Philippians 2:1 begins, “If there be therefore any consolation in Christ…”
I imagine a slight smile on Paul’s face as he authors these words. He has given thanks, prayed for the Philippians, and reported on his situation. In every thought, his language is laden with theological riches.
“The One Who started a good work in you will never stop until it is finished.”
“Your love may abound in knowledge and judgment…you can live discerning, blameless lives… don’t forget the Lord’s return… Jesus will fill your lives with a harvest of righteousness.”
“Though I’m suffering in prison, Christ sustains me by His Spirit! Christ’s gospel is advancing!”
“My life is Christ, and He is magnified if I live or if I die. Because I am His, I don’t fear death. I long to be with Him, but as long as I’m here, I will labor for your joy to abound in Christ as mine does.”
“As you presently suffer, keep on living a life that matches the gospel. Remain fearless in the face of affliction, and see your suffering as a gift. Because of Christ, everything ends well– even when we die.”
In our Bibles, there is a chapter division between 1:30 and 2:1. In Paul’s letter, he’s just continuing the thought to his next point. And this is where I imagine that slow smile spreading. Paul is about to make a serious appeal to his beloved church. But first, he will give them four bases for its obedience.
And this is the first: “If, beloved Philippians, you find any encouragement in Christ…”
Consider what he has just said, and see if there is indeed any encouragement to be found in Christ.
Though I see the plethora of ways I have failed to live in blameless love, Paul’s prayer (1:2-11) reminds me that Jesus is able and active to make me complete, mature in righteousness lived out to God’s glory and praise. My own sense of failure is no match for the encouragement of God’s guarantee to complete his work in me, by Jesus’ power.
Though present circumstances may seem less than favorable, Paul’s prison praise (1:12-19) reminds me that Jesus is able to turn any situation to salvation. My circumstances, however bleak, are no match for the encouragement of a Savior Whose cause advances on the wings of adversity.
Though death itself stares me down, Paul’s proclamation (1:19-26) reminds me that Jesus is glorified by both faithful living and faithful dying. My self-preservation instinct is no match for the encouragement of Jesus’ certain exaltation and my eventual departure to be with Him in joy forever.
Though affliction linger on, Paul’s promise (1:27-30) reminds me that Jesus gives his people the gift of knowing Him, even in the fellowship of His suffering (3:10). My despair at the prospect of pain is no match for the encouragement of Jesus’ presence to deliver me from fear and empower me to stand firm in the faith.
Within all these truths of Who Jesus is and what Jesus does, is there any encouragement?
Oh, yes. Consolation abounds in Christ. So if there is…since there is…then what?
Wait. This is only the first of four conditions upon which Paul will rest his next main point. For this moment, may our thoughts simply linger and our hearts find encouragement in the person and promises of Jesus.
*Since seminary’s purpose is to prepare for effective ministry, and writing’s purpose is to think clearly and serve the church, why not share the writing that accompanies a seminary education? The following is part two of a book review required for Biblical Hermeneutics. You can read part one (summary) here: http://carmichaelsdaughter.com/from-eden-to-the-new–jerusalem
Alexander, T.D.. From Eden to the New Jerusalem: An Introduction to Biblical Theology. Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 2009.
Critical Evaluation
From Eden to the New Jerusalem proves from Scripture and external research that the Bible’s big story, from start to finish, answers life’s big questions. In some religious traditions, the interpretive field of Biblical narrative is littered with the rubble of over-spiritualized connections drawn between descriptive details and Christian living. This book, by contrast, demonstrates a faithful hermeneutic. Alexander undeniably obtains his main points from the words of Scripture: every theme is immediately evident both in Genesis 1-3 and Revelation 20-22. In his selection and ordering of themes, Alexander presents the reader with more than an introduction to Biblical theology. He also provides a helpful example of faithfully handling Scripture on a thematic level. Alexander builds a stage on which to display the emphases of Scripture, rather than spotlighting personal priorities. God’s sovereign presence with his people, the conflict of evil, the Lamb’s redemption, and the final healing of all nations in a perfectly restored earth – the reader sees these realities in Scripture as the major themes that they are.
Additionally, Alexander traces each theme through explicit Scripture references. No connections are left to the reader’s imagination. Alexander compares Eden, the tabernacle, and the temple with a lengthy list of descriptive details spanning the Pentateuch (22-23). He builds his case for “the church as temple” from every corner of the New Testament: Gospels, Acts, Epistles, and Revelation (61ff). Further, he proves Christ’s fulfillment of the Passover lamb type by linking specific prophecies to their New Testament completion (125-126). The promise of blessing all nations flows through the Pentateuch, prophets, psalms, and gospels into Revelation (165-169). It may prove impossible to find a single page in this book on which Alexander does not build his thought from Scripture, explicitly or implicitly. The reader is assured that both the themes presented and the lines drawn between them are expressly Biblical.
In conjunction with Scripture, Alexander supports his thesis and illustrates his points with research in ancient Near Eastern culture. His inclusion of such cultural details lends significant credence to his Biblical interpretation, since they prove that he has done careful work both in and around the Word. For example, he suggests that the tabernacle was designed as a mini-cosmos, citing both descriptions from Exodus and the contemporary practice of building temples as microcosms (38). This adds color to the picture of earth as God’s dwelling, since the tabernacle was the visual representation of divine presence at that time. A second example, from the practice of ancient Near Eastern kings, illustrates God’s purpose for man on earth. A king’s authority extended to every place where his image could be found. Therefore, the multiplication mandate of Genesis 1:28 would have implied to the original audience that a world filled with people, God’s image-bearers, is a world completely subject to his authority (78). These and other such details increase the reader’s confidence in Alexander’s hermeneutic, because he clearly has considered both the human authors’ intended meaning and the perspective of the original audience.
