"Remember me, O my God, for good."

Tonight in the Resource Room at ESR, I hung out with Ezra and Nehemiah.  I would call them my friends, but I am only beginning to get acquainted with them.

For my Chronicles-Ezra-Nehemiah class, I am writing a paper on Ezra and Nehemiah.  As thrilling as Chronicles is, Ezra and Nehemiah have compelled me.  The most moving sections of Ezra and Nehemiah to me are what scholars call the memoirs.  One writer, Tamara Cohn Eskenazi, says the memoir form is unique to Ezra-Nehemiah in the Hebrew Scriptures.  For example, Ezra writes, "When I heard this, I tore my garment and my mantle, and pulled the hair from my head and beard, and sat appalled" (Ezra 9:3).  It's a shocking action, but one that clearly defines Ezra's character and emotions.  Throughout his book, Nehemiah repeats variations of the following line:  "Remember for my good, O my God, all that I have done for this people" (Neh. 5:19).

Other writers in the Hebrew Scriptures write in the first person; for instance, the authors of Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Songs.  Because their writing in the first person welcomes me to occupy their words, I am drawn to these books.  But these books are not memoirs because they are not autobiographical accounts of someone's life; rather, they are poetry, praise, prayer, wisdom.  (Although the Teacher's observations in Ecclesiastes sound like memoir:  "I saw all the deeds that are done under the sun; and see, all is vanity and a chasing after wind" [Ecclesiastes 1:14].)

Telling other people about our lives is, for most of us, the most common way we speak.  When we tell each other how our day is going, it is memoir-ish.  The first sentence of this blog post is memoir-ish.  Many of peoples' Facebook posts are memoir-ish. 

Memoir shares the same root as memory, whose base "men-"/"mon-" means "think."  This suggests that when we think, we are remembering.  I remember, therefore I am.  When I think, I am remembering experiences, whether in the form of words, thoughts, emotions, or something else, and perhaps sometimes I create new experiences in my rearranging those memories.  When I think, I re-member scattered pieces into a living whole.

That's what I do when I tell stories, or so I think.  I connect various memories of my life into a cohesive narrative.  Often stories are not told chronologically.  The purpose of telling many stories is not so much to give the facts about what happened, but to understand what happened, and I can understand what happened by how I arrange those events.  Each event means something different in a different context, and so by changing the order of the events, I change the context, thus discovering and creating new meanings from those events.

For example, I recently wrote a story about a road trip I went on with friends to Kansas.  If my purpose was simply to tell what happened as it happened, the most accurate way I could have ended the story would probably have been with our parking in front of the Redemption House in San Diego.  But my goal was not to recite the facts; I was telling a story, and in telling the story, I wanted to focus on my experience of being welcomed by strangers.  It's not that I changed the facts; I tried to be as accurate as possible.  Instead, I rearranged the facts.  I could rearrange the facts in a different order and the facts would be the same, but the story would be different.

Ezra and Nehemiah are a scattered collection of documents, memoirs, prayers, genealogies, and other forms.  Reading the books feels like walking on an uneven sidewalk, with some blocks slanted upward beside tree roots.  Tamara Cohn Eskenazi believes the editor of the books arranged these documents intentionally, and the trick, or the challenge, is to discover what the editor was trying to say.

In the story I wrote, the meaning becomes clear at the end, in which I say good bye to Ryan, who had welcomed us, and drive myself back into Guymon, Oklahoma, in the rental car for the first and last time.  Ezra-Nehemiah ends with Nehemiah summarizing the work he did for God, and writing, "Remember me, O my God, for good" (Neh. 13:30).  This suggests that, if we connect Ezra and Nehemiah as one work, the entire book is an account of the efforts of the people of God, especially Ezra and Nehemiah, presented to God as a prayer.  Ezra-Nehemiah is a Psalm, perhaps the first recorded prose poem.  Ezra-Nehemiah are not just editors, compiling this history of God's people, but priests, offering them to God to remember, to arrange, to reunite, to have the final say about the meaning of the story. 

