No More Hiding, No More Secrets -- Lectionary Reflection
Job 23:1-9, 16-17
Hebrews 4:12-16
Mark 10:17:31
No More Hiding, No More
Secrets
We all have secrets. There are dark places in all of our life
stories. We’d just as soon no one knows
anything about those secrets. Though in
the age of social media and security cameras, it’s a lot more difficult to keep
secrets. But, we do try.
A number of years ago there was a movement among evangelical
college students to open up to the community, and confess one’s sins and
trespasses before the community. The idea was that revival would result from
this confessional movement, but in reality it did little more than titillate observers,
and cause deep embarrassment and often irreparable harm to those who chose to
make the public confession. Some things
are best left unsaid – at least in public.
As far as I know this movement didn’t last, probably because campus
ministries, schools and colleges, like the one where I was teaching at the time,
tried to dampen the movement so that it could do no harm. Yes, some things in life aren’t meant to be
shared far and wide, and when we share we need to be sure it’s the right thing
to do. But, if we think we can hide from God – well
that’s another story all together. It
would seem best to assume that there is no place to hide from God. If this is true, and one would assume that an
infinite God knows what’s going on in our hearts and in our lives. So what does that mean for us?
We have before us three texts of
Scripture. In Job a righteous man seeks
to find God, so he can make his case that he is righteous and being
mistreated. Unfortunately, God seems
absent. If Job can’t find God, it
appears from Hebrews 4 that God knows where to find us, for “no
creature is hidden from [God’s Word].”
And Jesus seems to know what’s going on in the hearts of those who
approach him. These texts call on us to
reflect on the way in which we approach God.
Do we try to hide or do we recognize that there’s no place to hide, and
if this is true, what then does it mean for us?
Let’s begin with Job, the one who is
righteous but who is also the victim of an apparent wager between God and
Satan. Job is, you might say, simply a
pawn in a game these two figures play in the heavenly courts. Satan is given carte blanche to “test” Job. Satan pushes Job beyond the bounds of what any
person could withstand, trying to make Job curse God. God has faith in Job, but does Job have faith
in God? Indeed, should he have faith in
this seemingly capricious God? Here in Job
23, Job is seeking answers to his questions.
He’s not ready to curse God, but he’d like answers. He wants to go to court, and lay out his
suit. Unfortunately, God is nowhere to
be found. Job’s case is simple – he has done what is
good and right. He’s righteous and has
never cursed God, so why is God cursing him.
He has confidence in his case, but there is a worry – perhaps, if he
makes it to court, God will seek to intimidate him, using brute force. This thought, however, is fleeting for “he
would surely listen to me” (vs. 6).
There is in Job’s story here a certain
confidence – his cause is righteous – but he’s not completely convinced about
God’s justice. First God is absent –
he’s looked high and low, but can’t find him.
And there’s that fleeting thought about intimidation. Besides, as Job confesses – “God has weakened
my mind; the Almighty has frightened me.”
Is this not a feeling we often have?
Do we not feel, at times, as if God is either absent or not listening? And if we feel like yelling at God – as
Jeremiah was wont to do – do we fear retribution? These are the questions so many have about
the character of God. We’re just not
sure. But, our passage concludes with a
bit of a ray of hope. Job
confesses: “Still, I’m not annihilated
by the darkness; he has hidden deep darkness from me” (vs. 17). In other words, I’m still here. I’m still breathing. There’s hope for a new day. There’s hope for answers.
The book of Hebrews is an
enigma. We’re not always sure what to
make of it. In part that’s because the
question of authorship has always been present.
It has great words about faith, and yet it also delves deep into
typological interpretations of Jewish ritual.
Here we have a text that is known to many. It speaks first of God’s Word that is
“living, active, and sharper than any two-edged sword.” In dealing with this passage we have to
decide what this “Word” is, or better “who” this “Word” is. Taken out of context, it’s often applied here
to Scripture, but it’s clear from context that another Word is meant. It’s the living Word, it’s Jesus, God’s
Son.
So what then do we make of this word
about the Word? How is this Word sharper
than a two-edged sword that can penetrate or pierce down to the joints and
marrow, to the soul and spirit? The
answer is found in the 13th verse – the Word, the Sword, is the
means of judgment. You can’t hide, you
can’t obfuscate. When Christ, the Living
Word, is judge, he knows our hearts. He
knows our motives. Though we might try
to hide, it’s futile. Just because no
one else can see, doesn’t mean God doesn’t see.
I can pretend, of course, and I’ve been known to do so, but that doesn’t
mean God can’t see me. Whereas Job
wanted to find God to make his case, here we’re reminded that whether we see
God or not, God sees us. And it’s to
this judge we give account.
