shimeah, was David’s nephew. Amnon was David’s firstborn. Amnon wanted Tamar, Absalom’s sister, so bad that he “was so tormented that he made himself ill.” (13:2, ESV) As a friend and a cousin, Jonadab gave Amnon a piece of advice to approach his sister from another mother: “Lie down on your bed and pretend to be ill. And when your father comes to see you, say to him, ‘Let my sister Tamar come and give me bread to eat, and prepare the food in my sight, that I may see it and eat it from her hand.’” (13:5, ESV) This piece of advice sets the tone for the following narrative (2 Sam. 13-18): Tamar got raped; Absalom murdered Amnon; Absalom fled; Absalom returned and conspired against David; and Absalom was killed.

On the one hand, God’s judgment through Nathan was being fulfilled in the family of David (2 Sam. 12:10-12). Sin has its consequences. David killed Uriah and took his wife: murder and adultery (2 Sam. 11). The text says it clearly: “The thing that David had done displeases the Lord.” (2 Sam. 11:27, ESV) When Nathan confronted and rebuked David with a parable, David could have killed the prophet. (12:1-12) But David repented, “I have sinned against the Lord.” (12:13a, ESV) Instead of committing one more crime, David turned away from his sin. “And Nathan said to David, ‘The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die.’” (12:13b, ESV) David was forgiven. But still David bore with the consequences.

On the other hand, unlike readers, characters in the narrative do not know anything about God’s will through Nathan’s prophecy. They just make choices according to what is right in their eyes. They act according to their personal values and personalities. Personal choice and personality make a difference as the story goes. The text says, “Jonadab was a very crafty man.” The Hebrew word hakam can be understood as “wise” or “shrewd.”[1] This guy was wise in a negative way. He didn’t wisely use his smartness. Thus, bible translators usually translate it as “crafty” (ESV, NLT, NRSV). Jonadab counseled his cousin with his craftiness. He counseled according to Amnon’s self-satisfied gratification. His counseling lacked of any moral judgment. Jonadab was wise, but he did not know and fear the Lord. (cf. Prov. 1:7; 9:10)

Jonadab’s craftiness was his character—the core of his being. The narrator does not hide his personality from us. Rather, he allows us to see beyond his outer action: his motive, his character, his inner person. We say that we can only judge people by their actions, for actions show and tell what is inside. Jonadab’s crafty shrewdness pointed Amnon to a wrong direction. Amnon had a bad company who led him to a wrong action even though Amnon was fully responsible for his own action.

In 1 Corinthians 15:33 Paul urges the Corinthians to recognize that ‘evil company corrupts good habits’. Intimate friendships with evil characters will invariably have a negative effect on our lives. Likewise, one can say that ‘good company promotes good habits’.[2]

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[1] See Ronald F. Youngblood, “1, 2 Samuel,” in The Expositor’s Bible Commentary, vol. 3. Edited by Frank E. Gaebelein (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1992), p. 957.

[2] Michael A. G. Haykin, The God Who Draws Near: An Introduction to Biblical Spirituality (Webster: Evangelical Press, 2007), p. 74.

David's Dysfunction

“David was thirty years old when he began to reign, and he reigned forty years” (2 Sam. 5:4, ESV). The Book of Kings begins with David of old: “Now King David was old and advanced in years” (1 Kgs. 1:1a, ESV). The story begins with the degenerated David and implies that someone will rise in power sooner or later. The servants found the old David a beautiful young woman, Abishag the Shunammite, to keep him warm. Of course, it was more than keeping him “warm.”

By bringing a beautiful virgin to be his nurse, serving him and sleeping with him, they hope to infuse David with energy, both royal and sexual. Sexual potency and royal power are seen as linked: if the king is sexually impotent, the country and culture will become spiritually slack and listless. Abishag is thus reduced to a sexual function with political ramifications.[1]

The servants hoped to regenerate the degenerated David through this virgin. The text mentions Abishag’s beauty twice (vv. 3, 4). “She was of service to the king and attended to him, but the king knew her not” (1:4). The NLT makes it more explicit: “But the king had no sexual relations with her.” Due to her beauty, David might want it, but he couldn’t. He might even lose his appetite. No matter what, David was dysfunctional in a lot of ways. The virgin brought out the weakest side of the king. What a contrast between a young virgin and an old king.

Immediately, “Now Adonijah the son of Haggith exalted himself, saying, ‘I will be king.’” (1:5a) Adonijah was David’s fourth son born in Hebron (2 Sam. 3:2-5). The eldest son, Amnon, was murdered by the third son, Absalom. Absalom was killed by Joab, the general commander. The second son, Kileab, was missing or dead. (The text doesn’t say.) As the eldest surviving son, Adonijah seized the moment to rise in power. Even in David’s old age, he couldn’t stay away from being betrayed and hurt. Those who know you the most hurt you the most. I believe David understood and lived with it throughout his life.

