wordandspirit

It is often suggested that a belief in the absolute sovereignty of God can lead to fatalism. If God has already decided what will happen, why pray? If God has already decided who will be saved, why evangelise?

In Esth 4:14, Mordecai says, “if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place”. What does he mean? He seems to have faith that God will somehow bring about salvation for the Jews, and that even if Esther does nothing, God’s plan would not be thwarted. But notice that he doesn’t conclude that Esther therefore need do nothing. In fact, he concludes the opposite, and goes as far as warning her that she is in more danger by refusing to act than she would be if she did (see Esth 4:13-14).

Then in Esth 4:15, Mordecai utters perhaps the most famous phrase in the book: “who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this”. Assuming that Esther had not wanted to be part of the harem, this was not necessarily a comforting thought. She was effectively being told that God was behind all her own plans for her life being dashed. Yet I wonder if the story of Joseph was in Mordecai’s mind. Joseph was able to see that despite the evil intentions of his brothers, God’s sovereignty had positioned him to be in exactly the right place at the right time (Gen 50:20).

Esther agrees that she needs to take action and in Esth 4:16 she says “if I perish, I perish”. Again this should not be interpreted as a fatalistic “whatever will be will be” attitude. She knows that the future is hidden and she has no personal guarantee of safety. Yet she recognises that the safest place to be is in the will of God.

The story is told that a young William Carey was once told “Young man, sit down: when God pleases to covert the heathen, He will do it without your aid or mine”. Thankfully he knew better than to follow this hyper-calvinist advice, viewing God’s sovereignty as a reason to act, not as a reason to relax and take it easy.

Part of the resolution of this dilemma is the recognition that God has not only ordained what he wants to accomplish, but the means by which he will accomplish it. He intends to include us, to answer our prayers, to use our best efforts despite our weaknesses and mistakes. Faith in a sovereign God should propel us to action, knowing that when we are on his mission we are guaranteed to be part of something that will succeed. Passivity and fatalism dishonours God. Esther and Mordecai, on the other hand, display the kind of faith that is willing to step out and take risks in order to see God’s purposes accomplished.

Sometimes it is disputed whether Esther or Mordecai should be seen as the “hero” of the book of Esther. They both get a roughly equal coverage. But for me, it is Esther who nudges ahead by having to do the most courageous thing in the book. She must risk her life by appearing uninvited before the king (Esth 4:11).

I guess if we’re honest, courage does not come naturally to most of us. We typically flee from danger, and avoid risky situations. Situations requiring courage fall into two broad categories. First, those from which we cannot escape, such as the person who has to go into hospital for an urgent operation. In such cases, what is needed is the peace that comes from knowing that God is with us (Ps 23:4).

But Esther had an opt-out. She could have buried her head in the sand. Haman had clearly not linked her to Mordecai. There was every chance she could escape with her life if she continued to keep her Jewish identity secret. The type of courage she needed was the courage to do the right thing and refuse to take the easy option.

Ultimately the secret to this type of courage is the fear of the Lord. This is brilliantly demonstrated by the example of two other courageous women, Shiphrah and Puah. They were the Hebrew midwives asked to terminate the lives of all baby boys. Pharaoh certainly had the power to execute them if they failed to comply. Yet they feared the Lord more than they feared Pharaoh (Ex 1:17).

We cannot fear the Lord if we fear man. Fearing what people will say about us or do to us can paralyse us into inaction. Desiring the approval of people will cause us to make moral compromises. True wisdom begins with fearing the Lord (Prov 9:10) – agreeing with him even if that puts us at odds with others. So the truly courageous person is not fearless, but one who fears God.

n.b. Courage is not portrayed in the Scriptures as an exclusively masculine characteristic. Peter picks Rachel as a role model for women in 1 Pet 3:6 precisely because of her courage. Esther too stands here as a shining example of a woman of faith – who had the courage to do what was right despite the personal danger it meant for her.

When Mordecai hears the dreadful news of Haman’s plans, he immediately starts mourning (Esth 4:1). However, when Esther hears the news of Mordecai’s mourning, her response is strange. Though she doesn’t know why Mordecai is mourning, she attempts to stop him, telling him to cheer up, and sends him a gift of new clothes (Esth 4:4). Her somewhat immature approach to her grieving father seems to be “get over it”.

