Month: September 2022

In the Presence of Our Enemies

‘So David triumphed over the Philistine with only a sling and stone, for he had no sword’ – 1 Samuel 17:50

I’ve been preaching a series through Psalm 23, the one that begins, as most Christians and Jewish persons know, if not everyone else, ‘the Lord is my Shepherd.’  As I have worked through its imagery, I have, among other things, pondered the life of its author, Israel’s second king, David. 

David’s life was an interesting one, filled with ups and downs.  One day he could be ‘a man after God’s own heart,’ the next an adulterer and murderer.  David did much that was good, but also made many mistakes.  And while most people don’t see it this way, I have long felt that his first mistake happened on the day he fought Goliath in the Valley of Elah. 

Most everyone knows the story.  Goliath, champion of the Philistines, came out every morning and evening to taunt the armies of Israel.  ‘Send out your best man to fight,’ he shouted, ‘If I win, your people will become our slaves.  If you win,’ and here he surely laughed out loud, ‘we will become yours.’ 

He surely laughed because the very idea of an Israelite defeating him was ludicrous, and not just because he was nine feet tall, rippled with muscle, and armed to the teeth.  It was ludicrous because any battle between the well-trained, well-armed Goliath and an Israeli soldier would only illustrate the enormous discrepancies between the culture and might of Philistia and that of Israel.  Philistia was, for its day, an advanced culture.  They had ships that sailed the sea, traded with other nations, enjoyed the finer things of life, and, most relevant to the battle that was shaping up in the Valley of Elah, boasted of smiths who could work iron and bronze, i.e., they had swords and armor.  This latter facet of Philistine culture gave them a major technological advantage over the Israelites, who were little more than an upstart nation still trying to carve out space in the Promised Land.  Israel had no smiths to work iron and bronze.  Consequently, they were not well supplied with swords and armor.[1]  As they stood opposite the Philistines on the far side of the valley, they were armed with, well, sticks and clubs. 

In other words, any battle between Goliath and an Israelite, including the one that would take place between the young shepherd boy David and the seasoned warrior Goliath, would merely highlight Israel’s lack of sophistication and power.   The Philistines were all giants compared to the Israelites.  To any reasonable bookie, no Israelite stood a chance against Goliath, nor did Israel stand a chance against Philistia.      

But the Israelites had something the Philistines did not: God.  Their relationship with God had proven sufficient to overcome every obstacle that had ever come their way.  No swords?  No problem.  They had only to be still and know that Yahweh was God.  Moses hadn’t needed swords to lead the Israelites out of Egypt; he had only to be still and let God fight for his people.  Gideon (who, I contend, would best be played on film by Rick Moranis) needed only pitchers and torches to rout the Midianites.  Shofars had made the walls of Jericho come down.  Repeatedly, God had demonstrated to his people that they did not need to fight like the nations to prevail.  The ways and means of Israel were not the ways and means of the surrounding nations.  As God’s ‘peculiar people’ (see, Exodus 19:5-6), Israel had only to be still and let God be God. 

Which, at first, David seemed to understand.  He was only a shepherd boy when he accepted Goliath’s challenge.  But he believed that God was on his side.  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ he told a skeptical King Saul, ‘I’ve defeated bears and lions in the wilderness.  The Lord who rescued me from them will rescue me from this Philistine!’  When Saul tried to give him armor and a sword, he said he didn’t need them.  For one, they were too bulky for him.  For another, well, who needs a culture of iron when you have God on your side!

And so, David strode into the Valley of Elah.  He picked up five stones from the riverbed and the rest, as they say, is history.  ‘You come to me with sword, spear, and javelin,’ he shouted to his foe, ‘but I come to you in the name of the Lord of angel armies!  You’re going down giant, and everyone here will know that the Lord rescues his people, but not with sword and spear.  This is the Lord’s battle, and he will give you to us!’  Reaching into his shepherd’s bag, he took out one stone, placed it in his sling, swung it (‘round and round and round and round and round and round and round,’ as my Sunday School teachers taught me to sing), and brought the giant down. 

David had won, not with technological advancements, not with the weapons of the Philistines, not, in truth, even with a stone and a sling, but with the power of the Living God. 

But then, I contend, he made his mistake.  As Goliath lay unconscious on the ground, defeated already, David ran over, pulled Goliath’s sword from its sheath, and killed the Philistine by cutting off his head.[2] 

I have heard it said that David’s taking of Goliath’s sword was a turning point in the history of Israel.  It signaled, not just the casting off of the Philistines, but the dawn of a new day.  From this point on, Israel would use the tools of the Philistines as their empire expanded.  They too would work with iron and bronze.  Their smiths would make swords, spears, and armor.  They would become like the nations around them.  They would become a power and contend with the nations on a level playing field.  

There is only one problem with all of that: it is not God’s way. 