When David was out of control, Adonijah wanted to be in control. We don’t see any family allegiance in David’s family. What we only see is power struggle within it. From a rising king (age 30) to a dying king (age 70), David spent forty years to build a kingdom. But did he forfeit his family? How did he live as a father in these forty years? How did he interpret family? Did his family reflect some aspects of his relationship with God? As John Goldingay insightfully comments:

Saul and David might have lived happy and honorable lives as farmer and shepherd if they had not been made king. Saul is wise enough to try to hide from the summons to leadership, though he does so only half-heartedly. It is difficult to determine whether he or David pays the bigger moral and religious price for being king. In each case, the second half of their story is one of religious and moral collapse, with a terrible price paid in family relationships.[2]

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[1] Eugene Peterson, Leap Over a Wall: Earthly Spirituality for Everyday Christians (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997), p. 219. Peterson partially agrees with this interpretation of the text. He refuses to only see Abishag as sex object or political tool. Rather, he prefers to view her as “a witness to the sanctity of death, a sacred presence to David in his dying.” (p. 219) I really don’t think so.

[2] John Goldingay, Old Testament Theology: Israel’s Gospel (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2003), p. 550.

David's Balance

“But David went up the ascent of the Mount of Olives, weeping as he went, barefoot and with his head covered. And all the people who were with him covered their heads, and they went up, weeping as they went. And it was told David, ‘Ahithophel is among the conspirators with Absalom.’ And David said, ‘O Lord, please turn the counsel of Ahithophel into foolishness.’” (2 Sam. 15:30-31, ESV)

Absalom’s revolt succeeded (2 Sam. 15:1-12). David fled and went into exile the second time (2 Sam. 15:13ff). Ahithophel was the national counselor: “Now in those days the counsel that Ahithophel gave was as if one consulted the word of God; so was all the counsel of Ahithophel esteemed, both by David and by Absalom.” (2 Sam. 16:23, ESV) Ahithophel worked for and with David when he was in power. When David was not in the position of power, Ahithophel betrayed him and looked for another power figure. Ahithophel was a wise and smart strategist. But he was not a loyal companion. As Eugene Peterson notes:

Ahithophel betrayed David that night because he thought the future of the kingdom was with Absalom. All the smart money that night was on Absalom, and Ahithophel was nothing if not smart. It turns out that at heart Ahithophel was an opportunist.[1]

At the moment David experienced betrayal, David prayed: “O Lord, please turn the counsel of Ahithophel into foolishness.” He prayed while he was walking up to the mountain. He continued to move on while he was praying. He didn’t stop, close his eyes, and then pray. He prayed in the midst of action.

“While David was coming to the summit, where God was worshiped, behold, Hushai the Archite came to meet him with his coat torn and dirt on his head. David said to him, ‘If you go on with me, you will be a burden to me. But if you return to the city and say to Absalom, ‘I will be your servant, O king; as I have been your father’s servant in time past, so now I will be your servant,’ then you will defeat for me the counsel of Ahithophel.’” (2 Sam. 15:32-34, ESV)

There was no pre-arrangement in the scene. David prayed the prayer. Hushai the Archite showed up later. On the spot, David made a decision to send Hushai back to Absalom and trusted that God could answer his prayer, which was to defeat the counsel of Ahithophel, through this person. David didn’t just pray; he discerned. He paid attention to God as well as his surroundings. Can we say that God answered David’s short and sincere prayer through Hushai? David had something to do with that answered prayer. God sent Hushai to him, but did David send him to Absalom? David prayed. He paid attention to what God was doing in his surroundings. He actively participated in the process of answering that prayer. We see that there was a balance in David’s spirituality: practical theology.

In Nehemiah 4:7-9 ESV, it says, “But when Sanballat and Tobiah and the Arabs and the Ammonites and the Ashdodites heard that the repairing of the walls of Jerusalem was going forward and that the breaches were beginning to be closed, they were very angry. And they all plotted together to come and fight against Jerusalem and to cause confusion in it. And we prayed to our God and set a guard as a protection against them day and night.” Nehemiah and the Israelites prayed to God and arranged people to protect the building project day and night. What a balance!

In pastoral ministry, there is always a missing link between prayer and action: theology and practicality. We often pray. Yet we only have little intention to integrate what we have in our surroundings. Very often, I am convinced that we just give our lips service in prayer. It’s not that we don’t have faith when we pray to God. The problem is not about faith. The root problem is that we just expect God to answer our prayers with faith alone. Sometimes, I suspect that we don’t have any expectation. We just pray because we are supposed to pray. Prayer is a holy habit. The Bible discourages any sort of passive spirituality. We pray for a vision. In planning, we need to come up with a solid plan to execute that vision even though such a plan may not be as perfect as we think. In detailed planning, I believe that God will answer our prayers in action. Our prayers may not be answered the way we want it. However, it is being answered.