Are there times when we are insensitive to those who are grieving? Where we effectively tell them to cheer up and get over it? Maybe a Christianised form of this is to tell them to be “full of the joy of the Lord”, which is a fully biblical exhortation but can be delivered in a very shallow way. I by no means consider myself an expert in grief counselling, but here are a few brief reflections on how we can genuinely help those who are mourning.

1. Listen

Possibly the best thing we can do for those who are mourning is to listen with a sympathetic ear. Esther gets round to this in Esth 4:5, where she hears the reason for Mordecai’s sackcloth and ashes.

2. Weep with them

Rom 12:15 calls on us to “mourn with those who mourn”. We are not to remain emotionally detached from one another, but to care deeply. This does not mean that we can never be joyful while another is sad, nor do we let ourselves become crushed by the weight of other people’s sorrow, but we are called to a sincere love that cannot be indifferent to the suffering of others.

3. Pray

In Esth 4:16 we see that Esther joins in the fasting. She recognises the need for God’s intervention. Prayer not only expresses our love for those we pray for, but causes it to grow. It is as we bring our brothers and sisters before God in prayer that we start to see them from his perspective.

4. Help practically

In this case, Esther was in a position where she was actually able to do something practical of use. We are often not able to fix the problem ourselves, but I suspect that in most cases there is at least something we can do of practical benefit, such as cooking a meal. This is another way we express our love for those who are weeping.

5. Encourage

We have already noted the shallowness of simply telling someone to cheer up, but that does not mean we should not seek to comfort them or raise their spirits. In particular, we need to remind one another of the future hope we have in Christ. Paul advises that we encourage those mourning the loss of a loved one in this way (see 1 Thess 4:13,17-18).

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. 2 Cor 1:3-4 (NIV)

Whilst we can understand Haman’s anger at Mordecai’s refusal to bow down to him, nothing prepares us for the full extent of his malice. He is intent not only to destroy Mordecai, but all the Jews (Esth 3:6).

Of course, Haman couldn’t just go about ethnic cleansing without some kind of legal justification, so he portrays the Jews as being rebellious against the king, following their own laws (Esth 3:8). As with many false accusations, this one succeeds because it contains an element of truth – the Jews did indeed live by another law, but as we have already seen, it was unfair to characterise them as bad citizens. It is interesting to note that Haman’s strategy is to portray God’s people as those who “should not be tolerated” – a phrase we are starting to hear increasingly in our own day.

I’m sure we know that persecution is sadly as prevalent as ever. A couple of weeks ago our church received the shocking news of the murder of pastor Artur from Daghestan (please pray for his family and church). Countless other stories of modern day persecution could be told, ranging from the extreme of martyrdom to more small-scale intimidation and discrimination increasingly faced by believers even in supposedly “tolerant” countries.

Behind this persecution surely lies the devil, who wants to eradicate Christianity. His strategy is threefold: to “kill, steal and destroy” (John 10:10). Literally, in some countries Christians are killed for their faith, as the devil, like Haman, seeks to wipe out the people of God. He also attempts to steal the truth of the gospel from us, to make us powerless and ineffective, and defeat us from within. And he seeks to destroy the church’s witness by undermining its reputation, whether by slanderous accusations, or by tempting its leaders into sin.

The New Testament calls on us to expect and endure persecution (1 John 3:13; Heb 12:13). This does not mean we are not to pray for protection for ourselves or those in dangerous places, but it does mean that we need to be those living with an eternal perspective who can say, with Paul, “to live is Christ, to die is gain” (Phil 1:21).

More resources on persecution

Luck is not something Christians often talk about, except perhaps to briefly note that “we don’t believe in luck” (although by sheer luck providence, both Matt Hosier and Marcus Tutt blogged on it recently). Both in ancient and modern times people have ascribed the randomness of life, how some seem to be favoured while others suffer misfortunes, as being down to “luck”.

In Esth 3:7 we see Haman choosing the day for the annihilation of the Jews by casting lots (the “pur”), presumably in order to allow the gods to decide which would be his “lucky day”. As it turns out, God had chosen the day, and it was anything but lucky for Haman.