God’s way is a crazy way.  It calls people to, as I have previously noted (quoted from scripture really) be still and let God be God.  It calls people to trust God, to face a hostile world in peculiar fashion, believing that he will deliver them from their enemies without the need to become like them.  God’s way is the way of Jesus, who conquered the world with a cross, not a sword (heck, he didn’t even use a sling).  It is the way of utter foolishness to the world, but for those who believe, it is the wisdom and power of God (see, 1 Corinthians 1:18-25). 

David, in picking up Goliath’s sword, took a significant step away from the wisdom and power of the God he had trusted so completely when he first stepped into the Valley of Elah.  In taking it up, he not only adopted the weapons of his enemy, but the ways and means of his enemy, the ways and means that would, as we see when we read the rest of Israel’s story, lead the nation further away from God. 

I cannot help but wonder what might have happened if David, instead of taking up that sword and cutting off Goliath’s head, had simply commanded in the name of the Lord that the armies of the Philistines pick up the prone body of his enemy and take it back to Philistia, never to bother Israel again.  I wonder what would have happened had Israel, instead of becoming a culture of iron, had simply gone on living as the peculiar people of God, trusting him to preserve them from their foes. 

I know, you’re thinking that would never have worked, that even if the Philistines had listened to such a command, they would have come back a second time, with either a revived Goliath or some other champion.  What choice did David have but to take up the sword of his foe and wield it?  What choice did Israel have but to adopt the ways of means of their enemies, and become a culture of iron so that they could defend themselves in the future?    

To this I can only say, ‘Seriously?  You don’t believe that God could have used a sling and stone, or some other unexpected means, to overcome the enemy a second time?  You don’t believe that the God who delivered Israel out of the bondage of Egyptian slavery without their having to raise so much as a finger, couldn’t have delivered them again by miraculous means?’ 

I write all of this, not to pick on David, but to make us think.  We live in a time when many Christians believe that their cherished values and beliefs are under assault.  While I tend to think much of this fear is exaggerated, I would admit that there is some truth to the notion that the Church is under attack.  After all, it always has been, and it always will be (Jesus warned us to expect as much).  Sometimes it can feel as if a giant is standing on the far side of the valley calling us out, mocking our faith.    

The question is: what do we do about that?  Should we pick up the weapons, the tools, the techniques of our enemies?  Should we become like them?  Should we seek political power and influence?  Should we lie, cheat, and steal to get what we want?  Should we adopt a ‘do it them before they do it to us’ mentality?  Should we become like the nations?

Or should we live as peculiar people, move forward in faith, entrust our future to God, and believe that he will do what is necessary to further his purposes in the world?  Should we simply live with the conviction that we are not to use the ways and means of our enemies, but rather the ways and means of a loving, powerful God? 

In Psalm 23, David, on one of his better days, wrote of God being present with him in dark valleys and preparing a table before him in the presence of his enemies.  That’s the version of David who started so well that evening in the Valley of Elah: the David who trusted in God’s presence and provision and proceeded accordingly. 

The David who picked up Goliath’s sword, well, I would submit that was David foolishly taking matters into his own hands, becoming the very thing he fought against, and dooming Israel to do the same. 

To all who would adopt the ways and means of the world to fight God’s battles, take heed.  The best thing to do in any situation remains to be still and let God be God, to allow him to set the table before us, even in the presence of our enemies. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] See, 1 Samuel 13:19-22; 17:38-39.  There were no smiths in Israel, partly because the Philistines didn’t allow them; they wanted to keep Israel in the technological dark ages so that they might more easily dominate them.  Only Saul and Jonathon possessed smelted weaponry.  When David went to fight Goliath, the only suit of armor Israel had for him to wear was Saul’s, which David wisely rejected. 

[2] It is commonly believed that David killed Goliath with his sling and stone, but the text makes clear that Goliath was still alive after the blow to his head and that David killed the giant with his own sword (see, 1 Samuel 17:51).  Whether the blow from the stone would have proven fatal or whether Goliath would have recovered is something we will simply never know. 

Growing Young

‘So, Peter, you’ve become a pirate?’ – Wendy Darling

What happens when the boy who never grew up grows up? 

That is the question at the heart of the movie Hook, Steven Spielberg’s 1991 sequel to Disney’s 1953 animated version of J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan.  At the start of the film, the adult Pan, played by Robin Williams, is a far cry from the scourge of pirates he once was.  Years before, he had made the decision to grow up, and grow up he did.  He has a family of his own, which is nice, but has lost his childlike spirit, his faith, his ability to fly.  He has no memory of who he was.   Living far from Neverland, the adult Pan has adapted to the ‘real world,’ adopted its practices, become adept in its ways, and forsaken his true self.  On a visit to the now elderly Wendy Darling, with whom he once had grand adventures (Pan is now married to her granddaughter) he explains that the business that keeps him from visiting more often involves ‘mergers and acquisitions,’ i.e., he has become a corporate raider.  This provokes a shocked and disappointed Wendy to speak the words in the epigraph to this post: ‘So, Peter, you’ve become a pirate.’  The once great Pan who conquered pirates has become very thing he once fought. 

