The God of Everyday

"Behold, as the eyes of the servants look unto the hand of their masters, and as the eyes of the maiden look unto their mistress, so our eyes wait upon the Lord our God, until He has mercy upon us." Ps. 123:2

There is an art to waiting in the Christian life that we modern Christians have yet to even acquire, much less master. Paradoxically, waiting is the most intense trial of faith precisely because it is not intense. Of course, times of jubilation are not as difficult, but neither are storms of troubles. At least in a storm, something is happening that you can lock your energies and attention onto. The void is filled with chaos, but at least it is filled. In the waiting, however, there is nothing so momentous as jubilation or troubles. Just as it is in the scabbard that the sword is most likely to rust, so too it is in the waiting that our faith can rust. It is easier to slip out of trusting reliance on God when we feel like we don't need Him right now. In the good times, we know that we need Him because it is He who brings the good because He is the good. Likewise, in the bad times, we know that we need Him because only He can save us. Thus, it is in the times of stillness and silence, where there is neither a positive nor negative fever-pitch, that we can forget Him and lean to our own understanding.
Do not get confused. "Stillness and silence" does not mean "boring," or even "normal". For the Christian, there are no "normal" days as the world defines "normal"; all days are miraculous, and that is the key. In the midst of the still and silent days, God is still with us, and He continually interacts in our lives; "small graces" is how one songwriter described it. It is the continually presence of God in our lives, both in big and small graces, that defines the "art" of waiting for the Christian, i.e., to discern God's presence in every moment, not just the times of jubilation or trouble. It is the concept of mythic eyes: see God everywhere, everyday. This is not an empirical eisegesis, i.e., reading God into everything; rather, it is an empirical exegesis, i.e., discerning God's actual presence everyday, because He is with us everyday. He does not take a holiday. He is not merely involved in our great joys and sorrows, moments of triumph as well as crisis and failure; He is also involved in the minor minutia of our lives as well.
Think of it this way: In human relationships (esp. marriage), there are times of joy and sorrow, and strong relationships are built upon those moments. However, far more prevalent than the times of exultation and tragedy are the days "in between," the days when life is simply lived at a steady pace. It is those days that form the bulk of our lives, and thus those days that will build the bulk of the relationship. Any relationship that can remain through times of joy and sorrow but cannot maintain itself in the "in between" is doomed to failure. It is the same with us and God. God does not want us on the good and bad days; He wants us everyday, and we have to learn to likewise want Him as well.
In the movie Shenandoah, a boy name Sam wanted to marry Mr. Anderson's daughter. Anderson (played by Jimmy Stewart) asked him two questions. The first was, "Do you love her?" When Sam said yes, Anderson's response was, "Well, Sam, that's not good enough." He then asked his second question: "Do you like her?" When Sam said that he did, Anderson concludes with, "If you don't like her, then those nights can get cold!" Within the context of this scene, perhaps you will understand my next statement: God not only "loves" us; He also "likes" us. He is our God, our good Heavenly Father and holy Lord and Savior, everyday. It is in the waiting that we can most learn that truth, just as in a marriage it is in the days "in between" that we learn just how much someone really loves us, and how much we really love them.

-Jon Vowell

Love and Righteousness

"Help us, O God of our salvation, for the glory of Thy name; and deliver us and purge away our sins, for Thy name's sake...and render unto our neighbors sevenfold into their bosom their reproach, wherewith they have reproached Thee, O Lord." Ps. 79:9, 12