Luck and Cards

One question that quickly arises when we think about luck is, “should Christians play games that are largely based on chance”? Calvinists of previous generations opposed card-playing on the grounds that it caused us to move our trust from God onto “fortune” or “luck”. Others argued that it was a gateway drug to gambling. For example, here’s a quote from J C Ryle on card playing:

Concerning card-playing, my judgment is much the same. I ask Christian people to try it by its tendencies and consequences. Of course it would be nonsense to say there is positive wickedness in an innocent game of cards, for diversion, and not for money. I have known instances of old people of lethargic and infirm habit of body, unable to work or read, to whom cards in an evening were really useful, to keep them from drowsiness, and preserve their health. But it is vain to shut our eyes from facts. From simple card-playing to desperate gambling there is but a chain of steps. If parents teach young people that there is no harm in the first step, they must never be surprised if they go on to the last.

Of course, these days, as gospel-centred Christians we are falling over ourselves not to be legalistic, and so would never dream of making such pronouncements. Yet I think the result is that acceptability of gambling amongst Christians is on the increase. It is either dismissed as a harmless bit of fun, or defended as a game of skill (amazing how many people delude themselves into thinking they are skilled at predicting sporting results). However, the corrective to legalism is not to simply to declare that anything goes, but to seek to be led by the Spirit in these matters, and steer clear of things that are “sowing to the flesh” (Gal 6:8).

Luck and Envy

But I don’t think that gambling or games of chance are the biggest evidence of unbiblical thinking concerning luck. Maybe the biggest giveaway to our belief in “luck” comes when we envy others. “He’s so lucky”, we say. It is a refusal to accept the sovereignty of God to give to another what he has not given to us. It manifests itself in ungratefulness as well as jealousy. So someone else is blessed with more money, more gifts, more ministry opportunities, better looks, better health than you. Do we really believe that God knows what he is doing and is in control, or are we just “unlucky”? Can we really trust him, or do we feel the need to “make our own luck”?

After observing what a good citizen Mordecai was in Esth 2:21-23, it comes as a surprise to us to see him flatly refuse to comply with the king’s law in Esth 3:1-4. In some ways it is perplexing as to why he chose to disobey this particular rule. Commentators have pointed out that he would likely have had to pay homage to other officials as part of his job, so it may not simply be that Mordecai viewed bowing down to someone as idolatrous. Others have suggested Haman’s identity as an Agagite (and one who was decidedly anti-Jewish) as the reason behind his refusal.

Recently, Chuck Colson caused some controversy by suggesting that a time was coming when Christians in America might need to engage in civil disobedience. It raises the the question of what laws are worth fighting against, and what we can endure patiently as a form of persecution.

Do we take a “no compromise” approach and refuse to adhere to every single law that we feel violates a Biblical principle? Or do we save civil disobedience only for the most extreme violations of our Christian conscience?

The issue comes to a head whenever a law commands us to do what is evil (e.g,. Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego refusing to bow to the king’s statue – Dan 3:12) or forbids us to do what is right (e.g. Daniel flouting the law by continuing to pray to Yahweh – Dan 6:13). For the apostles, obedience to God always trumped obedience to the state:

Then they called them in again and commanded them not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus. But Peter and John replied, "Judge for yourselves whether it is right in God’s sight to obey you rather than God. For we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard." Acts 4:18-20 (NIV)

This is a matter that calls for great wisdom and courage, and Christians disagree over where exactly the lines should be drawn. Some will simply comply with unjust laws, and seek to find creative new ways of obeying God without breaking the law. Others will opt for the shrewdness of a passive-aggressive approach, failing to comply but without drawing unnecessary attention to themselves. And yet others will chose to take a public stand against the law and take whatever consequences that come their way.

It is not inconceivable that a time for civil disobedience may arise in our lifetimes in the UK. Thankfully, we still enjoy a good measure of religious freedom. But it is important that we settle our minds on the principle “we must obey God rather than men” in advance, if we are not to respond with compromise and cowardice at the crucial moment.

