During my time in the pastoral ministry I frequently heard comments such as ‘I don’t much like the Old Testament’ or ‘We can do without the Old Testament, can’t we?’ I always found that puzzling, for, in countless ways, the Old has as much to offer as the New. Not only does it contain words of astonishing wisdom, beautiful and moving poetry, detailed history, prophetic insights, foundational stories, and far more, but much of the New Testament and message of the gospel can only be fully grasped once we have understood what all these have to teach us.
This month, then, I’m focusing on this rich resource, posting extracts from my book The Unfolding Story, first published twenty years ago as four study booklets under the general title Grappling with God.
First, a reflection on the Genesis story of creation and the so-called fall of man. It looks on the nature of the human condition from the perspective of God, inviting us to consider how God must continue to feel, looking at our fragmented and fractured world.
Reading: Genesis 3:14-19, 22-24
The Meditation of God
What have I done?
What have I done?
Day after day I look at the world I’ve made,
intended to be so beautiful,
so special,
and I see hatred,
violence,
greed,
corruption –
so much that maims and mutilates,
destroying hope,
denying life.
Can you imagine what it feels like,
living with the awfulness of ultimate responsibility,
and bearing that burden not just for a fleeting span
but for all eternity?
I don’t think you can.
But, believe me, whatever pain you’ve endured,
whatever sorrow,
whatever heartbreak,
it can never touch the agony
of watching your creation slowly tearing itself apart.
Was it all a mistake?
Some will say so, and I can’t blame them.
Yet I had love to give and life to share –
would it have been any more moral to keep that to myself?
I could, of course, have made you like puppets,
every thought controlled,
every action directed,
but is that what you’d have wanted? –
unable to think or feel,
deprived of joy for lack of sorrow,
of love for lack of hate,
of hope for lack of fear,
of pleasure for lack of pain.
Don’t tell me I’m not to blame,
for it just won’t do.
I made you, didn’t I? –
mine the hand that brought you into being,
so though the mistakes may be yours
the fault surely is mine?
Yet don’t think I’ve given up on you,
for, perfect or imperfect,
I love you just the same,
and I’m going to go on loving you for as long as it takes,
giving my all for you,
my very life,
until the broken threads of creation
are woven together into a glorious new tapestry,
and we are one, you and I,
united in paradise,
now and for ever.
Prayer
God of all,
we look at our world sometimes –
at its suffering and sorrow,
its hurt and heartbreak –
and we don’t understand why you let it happen.
We see hatred and evil,
greed and corruption,
so much that frustrates your will
and denies your purpose,
and we cannot help but ask,
where are you in the face of it?
our minds struggle
to take in the great mysteries of life
for we ourselves are a part of your fallen creation.
Yet though we cannot always make sense of your will,
we believe that your nature is love
and that the time will come
when our questions will be answered
and your purpose revealed.
Until then, help us to live with paradox
and trust in your eternal promises,
knowing that every moment of every day
you are at work,
striving to bring creation to perfection.
Amen.
Next, the unforgettable story of Samson, celebrated ‘strong man’ on the Old Testament. His downfall reminds us of the fallibility of human nature; of how easily we can betray our principles when temptation strikes.
Reading – Judges 16:4-22
The meditation of Samson
Do you know what they told me?
Love is blind!
Well, I’ve learned that now, haven’t I, all too literally.
If only I’d listened!
They told me not to marry her,
warned time and again what it might lead to;
but I just didn’t care.
What did they know of life, I told myself?
What right had they to interfere?
That was me all over, I’m afraid,
always certain I knew best,
and woe betide anyone who dared suggest otherwise.
There was nothing too hard for me, so I thought –
my arrogance knowing no bounds –
so I went ahead and tied the knot,
a life-changing decision on a moment’s impulse,
and I’ve regretted the consequences ever since,
just as they said I would.
It’s still hard to believe,
me, Samson, slayer of lions,
scourge of the Philistines,
humbled by a woman’s persuasive tongue!
But that’s what happened,
and all finally down to my own stupidity.
I thought I could handle her, you see –
whatever she might throw at me
a piece of cake beside wrestling with lions –
only I’d no idea how hard it could be,
the incessant nagging, day in day out,
never a moment’s peace,
and always the same old refrain: ‘Tell me your secret.’
I knew she was up to something, and I tried to resist,
but she wouldn’t be fobbed off,
and at last, for the sake of peace, I told her all.
Was that so wrong? – I hear you ask;
what harm in a simple haircut?
And, of course, you’re right, for it wasn’t the hair which mattered;
if anyone thinks that then they’re more of a fool than I was!
No, it wasn’t the hair itself but what it stood for –
my promise to God,
my oath of allegiance,
which, believe it or not, despite my many lapses, I still took seriously.
It was there my true strength lay,
for it was my faith in his purpose which gave strength to my arm,
and in that pathetic moment’s madness I betrayed it all;
not just myself, my friends and family,
but God himself.
I recognise it now, all too clearly,
how one false step led to another,
one stupid failing to an indescribable folly.
I’ve learned my lesson,
and made my peace – vows once broken now restored –
and though they’re smirking now, those enemies of mine,
gloating over my downfall,
they won’t much longer, for I’ll wipe that smile from their faces,
one last effort to absolve the past.
It’s a funny old world, isn’t it,
for when I had eyes to see, I saw so little,
yet now, with my eyes made blind, I see all.
Prayer
Gracious God,
in different ways we have promised to serve you,
yet so often, when the moment of testing comes,
we let you down.
The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak,
and before we realise it
we find we have failed you again,
betraying the vows of obedience we have made.
Forgive us our inability
to live up to the goals we set ourselves,
let alone the goals you set before us.
