Text I Struggle With
Let's not pretend the Bible is consistently easy to understand. That's why we should not just read the Bible, we should study it. The text is the text, but context and translation quirks can impact our understanding. Maps help. As does studying history. And of course, commentaries can be useful.
Progressive Christianity will twist scripture into meaning something it doesn't mean. Or it will contort the text to argue against what it actually says. Of course, the final tactic is to say inerrancy is a lie.
These failures usually relate back to our feelings. Sometimes something feels wrong. Telling people they are sinners feels like we're being unloving. And while there are many, many ways to do this poorly, at the core of Christianity is the belief that we are all sinners in need of forgiveness. To say, "oh no, that's not sinful, that's just how God made you" may condemn another to hell.
However, we need to admit it's not just the Christian left that battles with feelings over truth. We think we know what is right and have our standard worldviews as how to discern the text of scripture. There are numerous passages that have taken me some time to grasp, and still others that remain a mystery.
Early on in my Christian faith, the story of the prodigal son tripped me up. Recorded in Luke 15:11-31, this familiar story demonstrates a father's exuberant forgiveness of a repentant son. There is a side story involving the other son, though. He saw this celebration for an individual who squandered his father's work. Why should the one who demanded half of his inheritance, blow it over the course of a very short time, then return home in shame be celebrated? My heart felt for the other son. He did what he was supposed to, but the prodigal son gets the fattened calf?
Eventually, this parable revealed my own bitterness and hardened heart. The celebration wasn't just for the prodigal son, it was for the return of the prodigal son. The father likely wondered if he would ever see this son again. Was he alive? Dead? The child he raised and loved was gone, possibly forever. But now? Now he was home! On top of that, he realized the error of his ways! This father's heart must have overflowed with joy. His wayward son was home!
The bitter son had no reason to be bitter. Nothing was taken from him. Although irrelevant, it's unlikely the father was about to divide up the inheritance again, and hand half over to the returned son. You and I celebrate the repentance of sinners because another individual has found Christ. Their return to the fold does nothing to take away our own place.
Another similar text I used to struggle with is the parable of the laborers in the vineyard. In Matthew 20:1-16 Jesus tells a story of a master of a house out one morning to hire some folks to work in his vineyard for the day. He hires a few laborers for a set wage. A few hours later, realizing the amount of work to be done, the master hires more workers. He repeats this three more times. At the end of the day, the workers who came on last were paid first and given a full day's wage. Seeing this, those who were hired at the start of the day were excited, thinking they would receive even more than they were promised. However, they became bitter to discover they would only receive what they agreed to.
My initial reaction was that this master took advantage of the workers who spent all day in his fields. They could have waited until the sun began to set, showed up to work, and received the same amount they would have for a whole day's work. How is this fair?
Again, my own bitterness and hardened heart were revealed. While these workers may have labored for a longer time, they easily could not even have been hired at all. It's possible they could have been sick, worked for someone offering lower wages, or have just been elsewhere when the master sought employees. They got what they needed: A full day's payment.
I became a Christian at the age of 16. Let's assume I die at 76 years old. For 60 years I will have labored for Christ. If I'm doing it right, this means I will likely deny myself things I want, give away money and time I do not want to give away, and suffer various forms of ridicule. Again, for 60 years. However, my reward is life eternal through Jesus Christ. If someone else lives a life of sin--I mean full on debauchery, extortion, and self-centeredness--from a young age until they are 75, and die a year later, their reward of life eternal for being a believer for just one year is as valid as my own. God will forgive whom He will forgive (Romans 9:14-18), and His word says anyone who places their faith in Jesus Christ will be forgiven (Acts 10:43; Romans 10:9). It doesn't matter if someone labored for Christ from sun-up to sun-down, or if he or she showed up just before the lights go out.
These are both texts that puzzled me for many years before they began to make sense. However, there are others that still confound me today, though I pray God reveals their meaning as I continue my walk in faith. Specifically, I have difficulty with the punishment that fell on Uzzah.
