On having enemies

Themes: Reading Scripture, Sin

LORD, lead me in Your righteousness,
because of my adversaries;
make Your way straight before me.
(Psalm 5:8 HCSB)

I really think the Psalms come alive when you read them with a Samuel L. Jackson accent – Particularly Psalm 5.

I’ve always felt a little uncomfortable with the idea of giving God a list of reasons why he should help us when we pray. It gets fairly well drummed in to us that we are saved by grace, sustained by grace, and we have nothing to offer God that isn’t automatically his by right.

We aren’t in a bargaining position.

David’s prayers don’t really sound like this. David is completely comfortable with giving God long lists of reasons for action.

Psalm 5 is full of great examples but verse 8 has got to be the most audacious.

“Lead me in your righteousness because of my adversaries.”

Are you struggling with prayer? Feeling that your prayers just bounce off the ceiling? that God doesn’t hear?
The tele-evangelists have got it all wrong, you don’t need more faith.
You need more enemies!

It’s an interesting strategy…

But David’s prayer isn’t just based on the fact that he has enemies. In fact, the whole Psalm is essentially a reminder to God of who God is, who David is, and who David’s enemies are.

God is good:

“For You are not a God who delights in wickedness;
evil cannot lodge with You.
The boastful cannot stand in Your presence;
You hate all evildoers.
You destroy those who tell lies;
the Lord abhors a man of bloodshed and treachery.”
(Psa 5:4-6 HCSB)

There is a thorough going consistency to God’s actions – he is utterly reliable. And he hates all evildoers.
(incidentally, that doesn’t leave much room for ‘hate the sin and love the sinner’ does it?)

God has never given up on his good plans for creation. He has never had the failure of imagination that leads us to accept less than perfection in our world and our selves. God’s endless creativity and endless love of goodness means that he cannot tolerate evil.
Our willingness to do so continually makes us complicit with it.

But David has the nerve to remind God that he hates all evil-doers, that God isn’t at home with evil.
This is the bloke who coveted his neighbour’s wife, lied, engaged in conspiracy to murder, and committed adultery. That’s four of the ten commandments right there. It certainly sounds like “bloodshed and treachery.”

Yet David can say:

“But I enter Your house by the abundance of Your faithful love;
I bow down toward Your holy temple in reverential awe of You.
Lord, lead me in Your righteousness,
because of my adversaries;
make Your way straight before me.”
(Psa 5:7-8 HCSB)

David, clearly a doer of some substantial evils, has entrance to God’s house.
He is not there on the basis of merit but because of God’s love for him. (This definitely presents a bit of a problem, how can God be just and justify the wicked? Isn’t God now complicit with evil? Stay tuned for the New Testament…)
David is God’s man.
Without disregarding his failure and sin, he remains someone who’s life, identity, future, and loyalty are all wrapped up with God. So much so that there is a total identification between God’s enemies and his.
David’s enemies are God’s enemies.
God’s enemies are David’s enemies.

Look at David’s description of these people:

“For there is nothing reliable in what they say;
destruction is within them;
their throat is an open grave;
they flatter with their tongues.
Punish them, God;
let them fall by their own schemes.
Drive them out because of their many crimes,
for they rebel against You.”
(Psa 5:9-10 HCSB)

David’s enemies are those who rebel against God.
It’s strong language. It probably makes you feel a little uncomfortable. (I wouldn’t be suprised if there is now a file on you, stored somewhere in an office in Canberra, flagging that you visit extremist websites…)

Would you be willing to say that your enemies are any and all who rebel against God?

We generally imbibe the cultural assumption that, ‘everyone ok with me as long as they don’t hurt anyone.’
We’re not real comfortable with the idea of having enemies. And we are very uncomfortable with the idea of having specfic enemies, particularly when that includes everyone who isn’t a Christian. That’s a lot of enemies…

But it really comes down to how firmly your interests are bound up with God’s.
If you have half a million dollars sitting in a superannuation fund, I imagine that you take a reasonable interest in the stock market. If something is preventing your Super Fund from getting you the best return, you get cranky.
How much have I got invested with God?

Is it enough to make God’s enemies your enemies?
Enough to make any opposition to God’s plans direct interference with your interests?

I get angry when I see people dropping cigarette butts. They show reckless disregard for our world, how angry should I be at someone who opposes the good plans of God to create a new heaven and a new earth?

We should have enemies.
If we don’t we haven’t really understood faith in God.

