Life as an Adolescent (Fretheim)

The wilderness wanderings, or at least their length and breadth, were a surprise to Israel. Instead of a land of milk and honey, they get a desert. The promise falls short. Deliverance at the sea leads into the godforsaken wilderness. Dancers and singers are stopped dead in their tracks. Salvation from one kind of death leads into the teeth of another. The sea crossing seems but a point of unreal exhilaration between one kind of trouble and another, only the last is certainly worse than the first. Bondage with security and resources seems preferable to freedom and living from one oasis to another. The wilderness is a place betwixt and between...

And the wilderness seems permanent. Forty years is a long time in the old sandbox. Even that grand mountain-top experience at Sinai looks like a one-time thing: it is out of the wilderness only to be led right back in. The wilderness is beginning to look a lot like home. What does it mean for God to create a people out of those who are no people, the grandest of all creative acts, only to leave the rest of their world in chaos? The experience of order leads immediately into disorder, freedom becomes anarchy. Into the jaws of the wilderness, where demons howl and messiahs are tempted, where familiar resources are taken away....Lifelessness seems to be the only order on which one can depend. The journey from the Red Sea to the promised land is littered with freshly dug graves, and not a single birth is recorded.

Wilderness is life beyond redemption but short of consummation; but the former seems ineffective and the latter only a mirage. The promise has been spoken, but who can live by words alone? The hope has been proclaimed, but the horizon keeps disappearing in the sandstorms. And so trust in God often turns to recalcitrance and resentment. Faith erodes with the dunes. Commandments collapse into the disorder that shapes daily life. And judgment is invited in to share one's tattered tent.

Yet even in the wilderness God is responsive to the needs of these complaining people. God provides what the context cannot. The protests are answered, the cries are heard, quite undeservedly. Deliverance comes, but not in being removed from the wilderness. A table is spread in the very presence of the enemy (cf. Ps. 23:5). There is a gift of food where the resources are only ephemeral. There is a gift of water where only rocks abound. There is a gift of healing where the pain never ends. The movement from death to life occurs within the very experience of godforsakenness. Death is transformed into life from within a death-filled context. A sanctuary is provided, but in the wilderness.

Deuteronomy 2:7 proclaims: "These forty years the LORD your God has been with you; you have lacked nothing." Surely this is a delusion, a late pious endeavor to cover up the realities of that meandering trek through the desert. The desert in such a view is not only painted, it is whitewashed. The disciples of such poppycock are legion. Or are they? Only if they neglect the fact that the complaints from the wilderness are genuine indeed. Only if they neglect the fact that true life must always be shaped by the wilderness, even for those who are living in the promised land. Only if they neglect the fact that God's own life has been decisively shaped by that same wilderness.

Hence, although the people are often ungrateful and disloyal, the divine blessing and graciousness pervade the narrative. Israel's time in the wilderness is finally shaped by God's incredible patience and mercy and the divine will to stay with Israel in this time of their adolescence as children of God. Coping with “teenagers” is no easy task, even if the parent is God (cf. Hos. 6:4). No divine flick of the wrist is capable of straightening them out without compromising their freedom. If God wants a mature child, the possibility of defiance must be risked. Parent and child even do a certain amount of "testing" of each other. God will not compromise in holding Israel to high standards – for the sake of the creation. And so God works through their feelings of abandonment and helplessness, their words of complaint and acts of rebelliousness, and their need for reassurance, protection, a new self-identity, and non-oppressive life structures. God sticks by them through it all. God has made promises to this people, and God is a promise-keeper. Only in Numbers will it become clear that the process of maturation takes longer than a single generation.