As usual, I welcome any feedback in the comments. At what point do you think civil disobedience becomes necessary?

This is the first book I’ve read from Francis Chan. By all accounts his “Crazy Love” is an excellent read. And Tim Chester gave this book a ringing endorsement this week too.

The book is subtitled “Reversing our tragic neglect of the Holy Spirit”. As someone who has come from a charismatic background, it does seem a little strange to hear the Holy Spirit referred to as the “Forgotten God”. If anything, those in my circles are often accused of an over-emphasis on the Spirit. Which perhaps explains why I really felt as though I was not quite in the “target audience” for this book.

Chan seems to be aiming at a popular level, perhaps at those who rarely read theology books, and at those who theologically occupy a middle ground somewhere between cessationism and full-blown pentecostalism.

The first two chapters are devoted to urging us to be willing to completely rethink our opinions on the Holy Spirit, returning to the Bible. This is sound advice, but I didn’t feel he went on to overthrow any existing beliefs I had. His chapter on the theology of the Spirit is only the briefest of overviews of Biblical teaching on the Spirit.

Scattered throughout the book are short biographical accounts of people that Chan considers to be “Spirit-filled”. The focus is (perhaps deliberately) not on those whose lives have been characterised by miracles or supernatural gifts, but on those who showed extraordinary godly character (fruit of the Spirit) and who took bold steps of faith to serve the poor. It is a helpful reminder that the Spirit-filled life is not always necessarily a spectacular one.

There is a chapter on the importance of having a real relationship with God through the Spirit. Chan picks out “comfort” and “volume” as being two things that hinder us from truly connecting with God – we are too comfortable or too busy to have a deep relationship with God (see Tim Chester’s post for these obstacles to intimacy).

Another chapter warns against being so focused on God’s will for your life (i.e. your future plans) that you forget to follow him in the now. He reminds us that we do not invite Jesus to follow us around, but we are to follow him. The call to take up our cross is a call to a radical faith. And this is Chan’s passion – that we would settle for nothing less than a life sold out to following Jesus – a life following the Spirit. He argues the same for churches in the final chapter. It is too easy for a church to rely on simply doing things well. But even if it brings growth, without the Spirit, it is meaningless.

Overall I felt there were many things about the Holy Spirit that were left unsaid in this book. And to be fair, Chan has deliberately kept the book short and accessible. He has a great way with words, and it won’t take you long to read through. The book’s chief strength is not as a theology of the Spirit, but as a challenge to live radical lives following the lead of the Spirit. It would be a good place to start for a Christian who has thought little about the Holy Spirit before. And the call to a more radical, wholehearted following of Jesus as we are led by the Spirit is one that all believers and local churches, desperately need to heed.

This is one of the earliest volumes of the Bible Speaks Today series, having been written in 1976 and only later incorporated into the series. In a brief introduction Derek Kidner asks what Ecclesiastes is doing in the Bible. He introduces us to the author, Qoheleth. He thinks that this teacher puts himself in the shoes of a “super-Solomon” for the purposes of writing the book.

Kidner interprets the book as being written from “ground level” – the author deliberately views life “under the sun” from a human perspective – if you like, from a secularist vantage point. Qoheleth will explore path after path to the point that it comes to nothing, and in the end, only one way will be left.

Kidner makes regular references to various stories, quotes or poems that make similar points to Ecclesiastes. In Eccl 3:1-8, he does not take the common approach of assuming it is about the idea that there is an “appropriate” time” for every activity. Rather he sees it as a comment on the perpetual pattern of change – everything has a beginning and an end. However, he does see Eccl 3:11 as a key verse – part of the very reason that we find so many seemingly good things unsatisfying is that we have eternity in our hearts.

Every few chapters, Kidner inserts a brief “backwards glance”, summarising the argument so far, which is a helpful touch. He thinks that Qoheleth’s mission, like Jeremiah, is first to tear down and destroy before he eventually gets round to building up (Jer 1:10). Kidner sees a turning point coming after Ecclesiastes 9, by which time Qoheleth has made his case against human self-sufficiency.