We apply faith alone to our salvation. However, faith alone is not good enough in Christian living. Faith alone is the foundation and beginning of Christian theology. Faith alone does not promote mature Christian spirituality.

In the following narrative, we see that Absalom and all his men preferred the counsel of Hushai over the counsel of Ahithophel. The narrator drew a theological conclusion in this episode: “For the Lord had ordained to defeat the good counsel of Ahithophel, so that the Lord might bring harm upon Absalom” (2 Sam. 17:14, ESV; see 2 Sam. 17:1-14). The narrator confirmed that David’s practical spirituality was divine-ordained.

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[1] Eugene Peterson, Leap Over a Wall: Earthly Spirituality for Everyday Christians (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997), p. 200.

David's Nakedness

The Scriptures reveal different aspects of David. Since David was chosen by God, anointed by Samuel (1 Sam. 161-13), played music at Saul’s court (1 Sam. 16:14-23), killed Goliath (1 Sam. 17), and was praised by the women in the cities of Israel (1 Sam. 18), he had entered into the world of complexity. In his early twenty, did David have a complicated heart to deal with the complicated world? The world is complicated. This is the reality. It’s just a matter of when we are mature enough to recognize it, embrace it with wisdom, and live alongside it with integrity.

The path of growth is the path of being de-created and re-created. We unlearn what we think we have known; we relearn what we have not yet known. In the process, we grow older. Hopefully, we also grow up. For David, he grew up in proportion to his age. He never attempted to return to the old, good time when he shepherded sheep (1 Sam. 16:11) and attacked lions and bears (1 Sam. 17:34-36). These animals are either harmless or harmful. We don’t need wisdom to discern whether they are for you or against you. They have no mixed motives. They are straight forward. We see what we get. In comparison with the animal world, the world that we live in is interwoven with good and evil. No one is pure enough not to be mingled with both. We are saints and sinners. David dealt with the animal world; he now dealt with the complicated world in which it required a simple faith with a complicated heart.

Once David entered into the wilderness, David started to feel naked. He had no one and nothing to rely on. He had no mask to put on.  I should say there was no need  for David to do so, for he had no audience. He faced God with his nakedness. He lived his life with his naked self. He wandered on and off with no title. No one paid attention to his gifts (e.g. musical talent). No one praised him with a song: “Saul has struck down his thousands, and David his ten thousands.” (1 Sam. 18:7). David wasn’t a warrior in the wilderness. David was just David. God was David’s God, not the God of Israel. David must learn to relate to God personally first. Otherwise, it’s pointless for David to say that God is the God of Israel. It’s a hollow religious confession with no personal connection. No connection; no conviction.

Because of David’s authenticity and nakedness, his faith toward God became simple. He was being saved from the complicated world by returning to his authentic self. David wasn’t less complicated as a person. He returned to child-like faith as a child of God. The sign of such a child-like faith was prayer. God recreated David by stripping him off (de-creation). Facing one’s authentic self is God’s creative act in life. God creates a new self out of the old (See 2 Cor. 5:17).

The exile became a formative time in the life of David. The life of David epitomizes the life of Israel as a nation. The so-called The Former Prophets—Joshua, Judges, 1 & 2 Samuel, and 1 & 2 Kings—address the fact that why Israel ended up in exile as a nation: What went wrong? What did Yahweh require of us? Why did we fail as a nation? Was God faithful and good?

The exile was a formative time in the development of Israel’s theology. The destruction of Jerusalem and the temple, and exile from the land, led to a serious evaluation of the nation’s relationship with God, and to questions of how to maintain that relationship within a hostile, polytheistic culture. This is reflected in the theology of creation.[1]

The exile led Israel to a serious evaluation of the nation’s covenantal relationship with God and how to maintain and nurture that relationship in exile. Israel either abandoned or embraced God. There was only either-or; there was no in-between. David must have evaluated his relationship with God with seriousness and sincerity. As a result, he embraced God in prayer.

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[1] Robin Routledge, Old Testament Theology: A Thematic Approach (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2008), p. 126.