(Terence E. Fretheim, Exodus, Interpretation Bible Commentary, John Knox Press, pp.171-173)

ministry & pain

In his comments on Ezekiel 3:4-15, Peter Craigie made the following observation:

The point to be remembered in any suffering associated with ministry is that it is a participation in the suffering of God; that insight may not reduce the pain, but it does portray the privilege of suffering. And it does remind all servants of God that one of the many faces of love is that of agony and pain.
(Ezekiel, Daily Study Bible, p.20)

On Singing

Following on from Alan Davey's comments on singing here the following comments by Peter Enns in his excellent NIVAC commentary on Exodus seemed worth posting, as grist to the mill.

Singing has universal appeal. The Creator made us that way. We sing for different reasons. Sometimes we are happy, other times miserable. Sometimes we know why we sing, other times it just comes out. We sing to remember good times and to take our minds off bad times. Singing changes our moods as well as simply reflecting them. What we sing can have a tremendous influence in how we subsequently think or behave. Song can enter portals of our being that prose and logic cannot. The capacity to sing and to react to song is part of the human experience, so much so that without it, we would truly be less than human.

Singing is such a characteristically human trait because it is divine as well. I do not know whether God sings, but he has certainly woven song into the fabric of creation. It is a means not only of reflecting or changing our moods, but it is also a means by which we "connect" with God, or to put it in more traditional language, it is a means by which we worship God. We do not have an "order of worship" anywhere in the Bible, although there are sufficient clues as to the types of things that probably went on in both Old and New Testament worship. But by God's good will, we do have a fairly extensive record of one thing they most certainly did: singing. The Bible records a lot of singing; there is even an entire book devoted to the subject (Psalms).

What we see in Exodus 15, and the other songs discussed above, is worship, pure and simple. Most Christians I know, including myself, find worship to be a frustratingly elusive thing. It is something we know we are supposed to do, but often we just can't seem to get a handle on it. It is something we are supposed to feel like doing, but, to be honest, we would often rather be off doing something else. But this is where these songs can help us.

Although neither I nor anyone else can prove the point, I do not think that the songs of the Old Testament were spontaneous outpourings of worship quickly jotted down and then preserved in a glass jar for future ggenerations to gawk at. They are rather models for worship. They were written down precisely so that they could be pondered, studied, and reflected one and not just for ancient Israelites, but for those who live in the light of the resurrection of God's Son. They are not trophies on a mantel but inspired examples, not so much because they have to be followed word for word, but because they give us a glimpse of who God is and, therefore, what our proper stance toward him should be.

One thing that strikes me about the biblical songs we have discussed is the lack of focus on oneself. And any attention that is paid to the one uttering the song (as in the case of Mary's song) quickly recedes into the background to let the true focus of the song come through-praise to the Lord. Songs in Scripture are about what God has done for his people. Although many psalms offer praise to God for more "abstract" things (though that is hardly a fair characterization), such as his creation, this is not the case for the songs examined here. They are songs filled with thanksgiving, gratitude, awe, and power because God has shown himself to be mighty in some situation, and his might is to be recognized throughout all the earth. To put it another way, these songs are thoroughly theocentric. Our worship of God in song should be equally theocentric and, ever since Easter morning, Christocentric as well.

I resist with all my heart making simplistic, blanket statements, but the biblical model for "hymnic worship," as we may call it, should cause us to think long and hard about the state of music in the church today. Different kinds of music reflect different personalities and create different kinds of moods, and it is a hopeless task to get any ten people to agree on what kinds are and are not appropriate for worship. My point here, however, has little to do with the musical dimension, but with the content of the songs.

Does worship really happen when stanza after stanza of a hymn or other type of song focuses on the personal status of the worshiper rather than the nature, character, and acts of God? I have become more sensitive to this over the years. When I hear myself singing "I," "me," or "we" too often, I begin thinking that our emphasis at that moment is misplaced. I am not suggesting that songs in worship should make no reference to the worshiper. I am simply suggesting that we remain in an "analytical" (but not judgmental) mode in order better to discern what is right and what is wrong in how we worship God.

At the risk of getting too specific, allow me to provide an example.

Jesus, we just want to thank You (3x)
Thank You for being so good.

