ǀə'soom'd • ə'θoritɛǀ

ǀə'soom'd • ə'θoritɛǀ

adj.

exercising power or serving a function without being legally or officially established; assumed by one's own act, or without authority; cf. emergent leadership. syn: de facto, self-assumed.

66³

Come and listen, all you who fear God;
let me tell you what he has done for me.ps

The activity of Israel's god was told and retold and preserved for many generations to hear. Beyond the notion of heritage, though, was the intent of telling outsiders about this incredible creator. In the context of the Ancient Near Eastern culture this could simply be a move to tell of how Israel's god was superior to the many other deities which were represented in the surrounding nations. And while this may also be the case of this particular statement (and the psalm in its entirety), there is yet more to this beckoning to come and listen. . .

Within the framework of religious practice, to tell of divine activity is to glorify the one who acts. In other words, whenever a story is recounted it is for the purpose of promoting and glorifying the figure at the center of the story. Psalm 66 is a hymn of thanksgiving which makes use of this principle.

"And when he bids his fellow believers hear what God has done for him, then this 'narration' is likewise meant to form a part of the glorification of God's saving deeds in the presence of the congregation, which forms the purpose and theme of the cultic ceremony."*

In summary, narration beckons glorification.

For Israel's god to act drives the individual and community to an appropriate response of thanksgiving and worship, which encapsulates the telling of his story and produces glorification. And we know now why his actions bring him glory (though perhaps a greater process than first imagined). I would suppose that it is a good thing for this process to become rather instantaneous in our lives. . .so long as we do not forget to tell of what he has done.



*Artur Weiser, Psalms OTL (Lousiville: WJK, 1962), 471.

fights

While in the wilderness, on his way to meet Esau, Jacob wrestled with God.

God started it.

Even though one can trace an impressive character development in the story of Jacob, there evidently was more growing that needed to happen. [Insert all-night fight sequence] The determination with which Jacob struggled was quite remarkable. Yet this account is not attempting to say that Jacob was as strong as God but highlights the tenacity of this particular individual. The tenacity of this very conniving individual who did not yet realize that he would begin a covenant people.

I have to wonder if anyone in the modern church would classify Jacob (as seen here) as a 'seeker.'

If so, then it begs the question of why he was looking for Esau rather than God. If not, then one is left to wonder why this was such a meaningful spiritual experience if Jacob was not a seeker. The answer to this might come down to the fact that we have no idea what it means to be a 'seeker' in the first place. For it is not required of us to seek God in specific religious practices but to live life and allow God to find us.

And start a fight.

Why a fight? Because God is not concerned with our safety or our well-being as much as he is concerned with having our passion driving us toward him. So Jacob walked away limping. . .and changed. And so we too walk away limping. . .and broken. For only then can we truly allow God to get down to business. His business of salvation and restoration. He knows our will must be shattered and he recklessly swings away.

". . .he bloodies your nose and then gives you a ride home on his bike."
~Rich Mullins

66²

You let men ride over our heads; we went through fire and water, but you brought us to a place of abundance.
I will come to your temple with burnt offerings and fulfill my vows to you-vows my lips promised and my mouth spoke when I was in trouble.ps

While reading through this literary piece, I was drawn to the phrase, "The history of suffering is the history of grace." Perhaps more attune to the overall biblical story is that the history of suffering becomes the history of grace. But then again, that might just be semantics. A while ago this blog cited, "And does glory ever come except on the heels of sorrow?" (R. Mullins); that is to say, can we ever find the true glory or grace of our god except when he has dispelled the rumors of truth found in this world? Instead, he works to destroy the so-called reality of this world in order to capture us into the legend of the other side.

The difficulty we find, then, is that we cling so tightly to all that we can see and hear and touch and feel and perceive. And so it becomes to us a punishment, perhaps because we have not matured enough to realize that pain is not necessarily punishment. On the other hand, however, it is neither for us to become religious masochists (even though the eyes of this world will regard our behavior as such). The promise of this journey has been referred to as the things of this world growing strangely dim.

After all of this, it becomes clear that indeed the history of suffering is/becomes the history of grace. For he will not have anything to do with competing for our attention. He must (and will) remove it from the equation. Until only two remain on the path (accomplished over and over and over again. . .).


How can I find something
That two can take
Without stumbling as we
Walk into our future's wake


(As Long as It Matters)

shaken

[in regards to paul and the damascus experience - which, incidentally, was also the name of his punk rock band]

Following his encounter with the risen kind, we see a tremendous change come over the outlook and activity of this devout Pharisaic and zealous first-century Jew. A faithful member of the nation of Israel, this man knew that obedience to the Law was the only hope that this people group had for their god to come and establish his kingdom. Any attempt to subvert this divine activity had to be removed from the picture - by force, if necessary. Such was the devotion and zeal of this man.