Easily Irritated

In A Cry for Mercy: Prayers from the Genesee (Maryknoll: Orbis, 1994), Henri Nouwen prayed this prayer:

Dear Lord, show me your kindness and your gentleness, you who are meek and humble of heart. So often I say to myself, “The Lord loves me,” but very often this truth does not enter into the center of my heart. The fact that I get so easily upset because of a disappointment, so easily angered because of a slight criticism, and so easily depressed because of a slight rejection, shows that your love does not yet fill me. Why, otherwise, would I be so easily thrown off balance? What can people do to me, when I really know that you love me, care for me, protect me, defend me, guide me and support me? What does a small—or even a great—failure mean, when I know that you are with me in all my sorrows and turmoil? Yet time and again I have to confess that I have not let your love descend fully from my mind into my heart, and that I have not let my knowing grow into a real, full knowledge that pervades all of my being. (p. 30)

Nouwen chose words carefully in his prayer. He used the adverb easily and adjective slight to describe his condition that he was easily irritated or discouraged by slightness. It’s understandable that our moods swing like a pendulum when we are facing life issues, such as health, relationship, education, etc… In Nouwen’s prayer, we see that he was often bothered, even disabled, by minor things in life. The fact that he became restless easily indicates that, according to his prayer, his knowledge of God did not penetrate his heart. He failed to allow whatever he knew about God to be the center of his being. The knowledge of God is in circumference; the knowledge of the self, the center. Even a slight rejection or a small failure penetrates into this center, we are thrown off balance.

The fact that we are easily thrown off balance sends us a message about our spiritual life: what we say and know about our faith and God don’t penetrate into our hearts from our minds. I appreciate Nouwen’s self-awareness, others-sensitivity, and sense of God’s absence in his spiritual life. We can only move on by knowing where we are really at. We can only meet God in reality.

Dear Lord, “I have not let your love descend fully from my mind into my heart, and that I have not let my knowing grow into a real, full knowledge that pervades all of my being.”

David's Prayer

2 Sam. 21-24 is placed at the end of the Book of Samuel as one single unit. There is a literary coherence that these chapters are arranged in a chiastic structure:[1]

Outer Circle: Two Narratives (21:1-14; 24:1-25)

Inner Circle: Two Lists (21:15-22; 23:8-39)

Center: Two Songs (22:1-51; 23:1-7)

It’s obvious that the narrator uses this literary structure to deliver a message about the rise and rule of David. The center piece of this literary unit is the words of David to God (the first song) and the words of God to David (the second song). Even though this literary unit as a whole presents David with irony and criticism, his relationship with God (or God’s relationship with him) still dominates the attention of the text. The first song was spoken by the young David when God delivered him from Saul (22:1); the second song came from the mouth of David in his old age (23:1). In spite of David’s ups and downs of life as a person, a father, and a king, the narrator recognizes David’s life of prayer and holiness and invites us to focus on his engagement with God and God’s graciousness towards David.

From being delivered from enemies to being raised up on high, from being insignificant to being anointed by God (22:1; 23:1; 1 Sam. 16:11), from a powerless son to a powerful king, how did David reflect the life of God in Him? David struggled with sex, power, and politics and certainly suffered from them. He also struggled with God the Almighty. He prayed to God because of his problems; these problems brought him before the throne of grace. To a certain extent, David’s problems became the means for him to relate to God. His problems helped him understand himself as sinner and God as savior. “In my distress I called upon the Lord; to my God I called. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry came to his ears” (21:7, ESV). “For who is God, but the Lord? And who is a rock, except our God?” (Ps. 18:31, ESV)

Kenneth Leech notes:

So what is prayer? It is a ‘sharing in the divine nature’, a ‘taking of manhood into God’…In the words of the eastern teacher St Gregory of Sinai, ‘Prayer is God’. When we think about prayer, we are thinking about God, and about human consciousness of God…Prayer is God. It is the movement of God to man, and of man to God, the rhythm of encounter and response. In this sense, all Christian life, all discipleship, is prayer.[2]

Prayer is God. David’s prayer is about God. David encountered God in prayer; God responded to David in listening and answering. Prayer is a communion with the Divine and the accommodation of the Divine. The two songs invite us to engage with God in prayer like the way David engaged with God.

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[1] Walter Brueggemann, First and Second Samuel (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1990), p. 335.

[2] Kenneth Leech, True Prayer: An Invitation to Christian Spirituality (New York: Harper and Row, 1980), pp. 7-8.

David's Dance

On the way to bring the Ark of God back to Jerusalem, “David and all the house of Israel were making merry before the Lord with songs and lyres and harps and tambourines and castanets and cymbals” (2 Sam. 6:5, ESV). The ark represented the presence of God. They worshipped and gave praises to God. Praise Him with all kinds of instruments (Ps. 150:3-5).

“And when they came to the threshing floor of Nacon, Uzzah put our his hand to the ark of God and took hold of it, for the oxen stumbled. And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Uzzah, and God struck him down there because of the error, and he died there beside the ark of God” (6:6-7, ESV) Due to this mistake, David was angry (6:8) and afraid of the Lord, saying “How can the ark of the Lord come to me?” (6:9, ESV) The Uzzah incident changed David’s attitude toward God and the ark of God.