The Tearing of the Temple Curtain

Lately I have been thinking about the tearing of the temple curtain at Jesus' crucifixion.  In the Gospels of Matthew and Mark, at the moment Jesus cries with a loud voice and breathes his last breath, the curtain of the temple is torn in two.  It is torn "from top to bottom" (Matt. 27:51, Mark 15:38), suggesting that God tears it.  In Luke's Gospel, the curtain is torn in two before Jesus cries with a loud voice "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit" (Luke 23:46) and before he breathes his last breath.  Luke mentions the tearing of the curtain in the same sentence as a description of darkness covering the land.  John's Gospel does not mention the tearing of the temple curtain. 

Growing up, the way I understood the tearing of the curtain was that, as soon as Jesus died, God split the curtain in two, showing that God and humanity are no longer separated.  The curtain in the temple enclosed the Holy of Holies, where the ark of the covenant, which signified God's presence, was once placed; only the high priest could enter that space once a year. With the curtain split, and with Jesus' death, now all people could have direct access to God.

When writer Peter Rollins spoke at ESR this week, he gave his interpretation of the curtain's split.  For him, the curtain represents a prohibition, whose very presence creates in us a desire for something to give us fulfillment.  But the things we desire lead to our death, as we learn from Adam and Eve.  Thus, Jesus' death and the split curtain reveal emptiness; God is not in the Holy of Holies, as we believed.  Instead, God is on the cross.  Looking into an empty temple directs our eyes back to the cross, which can fill us with remorse over our sin of killing an innocent man, our crucifying God, a sin we continue whenever we scapegoat other people, whenever we condemn strangers.

Here is a third interpretation of the torn veil.  The first place in the Bible in which clothing is torn is in Genesis 37.  Joseph's brothers are so jealous of him that they strip him of the robe his father Jacob had given him as a gift, throw him in a pit, and then sell him to a caravan of Ishmaelites.  When his brother Reuben looks in the pit and finds Joseph missing, he tears his clothes (Gen. 37:29).  The brothers then kill a goat and dip Joseph's robe in its blood, and show the robe to their father, Jacob.  When Jacob sees the robe, he tears his garments and mourns (37:34).

Just as he thinks Joseph was torn to pieces by a wild animal, Jacob tears his garments to pieces.  Tearing one's clothes thus signified grief; in this case, mourning over a loved one's violent, undeserved death.  Because the curtain of the temple clothed the presence of God, the tearing of the curtain can be understood as God mourning the death of God's son Jesus who, like Joseph, was stripped of his clothes.  Unlike Joseph, though, Jesus was killed.  Jesus' death so grieved God that, like Jacob, God tore God's garments and wept. 

Satisfy Us in the Morning with Your Steadfast Love (sermon)

Here is a sermon on Psalm 90 that I preached today at West Richmond Friends Meeting.


Psalm 90 is a song, a prayer by Moses.  He begins by describing the immensity of God, who has been our home throughout all generations:

Lord, you have been our dwelling place
in all generations.
Before the mountains were brought forth,
or ever you had formed the earth and the world,
from everlasting to everlasting you are God.

Then, Moses contrasts God with us humans.  When Moses says, “You turn us back to dust, and say, ‘Turn back, you mortals,’” Moses calls forth to memory when God created the world and the first people.  After Adam and Eve disobeyed God, God cursed them, saying, “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

Moses continues to describe the dustness of human existence, comparing it to a dream that is swept away, or grass that flourishes in the morning and fades in the evening.

For we are consumed by your anger;
by your wrath we are overwhelmed.
You have set our iniquities before you,
our secret sins in the light of your countenance.

Here Moses connects our finitude with our sins and with God’s anger.  If you are like me, Moses’ description of God’s anger and wrath may seem overwhelming.  If I were to write a prayer to God, I would not focus on God’s anger and wrath, of which I have not experienced much, if any, but rather on God’s kindness, mercy, patience, and love.  Moses knows about such characteristics of God, but Moses had also experienced God’s wildness.