And yet we take for granted the impact upon him as we are content with our sunday-school representation of Saul going down the road, blinded and commissioned by a risen Jesus, and suddenly changing his name to Paul (which isn't the case anyway. . .) while going on tour to tell everyone that Christianity was the right choice. With such a glossed over reading of the text it is no wonder why we do not see more people in our churches wrestling with their faith and fearful to struggle with spirituality. For as advances as Saul was in his own spiritual understanding, this face-to-face with Jesus left him in a definite daze.

In his own account of the impact of this event, we learn that he had to get away from everything for at least three years in order to sort all of this out (see here). And this is a guy with serious credentials. I am a firm believer that there is no encounter with Jesus that does not leave us in some sort of a daze (if so, then it probably was not a legitmate encounter with him). His holiness impacts our unholiness with such incredible power that we can not come away unchanged.

A shaken faith might not be the end of the world. . .

And when Christ has stripped away all of your 'phony-baloney' kind of systematic theology, all of your lame, Protestant kind of stupidity, all of your Catholic hang-ups, when Christ has stripped away everything that we have invented about Him, then maybe we will encounter Him as He really is. And we will know ourselves as we really are. So don't be afraid that your faith gets shaken. Could be that God is shaking you forward, and shaking you free.
~Rich Mullins

66¹

"Come and see what God has done. . ."ps

In the context of Israel's worship one finds a continual and recurring theme of remembering and recalling all that their god has done in the process of salvation history. This occurs on many different levels, from the personal and intimate to national history and the miraculous. What I found to be of special note on this topic, particularly in Psalm 66, is how the story of salvation and the activity of the divine among humanity is told in both historical and present form. In other words, the past and the present are told in one breath.

This is due to the fact that the biblcal portrait of heavenly activity is seen as a single and unified event. The past serves as a heritage for the faith that we display in the present. In turn, our present activity will be the heritage upon which the future will be built.

And whenever we remember the past it actually becomes part of our present experience, which means the telling and retelling of God's activity allows it to live and impact and save today. "In the cultic representation the 'there' and the 'once' of history becomes the 'now' and the 'here' of the [salvation-history]; it becomes the eternal presence of the rule of God which is the true object of the cultic ceremony and of the hymnic praise of the tribes of the covenant people."*

So if the 'there' and 'once' become the 'here' and 'now' it is our responsibility to make the 'here' and 'now' become the 'everywhere' and 'tomorrow.' Our story must be continually present.




*Artur Weiser, The Psalms OTL (Louisville: WJK, 1962), 470.

sycamore

"The statement of Zacchaeus [Luke 19:8] is to be understood as a reaction to the initiative of Jesus and to the objections of the crowd. In order that Jesus may be freed from the suspicion of consorting with a sinner he makes a public declaration of his intention to live a new life. In such a situation a declaration of intent was an adequate sign of repentance. At the same time, his action is to be seenas an expression of gratitude to Jesus for his gracious attitude to him, and as an example of the sort of change in life that should follow upon the reception of salvation." *

This particular comment struck me quite odd, yet remarkably difficult to pass by. The second line is what makes this account leap off the page - In order that Jesus may be freed. . . - and thus creates a shocking situation. Most people know the basic story of Zacchaeus (p.s., from what I can gather he was a wee little man) and thus are familiar with the fact that Jesus invited himself to this tax-collector's home. Two observations: 1) Jesus appears to have no hesitation to invite himself to someone else's house, which is a bit weird; 2) by going to this certain house he would have raised a number of eyebrows, as evidenced in Luke 19:7 with the response of the crowd. In fact, the response of the crowd shows that this activity of entering into a sinner's home was the same as sharing in Zacchaeus' sin.**

But at the end of the story the weight is given to the action of Zacchaeus to free Jesus from the reputation he had taken upon himself. What an incredible portrait of grace is demonstrated (once again) here to see the length to which God will go to reach his beloved. Such a magnificent humility is found in Jesus' willingness to bind himself to a sinner with the intent purpose of making that sinner pure. How is this possible? Jesus knows that holiness is not corrupted, but that it is the more contagious entity. In other words, holiness influences unholiness.

So in spite of the separationism of many modern evangelicals, this is not the solution. Rather than sit back and let this world pass on by, it is our duty to engage the sinfulness of this world on its own terms. For only then can we allow our holiness to pervade it and draw it to Christ.

And what about ourselves?
Christ has bound himself to us in our sinfulness.
Have we freed him from such a reputation?



*I. Howard Marshall, The Gospel of Luke NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), 697.
**Craig L. Blomberg, Contagious Holiness: Jesus' Meals with Sinners (Downers Grove: IVP, 2005), 153.

stumbling

One of the most interesting observations about biblical narrative is the frankness with which the story is told, with much care given to the perfection of the Author and a seeming disregard for how each character comes across. Never are the blunders or shortcomings of any individual glossed over for the sake of good storytelling. Even some of the most well-known (greatest?) of our Sunday School heros are a bit rougher than we first realize. Samson is a sex-starved dimwit; Jonah is a jerk and a half who does not preach because he does not think his recipients worthy of salvation; Paul calculatingly murdered Christians; the Twelve had their own problems throughout; etc. . .you get the idea.