Jesus, we just want to praise You (3x)
Praise you for being so good.

Jesus, we just want to tell You (3x)
We love You for being so good.

Savior, we just want to serve You (3x)
Serve You for being so good.

Jesus, we know you are coming (3x)
Take us to live in Your home.

The point here is not the quality of the music or the question of whether repetition is an aid or hindrance to worship. (It could be both. Ps. 119, for example, is very repetitive.) Nor am I addressing whether such a song would be profitable in a setting other than a worshipful one. But the focus of this song is clear: It is on the worshipers, on what we are doing (thanking, praising, telling, serving, knowing). Again, this is not to say that there should be no mention of the worshiper. That would be equally ridiculous. Even the Song at the Sea begins, "I will sing to the LORD." The difference, however, is that this biblical song shifts quickly to the object of praise, God, rather than lingering on the one giving the praise. I am not saying the above song is not appropriate for worship and should be excluded from the hymnal. Still, when I look at the songs of old-not just the hymns of recent centuries, but of the Old Testament-I cannot help but wonder if we could do better.

There is another aspect of this hymn that stands in stark contrast to the biblical examples. It is, for all intents and purposes, devoid of any specific content. Why is Jesus good? Is such a basis for praise too vague? Another example will make the point even clearer.

Jesus is the sweetest name I know,
And He's just the same as His lovely name,
And that's the reason I love Him so;
Oh, Jesus is the sweetest name I know.

Again, I am not saying that such songs should not be sung, but it does raise some questions. Why is Jesus' name so "sweet"? And just what is a "sweet name? I am not calling for a full-blown, Latin oration every time we open our mouths in song. Different levels of content are appropriate for different Christians. It is a matter of wisdom rather than applying black-and-white categories that will contribute to the discussion. But when I think of how praise is offered to God in the Bible, there is more meat to them. Skimming the biblical songs we have looked at above shows the types of things God is praised for: his universal rule, power, eternality, incomparability, love, faithfulness to his people, and coming universal recognition.

It is not too much, I am sure, to expect the church's worship of God to be thoughtful, biblical and awe-inspiring. Our natural tendency throughout the week is to focus on ourselves. This should not be the case for Christians when we gather together in order to worship God; rather, we should make a decided effort to turn from ourselves and toward him who is truly worthy not just of our attention but of our adoration. It is perhaps in this context that we can come to a deeper understanding of passages such as Colossians 3:16: "Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God."

The "word of Christ," which we can safely equate with Scripture, is to dwell in us richly, not only as we teach and admonish each other, but as we sing to God "with gratitude" in our hearts. We show this gratitude by making the focus of our singing the nature and work of God in calling us to be his own. We need constant reminders of who God is and what he has done. What we sing should, like the biblical examples, reflect these things.

This is all the more true in light of our high calling in Christ. We participate in an act of God that is far greater than the Exodus, for it is God's climactic act of deliverance. Focusing our attention in worship relentlessly on God is not mundane nor tedious. Rather, it places the focus where it ought to be. This is the great "content" that is the acceptable form of worship for the church, not only in its teaching, preaching, and missions statements, but also in its music. We do not sing in worship to reflect our moods any more than our sermons and Sunday school lessons should reflect our pet theories on the gospel. Rather, quite bluntly, we sing in an effort to take us away from what we think and draw us toward what we ought to think, feel, experience. We sing to create a mood more than to reflect one.

This is why the content of what we sing is so vital. Our songs are, like the songs of the Bible, reminders of who God is and what he has done. This is not to say that only one type of song fits this description; for example, the ‘classic’ hymns of the church. To argue as I have done is not to close off discussion on the subject because the issue is now settled. Rather, the discussion can truly be opened when we have all agreed at the outset that, like the biblical examples, who we sing to and what we sing about is a matter worthy of constant reflection and spiritual energy.

Peter Enns, Exodus (NIVAC), pp.314-317