When God first called Moses to lead the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt, Moses saw a burning bush whose leaves were not consumed, and he hid his face from God’s presence.  Later, Moses witnessed God’s power when God divided the Red Sea, through which the Israelites escaped the Egyptian armies.  In the wilderness, when the Israelites created and worshiped a golden calf instead of God, God was so angry that God's anger could have consumed the Israelites.  But Moses interceded, asking God to turn and have compassion on the people, and God listened.  Moses knew the power of God.

For all our days pass away under your wrath;
our years come to an end like a sigh.
The days of our life are seventy years,
or perhaps eighty, if we are strong;
even then their span is only toil and trouble;
they are soon gone, and we fly away.

Moses draws a boundary around human existence.  But this boundary is not only quantitative; Moses describes what those years of life are like.  Our days end like a sigh, and are full of toil and trouble.  Again, Moses reminds us of the curse of death in the Garden of Eden.  When God cursed the ground, God said to the humans, “In toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you.”

Throughout the first half of his prayer, Moses has been describing the vanity of human life compared to the vastness of God and God’s power.  At the moment when God’s anger seems unbearable, Moses does not retreat, but makes a request:  “So teach us to count our days that we may gain a wise heart.”  In other words, teach us to live each day with intention and meaning so that our innermost being may be wise.

Turn, O LORD!  How long?
Have compassion on your servants!

Just as Moses asked God to turn and have compassion on the Israelites in the wilderness, here Moses is asking God to turn and have compassion—but this time, his prayer is grander.  Moses is not simply asking God to forgive the Israelites for worshiping an idol.  Rather, Moses is asking God to reverse the very curse of death.

Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love,
so that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.

I believe this is the heart of the psalm.  Although human existence is short and toilsome, Moses prays that God would satisfy, fulfill our deepest longings with God’s steadfast love, which endures from generation to generation, as long as God endures.  Moses prays that God would satisfy us in the morning, which is the most vulnerable and precious time of the day.  The morning is both the end and the beginning.  It follows our dreams, in which we may have wrestled with angels or been bewildered, and the morning comes before the sun has risen, before the challenges and joys we may face.  The morning is both the obscurest and clearest time of the day.  It is a time of transition, and is the foundation of the day, and it is at this time that Moses asks that God would satisfy us with God’s steadfast love so that we may sing for joy and celebrate life.

It is good news that Moses prays this.  It teaches me that I, too, can pray this when my life seems to have little meaning, when I have lost count of my days, when each day seems full of challenges.  It teaches me that in spite of death in its various forms, I can hope and pray for joy and gladness for all my days. 

Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us,
and prosper for us the work of our hands—
O prosper the work of our hands!

In contrast to the result of the curse of death, work that was toilsome and troublesome, Moses prays that God would prosper and establish our work so that it brings joy, so that it bears fruit.  It is related to a life that is satisfied with God’s steadfast love.  May God give us such meaningful, fulfilling work.

Psalm 90 is a prayer of Moses, and it can be our prayer.  But I would also like to think of Psalm 90 as a prayer of Jesus.  Today is Palm Sunday, when much of the Church remembers when Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, which meant that he was Israel’s king, and that the reign of God was at hand, a reign which came not through force or violence but through peace.

In many ways, this reign of God answered Moses’ prayer, reversing the curse of death.  Jesus brought life to people.  He healed the sick, fed the hungry, proclaimed good news to the stranger, clothed the naked.  Through Jesus, all were satisfied in the morning with God’s steadfast love.  Yet 2,000 years later, we know that the curse has not been reversed.  People still pray Psalm 90, asking for God’s satisfaction.  How can Jesus have said the reign of God had come?

I think it is like how last Wednesday was officially the first day of Spring.  But if you told that to anyone, no one would believe you, especially with this storm today.  Yet we know that Spring is coming, and has come.  Something has turned.

The work which God had established for Jesus’ hands led him to his death.  In the Christian calendar, the week following Palm Sunday is Holy Week, in which many Christians remember how Jesus suffered. The kingship of Jesus, and even the reign of God, is not glorious, as we may have expected.  Rather, it comes in humility.