Redemption and damnation, salvation and judgment, love and righteousness; whichever way that you put it, these are the two arms of God's government, two of the most essential qualities of His character. It is these two qualities that are the most sorely attacked today by the religious and secular alike.
We hate the love of God as Scripture presents it, i.e., a holy love that desires to make lovable and lovely the hateful and ugly beloved. It is less like Romeo and Juliet and more like The Taming of the Shrew. It is a love that will not tolerate any stain or blemish, not matter how much we tolerate or even cherish it. We despise such a heavy-handed and true love, so we boil God's love down into either a fluffy sentimentalism that means absolutely nothing or a cruel toleration that winks at the damnation of a soul out of fear of being labelled "mean," "insensitive," or other useless buzz words of contemporary society. The love of God is a consuming fire: all that is imperfect will burn away.
Likewise, we hate the righteousness of God because it directly conflicts with our damnable version of the love of God. If our supreme deity is to be sentimental and tolerant, then He must necessarily not be moral. The sentimental and tolerant man suffuses all things into an incomprehensible whole; the moral man sets everything in rigid distinctions, distinctions like right and wrong, good and evil. Such distinctions are inherent in true righteousness, and thus righteousness is an insufferable eye-sore to the modern world (esp. Modern Christendom). Consequently, they choose not to talk about it; it is too much of a landmine. The righteousness of God is a consuming fire: all that is imperfect will burn away.
If we are to remain loyal to God and His revelations of Himself, then we must maintain the reality of His holy character, i.e., the fullness and harmony of His qualities, viz., love and righteousness. The world does not need sentimental toleration, a fluffy cruelty that "loves" it by amassing it into a pile of indistinguishable nothingness that it can safely ignore; what the world needs is a holy and true love and righteousness that burns away our impurities and makes us fit for itself.

-Jon Vowell

God With Us

"I have trodden the wine press alone...I will tread them in mine anger, and trample them in my fury; and their blood shall be sprinkled upon my garments...for the day of vengeance is in my heart....

"Surely they are my people...so He was their Savior. In all their affliction He was afflicted...He bare them, and carried them all the days of old...We are thine...." Isaiah 63:3, 4a, 8, 9, 19a

I think many misunderstand God's actions because they do not understand His intimate involvement with creation and history. Though He is independent from those things, He is also enmeshed in it, involved with it, and this drives skeptics insane. The God they hope and image to deny is aloof and distant, and thus any dealings with us come off as cruel or irrational, or both. The fact that God involves Himself in human affairs, as if He had a stake in its outcome, is not grasped properly by skeptic and believer alike.

What if God's wrath and judgment truly are not arbitrary? What if they are vengeance, i.e., God Himself has been offended against, and thus will repay the offender? We see Sin as our problem and our business; what if it is God's business? What if it is truly what the Bible calls it: outright rebellion against a deserving superior, a slap in God's face, to spit in His face, something upon which He must be avenged? Skeptics claim that God is merely immoral in His judgments; the Bible is actually much harsher in its opinion of God's judgments: He is not immoral, but vengeful, dishing out retribution to those who have committed a personal transgress against Him. The problem with skeptics is not that they view God's wrath too seriously; actually, they treat it with much levity. The wrath of the God of the Bible is more intimate in His judgments, as though He actually cared about what we humans do in this life.

Likewise, what if God's favor truly is not arbitrary either? What if it is truly based on love, i.e., the sovereign preference of another over yourself? Do we grasp the fullness of His love, that intimate connection that arouses jealousy and devotion even in the Divine? What if we took the Bible seriously that God is love, that He desires fellowship with us, that He is filled with indignation towards those who harm His beloved just as any husband would feel towards a man who attacked his wife? As with wrath, it is the intimate aspect of all this that skeptics either miss or stumble over. They desire an aloof God (or no God) because the God of the Bible is too close for comfort. He is in the very air they breath, in the midst of their truest lovings and hatings; for when we love and hate correctly, we reveal the image of God stamped upon all of us.

"Your vengeance and Your love

Reveal a God Who is with us..."