Alexander’s writing is as scholarly as it is Biblical. He extensively cites historians, other scholars, and Bible teachers to support his thematic development in each chapter. The reader concludes that this book is not simply one man’s presentation of his own ideas: it is a well-researched synthesis of many academic and devotional labors. Alexander bolsters his credibility as an author by using the work of many great minds to develop his message.
Another strength of this book is the logical ordering and interconnections of themes. The first theme, God’s presence on earth, is the foundation for every other proof Alexander presents. God’s dwelling on earth necessarily includes his sovereignty: he is present, not as a mere observer, but as King (75). Though Satan contests his authority in the present age, the Lamb secures his ultimate defeat and the restoration of all nations to God’s perfect design for them, in his presence on earth. Alexander clearly connects his themes in both main ideas and supporting details (85, 110, 123, 150). This well-crafted book artfully presents the beauty in the unity of Scripture’s grand story.
Conclusion
In From Eden to the New Jerusalem, T. Desmond Alexander proves that Genesis 1-3 and Revelation 20-22 frame the story that satisfies man’s desire for purpose. Alexander has provided a textually faithful, well-researched introduction to Biblical theology that will benefit both the unconverted and the church. The unconverted who search for meaning in life will find here answers and warning: God’s purposes are clear, therefore, repent and enter his kingdom. To believers, this book is commended as fuel for both worship and mission. This book draws the reader to worship the God who has written and guaranteed such a magnificent story. In light of God’s certain purpose for man and the earth, Christians are encouraged to hopefully persevere in the expansion of God’s kingdom among all nations, until the promised consummation is fulfilled.
*Since seminary’s purpose is to prepare for effective ministry, and writing’s purpose is to think clearly and serve the church, why not share the writing that accompanies a seminary education? The following is part one (summary) of a book review required for Biblical Hermeneutics. I’d highly recommend reading the book itself, with reasons to follow in part two (critique).
Alexander, T.D.. From Eden to the New Jerusalem: An Introduction to Biblical Theology. Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 2009.
Introduction
As an accomplished author and senior lecturer in Biblical studies at Union Theological College in Belfast, Dr. T. Desmond Alexander is particularly qualified to write an introduction to Biblical theology. In From Eden to the New Jerusalem, he proposes that the first three chapters of Genesis and the final three chapters of Revelation frame the meta-narrative of Scripture, a story that answers man’s question of why earth and human life subsist (10). To support his claim, Alexander presents key themes of Scripture using a consistent format: beginning at the end in the New Jerusalem, returning to Eden’s portrayal of the theme in view, and then tracing the theme through Scripture to its perfection in the eternal state. God created the world as a place to dwell with the people he made to bear his image, exercise delegated authority, and enjoy divine fellowship. The ensuing conflict of evil and subsequent provision of atoning sacrifice was no afterthought: God reveals his grace and wisdom by restoring fallen man to the glory of original design. In the new heaven and earth, God will fulfill all his purposes for his people and his world. Alexander’s thoroughly Biblical and scholarly work in this book effectively demonstrates that the grand story of Scripture explains the purpose of earth and man’s existence.
Summary
In the second chapter, Alexander begins fulfilling his promise to answer life’s big questions with the Bible’s big story, framed by the first three and final three chapters of Scripture. Alexander gives priority in order of explanation and length of exposition to his first proof of thesis: the theme of God’s presence on earth. In Genesis 1-3, God creates a perfect world to be his “divine residence” with perfect humans in perfect fellowship (14, 20). The beginning of the story also answers the question of man’s purpose. God’s design for Adam and Eve was to expand Eden’s temple-garden and fill the earth with people (25). While the events of Genesis 1-11 highlight man’s failure to live out God’s design, the provision of tabernacle and temple illustrates God’s continued determination to make the earth his sacred dwelling with man. Presently, he is accomplishing this purpose through the church, as God now dwells within, not simply among His people (69). Revelation 21-22 provides the concluding bookend by describing the New Jerusalem as the city where God forever dwells with His people (73, Rev 21:3). In this future state, God’s purpose for the earth as his residence with humanity will be fully realized.
In chapters three and four, Alexander supports his thesis with the themes of God’s sovereignty on earth and the origin and conclusion of evil. Genesis 1-2 describes the divine design for man to exercise God-given dominion and bear God’s image, as his viceroy (76). However, at the fall, man reversed God’s purpose and submitted to the serpent instead; now, the devil exerts evil authority on earth (78). Scripture’s unfolding drama enacts the establishment of a new, holy kingdom, culminating in the arrival of Jesus as the “divine warrior [who came] to overthrow the evil one” (112). Jesus’ life and death as a man brings men back into God’s purpose of viceregency on earth (94). Presently, divine sovereignty expands and the rule of Satan diminishes gradually, until God’s kingdom is finally consummated on earth (100,118). Pain and brokenness would seem a disruption to God’s purposes for earth and mankind; however, the themes of a restored reign and a defeated devil reveal a greater glory yet to come.