And if we don’t have enemies, these words don’t make any sense:

““You have heard that it was said, Love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. For He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” (Matt 5:43-45 HCSB)

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Let the Reader Understand…

Themes: On Language, Reading Scripture

““When you see the abomination that causes desolation standing where it should not” (let the reader understand), “then those in Judea must flee to the mountains!” (Mark 13:14 HCSB)

That little parenthetical remark, “let the reader understand”, has been the source of a great deal of discussion over the centuries. Where would Markan theologians be without the endlessly useful variations for the titles of their books?

It’s a little bit like that moment in the movie Fight Club where Edward Norton’s character begins to realise the truth about Tyler Durden, the narrative that’s been playing in his head begins to unspool, the screen begins to flicker and it looks like the film strip is whirling off the projecter, the celluloid about to burst into flame.
It’s an interesting moment in the film, the scales drop from the eyes of the main character – and because we see the story through his eyes, we share in the experience of revelation.

The really interesting thing, though, is that screen flicker. It makes the characters suddenly come outside the screen. The medium of communication is exposed, the mechanics laid bare for a moment, but the character survives and continues to speak. It’s deliberately unnerving, like being in a room full of statues, thinking you are alone, and someone moves.

Mark inserts editorial remarks everywhere throughout the book. For example, he gives some classic comments on the reactions of Jesus disciples,

“Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here! Let us make three tabernacles: one for You, one for Moses, and one for Elijah”— because he did not know what he should say, since they were terrified.” (Mark 9:5-6 HCSB)

It’s impossible to write a narrative without having some kind of narration, the voice over who ties events together, provides insight into the motivations of the characters, and moves the action along. Every narrative has this with the exception of a first person narrative – where the Narrator is the main character.

And that really wasn’t an option for Mark’s Gospel…

What isn’t so common, is for the Narrator to interrupt the main character in the middle of a sentence.

““When you see the abomination that causes desolation standing where it should not” (let the reader understand), “then those in Judea must flee to the mountains!” (Mark 13:14 HCSB)

It’s a drastic ploy for any writer to make, most times the words of the Narrator can wait ’til the character has finished speaking. It’s a truly colossal thing when the speaker is Our Lord…

In reading Mark, it’s a moment when the screen flickers. The mechanics of Mark’s writing are put on view for a moment. The room full of statues – the text which we read as a work of art, held at a distance – suddenly moves. The Narrator steps out from behind the narrative, and pokes you in the ribs.

It has to be in the middle of a sentence to achieve this effect. There is no disrespect intended when Mark breaks in to Jesus’ sentence.
Jesus’ broken sentence has sharp edges, it has a cutting edge – it is not just another (admittedly strange) conversation between the characters in a story. It is an address through the pages directly to the reader.

The words are for YOU.

Mark 13 is known as the Apocalyptic chapter within this Gospel. It’s full of strange language and dark predictions. But there is more going on here than just old fashioned Buffy-the-Vampyre-Slayer weirdness.

‘Apocalyptic’ is a Greek word referring to something being ‘uncovered’ or ‘revealed’. Apocalyptic literature seeks to uncover the spiritual realities behind earthly events. That’s why at the start of the Book of Revelation (Greek name: The Apocalypse) John says, ‘After this I looked, and there in heaven was an open door.’ (Rev 4:1) John is being given an insight into what’s going on behind the scenes. Revelation is a backstage pass to Reality.

Mark 13 is an apocalyse about Jesus’ death. It’s a backstage pass to the Reality of Jesus’ death – the curtains are drawn back, the door stands open. It’s not easy to understand, if you’ve ever pulled apart a clock or a radio you’ll know that the insides of something very rarely look simple on first inspection, but it’s giving behind the scenes information.

It makes sense that at this point Mark the Writer breaks into the narrative. He reveals himself, for a moment his narrative techniques are left dangerously open to view. It is an apocalypse within an apocalypse.

And this double apocalypse has an uncanny effect.

In chapter 13 the narrative breaks out of this world, in order to reveal the Reality behind. At the same time, in the very middle of this movement, it also breaks into our world.

Mark’s direct address lets us know that we are the objects to whom this is being revealed – not just the confusing bits in Mark 13, but the entire narrative. It breaks through our arms-length reading and demands to be urgently understood.

Let the reader understand!!!

*(do you know that there is no such thing as one (1) shenanigan, it’s a plural noun. weird…
**(this has nothing to do with my essay on Mark, just found it interesting)

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