Before we get too concerned, the
author of Hebrews speaks a word of hope.
There is a High Priest who can take up our cause. This high priest, who is Christ, can
sympathize with our weaknesses, for he, like us, has been tempted in all
things. There’s nothing that Jesus, the
High Priest, has not faced. He hasn’t
succumbed, but he’s faced our temptations.
Therefore, we can “draw near to the throne of favor with confidence so
that we can receive mercy and find grace when we need help (vs. 16).
This theme that Jesus knows our
hearts and minds is also present in the Gospel reading. A man runs up to Jesus to get clarification
on the means of entry into eternal life.
What is it that I have to do?
Jesus answers – what’s the Law say?
And the man recounts his observance of each of the commandments, well
most of them, anyway. Is this enough? Jesus could have said – good job you’ve done
well. You’re in. But he doesn’t. He could have, if he was a good modern
Christian, said – well that’s nice, but this really was a trick question. Entrance into the kingdom comes by faith, not
works. So, say a little prayer, make
your confession, sign the register, maybe get a little water on you, and go
your way. Then you’ll have made it. But Jesus doesn’t say that either.
Mark writes: “Jesus looked at him carefully and loved
him.” Jesus, the Living Word, the one
who like a sharp, two edged sword penetrates to where soul and spirit can be
separated, looks into his heart. He loves
the man – sees him as one who truly seeks after God – and yet something is
amiss. Jesus loves the man, but must
call him to accounts. Jesus says then to
him – I’ve got an additional word for you.
“Go and sell your possessions and give all to the poor, and then come
follow me.” Do this, Jesus says, and
you’ll have crossed the river. But of
course, he could do it. He had too many
possessions. He couldn’t seem to extricate
himself from them. And so he walks away
sad and regretful, but unable to entrust his life to God. Fortunately for us, we have grace, and we
don’t have to worry – that’s the old dispensation. We live under a new one.
I don’t think Jesus will let us off
so easily. The Disciples, who though for
the most part are drawn from the margins, have come to believe that riches
equal blessings, and therefore the rich must be righteous, for only the
righteous get blessed by God. But Jesus
shocks them by telling them that it’s “easier for a camel to squeeze through
the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter God’s Kingdom” (Mk
10:25). What do we make of this? How can this be?
As I read this passage, I recognize
the hold that my own possessions have on me.
I think I too might walk away.
The Disciples had, of course, left everything behind, and so they seem
to be safe. But Jesus knows their hearts
as well. Still, they receive a word of
hope – don’t worry, you’ll be blessed. I
know what you’ve done. But what about
you and what about me? What’s going to
happen to us? What does Jesus know about
our hearts? As we contemplate these
questions, we receive this word, which we shouldn’t take for granted -- what is
impossible for us, may be possible for God, but I’m not sure Jesus is letting
us off the hook.
Though we may go searching for a
seemingly absent God, the full witness of Scripture suggests that God knows
where we can be found, and God knows our hearts. And surely God is calling us all to make those choices that make us uncomfortable. In the mean time, as we contemplate this call -- might we pray as
God’s people have prayed down through the ages:
Almighty God, unto Whom all hearts be open, all desires known, and from Whom no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of Thy Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love Thee, and worthily magnify Thy holy Name: through Christ our Lord. Amen. (Book of Common Prayer, 1549).
Comments
1. The contrast between the Apostles who were called by Jesus and the young man who was exploring his faith; with whom do we stand closest to? The dispensational reference is problematic, because it seems to suggest that the young man was challenge to a greater commitment, all or nothing, than is the average Christian today. Moreover the pronouncement about getting through the needle's eye, would seem intended for the young man as well as the modern Christian, the challenge would seem no greater for him than you and I. If you are suggestion that in the new dispensation we can rely on the help of God, then I have to ask what kind of divine justice that would deny the well-intentioned young man that same help, especially in light of his direct face-to-face appeal to the living Jesus? If Jesus can promise paradise to the thief on the cross, why not to this man?
2. The use of the word "inherit" caught my attention. Is this whole encounter built on the issue of divine obligation and how a mortal can bring it about? Is the young man really asking what he can do to obligate God to grant him eternal life? And then is Jesus' answer, if you sacrifice everything then in response God will reward you with everything (eternal life)?
I have always interpreted this as being about guarantees, that is, unless you are willing to gamble everything, (and nobody is - I am convinced that this story is not just about the idolatry of the wealthy) nothing is guaranteed. This means that we are compelled to trust in the grace of God for what happens today, tomorrow and in the next life. And genuine trust involves risk taking, including the risk that despite a perfectly worshipful life disaster may befall us (as in Job's case).