Overall I think Kidner has done a good job of interpreting the train of thought in this book that can be quite perplexing at times. I find it interesting that many of the better known verses in Ecclesiastes seem to have a different meaning to their popular interpretations when considered in the light of the whole book’s progression of thought.

In Esther 2:21-23 Mordecai uncovers a plot to assassinate the king and acts immediately to save the king’s life:

During the time Mordecai was sitting at the king’s gate, Bigthana and Teresh, two of the king’s officers who guarded the doorway, became angry and conspired to assassinate King Xerxes. But Mordecai found out about the plot and told Queen Esther, who in turn reported it to the king, giving credit to Mordecai. And when the report was investigated and found to be true, the two officials were hanged on a gallows. All this was recorded in the book of the annals in the presence of the king.

The book of Esther does not portray king Xerxes in a particularly positive light, and yet Mordecai still sees it as his duty to act in the king’s best interests. Of course we could be cynical and decide that Mordecai reported the plot for his own advancement, or even for Esther’s protection, but nevertheless this is still a good example of Mordecai acting in accordance with Jeremiah’s instructions:

seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the LORD for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper." (Jer 29:7 ESV)

The New Testament also teaches that even though we are citizens of heaven (Phil 3:20), we are still to be good citizens of the earthly kingdom we are part of. We’re called to pray for our leaders (1 Tim 2:1-2) as well as submit to them (Rom 13:1). In the workplace, we are expected to be fully committed to whatever it is that we have been given to do (Col 3:23). We are to seek to do good to not only those inside, but also those outside the church (Gal 6:10).

Despite this strong strand of teaching that encourages loyalty and submission to the human rulers of your land, many evangelicals are emphasising the “politically subversive” nature of the gospel, and in particular the teaching of Jesus. If Jesus is Lord, then Caesar isn’t (N T Wright on “God and Caesar”). How do we hold these two seemingly conflicting ideas in tension?

My own thoughts are that in every generation there are indeed issues of justice that challenge us to be politically subversive, but in all other respects, and wherever possible, we should seek to be good citizens of the nation we are in, and to be a blessing working within the existing structures rather than always fighting against them.

So Christians have to pick their battles wisely. The first century believers were never likely to overthrow slavery in the Roman empire – it was too deeply entrenched. Instead they focused on helping those caught up in the system to live in a way that honoured God. However, the time did come for believers like Wilberforce to take on slavery and seek to change the law to be more God honouring.

What do you think? How does a Christian find the right balance in this area? And what are the areas in which we should be dare to be “politically subversive” in our own day?

One of the most striking features of the book of Esther is that God is not mentioned even once in the entire book. In fact, neither is prayer or worship, the Scriptures or the law, Jerusalem or the temple. We can only speculate as to why the author chose to do this. I’ll just give a few of my ideas. I’d be interested in hearing any others in the comments.

Perhaps it reflects the fact that Esther and Mordecai lived in a society in which Israel’s God was not on the agenda for conversation. As in our own culture, talk of God is not always welcome and sometimes downright suppressed, with even prominent figures such as Tony Blair and Wayne Rooney finding their opinions on God censored. It raises questions of how we present God to a culture that does not want to hear about him.

Or maybe it reflects the fact that much of the time for Esther and Mordecai, God’s presence was not obvious. There are no miracles in the book of Esther. It is only with hindsight that his presence and sovereignty is seen. The author invites us as readers to do what Esther and Mordecai had to do, to look with the eyes of faith to see God at work in the events, without always being able to comprehend why and how he is working. It prompts us to re-examine the story of our own lives, having faith to see God at work even in the apparently random events that we find ourselves caught up in.

Another possibility is simply that the author wants to use the power of story to make us reflect more deeply and look for signs of God. Often when we watch a good movie, the story stays with us for the next few days as we mull it over in our minds, wondering whether there was a “meaning” or a “moral” to the story. We might have to reinterpret events early in the story based on things we discover only at the end. Sometimes the director of the movie refuses to be drawn on what he was trying to say in the film, preferring to leave people to ponder the story. Jesus seemed to take this approach with many of his parables, often leaving them unexplained. This leaves a challenge to Christians who write novels or film scripts. Can we learn the art of telling stories that point to God without having to explicitly mention him?