-Jon Vowell

Wrath in the Context of the Trinity

"For a small moment, I have forsaken thee; but with great mercies, I will gather thee. In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment; but with everlasting loving-kindness, I will have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy Redeemer." Isaiah 54:7, 8

Juxtaposed next to God's love is another immutable quality of His character: holiness. Holiness is defined as "moral perfection," perfection is defined as "completeness" or "wholeness." Within God's character, there is no deficiency, defect, or divide. In can be said that, because God is perfect, that His holiness is a perfect holiness, a whole moral wholeness, i.e., a moral wholeness that is constant. He is not morally whole sometimes and morally unwhole other times; He is in a constant state of moral wholeness. He is 'wholly holy,' so to speak. Likewise, if God is perfect, then His love is perfect as well, i.e., His communion is complete and whole; there is no shadow of severance within God's communal nature. Thus within the Trinity, we see two factors played out: perfect holiness and love, perfect wholeness and communion. It is the picture of absolutely immutable unity.

Whereas the Trinity carries with it the sense of absolute immutable unity, Sin carries with it the sense of absolute immutable separation, separation between God and man, man and man, man and creation, and man and himself. Sin divides; the Trinity unites. Those who are bound to Sin by Adam (and continue therein) are bound (and continue to bind themselves) to division, and the Trinity has no part in them; likewise, those who are bound to the Trinity by Christ are bound to unity, and Sin has no part in them. The Trinity is the fulfillment of communion, while Sin is communion's dissolvement. The two are oil and water: the one displaces the other. The wages of Sin, the natural consequence of being bound to Sin, is separation from God, and separation from God is death (and thus the further separations of man result). To be separated from God, from the Trinity, from absolute and perfect moral wholeness and personal communion, is to be separated from true life, and thus it is death.

The space-time realities of God's wrath upon the peoples of earth must be viewed within the context of God as absolute immutable unity and Sin as absolute immutable separation. When once you bind yourself to Sin, "the death sentence is at work in you," as Mr. Chambers would say. It is at work because what indeed is the natural consequence of turning from God, absolute unity, the source of life? The only other ground to run to is absolute separation, the source of death. When people Sin against God, when they cling to death and separation over life and unity, life and unity withdraws itself from us (for what fellowship has unity with separation?), and we are left to the consequences.

Thus, within the context of the Trinity, we see God is Love, and thus is Savior: He desires communion with us, because it is His nature to desire communion with others. We also see, however, that God is Holy, and thus is Judge: His very presence is the destruction of separation, because it is His nature to be whole and complete. Let no man say that God desires separation, that He desires the death of the wicked; He does not. His holiness demands separation Sin; His love demands communion with us.

"Holiness and Love

Burning forever

In Divine Dance.

Sweep us up into such Joy..."

-Jon Vowell

The Gospel in the Context of the Trinity

"For thy Maker is thine husband, the Lord of hosts is His name; and thy Redeemer [is] the Holy One of Israel, The God of the whole earth shall He be called. For the Lord hath called thee as a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit, and a wife of youth, when thou wast refused, saith thy God." Isaiah 54:5, 6

The idea of God as a romantic (in a relational and not literary sense) strikes many as unconventional, especially men (God is my husband?). Imagery aside, however, the thing to grasp here is that God desires communion with you: to love, to have and to hold. Regardless of gender, all people desire to be desired; whether for beauty or strength, all people long to be wanted by another. The desire for communion with others is a fundamental element of humanity, and the Bible tells us the shocking truth that the terrible and glorious Almighty desires to commune with us.

Now, there is a difference between desire and need. God desires communion with us, but He does not need it. Existing as the Trinity, God is in an eternal, perfect communion and society within Himself; He needs nothing more. The flip side of all this is that the truth of God existing as the Trinity is the fundamental reality behind the oft over quoted and misquoted phrase, "God is love," i.e., God's very nature is bound up in communion with others. Thus, we see two facts that emerge from God existing as a Trinity: He does not need to commune with us, for He is in perfect communion always; He does desire to commune with us because it is His very nature to commune with others. Note that the reason God desires communion with us has everything to do with Him, not us. There is nothing in us that merits God's desire; His desire springs from His own nature and nowhere else. Though we are unlovable, God loved us; while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.

