Call Me Ishmael

For in death there is no remembrance of you; in Sheol who will give you praise? -- Psalms 6:5

This is one of those verses that I read and sort of footnote as I go along.  That was an Old Testament, limited understanding that viewed our status when we die as becoming something like “shades”, similar, perhaps, to the belief of the Greeks.  Death has lost its sting in the New Testament revelation of Christ’s resurrection.  The grave or sheol is no longer victorious.  Christ conquered death, hell, and the grave for us so that we need no longer live in fear.  

Of course, all that is true; suppose, though, we turn the verse around a little.  Where there is no remembrance of God is death.  Where there is no praise of God is Sheol.  The living dead walk among us, for … we were dead in our trespasses … (Ephesians 2:5).  Jesus told those Sadducees who challenged Him about the resurrection:  Now he is not God of the dead, but of the living, for all live to him (Luke 20:38). 

The other verse I read this morning that struck me was Genesis 16:13-14 where God speaks with Hagar and shows her a well to save herself and her son.  Ishmael means “God hears”.  Hagar calls the well she found “beer-lahai-roi” which means “the well of the living one who sees me”.  The living God sees me; He hears me.  So long as I remember Him and keep in mind that He sees and hears me, I will live.  To live is to live to Him.

I often live in a mindset of death.  If I think of God at all, I may think of Him only in His transcendence.  I may think of Him as someone I have to call into the situation, as the ultimate non-local 911 Operator who gets a call and punches up some help for me.  No, He is the living One who sees me.  Though it is incomprehensible to me, He is as immanent as He is transcendent.  All I have to do is remember Him, for He always remembers me.

The Better Man

The sage lectured brilliantly.
Before him, two images:
"Now this one is a devil,
"And this one is me."
He turned away.
Then a cunning pupil
Changed the positions.
Turned the sage again:
"Now this one is a devil,
"And this one is me."
The pupils sat, all grinning,
And rejoiced in the game.
But the sage was a sage. 

-- LVIII, from Stephen Crane's collection called The Black Riders and Other Lines



Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? -- Romans 7:24

If I were a better man, I would surely do better things; therefore, if I do better things, I will be a better man. 

There is a time for thinking that, a time for believing that I am thoroughly not right and desperately in need of improvement.  I need to give up a bad habit or cultivate a better one.  In the end, though, as our favorite Preacher, the author of Ecclesiastes, would say, all is vanity.  Self-improvement is generally another name for self-deception.  I doubt that my best fillet knife would go between my self and my devil except I lose some skin.

My only hope -- usually through repeated disappointment and failure, for I am nothing if not hard-headed, is to recognize the hopelessness of separating my "good" self from my "bad" self.  You know that old story about our nature being like an evil dog and a good dog, and the one that gets stronger is the one you feed?  How did that work out for Ol' Yeller?  The good dog gets contaminated by what the bad dog carries to the point that one is just as vicious and unholy in its way as the other.

So I think I will just give up.  In fact, I should just give up right from the first.  Did you ever wonder why Jesus had to grow to adulthood, spend time in the desert, go through three and a half years of teaching, preaching, and healing before He was crucified?  Why couldn't Joseph and Mary just have given up right from the first and let Herod kill the Messiah?  He was born to die, might as well get it out of the way and go straight to the resurrection.  Unless we have Asperger Syndrome or some other impairment, most of us will understand that a shortcut is impossible.  The redeeming power of Christ's death is a function of the life He lived and the path He walked. 

The idea of surrender is familiar to Christians.  It's something we know we should do, but some of us find ourselves talking about it more than being surrendered because there's so  much input -- even in church -- about improving the outlook and opportunities for this dead man we are carrying around.  In Adam all died.  Only in Christ are all made alive.  I need raising not repair.
  

The Mountain I Will Show You

After these things God tested Abraham and said to him, “Abraham!”

“Here I am,” he answered.

“Take your son,” He said, “your only son Isaac, whom you love, go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains I will tell you about.” -- Genesis 22:1-2

By faith Abraham, when he was tested, offered up Isaac; he who had received the promises was offering up his unique son, about whom it had been said, In Isaac you seed will be called. He considered God to be able even to raise someone from the dead … -- Hebrews 11:17-19

We could ignore unanswered prayer. We could assume that whatever it is we are praying for is not according to God’s will. We could move on and if not forget at least learn to live without that answer. Abraham had believed God and seen the promise fulfilled. He had obeyed the Lord in disinheriting and sending away Ishmael, the son of flesh, Adam in type, the old man. Now, here was Isaac, son of the spirit, son of obedience and faith, and God tells Abraham the only son whom he loves must be given up.

I would complain. I would say, Wait, this is not what I created out of my own power and ability. This is what You gave me, Lord. If You didn’t want me to have this, why give it in the first place? Why allow me to possess, cherish, depend upon, and love this gift then demand that I give it back? It is incomprehensible.

Though it seems reasonable to question such a demand, we have no record of any struggle Abraham had. He got up early in the morning and set out. Surely that must have been a trip that was both too long and too short. Traveling with his son by his side, Abraham would have listened to the young man’s pleasant voice talking about one thing and another, knowing there was a hill yet unseen they would have to climb, knowing the knife he carried would spill his own son’s blood, not in anger but in obedience. I can’t imagine the torment. He was a better man than I.

Abraham understood God as almighty, the One not hampered or hindered by anything. But, it is equally true, the One who cannot be helped by anything. It had finally come home to Abraham that he was not able to do anything, either good or bad apart from his God. We can cooperate with God’s will or oppose it. He will get the job done regardless. Our opposition will cause us pain, but it cannot alter His ultimate purpose. No matter how much our assistance or resistance appears to accomplish temporarily, in the end we have not moved anything.

It is easy enough for us to understand the need for purification from the lusts of the flesh, for separation from the world, the flesh, and the devil – easy to understand, not so easy to do sometimes. Sending Ishmael away makes sense at least, no matter how painful it may be for us. In place of the flesh, the Lord gives us gifts of the Spirit. He gives us peace and assurance. He brings people into our lives. We have love and joy and fellowship.

The thing is, at some point, we must choose between the gifts and the Giver. If we walk with the Lord long enough, we will endure the long, dark night of the soul. We must be willing to relinquish the gifts and blessings of the Lord, even His presence for a time. We will find ourselves in a valley facing a long, steep climb to a place we do not want to go. We believe in God the Creator, who calls things into existence that do not exist. We must learn at last to believe in Him who is the Resurrection, who gives life to the dead. Then, like Abraham, we will cling to nothing except Him, and we will face, not only our own death, but every little death, and death itself without fear.