Alexander supports his thesis in chapter five with the theme of atoning redemption. God’s original purpose for man was to live in divine fellowship (14). When that fellowship was broken by sin, a sacrifice was necessary for forgiveness and restoration. In Exodus, the Passover lamb both atoned for the people’s sins and consecrated them as priests, able to again enter God’s presence (129). In a greater way, the sacrifice of Jesus pays for sin, purifies man from the stain of sin, and provides the means of eternal sanctification (132, 134). Through his life and death, men are restored to their purpose of walking with God in his kingdom, beholding his face.
As final support of his thesis in chapters six and seven, Alexander paints a picture of the New Jerusalem that not only answers man’s profound questions but also promises to fulfill man’s deep desires for wholeness, stability, and perfect love. Revelation 21-22 unveils a city filled with holy people from all nations, living in a holy place, wholly healed from sin and its resulting brokenness (139, 153). Citizens of God’s city, drawn in from every nation, eternally experience and anticipate the fullness of “genuine, passionate love…found only in God’s presence” (168, 187). The earth itself, presently afflicted by the curse, will be restored to the perfection of the original creation: suitable to be God’s dwelling place with his people as they expand the expression of his dominion and delight (158, 162).
—
As we presently suffer the effects of the fall, I am deeply encouraged to remember the promise of restoration and redemption. A world afflicted by tsunamis and slavery and COVID-19 is not the world for which we were created. This is not the end.
High school and college graduations – they’re here again! Congratulations to the class of 2020! Here you are, concluding such a significant life chapter. We rejoice with you, and we all regret the things you missed in the final stretch of your senior year.
Though COVID-19 has drastically altered this year’s graduation experience, I imagine one constant will remain: card-sending and gift-giving. For Christians, this is a season to encourage young people we know and love to seek the Lord as they make decisions. What a great desire and opportunity! In that endeavor, there are several Scripture passages that find their way onto a plethora of cards, coffee cups, and journal covers.
One of them is always striking to me. Jeremiah 29:11. “For I know the thoughts that I think (the plans that I have) for you, saith the LORD, thoughts (plans) of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.” Yes, God has thoughts and plans of peace for His people, and that should be encouraging to the eighteen- or twenty-two-year-old tasked with making life decisions. I just can’t help but notice the irony of placing this verse in a context of congratulatory cards.
Its context in Jeremiah is prophecy of judgment. After descent into persistent idolatry, Judah has been razed by Babylon, and the survivors carried captive into their enemy’s country. Jeremiah tells them, “Settle in, far from home. Seek the prosperity of your oppressors’ city. I have placed you there. You will stay in Babylonian captivity for seventy years.”
And THEN we get to verse 11 and following. “I have good plans for you, after this nightmare of judgment is over. When you return to Me, I will again prosper you as I have promised. You broke your side of the covenant, but I always keep mine.”
We strip this verse of its power when we rip it out of context. This is a verse exalting the unwavering covenant faithfulness of God to His perpetually unfaithful people. Are there implications about God’s character that apply to graduates making life decisions? Sure.
If you are a Christian, even if you make all the wrong decisions and totally wreck your life as the Israelites did (which, of course, we hope and pray and expect you won’t), God will always be faithful to His promises. He will keep you. He will never let you go. You will not be destroyed. He will finish the work He started in you, and one day you will be made perfect in His presence. He will renew all things and give you a final home in His eternal kingdom, where you will remain with unending joy.
What a great thought for young people! Seek the Lord, and He will be found. Rest in His providence, always guiding and guarding you. Wherever you end up, love and serve whoever is around you. Labor for the peace and prosperity of others, and rest in the covenant faithfulness of God. You will have peace, because He keeps His promises.
Yesterday was precious. It was Bible presentation day in literacy class. Since we finished stage one and they know all the letters now, we give out Pidgin Bibles so they can start reading them. (It’s a great tradition to inherit from the literacy teachers who developed this program.)
We’ve been talking about it for, well, since the beginning of class. I expected it to be a special day. However, I did not anticipate the depth of emotion this day would bring.
Class began as usual. We took roll and prayed. Then, Noni and I stood on opposite sides of the podium to congratulate and shake hands with each student. They would walk by us, then Pastor would receive each one with excitement, presenting the New Testaments.
We called the first name. Amon. He walked forward, shook my hand, turned to Noni, shook her hand, and then stepped toward Pastor Ben. My eyes filled, and so did theirs. Pastor hugged him with vigor, and then handed him the Word. Amon sat down, clutching the Scriptures with both hands. Tears coursed down his face, and his shoulders shook with every silent sob.
The realization was overwhelming. Amon is a father, a husband, a deacon. Until now, he has never been able to read the words of God for himself. For his own discipleship, his family’s, and the church’s, this is a moment bursting with significance.
Pastor and Amon, with Noni on the right
Next came Amon’s son, Leten. The contrast was striking. This little boy, today hugging his pastor around the waist, will grow up knowing how to read, with the Word in his hands.
Little Leten
By this point, half the class was no longer watching the proceedings. Faces were buried in folded arms. The usual shuffling and murmuring audio backdrop had ceased. The only sounds heard were high-pitched moans and muffled sobs.
We called one name after another. Young women, mothers, and grandmothers hugged my neck, weeping and smearing snot on my shoulder and in my hair. I didn’t mind.
Sober handshakes followed as Pastor gave each one a Bible, and they returned to their seats.
Timoti (affectionately dubbed “Pops”) and Satina are working through literacy class for their second time. Learning to read is unimaginably difficult for adults in a pre-literate society, yet their desire surmounts the struggles.