Much like Moses, we get the idea that these are ambling through this life and somehow stumble onto holy ground. When this eighty-year-old sheep-herder ascended the mountain he just wanted to see what all the smoke was about. He never envisioned himself returning to Egypt for some divinely commissioned task. And then he tried to get out of the job. Walking along, minding his own business he found himself on the brink of a movement that would shake the foundations of the world. He was unholy on holy ground.

I once learned that true greatness does not seek out great things. Rather, great things will come to those who are destined to be great. Not that we always find greatness accompanied by much acclaim. For the truest greatness is standing by the power which God has given you in those times into which he has brought you. And perhaps we find that in all of our stumbling along we are doing a great thing. We stand in the middle of a movement that is shaking the foundations of the world. We are unholy on holy ground.

So we who trip and lose footing find eventually that it is because we have actually and unknowingly been ascending a mountain. And certain moments demand we remove our sandals. . .

CR550N

As I was driving down the highway today I became acutely aware. . .

1. There is such a wonderful color and beauty which surrounded me in nature. Since it is autumn, the various colors that are otherwise hidden within the leaves are able to emerge and display such a magnificence. And this is all part of a dying experience. For some this already sounds too morbid, but I believe this is because we have too easily lost a proper appreciation for the seasons of life - it is not that those who see beauty in the process of dying are particularly warped.

2. There seems to be an equation to spiritual existence. Yet this is not some mathematical economy which may be experienced as a formula in which lives are placed in a cosmic algebraic recipe and have all turned out. There is faith and hope. . .faith is built upon that which God has done in the past and hope is looking forward to the future. Yet there are three that remain: love is that which enables us to move from faith to hope in a three-part pilgrimage.

c. Trinity gains us an understanding of reality (it is the ultimate reality). Three persons, one essence. Bound together by an eternal and perfect love. Which means (among MANY other things) that Jesus and the Spirit and the Father are connected through love. We are told to display love toward each other and toward this loving perfection. The only possible way we can experience love is through the Spirit, which is the presence of Jesus who has enabled us to enter into the throne room of his heavenly Father. Could it be that the love we share carries the very presence of Christ? Perhaps even the heavenly glory of the Father?

4. Have you ever stopped to realize how close we are to the eternal? Our world is marked by so much that is temporary, yet the activity of grasping for these straws somehow binds us to that which will never end. We try to hold on to this life - sometimes for good and sometimes because we can't help ourselves - and we find that everything slips away from our reach. Even the most spiritually momentus occasions can not be preserved, yet we are still reaching for them. Perhaps our lives are indeed sacraments: outward signs of an inward grace. Sometimes we might be sacramenting the wrong direction.



four roads: one intersection: in more ways than one. . .




“Gratitude is a spiritual virtue that opens the door of the soul to the world around us.” *



C. Hassell Bullock, Encountering the Book of Psalms (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2004), 160.

penetrable

There are, I suppose, two incompatible thoughts of god which dictate human existence. At least, they may be found incompatible in our particular uses (or understandings) of them. The first is to believe that god is a mighty fortress which cannot be infiltrated. And the other is that god is so interested in our lives that he can be summoned over the slightest murmur of a prayer. In modern day evangelicalism I do not see a healthy connection of these ideals. Perhaps this is because we do a rather poor job of acurately living this out. Our church spaces are most likely the best indication of this: either we have spaces that are truly contemporary but display little (if any) sense of reverence and awe or we have spaces which are stately and majestic but which make it difficult to approach god on terms other than white-collar, upper-class, management terms.

An interesting situation.

However, a solution might be approached if we realize that god is not an impenetrable and ineffable mystery before which one bow down to the dust, overwhelmed by mystical emotions but one who is intimately involved with every aspect of his creation. When Scripture speaks of his mindful eye it makes a profound statement that God is actively caring for all he has made. What is more, all that he has made is given an incredible position of being able to call out his name.

An interesting solution.

The notion of this god being available leads to the biblical position of god being moveable. Although many systematicians claim that god is not able to change (despite things such as the incarnation), Scripture is very clear and forthright about praying as though prayers make a difference! All of this leads to a god who has opened himself up to the risk of being hurt all so that he might have a genuine love and relationship with his people. This does not sound like an impenetrable force.

An interesting vantage point:

Since we are enamored with the biggest, strongest, best, etc. . .we cannot help but have pictures of might color our view of God. Even after he has demonstrated not a love of power, but a power of love (see blog. And given his position as creator and sustainer, it is not a question of whether or not this god exists as one who cannot be dethroned, but rather what kind of god is this that would risk rejection and a thwarted will (at least, in part) that he would enter into this world.

And as the creator, sustainer, and foundation. . .one must not worry about his lack of mighty strength (cf. Isaiah 40)




*gratitude to: Artur Weiser, The Psalms (Louisville: WJK, 1962), 467-472.