Through your love strengthen our resolve
and deepen our faith
so that we serve you better
to the glory of your name.
Amen.
Third, some reflections on words from the book of Ecclesiastes, the quintessence of the so-called Wisdom Literature, which includes also Job, the Psalms, Proverbs and the Song of Songs. Ecclesiastes, the author of which adopts the pseudonym ‘the Teacher’, is indeed full of wisdom, but what exactly, it asks, does this mean?
Reading: Ecclesiastes 11:8–12:7
The meditation of the Teacher
They think me wise, some people –
can you believe that?
They actually hold me up as an example
of insight, understanding and discernment.
Well, more fool them!
oh, I’ve learned a bit now, I grant you;
the harsh lessons of experience have finally sunk home,
and if you call that wisdom, then I can’t argue.
But it took me long enough, didn’t it? –
too long by half,
so you won’t catch me blowing my own trumpet,
I can assure you!
I’ve been a fool, that’s how I see it,
for I’ve frittered away the years in an empty and futile search,
brooding first over this, then about that:
the injustices of life,
the riddle of death,
the search for joy,
the bearing of sorrow,
the lure of wealth,
the plight of the poor –
you name it, I’ve pondered it,
hour upon hour,
year after year,
my life’s work to scale the heights and plumb the depths.
Yet look where it’s got me –
disillusioned,
disheartened,
dismayed –
the world, for all its beauty, meaningless,
a chasing after the wind.
Is that the last word?
It can’t be,
for I realise now I got the balance wrong,
too full of self,
too short on God;
too full of my own ideas to respond to his guidance.
I should have stopped long ago,
made time when I was still young,
life before me,
to pause and listen to his voice,
but I thought I could go it alone,
find by myself the answers I sought.
It wasn’t the searching that was wrong, don’t think that –
there’s a time for that as there’s a time for everything –
but I lost my bearings,
in my search for knowledge and understanding
letting life slip through my fingers.
I could brood about that now, all too easily –
the opportunities I’ve missed,
the days I’ve wasted –
but not this time.
I may not be quite the man I was –
the years have taken their toll –
but I know now what really matters,
and I’m going to savour the time that’s left to me,
every day,
every moment,
celebrating each one as the gift of my creator.
And if you would be wise, my friend,
then you will do the same,
not putting it off till tomorrow but starting today,
here and now.
Do that, and you won’t go far wrong!
Prayer
Eternal God,
we spend so much of our lives seeking happiness,
yet much of the time we are frustrated.
We turn from one thing to another,
believing for a moment
that it may offer the fulfilment that we crave,
but so many pleasures are fleeting,
here today and gone tomorrow.
There are times when life seems empty,
when nothing seems permanent,
not even those things most precious to us.
Help us to find the rest for our souls
which you alone can give;
to discover in you that inner peace which can never change
but will go on satisfying for all eternity.
Help us to live each day in tune with you,
rejoicing in all you have given
and anticipating all you have yet to give.
Through Christ our Lord.
Amen.
Finally, words from the wonderful book of Hosea, one of the so-called Minor Prophets, yet his message of hope and promise anything but minor in terms of the insight and inspiration it offers. In the passage here he offers a reminder that God loves us more deeply and passionately than most of us scarcely begin to imagine, let alone credit.
Reading – Hosea 11:1-9
The meditation of Hosea
I never realised how much he cared,
how deeply and passionately he loved us.
He’d seemed remote up till then,
set apart from us in splendid isolation,
a God to approach with caution.
Not that I ever questioned his goodness –
he’d been gracious to us from the beginning,
calling us into being as a nation,
delivering us time after time from oppression,
leading us with infinite patience
despite our refusal to follow –
but I’d always had this picture of him as being distant,
a God whose face we could never see,
sovereign,
righteous,
holy,
and ultimately, to be honest, a little frightening.
When we came to worship, we did so in awe,
and as we knelt in prayer, we approached with trepidation,
knowing he could judge as well as bless,
punish, as well as save –
and let’s face it, after the way we’d behaved
there was every reason for punishment,
and none at all for mercy.
We’d worshipped false gods,
pale reflections of our own fears and fantasies,
instead of the Lord of heaven and earth.
We’d oppressed the poor and exploited the weak,
let greed run riot and vice go unchecked.
We’d said one thing and done another,
spoken of justice yet practised deceit,
so what reason had we to expect anything other than judgement,
due recompense for all our sins?
only he couldn’t do it!
When the moment came to reach out and punish,
he drew back,
heart lurching within him –
the memories too strong,
his compassion too great,
love refusing to be denied.
It wasn’t any merit on our part which saved us,
don’t think that,
no hidden virtue uncovered or past deed recalled.
We’d failed him completely,
spurning his goodness and abusing his grace,
yet, despite it all, he refused to let us go.
And I realised then that, despite his sovereignty
and righteousness,
still he loved us, more than we can ever begin to imagine;
a love which will keep on giving,
keep on burning
and keep on reaching out for all eternity,
whatever it may take,
whatever it might cost!
Prayer
Gracious God,
we talk often about love,
but we have little idea what it really is.
The love we show to others is invariably flawed,
corrupted by ulterior motives and self-interest.
We can scarcely begin to fathom
the immensity of the love you hold for us;
a love that is inexhaustible,
awesome in its intensity,
devoted beyond measure.
Forgive us for losing sight
of this one great reality at the heart of our faith
without which all else is as nothing.
Forgive us for portraying you
as a God of vengeance and justice
when, above all, you are a God of love;
a God who, despite our repeated disobedience,
refuses to let us go.
Teach us to open our hearts to all you so freely give,
and so may we love you and others
with something of that same total commitment
you unfailingly show.
In the name of Christ.
Amen.