In God Behaving Badly: Is the God of the Old Testament Angry, Sexist and Racist? (Downers Grove: IVP Books, 2011), David T. Lamb lays out three reasons why God was angry in this incident (pp. 28-33):

Firstly, God told Israel how to carry the ark clearly. “It was to be carried by the priests on poles through rings on the side of the ark (Exod. 25:10-15; Num. 4:15; 7:7-9; Deut. 10:8)” (p. 28). In the previous narrative, Israel carried the ark correctly (see Deut. 31:9, 25; Josh. 3:3, 15, 17; 4:9, 10, 18; 6:6; 8:33; 1 Sam. 4:4). David should have known how to carry the ark. But the ark was transported on a new cart (2 Sam. 6:3). In front of “all” Israel and the 30, 000 men (6:1-2), God sent out a message that worship and obedience belonged together. David and Israel must worship God with absolute obedience, not mere convenience.

Drawing near to God is always a dangerous business. He is a consuming fire (Heb. 12:29). When we approach him with carelessness, it may cost our lives. Uzzah should not have touched the ark because God had warned them in advance in Num. 4:15, ESV—“And when Aaron and his sons have finished covering the sanctuary and all the furnishings of the sanctuary, as the camp sets out, after that the sons of Kohath shall come to carry these, but they must not touch the holy things, lest they die. These are the things of the tent of meeting that the sons of Kohath are to carry.” Uzzah touched it; he died.

After three months (6:11), when David brought up the ark from the house of Obed-edom to Jerusalem, he did it with a fearful as well as a joyful heart. “And when those who bore the ark of the Lord had gone six steps, he sacrificed an ox and a fattened animal. And David danced before the Lord with all his might” (2 Sam. 6:13; cf. 15:29). This time David and Israel worshipped freely, yet with God’s constraints.

Secondly, it was an insult to carry the ark of God with a cart, not with a litter. “Litters were for rulers, but carts or wagons were for things…Never for royalty. Placing the ark on a cart was an insult. They were celebrating its return, but by putting the ark on a cart, they were in essence saying the ark was cargo” (pp. 30-31). The ark of God that symbolizes the presence of God must be treated royally, not casually. Besides that, it was the Philistines who first used the cart to transport the ark (1 Sam. 6:8-11). As Eugene Peterson notes:

Uzzah ignored (defied!) the Mosaic directions and substituted the latest Philistine technological innovation—an ox-cart, of all thing (see 1 Sam. 6). A well-designed ox-cart is undeniably more efficient for moving the Ark about than plodding Levites. But it’s also impersonal—the replacement of consecrated persons by an efficient machine, the impersonal crowding out the personal.[1]

Thirdly, the ark of God is called the ark of the Covenant of Yahweh(See Num. 10:33; 14:44; Deut. 10:8; 31:9; Josh. 3:3, 11; 1 Sam. 4:3, 4, 5; 1 Kgs. 3:15; 6:19; Jer. 3:16), which contained three items: a copy of the Ten Commandments (commanded them); a jar of manna from the wilderness years (provided for them); and Aaron’s rod (saved them).[2] God made a covenant with Israel. He was faithful to and respectful for this covenantal relationship. He expected Israel to act in the same way. God couldn’t tolerate Israel to treat the ark of the Covenant lightly. “Yahweh valued the covenant with his people so highly that he wanted to communicate the message that he would not tolerate disrespect for the object that symbolized that relationship” (p. 32).

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[1] Eugene Peterson, Leap Over a Wall: Earthly Spirituality for Everyday Christians (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997), p. 150.

[2] Ibid., p. 148.

David's Inquiry

“Now they told David, ‘Behold, the Philistines are fighting against Keilah and are robbing the threshing floors.’” (1 Sam. 23:1, ESV) David’s spontaneity was to inquire of the Lord, “Shall I go and attack these Philistines?” (23:2a, ESV) The Lord said, “Go and attack the Philistines and save Keilah.” (23:2b, ESV) The divine yes was not supported by David’s men. They said, “Behold, we are afraid here in Judah; how much more then if we go to Keilah against the armies of the Philistines?” (23:3, ESV) David inquired the Lord the second time. The divine answer was also yes. (23:4)

David listened to God as well as to his men. He prayed to God and communicated to his men. The fact that David inquired the Lord twice indicates that David related to God vertically and to his men horizontally. David knew that he couldn’t attack Philistines without his men. He also knew that he couldn’t rescue Keilah from the armies of the Philistines only with his men.

A leader goes to God first, then his group. A leader brings the group discernment back to the Lord and discerns the Lord’s guidance. This process is not as smooth as it seems. But it is a necessary process in pastoral ministry.