In 2 Samuel 6, David has just defeated the Philistines and now seeks to move the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem. David took men to the house of Abinadab to fetch it, and placed the Ark on a new cart and led it away. Later, one of the oxen stumbled, and Uzzah placed his hand on the Ark to steady it. For this, "The anger of the Lord was kindled" and Uzzah was immediately was struck dead.
How is this fair to Uzzah? First, David was as much at fault. He would have known that the Ark was only to be carried by Levites using specific poles (Exodus 25:12-15; Numbers 7:9). Uzzah should have never been put in such a position to begin with. Second, wasn't Uzzah just trying to help? It appears he saw the Ark teetering and lurched forward to steady it. Yes, Numbers 4:15 gives instructions not to touch holy things, and names death as the consequence, but certainly this is an exception, right? Uzzah only touched it to save it.
I recognize God's ways are not our own (Isaiah 55:8-9), and I grasp that this consequence was previously named, but it is still difficult to accept. Much like my own bitterness revealed through the two previously mentioned parables, there must be something God is teaching me here. Yet, it's not one of those things where someone else can just say, "oh, this is why that happened" and I'll be all set. Certainly those kind of discussions can help lead us to understanding, but I believe this will be a text I wrestle with for some time. Assuredly, a moment of clarity will eventually arrive and my love of God will deepen as a result.
I think it's okay we admit we don't understand some texts well, either the surface meaning or the deeper value. Admitting we don't know is strikingly different than doubting God or not believing His word. Believing, but confessing our confusion is an act of faith.
In C.S. Lewis' The Screwtape Letters, Screwtape write to Wormwood:
"[God] wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles. Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."
This speaks to our confusion over scripture. It's not easy to say we don't understand something, and sometimes it may feel like we're the only one a text doesn't make sense to. Yet it has been my experience that trusting God and not running away from difficult texts brings fruit.
We need to be forthright in our struggles with scripture. Share this turmoil with fellow believers, but most importantly bring it before God. God is faithful.
Progressive Christianity will twist scripture into meaning something it doesn't mean. Or it will contort the text to argue against what it actually says. Of course, the final tactic is to say inerrancy is a lie.
These failures usually relate back to our feelings. Sometimes something feels wrong. Telling people they are sinners feels like we're being unloving. And while there are many, many ways to do this poorly, at the core of Christianity is the belief that we are all sinners in need of forgiveness. To say, "oh no, that's not sinful, that's just how God made you" may condemn another to hell.
However, we need to admit it's not just the Christian left that battles with feelings over truth. We think we know what is right and have our standard worldviews as how to discern the text of scripture. There are numerous passages that have taken me some time to grasp, and still others that remain a mystery.
Early on in my Christian faith, the story of the prodigal son tripped me up. Recorded in Luke 15:11-31, this familiar story demonstrates a father's exuberant forgiveness of a repentant son. There is a side story involving the other son, though. He saw this celebration for an individual who squandered his father's work. Why should the one who demanded half of his inheritance, blow it over the course of a very short time, then return home in shame be celebrated? My heart felt for the other son. He did what he was supposed to, but the prodigal son gets the fattened calf?
Eventually, this parable revealed my own bitterness and hardened heart. The celebration wasn't just for the prodigal son, it was for the return of the prodigal son. The father likely wondered if he would ever see this son again. Was he alive? Dead? The child he raised and loved was gone, possibly forever. But now? Now he was home! On top of that, he realized the error of his ways! This father's heart must have overflowed with joy. His wayward son was home!
The bitter son had no reason to be bitter. Nothing was taken from him. Although irrelevant, it's unlikely the father was about to divide up the inheritance again, and hand half over to the returned son. You and I celebrate the repentance of sinners because another individual has found Christ. Their return to the fold does nothing to take away our own place.