This sad tale of Peter Pan growing up came to mind recently after a conversation with a friend, wherein I found myself remarking that if the early disciples of Jesus were to visit Christians in America today, they would likely mistake many of us for Romans.  The early disciples knew all about Romans.  They lived under their rule.  The Romans believed that the way to change the world was from the top down; seize power and impose your will on everyone below you.  Theirs was the way of violence; they used force whenever they deemed it expeditious to ensure the ascendency of their cause and the defeat of their enemies.  In a Roman world, if you wanted something, you made it happen, by any means necessary.  The Roman way was, if I may stick with the Peter Pan analogy, the way of the pirate, the way of the sword.  And they pulled it off quite well. 

Jesus however, had taught his disciples another way.  Once, when his disciples attempted to shoo some kids away, he said, ‘let the little children come to me, for the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these.’  On another occasion, he remarked that unless a person became like a little child, they could not enter the Kingdom of Heaven.  Jesus, in other words, told his followers to stay young, to refrain from ‘growing up.’  They were not to make things happen by any means necessary; they were to live as children, trusting in their Heavenly Father to lead them through the ups and downs of life.  They were not to become violent to advance causes or defeat enemies; they were to love enemies and leave the future to God.  They were not to seize power and impose their will on others from above; they were to become servants and make the world a better place from the bottom up.  Theirs would not be the way of the pirate, the way of the sword.  It would be the way of the cross, the way of the Lamb. 

And for a time, Jesus disciples pulled it off quite well.  Even as the Roman pirates threatened and attacked, as happened for centuries, they insisted on being, to borrow Rich Mullins’ phrase, ‘children who loved while the nations raged.’  Their response to a world arrayed against their beliefs and values was not to attack, but to love and serve.  As threats mounted, they simply drew closer to Jesus.  They continued, like children, to trust that he and their Heavenly Father would take care of them, and that such an approach to life would work.  They believed that God was in control, and that one day they would be rewarded for their faithfulness, for their refusal to become pirates themselves, as they witnessed the return of Christ and the restoration of all things.  And so, like faithful children, they continued on their way, refusing to become pirates. 

But somewhere along the line, the Church decided to grow up.  Like Peter Pan, it adapted to the ‘real world,’ adopting its practices, becoming adept in its ways, forsaking its true self.  The Church grew powerful.  It no longer sat at the bottom but stood on top, and from its privileged position began to impose its will from the top down.  It even employed violence, pursuing any means necessary to advance its goals and defeat its enemies.  It became a church of pirates. 

Not all Christians went along, of course.  Some remained faithful, and these inspired renewal movements to draw the Church back to her original vision, to the time when the Church was young.  These met with some success, but sadly, as the train of history shows, far too often, the dominant branches of the Church continued to behave like pirates. 

Like Romans. 

And so, the comment to my friend.  Look around you, American Christian.  What do you see?  A Pirate Church.  Tens of millions of professing Jesus followers embracing the Roman way.  Christians attempting to seize power that they might rule from above, forging unholy alliances with unscrupulous characters in an attempt to have their way.  A willingness to employ (or at least excuse) any means necessary, even violence, to achieve desired ends.  A willingness to sell their souls to stand on top and ‘own’ those below them.  A willingness to distort the very teachings of Jesus to the point that they would be unrecognizable to him or the early disciples if they were to show up today. 

Yes, if the early disciples could see us now, I have no doubt they would mistake many in what passes for the Church in America for Romans.  They would wonder what went wrong.  They would say, with tears in their eyes, ‘So, Church, you’ve become the empire.’ 

That such a reaction is plausible is cause for lamentation.  Sackcloth and ashes.  And yet, the situation is not without hope. 

Well, we are children no more

We have sinned and grown old

But our Father still waits

And He watches down the road

To see the crying boys

Come running back to His arms.[1]

Repentance, homecoming, is still an option.  It is possible, if not for the whole Church, at least for a significant portion of it, to grow young again.  To recapture what it means to be young in Christ.  To become children who trust and obey as we follow the way of the Lamb. 

Could such a rebirth be possible?  Oh yes.  Just watch Hook.  There, the adult Peter Pan rediscovers what it means to possess childlike faith.  He learns how to believe again.  He learns how to fly.

Christians, if we would be worthy of that name, it’s time to become children.   It’s time to believe again.  It’s time to fly.    

It’s time to grow young. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] Rich Mullins, from his song, Growing Young, which along with Hook inspired this post.