After the second inquiry, “And David and his men went to Keilah and fought with the Philistines and brought away their livestock and struck them with a great blow. So David saved the inhabitants of Keilah.” (23:5, ESV) David must have been convicted by God’s assurance, and he must have convinced his men to go forth with the same assurance. In 23:5, the narrator doesn’t let David’s men to express their opinion. They just joined David and went out to fight against the Philistines. From 23:3 to 23:5, David’s men were changed by David’s prayer. (23:4) Perhaps, the Lord changed the perspective of David’s men through David’s prayer. From readers’ perspective, we know that God intervened and changed things in the narrative. However, in the narrative, all the characters lived, acted, performed, and prayed without any certainty. No one deals with reality with absolute certainty. We can only embrace His sovereignty with faith and hope. There is a tension between life uncertainty and divine sovereignty. We pray in the midst of this tension.

Robin Routledge notes:

Commenting on Abraham’s prayer for Sodom, Goldingay says, ‘the object of prayer is not to discover God’s will in order to align oneself with it but to take part in determining God’s will’. There is something in this. Through prayer, the worshipper becomes a participant, with God. But the idea that God is persuaded by our prayers to do what he might otherwise not do raises questions about his sovereignty. Prayer is not a means of imposing our will on God…On the other hand, if it makes no difference, then why do it? This is a tension we cannot easily resolve. God is sovereign; his purposes stand for ever. But in his grace and mercy, he also responds to the prayers of his people.[1]

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[1] Robin Routledge, Old Testament Theology: A Thematic Approach (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2008), p. 206.

David's Group

“David departed from there and escaped to the cave of Adullam…And everyone who was in distress, and everyone who was in debt, and everyone who was bitter in soul, gathered to him. And he became captain over them. And there were with him about four hundred men” (1 Sam. 22:1-2, ESV).

David became a leader of another kind. A group of outcasts who were eaten up by life came to David and followed him. Those who were in distress, in debt, and bitter in soul came to David because David could identify their problems. No matter what the problems might be, such as marital issues, anxiety, doubt, etc…, David could relate to them. The exilic David could relate to those who were in exile. Who we are determines what we see; what we experience shapes the way we relate to the experience of others.

In 2 Corinthians, Paul calls God the “God of all comfort” (1:3). Paul says that this God “comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (1:4, ESV). In wilderness, David must have encountered the God of comfort and experienced the comfort of God. Because David tasted what it was like to be comforted in distress, he was able to comfort those who were bitter in their souls. He had empathy toward them.

David didn’t ask for the experience in wilderness. No one asks for discomfort and suffering. It’s just part of life. Theologically, it’s part of God’s sovereign plan to prepare us and present us mature in Him. God sent David to the wilderness to minister to these four hundred men who could only be comforted by a soulful leader like David. (Later on, two hundred more men followed David. See 1 Sam. 23:13; 25:13; 27:2; 30:9) No one prefers a wilderness experience. But by God’s sovereignty, David and this group of men met in an unexpected place. In God’s sovereign will and grace, David became a pastor and a counselor among the 600 men in the wilderness.

These are the people David lived with for that decade of wilderness years. They foraged together, ate together, prayed together, fought together. There’s nothing explicit in the text about the spirituality of David’s company—nothing that says they became a community of faith and searched out the ways in which God worked his salvation in their lives—but the context demands it. We know that David prayed; I think it’s safe to assume that he taught his companions to pray, surviving in hostile surroundings and realizing that God was with them, working out his sovereign purposes in them.[1]

David and the group foreshadow a relationship between a pastor and a congregation.

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[1] Eugene Peterson, Leap Over a Wall: Earthly Spirituality for Everyday Christians (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997), pp. 94-95.

David's Friend

Following David’s plan, Jonathan found out that Saul determined to kill David (1 Sam. 20:1-11). Jonathan, David’s faithful companion, loved David as his own. “The soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul” (1 Sam. 18:1, ESV; cf. 20:17). This verse describes their friendship. When Jonathan realized that his father determined to kill his best friend, the text says, “He was grieved for David, because his father had disgraced him” (1 Sam. 20:34b, ESV). Jonathan grieved for David and his situation. Jonathan grieved for David in private, not in front of David. He thought about David in such a way that, I believe, Jonathan’s grief for David became a prayer to God for David. In the early formative period of David’s life, Jonathan played a significant part. Eugene Peterson notes:

In the middle of the craziness and madness, the meanness and hate, David experienced a most unusual love in Jonathan’s friendship…Friendship is a much underestimated aspect of spirituality. It’s every bit as significant as prayer and fasting. Like the sacramental use of water and bread and wine, friendship takes what’s common in human experience and turns it into something holy. Friendship with David complicated Jonathan’s life enormously. He risked losing his father’s favor and willingly sacrificed his own royal future. But neither the risk nor the loss deterred him; he became and stayed David’s friend. Jonathan’s friendship was essential to David’s life. It’s highly unlikely that David could have persisted in serving Saul without the friendship of Jonathan. Jonathan, in striking contrast to his father, discerned God in David…Jonathan’s friendship entered David’s soul in a way that Saul’s hatred never did.[1]

What a blessing to David to have someone like Jonathan who grieved for him and remembered him in prayer. Not only did Jonathan help David to escape from Saul in life, but also nurtured the spiritual life of David by being faithful to him and discerning and confirming the calling of God in him.