That is why I think we can read Psalm 90 as a prayer of Jesus.  Surely, Jesus knew that God was his dwelling place, that God was from everlasting to everlasting.  Jesus knew how fleeting is human existence, and that God turns us back to dust.  Jesus experienced the wrath of death when on the cross he prayed, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  Jesus did not live as long as most people live. 

At the same time, God had established and prospered the work of Jesus’ hands.  Jesus had counted his days and lived with wisdom.  And three days after Jesus died, early in the morning, Jesus was satisfied with God’s steadfast love, and he rejoices and is glad all his days.

We live in an in-between period, in a time when it is Spring and yet not quite Spring, when the reign of God has come and yet is not fully here.  We are awake, and the sky is alight, but the sun has not yet risen.  How do we live in this time?  We can pray:

God, satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, so that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.



Verses are from the NRSV.

Message: We Belong

I am taking a class on Chronicles, Ezra, and Nehemiah.  To begin class tonight, we read David's last prayer, as recorded in Chronicles.  A few years ago, I shared a message with the youth group at Southeast based on a portion of that prayer.  Here's my message.

1 Chronicles 29:1-17

So, to give you a little history into what has been going on in 1 Chronicles, basically, one day King David was thinking about how he lived in a palace made of cedar.  He said to himself, “Wow, I live in a palace made of cedar, but the ark of the covenant, which is a symbol of God’s presence, dwells in a little tent.  So I want to build a temple for the Lord to house the ark of the covenant.”  The prophet Nathaniel told David, “Go for it!”  But that night, God told Nathaniel to tell David this:  “There have been many kings before you, David, and none of them have desired to build me a house.  No; instead, I am going to build you a house—your throne will endure forever!”  And David said, “Who am I, that I should receive this blessing after a blessing?”

Later, God told David that he would not build the temple because he was a warrior, and had shed blood.  Instead, David’s son Solomon would build the temple because he would be a king of peace, and God would give Solomon’s reign peace.

So, in 1 Chronicles 29, we see David telling the people, “My son Solomon, the one whom God has chosen, is young and inexperienced.  The task is great, because this palatial structure (or palace) is not for man but for the LORD God.” 

And David then presents all of his gifts of devotion to the Lord for the building of the temple:  gold, silver, bronze, iron, wood, turquoise, and much more.  As beautiful as this temple was going to be, though, it was not for man, but for the Lord.  Have you seen the new bridge that has been constructed downtown?  It’s a beautiful bridge.  And downtown has many beautiful buildings.  But they were built for man.  They were built so that, when people look at them, people will say, “San Diego is such a sweet city.”  

This temple, though, was not built for man—it was built for God.  And all of these precious stones David is giving is not for men’s approval, but for God’s.

After David says all that he gives, he asks the people, “Now, who is willing to consecrate himself today to the LORD?”

The word consecrate contains another word buried in it:  “sacred,” or in another word, “holy.”  To consecrate oneself is to become holy, or set apart—in other words, to give ourselves to God, who is the Holy One.  Just as King David gave of his resources to the Lord, David is now asking, who among us will give of our resources—not only that, but our actual selves—to the Lord?

What do you have that you can give to the Lord?  Do you have gold, or silver?  Your time?  Your talents, your passion, your thoughts, your emotions?

And just as the Lord chose King Solomon to construct a temple for the Lord, what do you sense the Lord has chosen you to build or do for him?

When I read this passage, sometimes I think about a book that I am writing.  I wonder if perhaps God is asking me, choosing me to write this book, or build this little temple, for the Lord.  It’s hard to know sometimes when the Lord asks us to do things.  I think a key verse to think about when considering what we do for the Lord is verse 1:  “The task is great, because this palatial structure is not for man but for the LORD God.”  

Writing a book can often be for man and not for God.  For the longest time, my motivation for writing and for being a good writer has been so that I can become famous one day.  So that one day, your grandchildren will read my stories in their textbooks in school.  But I think I’m missing the point of what the gift of writing is for.  God gives us gifts so that we can give them back to him, and the purpose of writing is not so that we can be admired by fellow people, but so that we can minister to others, proclaiming the good news and building up the body of Christ. 