Another similar text I used to struggle with is the parable of the laborers in the vineyard. In Matthew 20:1-16 Jesus tells a story of a master of a house out one morning to hire some folks to work in his vineyard for the day. He hires a few laborers for a set wage. A few hours later, realizing the amount of work to be done, the master hires more workers. He repeats this three more times. At the end of the day, the workers who came on last were paid first and given a full day's wage. Seeing this, those who were hired at the start of the day were excited, thinking they would receive even more than they were promised. However, they became bitter to discover they would only receive what they agreed to.
My initial reaction was that this master took advantage of the workers who spent all day in his fields. They could have waited until the sun began to set, showed up to work, and received the same amount they would have for a whole day's work. How is this fair?
Again, my own bitterness and hardened heart were revealed. While these workers may have labored for a longer time, they easily could not even have been hired at all. It's possible they could have been sick, worked for someone offering lower wages, or have just been elsewhere when the master sought employees. They got what they needed: A full day's payment.
I became a Christian at the age of 16. Let's assume I die at 76 years old. For 60 years I will have labored for Christ. If I'm doing it right, this means I will likely deny myself things I want, give away money and time I do not want to give away, and suffer various forms of ridicule. Again, for 60 years. However, my reward is life eternal through Jesus Christ. If someone else lives a life of sin--I mean full on debauchery, extortion, and self-centeredness--from a young age until they are 75, and die a year later, their reward of life eternal for being a believer for just one year is as valid as my own. God will forgive whom He will forgive (Romans 9:14-18), and His word says anyone who places their faith in Jesus Christ will be forgiven (Acts 10:43; Romans 10:9). It doesn't matter if someone labored for Christ from sun-up to sun-down, or if he or she showed up just before the lights go out.
These are both texts that puzzled me for many years before they began to make sense. However, there are others that still confound me today, though I pray God reveals their meaning as I continue my walk in faith. Specifically, I have difficulty with the punishment that fell on Uzzah.
In 2 Samuel 6, David has just defeated the Philistines and now seeks to move the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem. David took men to the house of Abinadab to fetch it, and placed the Ark on a new cart and led it away. Later, one of the oxen stumbled, and Uzzah placed his hand on the Ark to steady it. For this, "The anger of the Lord was kindled" and Uzzah was immediately was struck dead.
How is this fair to Uzzah? First, David was as much at fault. He would have known that the Ark was only to be carried by Levites using specific poles (Exodus 25:12-15; Numbers 7:9). Uzzah should have never been put in such a position to begin with. Second, wasn't Uzzah just trying to help? It appears he saw the Ark teetering and lurched forward to steady it. Yes, Numbers 4:15 gives instructions not to touch holy things, and names death as the consequence, but certainly this is an exception, right? Uzzah only touched it to save it.
I recognize God's ways are not our own (Isaiah 55:8-9), and I grasp that this consequence was previously named, but it is still difficult to accept. Much like my own bitterness revealed through the two previously mentioned parables, there must be something God is teaching me here. Yet, it's not one of those things where someone else can just say, "oh, this is why that happened" and I'll be all set. Certainly those kind of discussions can help lead us to understanding, but I believe this will be a text I wrestle with for some time. Assuredly, a moment of clarity will eventually arrive and my love of God will deepen as a result.
I think it's okay we admit we don't understand some texts well, either the surface meaning or the deeper value. Admitting we don't know is strikingly different than doubting God or not believing His word. Believing, but confessing our confusion is an act of faith.
In C.S. Lewis' The Screwtape Letters, Screwtape write to Wormwood:
"[God] wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles. Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."
This speaks to our confusion over scripture. It's not easy to say we don't understand something, and sometimes it may feel like we're the only one a text doesn't make sense to. Yet it has been my experience that trusting God and not running away from difficult texts brings fruit.
We need to be forthright in our struggles with scripture. Share this turmoil with fellow believers, but most importantly bring it before God. God is faithful.
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