True friendship is not without cost. Jonathan made sacrifices in this relationship. This friendship complicated Jonathan’s soul. On the one hand, he didn’t want to disobey his father. On the other hand, he loved his friend as his own soul. I can imagine that Jonathan couldn’t sleep for many nights because of the inner tension, even turmoil, within him. Perhaps, the spirituality of Jonathan was shaped by God through this tension. Any close relationship can destroy or edify. It can suffocate both parties without giving enough space to one another. It can also lead us to a higher ground where we can’t reach by ourselves. Jonathan loved David, but he never abandoned Saul. Rather, Jonathan stayed with and fought alongside Saul.

In the story of David, he couldn’t become king without the friendship of Jonathan. Most likely, David would become another Saul in the journey if Jonathan didn’t confirm the life of holiness in David. David lamented for the death of his friend: “I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; very pleasant have you been to me; your love to me was extraordinary, surpassing the love of women” (2 Sam. 1:26, ESV).

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[1] Eugene Peterson, Leap Over a Wall: Earthly Spirituality for Everyday Christians (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997), pp. 51-53.

David's Heart

I am reading 1 & 2 Samuel along with Walter Brueggemann’s First and Second Samuel commentary (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1990). After the fall of Saul (1 Sam. 9-15), the narrator deals with the rise of David (1 Sam. 16ff). David was chosen and anointed as king in 1 Sam. 16. However, David didn’t become king immediately. There was a long process from being a shepherd boy to the shepherd of Israel (2 Sam. 5:2). I come into a realization that God chose and anointed David as the king of Israel, but God didn’t make him king at once. In God’s sight, David was a king. Nevertheless, in reality, Saul was the king. David was a shepherd boy, a musician in Saul’s court, and a warrior in Saul’s army. After being chosen and anointed, David lived under the shadow of Saul. The narrator spends a lot of chapters to record and depict the life and the rise of David.

From a shepherd boy to the shepherd of Israel, Saul started to eye David (1 Sam. 18:6-9). He then planned to kill David (1 Sam. 18:10ff). A chosen king fled from Saul and ended up in exile. “Then Samuel took the horn of oil and anointed him in the midst of his brothers. And the Spirit of the Lord rushed upon David from that day forward. And Samuel rose up and went to Ramah” (1 Sam. 16:13). David should have been excited about it even though he was taken aback at first. He didn’t think of being a king. He was the eighth son, “the one outside the completed number, the one who surely is an outsider.”[1] He had “no king material within.”[2] He was not outstanding. He was below average. He was insignificant. He was ordinary. That was it.

After being anointed in front of his family, it changed the whole landscape of David inwardly. He was still the baby boy. But he started to see himself differently. Perhaps, he gradually acted in a different, yet subtle way. The anointed event must have changed and shaped him. From a shepherd boy to the shepherd of Israel, he ended up in exile due to Saul’s jealousy and hatred towards him (1 Sam. 18-30). How did he interpret the anointed event in exile?

Eugene Peterson notes:

Wilderness stories are temptations/testing stories. Wilderness is the place of testing, the place of tempting. Wilderness is wildness. Nothing is tamed or domesticated. The accustomed supports of civilization aren’t there, and life is sheer survival.

In the Moses wilderness story the people of Israel were trained to discern between idols and the living God, taught to worship; through their wilderness experience they were prepared to live totally before God. In the Jesus wilderness story our Lord learned to discern between religion that uses God and spirituality that enters into what God does, and he was thereby prepared to be our Savior, not merely our helper or adviser or entertainer. In the David wilderness story we see a young man hated and hunted like an animal, his very humanity profaned, forced to decide between a life of blasphemy and a life of prayer—and choosing prayer. In choosing prayer he entered into the practice of holiness. A very earthy holiness it was, but holiness all the same.[3]

In exile, there were two paths: the path of apostasy and the path of holiness. David chose the latter. He developed a life of prayer in wilderness. When David was in the cave, he prayed Psalm 142: “With my voice I cry out to the Lord; with my voice I plead for mercy to the Lord…when my spirit faints within me, you know my way!...Bring me out of prison, that I may give thanks to your name! The righteous will surround me, for you will deal bountifully with me.”

