Guidance from Overlooked Men and Women of the Bible

Category: Bible (Page 350 of 419)

How Prayers Tend to Be Answered

When I pray, I want my answers immediately. Just like when I put my money into a vending machine, I want my candy bar asap.

In light of that, I find myself enjoying Elijah’s confrontation with the prophets of Baal (1 Kings 18). Initially, I laugh at Elijah taunting the Baal-ites as they jump around and slash themselves and cry to an empty sky. The mockery and trash-talking adds a piece to my religion I usually enjoy elsewhere.

But with a longer look I notice something else—three different types of answers to the prayers offered up in the story.

First, the prophets of Baal pray with intensity and fervor, for hours and hours, even harming themselves in the process. No answer—no god exists to answer.

Second, Elijah asks God to answer him, so these people will know that you, Lord, are God, and that you are turning their hearts back again. BOOM! The fire of God rains down and everyone falls on their faces.

Third, after the explosion on the mountaintop, the Lord delivered rain to quench a severe drought. Even then, the heavy clouds took their time in rising from the sea and covering the land. Finally, the Lord answered the years-long prayers of thirsty people with life-sustaining rains.

What do I learn from this story? Obviously, I prefer fiery answers to my prayers—immediate, dramatic, final. However, since I’ve never experienced fire from heaven, I’m also quite happy with answers to my long running prayers. Like water on parched ground, relief and joy spread through my soul.

Approaching God like a vending machine uncovers my bad beliefs about prayer. Trusting the Lord of the Universe to work, in his time (which still takes forever, in my opinion), reflects the way the Lord worked for Elijah, and the way the Lord continues to work today.

I Kings 18 in week twenty-eight of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo by Max LaRochelle

A High Cost for Glory and Fame

After tearing down the walls of Jericho and burning the city to the ground, Joshua pronounced this solemn oath: Cursed before the Lord is the one who undertakes to rebuild this city, Jericho: “At the cost of his firstborn son he will lay it foundations; at the cost of his youngest he will set up its gates.”

For generations folks took this curse seriously. Then along came a man named Hiel, who centuries later decided to rebuild the city. Just like Joshua proposed, Hiel first laid the foundations of Jericho—at the cost of his firstborn son. He later set up the gates—at the cost of his youngest son.

The Bible often understates terrible situations. In this case, Hiel sacrificed two of his children for the glory of rebuilding Jericho.

What kind of man acts in such a way? One who’s hard-hearted. Opportunistic. Obsessed with glory. Maybe he never heard of the prophecy? If so, that explains the death of his first son, but not the second. Someone would have warned him and stopped construction.

I believe that Hiel knew all about the Joshua’s oath, and chose to build anyway. How did the mother of his sons feel about the rebuilt Jericho, with foundations and gates bathed in the blood of her children? Hiel pursued glory at the cost of everyone around him.

While such a craven attitude seems impossible, I wonder—what tempts me to sacrifice the good of others for my cause, or for my advancement, or to make myself look better in the eyes of the world?

Better to climb alongside others than to climb over their backs. Or better, as Jesus said, to do unto others as you would have done to you.

Hiel dreamed of being remembered as a great visionary and builder. Instead, he’s footnoted as a callous fool. We already have plenty of those.

1 Kings16 in week twenty-eight of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo of modern Jericho

A Profound Mercy

I believe I’m a pretty good person, and always have been. I’ve not killed anyone, or pillaged any villages. But the Scriptures reveal a different perspective:

At one time we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another (Titus 3:3).

In reality, this describes my natural state, and apart from the goodness of God in this state I remain. Miraculously, an alternative exists:

But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy (Titus 3:4&5).

This passage continues on to describe the washing by the Holy Spirit one receives through the grace of Jesus Christ our Savior. Few other places in Scripture describe in such clarity the work of God on our behalf.

Work due not to my winsome personality, or genetic makeup, or kind acts toward others, or place of birth, or any of the thousand other things I might consider redeeming qualities.

No, God saves me, and you, simply because of his mercy.

Titus 3 in week twenty-eight of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo by Dominik Kuhn

On Skulls and Golden Shields

Solomon, at the height of his splendor, commissioned the casting of golden shields to hang in his royal palace. One generation later, the king of Egypt swept into Judah and looted Jerusalem, carrying off the shields as booty.

The Lord allowed the Egyptians to invade because the people abandoned the law of the Lord. The Lord made them subject to the foreign king, so that they may learn the difference between serving me and serving the kings of other lands.

One difference quickly noted—the kings of other lands carry off your golden shields.

I once saw a painting in the National Gallery of London, commissioned by Henry VIII (he of many wives), titled The Ambassadors. Oddly, the artist added a distorted skull at the bottom of the painting. It’s an example of an anamorphic, an image which can only be clearly viewed from a side perspective. The story goes that Henry hung the painting in a stairwell. There he saw the skull as he passed, a daily reminder of his mortality.

Rehoboam, the king of Judah, made bronze shields to replace the golden ones, and gave them to his palace guards. Like Henry’s skull, the shields served as symbols of mortality. Every day as the men carrying the new shields marched past, Rehoboam mourned the loss of his treasure and understood his dependence on the Lord.

The kings of the earth belong to God; he is greatly exalted (Psalm 47:9).

While I don’t possess any golden shields, or even paintings of skulls, I do possess many, many good things. For these I’m grateful, and hope to retain a bit of humility, knowing that all good things come from the hand of our gracious God.

2 Chronicles 12 in week twenty-eight of reading the Bible cover to cover

The Ambassadors (1533) by Hans Holbein the Younger.

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