So, if you are wondering if the Lord is choosing you for a certain task, whether it is building a temple or writing a book or joining a band or getting a job or being a good friend, I’d recommend sharing that with a friend or mentor, as well as praying about it and reading God’s word to see if it is something that the Lord is choosing you to do.  And if you don’t have a sense yet of what God is choosing you to do, that’s alright, too.  God works in us in different ways and at different times, and maybe God is preparing you right now for a work he will one day choose you to do.

Next we move on to verses 6-9.  After David gives his resources for the temple, we read that the leaders of the families, the commanders, officers, and officials give willingly, too.  “Any who had precious stones gave them to the treasury of the temple of the LORD in the custody of Jehiel the Gershonite.  The people rejoiced at the willing response of their leaders, for they had given freely and wholeheartedly to the LORD.” 

When the leaders give, then the people rejoice.  I think of the leaders of this church—Pastor Steve and Vonda, the youth leaders, the children’s workers, the worship bands, Brother Mack and Sister Maggie, Mario, and others—who give of themselves to the Lord.  Mario, the caretaker, giving his hands for the church.  Brother Mack and Sister Maggie giving their hands to drive their van for camp and men’s retreat.  They are giving of themselves, consecrating themselves, willingly to the Lord.  And as they do this, as we do this, the whole church rejoices.  The temple they are building is the church, the Lord’s temple in which Christ dwells.

Eventually, the temple that King Solomon built got destroyed.  And another temple was built, and that was destroyed by the Romans.  But the Bible tells us that now, we, the church, are the temple of the Lord and that Jesus Christ dwells in us.  We are the stones of gold, silver, bronze, iron, wood, sapphire, turquoise, and more—but we’re living stones, breathing, aching, growing, living.  

So I ask you, now, who is willing to consecrate him or herself today to the Lord?  To become part of this living temple in which Christ dwells?  To give of yourself for the growing of the temple? 

And notice that word “willing.”  When the leaders give, they give “willingly” and “wholeheartedly” to the Lord.  It’s not something that we do because we’re supposed to.  Giving ourselves to the Lord is not something we do because we feel pressured by our youth leaders or parents to do it.  We give because we desire to.  We are willing to, wholeheartedly.  It’s a desire that God gives us to do.  God has given us the grace to want to.

Now I’d like us to read verses 14-17.  King David prays to the Lord, “O LORD our God, as for all this abundance that we have provided for building you a temple for your Holy Name, it comes from your hand, and all of it belongs to you.”  

King David realizes humbly that all of these resources they are giving God belongs to the Lord.  At the end of the word “belong” is the word “long.”  To long for something is to deeply desire it, to desire it the way one wishes for water after a hot day of working, or the way one wishes to be home. 

We can belong to many things, and many things can belong to us.  For instance, if someone wrote a song, that song would belong to them, because the words and the music came from their heart.  If someone stole the song, the song would still belong to the original writer.  If someone kidnapped us, too, we would still belong to our parents, right?  And if the devil tricked us, and we followed his lies, we would still belong to the Lord, because the Lord created us and will never leave us or let go of us.

We also belong to each other.  And we belong to each other because we belong to God.  God created us—he created the heavens and the earth, and all that is in them, and so everything in this universe belongs to God.  Not only does God own us, God is our home.  He is our source, the way a songwriter is the source to the lyrics of a song. 

In the same way, all that we can give to the Lord, like our time, talents, gold, thoughts, emotions, belong to God.  They come from him, so they belong to him.  Sometimes, I can think about things so much that the thoughts cycle in my head like a tornado.  Sometimes they get overwhelming.  But I need to remember that even these thoughts belong to the Lord.  I’m not saying God gave me these thoughts; some of them are dark thoughts.  But still, God gave me my mind, and the ability to think, and God gave me words, through which I think thoughts, and emotions and memories, which empower my thoughts, and when I give my thoughts to God in prayer, I understand the truth about them, that they do not have power over me because God has power over them and me, and that they and I belong to God.  