He could have chosen to curse God and his own life. But he chose to pray to God: “In choosing prayer he entered into the practice of holiness.” As David chose to pray and enter into the practice of holiness, he began to store up king material within himself. When David prayed a prayer like Psalm 142, he prayed to God with his naked self. David’s humanity was profaned by Saul; David found his new humanity in God.

In 1 Sam. 10:9, it says “When he [Saul] turned his back to leave Samuel, God gave him another heart.” I wonder why God didn’t give David “another heart” after being anointed. God didn’t give him a new heart, but He shaped David’s heart. God tuned it, refined it, reformed it, and reshaped it. God used the wilderness experience to give David a new heart. David disobeyed and profaned God’s name, he ended up like Saul. David obeyed and chose God, he stored up king material in his heart.

“For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Sam. 16:7). David’s heart might not be perfect and right when he was chosen and anointed. God saw the potential in David’s heart.

[1] Walter Brueggemann, First and Second Samuel (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1990), p. 122.

[2] Eugene Peterson, Leap Over a Wall: Earthly Spirituality for Everyday Christians (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997), p. 15.

[3] Ibid., p. 75.

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Self-Bound, yet Free

“But as for me, my prayer is to you, O Lord. At an acceptable time, O God, in the abundance of your steadfast love answer me in your saving faithfulness…Answer me, O Lord, for your steadfast love is good; according to your abundant mercy, turn to me” (Ps. 69:13, 16, ESV).

The psalmist’s conviction of the fact that God will answer his prayer is based on God’s steadfast love—hesed. God’s hesed carries a lot of meanings, such as kindness, mercy, loyalty, faithfulness, duty, and obligation. It is always understood in the context of covenant in which God’s hesed is graciously revealed and experienced. On the one hand, God is free to act. On the other hand, he is bound himself within this relationship.[1] Paradoxically, the sovereign God is limited by His hesed towards Israel as well as to us in Christ.

The psalmist’s prayer is grounded in God’s hesed. His confidence is placed in God himself, not in his personal piety. His religious zeal does not guarantee that his prayer gets answered and that God will act in his timetable. Rather, at an acceptable time, O God, in the abundance of your hesed, answer me in your saving faithfulness. The psalmist acknowledges God’s sovereign will and trusts God’s self-bound, yet free hesed.

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[1] Robin Routledge, Old Testament Theology: A Thematic Approach (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2008), pp. 108-110.

Ephesians 2:8-10 Principle

There is always a tension between being justified by God in Christ and sanctified to be like Christ by the transforming power of the Spirit. Such a tension doesn’t occur within the relationship of the three Godheads: God the Father, God the Son, and God the Spirit. It only occurs in Christian experience. Paul says, “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast” (Eph. 2:8-9, ESV). No good deeds can ever justify sinners like us before God. Rather, Christ alone, grace alone, and faith alone can save us from God’s holy wrath. Paul then continues to say, “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them” (2:10, ESV). We are saved for good works. John Calvin rightfully notes, “Those whom God justifies, He also sanctifies.” In other words, we are saved for practical holiness.

Eph. 2:10 must be grounded in Eph. 2:8-9, not vice versa. This is the order of salvation. Once we reverse the order, we start to work for God’s salvation. We try to earn God’s favor apart from Christ’s finished work. We attempt to please God with human efforts. As a result, we nullify God’s grace in Christ Jesus (see Gal. 2:21). Practical holiness cannot save us. Rather, it only leads us to Him. In Him we find “a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (Jn. 4:14).

J. C. Ryle notes:

Can holiness save us? Can holiness put away sin—cover iniquities—make satisfaction for transgressions—pay our debt to God? No: not a whit. God forbid that I should every say so. Holiness can do none of these things. The brightest saints are all “unprofitable servants.” Our purest works are no better than filthy rags, when tried by the light of God’s holy law. The white robe which Jesus offers, and faith puts on, must be our only righteousness—the name of Christ our holy confidence—the Lamb’s Book of Life our title to heaven. With all our holiness we are no better than sinners. Our best things are stained and tainted with imperfection. They are all more or less incomplete, wrong in the motive or defective in the performance. By the deeds of the law shall no child of Adam ever be justified.[1]

The order can never be reversed. It does not mean that they can be separated. Jesus says, “Bear fruits in keeping with repentance…Even now the axe is laid to the root of the trees. Every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire” (Lk. 3:8-9, ESV). Either Jesus’ “bear fruits in keeping with repentance” or Paul’s “created in Christ Jesus for good works”, both command practical holiness in the life of the Christian experience. “For you know what instructions we gave you through the Lord Jesus. For this is the will of God, your sanctification” (1 Thess. 4:2-3a, ESV).

[1] J. C. Ryle, Holiness: Its Nature, Hindrances, Difficulties, and Roots (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2007), p. 50.

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