Satina didn’t respond the first time we called her name. She hid her face and wept. We kept going, to try again after a few others. The second time she heard her name, she stood and came forward slowly. I hope that reading is the same for her. In this second time through class, I pray she comes forward slowly and learns to read.
Since I was ten years old, reading biographies and translators’ stories, I have dreamed about a day when I could hand someone the Scriptures I helped to translate for them. This day felt like a small taste of what that may be like. Yes, this Bible was translated years ago by someone else, but these people in this class have never had access to it for themselves. Since learning to read, now they do. Teaching them to read opens the world of the Word for them.
Their tears flowed from tender hearts. Their pastor teaches the Word so faithfully, they have learned to long after it. And now they have it, outside the church gathering, in their hands and in their homes. (Yet another day is coming, when they will have it in their heart language…)
The chance to join in this work is a priceless gift.
What about you? Do you treasure God in His Word? The ability to read is a gift. May we revel in the Book, exploring with joy the world of the Word.
L – Satina holding her daughter, Klensi; R – Tesela
Nov. 24 P.S. – By God’s grace, Satina did learn to read.
“And Israel rebelled against the house of David unto this day.”
2 Chronicles 10:19
The days of division descend upon Israel. To fulfill the word of the Lord instating Jeroboam as a king, ten tribes rebel against Rehoboam.
What is a king to do? Rally an army, of course, and fight to restore unity. Rehoboam does exactly that. He gathers 180,000 warriors to bring the kingdom back. However, the word of the Lord intervenes.
“Go home, Rehoboam, you and all your warriors. Do not fight your brothers of the north. This division is My doing.”
Rehoboam, though foolish in his choice of counsel, has the good sense to obey God’s command. So the army disbands, and the southern tribes turn their attention to fortifying their cities.
And what of the north? Jeroboam’s first act as king is of terribly tragic consequence. Ironically, he fears losing what he did nothing to gain. He worries that the hearts of his new subjects will turn away from him if they must travel south to Jerusalem to worship God – the God Who gave him the throne.
Jeroboam accepts counsel, even more foolish than Rehoboam’s (1 Kings 12:28). He thinks he will protect his authority by establishing a new religion, so he fashions his own idols and altars. Knowing that the consecrated sons of Levi will never consent to practice demon worship, Jeroboam removes them from office and replaces them with anyone who can cut an animal’s throat and kindle a fire (v. 31).
What is a priest to do?
“…the Levites left their suburbs and their possession, and came to Judah and Jerusalem: for Jeroboam and his sons had cast them off from executing the priest’s office unto the LORD.”
2 Chronicles 11:14
They pack up and leave. They go to the place where they can faithfully fulfill their priestly work.
What do they leave? Their cities. Their pasture lands. Their possession. They hadn’t been allotted large tracts of land as the other tribes. All they had were these cities and small adjacent pastures where they could tend their cattle and raise their families, as they served God and His people (Numbers 35:1-5).
Last year in PNG, I gained a deeper appreciation for the importance of a family’s land. People will fight with frightening fervor over their ground. Their land is their heritage, their livelihood, and their children’s inheritance. Their identity – past, present, and future – is deeply rooted in that dirt they call home.
What would it mean to leave that and relocate? You’d be accepting unknowns about survival. How would you even find a new place to live? You couldn’t empty your bank account and go: your bank account has to walk along with you, needing fodder and pasture both during travel and at your destination. If you left your land, how would you provide for your family?
Yet these people made the decision. They left their possession. Why?
“Better to abandon our homes than to apostatize. Better that we risk our children suffering hunger, than that we risk our children worshiping idols.”
They truly believed that the LORD was their inheritance (Deut. 10:9). They feared God more than they feared financial instability. They loved God more than they loved the stuff He’d given them. So they walked away, rather than be led astray by the idolatry of popular culture.
May we so love the Lord our God that our life decisions are culturally radical but Biblically normal. May we seek God supremely, refusing to bow to the idols. May we prove our profession, that the better inheritance worth clinging to is God Himself.
The LORD is the portion of mine inheritance and of my cup: Thou maintainest my lot…Thou wilt show me the path of life: in Thy presence is fullness of joy; at Thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore.
I went walking again today, as I have every day for the past week. I have nodded, smiled, and “A salom”-ed a hundred people. I have paused to chat with whoever didn’t look preoccupied, and settled for smiles and a hand-over-heart greeting exchanged with others.
This evening, I met a girl who appeared about twelve. Her school uniform looked sharp. Two braids were accented by enormous lacy ruffles around the bottom of each. Her thumbs were tucked into her backpack straps as she puffed her way up the hill. She was smiling broadly before we were even close enough to speak.
We conversed with the precision of new English speakers, neglecting contractions and following classroom dialogues.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hello,” she replied shyly.
“How are you?”
“I am fine, thank you.”
“My name is Lily. What is yours?”
“My name is Ziroda.”
“This hill is hard to walk, no?”
“Yes,” she laughed.
“Ziroda, it is very nice to meet you.”
“Same to you.”
Her dark eyes were bright. A bigger smile, then she turned to keep walking home.
I love children, everywhere. These kids here are so friendly. They will smile and talk with me anytime. I wonder what a neighborhood Bible club effort could look like here…
I surveyed the houses around me, thinking about the people who live in them. Then it hit me.