King David realizes the truth that without the Lord, “Our days on earth are like a shadow, without hope.”  

So, I ask you, now, who is willing to consecrate yourself today to the Lord?  Who is willing to set ourselves apart, to give ourselves and all that we have to the Lord?  Are you?  We give to the Lord because the Lord has given us all that we have and all that we are, even the ability and desire to give to the Lord, because all of us and all that is inside of us belong to the Lord.

"Here I am. . . I have come to do your will, O God."

Last Sunday at Southeast Church of the Nazarene, Pastor Steve preached from Hebrews 10:5-10, which was a scripture reading chosen by the universal church for the Sunday before this year's Christmas.  Hebrews 10 has been on my mind lately; I recently wrote a post after hearing another compelling sermon based on that chapter.  Here I want to offer my own meditation on the passage, with thanks to the three preachers who preceded me, the third being the unknown author of Hebrews.

Therefore, when Christ came into the world, he said:

"Sacrifice and offering you did not desire,
but a body you prepared for me;
with burnt offerings and sin offerings you were not pleased.
Then I said, 'Here I am--it is written about me in the scroll--
I have come to do your will, O God.'"
verses 5-7, NIV

I am compelled by Christ's words upon entering the world:  "Here I am. . . I have come to do your will, O God."  When I see the words "Here I am," I think of when God called the prophets Samuel and Isaiah to proclaim God's word, and they each responded "Here I am."  I also think of when God tested Abraham.  God called, "Abraham!" and Abraham said, "Here I am" (Gen. 22:1).  Then God told Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac.  To make a long story short, Abraham was about to kill Isaac when an angel of the Lord called, "Abraham!  Abraham!" and Abraham said again, "Here I am."  God then provided Abraham a ram to sacrifice as a burnt offering instead of Isaac (Gen. 22:11-13).

Each of these people were called to do God's will.  For Samuel and Isaiah, God's will was to proclaim God's word to specific people.  For Abraham, God's will was, as I see it, to trust God to the point of offering Abraham's son, whom Abraham loved and in whom he had a future.  In response to their calls, Samuel, Isaiah, and Abraham said, "Here I am."

So it was with Jesus.  What was God's will for Jesus?  Here is all the author of Hebrews says:  "And by that will, we have been made holy through the sacrifice of the body of Jesus Christ once and for all" (v. 10).  Was it God's will to make us holy?  Or that Jesus sacrifice his body on the cross?  Or something else?  It is not clear.  But what is clear is that as a result of God's will, we have been made whole, rejoined to God, through Jesus' sacrifice forever.  Our offenses against God have been canceled; our relationships with God and one another have been restored to harmony. 

Just as the prophets, Abraham, and Jesus were called, I believe we too are called to do God's will.  What is God's will for us?  Paul says God's will for us in Christ is that we be joyful always, always pray, and give thanks in all situations (1 Thess. 5:16-18).  When Jesus' disciples asked what God required of them, Jesus said that God's work was to believe in the one God had sent (John 6:29).  (What does it mean to believe in Jesus?  That would be fun to explore in a future post.)  The prophet Micah says that what is good and what the Lord requires of us is "to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with [our] God" (Micah 6:8, NRSV).  Those are just some passages that come to mind.  

Does God have a specific will for my life beyond what I said in the previous paragraph and beyond the greatest commandment of loving God and loving my neighbor as I love myself?  Does God call me to something as God called the prophets, Abraham, and Jesus?  Personally, discerning God's will has been an adventure, and I am still learning how to listen and respond.  I have made mistakes, and I have discovered truth thanks to God's whispers in my heart and the help of friends and guides.  I hope that, like the prophets, Abraham, and Jesus, I too respond to God's call with a life which says "Here I am.  I have come to do your will, O God."

God, thank you for Jesus, who has taken away the sin of the world.  Help us to discern your will, and may we follow through on what you have already revealed your will to be.  May your presence, love, joy, and peace come in all their fullness, and may your will be done in the world as it is in your realm.