Of course, Christ is the fullest expression and proof of God's love for us (Romans 5:8), and He came to 'make us lovable,' i.e., make us so that we can commune with God. That God desires to commune and whether or not He can commune are two different things. God cannot commune with Sin (for Sin is the rejection of and separation from God), and we are all sinners (Romans 3:23). Thus, unless something drastically changes within us, we cannot commune with God, but are destined to stay separate from Him forever, which is the true meaning of Hell (Matthew 7:23 & 25:41; notice the use by multiple translations of the word "depart"). At the Cross of Christ, however, a transaction was made. Christ, who was and is God, took our Sin upon Himself and in return gave us His righteousness, i.e., God's righteousness (II Corinthians 5:21). Therefore, Christ has (through the Cross) made a way for us to be made lovable, by making us a way to become like Love Himself. Having been 'made lovable,' (i.e., saved) by Christ, commune with God is now possible, but only if we (1) believe that Christ is the only way to be 'made lovable,' and (2) accept such a salvation (for a gift is not yours until you accept it).

Thus, by accepting the salvation found only in Christ, that which separates us from God (i.e., Sin) is done away with, and our communion with Him is restored. It is restored becomes Sin (that which absolutely separates) has been removed, and Love (that which absolutely unites) has replaced it. Therefore, the gospel is about love, romance, about God desiring us and making a way for us to commune with Him. We can reject such communion if we wish, but we do so at our own peril.

"All consuming Love and Passion,

Holy Fire of pain and pleasure,

Draw us deeper still

Into the Light of Your Glory and Grace..."

-Jon Vowell

Love and Forgiveness

"...Thou hast in love to my soul delivered it from the pit of corruption: for thou hast cast all my sins behind thy back." Isaiah 38:17

How seriously do we really take the love of God? Do we honestly believe that it aves to the uttermost, that it goes beyond the highest star and reaches to the lowest hell? Our salvation could have been simple in execution: God could have saved us out of duty or obligation, or out of a demonstration of sheer power. Instead, however, He did it out of love, a love that sent His only Son through the horrors of death and the gates of Hell itself. Elongated stays in the pit of corruption can turn love into a farce. We must recapture the wonder of a love, "for love is strong as death; jealousy as cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame." (Song of Solomon 8:6b) Have we forgotten that God's very nature is bound up in love (i.e., "God is love"), that He is the very essence of intimate experiential knowledge of another founded on intimate communion with that other? Or have we lost that truth behind the mysterious veil that is the word "Trinity"?
How serious do we really take the forgiveness of God? There are two misconceptions that we must do away with. First, God's love cannot be the grounds for His forgiveness. It can be a motive, but not grounds. His love will find a way to forgive, but it is not the reason He forgive us. Get it through your heads and never forget it: God can forgive us because Christ died, and nothing else. Second, God does not forgive like we forgive. That God "forgives" does not mean that he merely overlooks. God's forgiveness is not ignorance, but absolution. In His forgiveness, sin is done away with in its entirety, and we are made before God as though we never sinned. It is an absolute finality, a finality that God's love sought for us and that Christ's death bought for us. God's love and forgiveness are not matters of sentiment. They are heavy things, matters of "deep magic," and yet we carelessly throw them about as worship buzzwords, or live agnostically towards them in practical experience.
Ask yourself: What would happen if you truly lived the weighty reality of God's love and forgiveness? How would your days change if during those abysmal moments you were thunderously struck with the heavy, rugged clarity of this truth: "God loves me, and I am forgiven"? How many strongholds of the enemy would fade like chaff in the wind if we let that truth envelope us everyday? If we let ourselves soak in any of the great truths of God, would we dare stay the same?

"Love takes Eternity in its embrace;
Forgiveness, in its comprehension.
Dare I treat them less than they are...?"
-Jon Vowell