Ziroda has, most likely, never heard the gospel. She may know the name of Jesus, but only as a lesser prophet in a line of many prophets. Her family prays to a man they believe has received divine light, but they know nothing of the Man Who is divine Light.
If Ziroda dies tonight, she will probably be condemned to eternal wrath as judgment for her sins. She has heard nothing of Jesus’ absorbing that wrath, to offer sinners grace.
This town is filled with people like her. The mountains that surround us hide roads and paths to hundreds of villages, filled with people like her. Across the river to our south, the neighboring country is smitten by even deeper gospel poverty, due to the oppression of a terrorist regime.
This is unbearable. I am surrounded by people who have never heard the gospel.
“Yeah,” you might say, “there are people everywhere who need to hear the gospel.”
That’s not what I’m saying. I am surrounded by people who have never heard the gospel. And their ignorance is not due to indifference. They just live so far away from the outside world, nobody has ever brought the message to them. They’ve never had the chance to reject it. They don’t even know what it is.
What would it take for that to become unacceptable to us? What would it take for the American church at large to mobilize and utilize its lavish resources to DO something about this global gospel famine?
In America, anyone who wants to can hear the gospel, get a Bible, and find a Christian to talk to. There are too many places in the world where those possibilities do not exist.
That fact has gripped my heart for years. I’ve seen it and been overwhelmed by it before. Just a month ago, I lived in a South Pacific jungle filled with villages bereft of the gospel. Preparing to visit this Central Asian desert, I knew it was also one such place.
But tonight, my attention is arrested by one such face.
Ziroda.
“But when He saw the multitudes, He was moved with compassion on them, because they fainted, and were scattered abroad, as sheep having no shepherd. Then saith He unto His disciples, ‘The harvest truly is plenteous, but the laborers are few; pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that He will send forth laborers into His harvest.’”
I perched on a rock, taking in the view. Trinity Beach in Cairns, Australia, may not be a magnet for surfers and jet-skiiers, but to eyes that had been looking at mountains for seven months, it was glorious. I was out of the bush on my mid-internship holiday.
The day had been mostly overcast, with occasional showers that made us grateful for umbrellas and raincoats. When we arrived at Trinity Beach, however, the clouds dissipated and the sun emerged triumphant. The change of weather, a stroll, and then a stony seat enabled some quiet reflection.
The waves that rolled in were not particularly impressive. Their diminutive crests fell, splashing onto preceding waves racing back to the ocean. Their only feature that caught my attention was their regularity. One comes, then returns to where it came from as the next follows suit. And the next, and the next, and the next.
Peering farther out to sea, I wondered at the barely discernible ripples that would eventually make their way to the beach and turn over, as a million before them had already done.
I asked my friend Hannah, “I wonder if these waves are like the ones William Shakespeare admired as he wrote ‘Sonnet 60’? Couldn’t have been…since his beach was pebbled, not sandy like this one. But the thought is the same…”
Like as the waves make toward the pebbl’d shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
I don’t get to teach literature anymore, so I thoroughly enjoyed enlightening my friend to the significance of Shakespeare’s simile. (She was awestruck, I’m quite certain.) “Just like these waves keeping rolling in, one after another, the minutes that make up our lives never stop coming. As one ends, another begins and takes its place.”
And a little more than a week later, Shakespeare’s words of wisdom echoed through my mind again.
April 13, 2019
I crouched in the darkened hut, taking in the scene. Kyle and Lauren had entered the hut before me, and they now leaned against the corner of the bamboo walls on my right. Marie sat to my left, quietly crying. Sila laid her head on Marie’s shoulder, cuddling someone’s baby. Continuing around the circle of mourners, there was Gideon, and Ham’s second wife, three older women, then Osula and her little son Losten. Two old ladies sat in the corner across from us. Ham’s other wife was beside them. Kilau’s wife and Kimatu took turns wailing. Hidden from view, a woman mourned in dissonance from the next room.
In the center of it all, the fire smoldered, filling the room with a smoky haze. Manada sat by it, cross-legged, occasionally jabbing the embers with a piece of bamboo.
To my right lay the reason for the gathering. Her body had been clothed in a royal blue meri blaus and matching skirt. Her legs were bound together at the knees and ankles. Her hands were swollen. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth turned upward slightly at the corners, giving the appearance of a little smile.
I thought about her life. Adnapi was born in this rainforest. She had worked her garden, eking life from the nutrient-deprived soil of these mountains. She had raised her children, Mandela, Manada, and Donanda. In her lapun (old age) years, she held her bubus (grandchildren).
As we knew her, Adnapi had been sick off and on for several years. Her lungs were tired from breathing decades of smoky air in huts like the one we sat in now. A few months ago, her sickness worsened to bring her oxygen saturation below 80% (that’s very bad). She was staying at her daughter’s house, across the road from the mission: a good location, since she needed shots and twice-a-day nebulizer breathing treatments for a couple weeks. Marie, Emma, Manandi, and Sarah walked back and forth, praying and providing the care that would prolong her life.
Pastor Ben and some friends from church went to visit one evening. They stayed until late in the night, talking, singing, and praying. Clearly and sweetly, Adnapi testified of her faith in the cleansing blood of Jesus. Whatever would follow in the coming months, the certainty of eternal life provided hope beyond the grave. We thought she might see Jesus soon, but she recovered and went to stay with her younger brother Amon.
A couple months later, we heard that she was sick again. She never came to the clinic, but the nurses sent medicine. When they made a house call three days later, they discovered that Adnapi hadn’t taken any of the meds. She was sitting quietly by the fire, surrounded by her children and grandchildren. They said she wasn’t talking much. For another ten days, the nurses asked for and received updates, taking the time to visit her on the way to market.
And April 12th, Adnapi closed her eyes in a bush hut and opened them in the presence of Jesus.
—
Facing death forces us into reflection. As Solomon writes,
“It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay it to his heart.”
Ecclesiastes 7:2
In that hut, I pondered realities of life and death. In my home country, death can masquerade as a gentle good night. In this place, without funeral homes, embalming fluid, makeup artists, and extravagant caskets, the charade is impossible. This place has a way of systematically dismantling every construct that insulates a person from the harsh reality of death.
I have plans and hopes and desires for the future. But the truth? The future isn’t mine. Death is the end of all men, and no one knows how many days will delay that end.
My thoughts were interrupted when I saw the little guy across the room. His eyes lit up, and his lips spread into a broad smile. An auntie extended her arms, and he ventured a shuffled step, falling in her direction. She caught him, and he bounced happily in her lap.
The comparison between the baby and Adnapi was striking. He, a cherubic child with smooth skin and undeveloped major muscle groups. Adnapi, an aged woman with wrinkled face and withered limbs. He, at the beginning of his days, still unaware of life beyond eating, sleeping, and staring wide-eyed at bright colors. Adnapi, at the end of her days, having lived them to the full in this remote corner of the world, mostly unaware of life outside these mountains.
Once upon a time, Adnapi was a child too, toddling into her mother’s arms. The difference between her and this little boy suddenly didn’t seem so vast.
And then I realized I was looking at the second and third quatrains from “Sonnet 60,” in real life.
Nativity, once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown’d Crooked eclipses ‘gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature’s truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow.
The minutes of that child’s life pass with the undisturbed regularity of waves breaking on the beach. Presently, time is a blessing to that baby. Physical strength, cognitive abilities, manual dexterity – all increase as each passing minute bequeaths her gifts to him. Time will enable him to walk, to talk, to understand, to learn. He will become a powerful young man, and someday he will hold his own children.
Yet there will come a day when time will turn against him, and every passing minute will steal away some of the strength he enjoyed, and he will grow old.
Adnapi knew time as both a benefactor and a thief. And this is the end of all men.
Death may be the end of all men, but it is not the Christian’s final end. There will be a day when minutes will no longer hasten on, either giving or taking. When time ends, and immortality begins, we will receive the fullness of God’s everlasting joy. Eternal life will only give…and give…and give.
Sitting next to the body that had housed Adnapi, I imagined scenes from her life. But I couldn’t begin to imagine the scenes that were at that moment unfolding before her eyes. Nothing about her life in time was as precious as the grace and faith that secured her life in eternity. I breathed a prayer, “God, as time gives and takes my strength by Your sovereign hand, make my life matter for eternity. Let me spend my strength in this world for what will matter in the next. Let me proclaim the power of Your salvation in every season of life, so others believe like Adnapi did. Make my time count for eternity.”
The next time I see Adnapi, we won’t smile and shrug and say things to each other in our respective languages. We met in time, but we will know each other in eternity, as we worship our God together in boundless delight.
Shakespeare concludes his sonnet,
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
I am sure the object of the poet’s affection was smitten with his desire to speak her value beyond the time of his life. He accomplished that goal, obviously, as ninth-graders memorize his words four centuries later.
Yet truly, there is only One Who is worthy of eternal praise. That is the end for which we must spend every degree of our strength.
May our efforts in time stand to praise His worth, with all the hope of eternal giving to come.
The last few sessions of translation checking had gone incredibly well. Pastor Ben, Brother Yali, and I had worked through three or four chapters each time, with very little discussion or meaningful corrections needed. I had hopes of finishing Luke yesterday.
Pastor Ben on the left, Brother Yali on the right
However, the end times teaching of Luke 21 is not as straightforward as simple narrative. Considering my still-growing abilities in a language like Pidgin that has a limited vocabulary, sentences like “there shall be…upon the earth the distress of nations, with perplexity; the sea and waves roaring” require a little more thought to sift through.
My brothers work very hard in multiple ministries, and sometimes they end up translating late at night. Laughing, they both said they had labored through Luke 21 when they were tired (not the most conducive for clarity in language work), so we all had plenty of questions for each other. It quickly became apparent that we would not finish Luke that day.
We did finish chapter 21, though, and moved back to narrative in 22.
Judas makes his plans to betray Jesus. Jesus sends Peter and John to prepare the Passover. They sit and eat together. Jesus breaks the bread and pours the wine, speaking of a new covenant and stirring hope for the coming kingdom. The disciples question who will betray the Master, and (oddly enough) who is the greatest among them. Jesus patiently instructs them (and us) in the path of the servant, again promising them the coming kingdom.
Then Jesus turns to Peter and says the words that would echo in his mind that night, and probably many nights following:
“Simon, Simon, Satan hath desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat; But I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not: and when thou art converted, strengthen the brethren.”
Luke 22:31-32
I read the Pidgin text, and two words leaped off the page. Brother John had made them bold in his translation so they wouldn’t be missed. “Saimon, Saimon, Harim, Seten i bin strong long kisim yupela, bai em i ken sakim yupela…”
Yupela. Yupela? Really? That’s plural?
In Pidgin, second person pronouns (you – the person being spoken to) show the distinction between number, singular (yu) and plural (yupela). Back in the day, English did too, but no longer. Now we just say “you,” whether we are addressing one person, two people, or seventy-eight people.
So every time I have read Luke 22:31, for my entire life, I just assumed Jesus told Peter that Satan desired to have Peter, that he might sift Peter. I know the difference between the older usage of thou vs. ye and thee vs. you. But honestly? I have to make a confession: I don’t automatically read you as exclusively plural in Scripture, probably because I don’t anywhere else. However, when I read that text in Pidgin, the distinction of the plural yupela was obvious.
Greek distinguishes number for all pronouns too. I read the verse in Greek, and sure enough, there was the plural pronoun ὑμᾶς. What do you know? Wow…
The significance is striking. Jesus looks at Peter and says, “Simon, Simon, Satan has desired to have all of you. You yourself, and all your brothers gathered here. These men you have walked beside for three years — Satan desires to sift every single one of you. He has designs on your lives: all of them.”
Do you feel the gravity of His words? Jesus repeats his name: “Simon, Simon.” You get the impression He is looking deeply into Peter’s eyes, piercing to the depths of his soul. This is weighty. This is frightening. The enemy of all good desires to devour those you love, Peter. And Jesus leans in to speak to you of them.
So what can you do, Peter?
Jesus continues,
“But I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not: and when thou art converted, strengthen the brethren.”
Here in verse 32, Jesus addresses Peter singularly. “I am praying for you, Peter, in particular. Your faith will not fail. You will falter, but you will turn again to Me. And then you will strengthen your brothers to face the enemy’s attacks.”
What reassurance this would be for Peter! Within hours, he will plunge to depths of despair, doubt, and then regret. But Jesus tells him, before the chaos of that night begins, that he will turn again. Jesus doesn’t command that Peter should return, He just says that Peter will return. That part is a fact, not an imperative depending on Peter’s volition for fulfillment.
Because Jesus has prayed for Peter, he will not be lost. Even his foray into faithlessness will be redeemed; and Peter will then establish the faith of his brothers, whom Satan has desired to destroy.
It’s a fabulous story of patient providence. So how are those plural pronouns helpful?
Well, they remind us of the importance of the church. The attacks coming to the disciples were both individual and collective, but they were not to face the onslaught alone. Jesus gave them each other, and he particularly marked Peter as a leader who would help them all be strong. Our faith needs community, and our faith needs the spiritual leadership of pastors and elders (Hebrews 10:23-25; 13:7).
Those pronouns also show us a picture bigger than the testing of one individual. Peter would fall, but God was sovereign even over that sin. God did not tempt Peter to unbelief, for He doesn’t do that (James 1:13-16). Yet, Peter’s testing, departure, and subsequent return were all components of a greater work God was doing: strengthening His men for the battle and work ahead. Even in our temptations, there is always a greater story unfolding than what we can presently see.
Decades after that conversation in the upper room, an old man picks up a pen and writes a letter to beloved believers under duress. And that letter, 1 Peter, was inspired by God to serve generations of suffering Christians. In the Scriptures, Peter is still strengthening the brethren.
He closes out that letter with these words:
“Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary, the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour: whom resist stedfast in the faith, knowing that the same afflictions are accomplished in your brethren that are in the world. But the God of all grace, Who hath called us unto His eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after that ye have suffered a while, make you perfect, stablish, strengthen, settle you.”
1 Peter 5:8-10
Yupela have an adversary who is seeking to devour. He still desires to have yupela, to destroy yupela. Remember that you are not alone, remain stedfast in the faith, and resist the lion.
Your afflictions “are accomplished.” They are being completed, fulfilled. There is purpose behind them. Just as Peter’s testing that night in Jerusalem was part of God’s greater purpose in strengthening His people, so is yours.
Be encouraged, follower of Jesus. Whatever we are suffering, including the enemy’s attacks, is not outside the realm of God’s care. We may falter, but our faith will not fail; for God Himself, the God of all grace, is the One Who purchases, provides, and preserves our faith (1 Peter 1:3-5; 2 Peter 1:1,3; 2 Peter 2:9).
“To Him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.”
In 1 Kings 17, Elijah strides onto the stage of Scripture with holy fire in his eyes and divine authority in his voice.
“As the Lord God of Israel liveth, before whom I stand, there shall not be dew nor rain these years, but according to my word!” 1 Kings 17:1
I have marveled at Elijah’s ministry before. His passion, his capacity for emotional response, and his showdowns with Ahab and Baal’s false prophets — these make for fabulous stories. Flannelgraph just doesn’t do the drama justice, though it is easy to see why Elijah is a Sunday school favorite.
While the prophet Elijah feels like a familiar friend, something was new when my pastor here in the bush taught 1 Kings 17 this morning. Living in another culture expands our perspective, enabling us to view Scripture through eyes not our own (which is important, since no Scripture was penned from a Western worldview).
May I invite you to see 1 Kings 17 with me and my friends in PNG?
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King Ahab has led the northern kingdom into the evil of Baal worship. The people who bear God’s name have broken His covenant. Judgment is coming, and it will be a great “hevi” for the entire nation: no rain or dew for three years. (Hevi is a Pidgin word used for a burden, a problem, a trial – anything that is “heavy” to bear up.)
What happens if it doesn’t rain for three years? The rivers and streams dry up. The trees and grass wither and die. Food doesn’t grow, and people starve. No rain means people will die.
My friends understand what that is like. They have suffered through droughts when their gardens didn’t yield and their families were hungry, and so they click their tongues knowingly at the severity of three years with no rain.
After Elijah announces this judgment, what happens? God gives him very specific directions. God will provide for His prophet, but Elijah must follow the word God gives Him. This is a hevi for him too: everybody suffers when there is no rain. But in Elijah’s suffering, he still obeys the Lord. And God provides by the brook Cherith.
(In the Pidgin Bible, Cherith is rendered Kerit, although every reading of that word is followed by a dozen whispers, “Cherith,” since a missionary by that name is known and loved here.)
This provision is strange! Did God cook the meat for Elijah and then give it to the ravens for delivery? Or did God send raw meat for Elijah to cook and eat? The Bible doesn’t say, and we smile as we wonder. Either way, Elijah obeyed God during the hevi, and God provided for him.
After some time, of course, the brook Cherith dries up. The hevi continues. Again, God gives a command, and again, Elijah obeys. Now, another character is introduced. Elijah is sent to a widow and her one son.
A widow’s life is hard, harder still during drought and famine. This woman has survived so far, but she is down to her last reserve of food with no hope of finding more. There is no Wal-Mart or welfare. She can’t get more food, and so she expects to die, probably after watching her son die.
(The son seems to be little, since mom is the one gathering the sticks, and later we read that she held her son in her arms. Little children can crash so quickly when sickness comes after malnutrition, so he probably would have died first.)
Elijah dares to request water from a widow, during a drought. She doesn’t hesitate, but goes to fetch it, which speaks well of her grace and hospitality. And then the stakes are raised. “Bring me some food too.”
Of course, her food supply is short. She tells Elijah she doesn’t have enough for him and her son. The prophet tells her to not be afraid, but to make food for him first…and then she’ll still have some for herself and the boy, because God promises to provide for them all.
Naturally, she would be afraid of fulfilling Elijah’s request. She has probably already seen other people’s children die. She has made every effort to protect her son from that fate. So now she has a choice. In her hevi, will she fear death and do what she thinks best? Or will she believe the prophet’s promise and obey his order?
She does the same thing Elijah has been doing every day of this hevi. She obeys the word of the Lord. And God provides for her and her household.
They must have been so happy, every day! They must have been singing and praising God every time they ate the food He miraculously provided for them.
But then, another hevi comes, greater than hunger. The widow’s son is taken by some sickness. His sickness grows greater until he dies.
We know what that looks like. The people sitting around me have watched children fall prey to sickness, progressively worsening, until they are past recovery…and they die. We hear Pastor Ben read 1 Kings 17:17, and we know what that means.
So the mother responds with a question. “Why did this happen? It must be because of my sin. It couldn’t just have happened because the world is broken and cursed. Surely someone is responsible for bringing this hevi.” Adding to her agony, she feels that it’s her own fault.
My friends understand this too. The worldview they grew up with reasons that if someone becomes sick or dies, there has to be a cause. Did someone work witchcraft against him? Did the sick person do something wrong that brought the hevi as retribution? Who is responsible? Finding that out is critically important. If the sufferer is to be healed, someone must discover the source of the hevi.
Where does this mother take her question and grief? She doesn’t summon a witch doctor to blow on her son’s body in ritual. She carries her dead child to Elijah, the man of God.
When we are going through a hevi, where do we look for help? We must take our hevis TO God, instead of turning our back on Him. This woman shows us what that looks like.
Elijah doesn’t answer her questions. He just takes the child from her arms and carries him upstairs. He lays the limp little body onto his own bed and weeps, asking God why He sent this hevi.
My friends have done this too. They have deeply mourned in dark, smoke-filled huts, crouching around a child’s body. There is no mask for death here. No funeral homes, no padded caskets, no embalming. Just a haus krai the day or two (typically) after the last breath, and a burial following. They stroke the arms and legs and face of their beloved, tears streaming and voices wailing. So they understand this widow’s hevi. They see it.
Then what does Elijah do? Does he work magic over the little boy? No. He simply leans over the child and prays. God doesn’t respond. Elijah repeats the action and request. Still no response. Elijah continues.
And God hears his prophet’s voice, and He raises the child back to life. Elijah carries him downstairs and gives him back to his mother, who declares (can we assume through tears of rejoicing?), “You are a man of God, and the words that you speak must truly come from the Lord!”
What can we learn from 1 Kings 17? God provides for His people. And it is foolish and sinful to turn our back to God when hevis come. We must stand strong in the faith of our God, and carry our hevis to Him.
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As Pastor concluded the sermon this morning, I wondered, “But when there is no reviving, what then? What about when the child dies and isn’t raised? What about when the ravens don’t come and God’s people are hungry?”
For the LORD God is a sun and shield: the LORD will give grace and glory: no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly.
Psalm 84:11
God always provides Himself, even if He (in infinite wisdom) doesn’t provide what we asked for. Sometimes His kind providence leaves us lacking lesser things so He can satisfy us more deeply with Himself.
The hevi of a child’s sickness and death can crush the soul. So can chronic pain. And broken relationships. And a thousand other forms of suffering that flow from the fountainhead of the fall. But like God’s people in 1 Kings 17, may we carry our hevis to our God, to the Savior Who already carried them on the cross. For “surely, He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows.”
Ours is the God Who always provides for His people. He is our help, a very present help, in all our hevis.
