But without faith it is
impossible to please him: he that comes must believe that he is, and that he is
a rewarder of them that diligently seek him. (Heb. 11:6)
Suppose you’re vacationing
in some out-of-the-way location, a long way from civilization and your child
suddenly becomes violently ill and is in urgent need of care. You and your
spouse load the child in the car and race to the nearest town. There you’re told
of three medical providers, all of whom live next to each other. “Whew, what
are the chances of that?” you think.
So, you drive to
the street, locate the first physician and knock on the door. No one answers.
You knock again and no one answers. Only after knocking a third time, do you
notice a sign over the doorway that reads, “No one lives here.” So, you run
back to your car and inform your mate, “The place is empty.” “Go next door,” you’re
instructed, and so you do.
This time there’s
an answer when you knock. An old man with a kind face listens to your problem
and says, “I wish I could help you. There was a day when I could. But I can’t
now. I need care myself. In fact, if you have time, I need someone to come and
prepare my meal. Also, if you could spare a few dollars, I’m a bit short on
cash. . . .“ Realizing your child won’t be helped here, you apologize
mid-sentence to the gentleman and leave, shouting to the car as you run,
“Someone’s there, but he can’t help.” Your child is worsening by the minute and
you only have one more option.
You run to the
third house. This time an able-looking professional opens the door. “How may I
help?” he asks. You explain that your child is very sick and needs immediate
care. “Quickly, bring the child to me,” he urges. “Are you able to help?” “I am,”
he says. “Are you willing to help?” “I am,” he reassures. He’s there and he’s willing
to help. That’s all you know. But that’s all you need to know. You don’t need
to know his birthplace, or his Social Security number or his life’s story — all
you need is his existence and availability, his presence and his willingness.
He’s there and he’s good. Those two facts are enough to take you in to his
presence.
Those same two
facts are enough to take you in to the presence of God. The man who approaches
God must have faith in two things, first, that God exists and secondly that God
rewards those who search for him. (Heb. 11:6) So, what’s required? A conviction
that God is, and the conviction that God is good. Those who would come to God
must believe that God is real and that God is responsive. These convictions
form the foundation of prayer. These convictions are found in one word in the
first sentence of our Lord ’s Prayer.
“So, what is the
word?” Well, I’ll give you a hint – you just read it. “Is it in this sentence?”
It is. In fact, it’s in the answer I just gave you. “Come on, is this a joke?” Would
I kid you? (By the way the word was in your question, too) See it? “Is,” as in
“Our father who is in heaven.” God is. Not God was, or God will be. Not God
could be or should be, but God is. He is. The God of the present tense.
That’s all you
need to know to come to God. More is helpful perhaps, but not necessary. More
can come later, but none can come earlier. Begin with the reality and the
responsiveness of God. Remember the condition described in Hebrews? If you believe
there is a living God (he is), and you believe there is a loving God (he
rewards those who seek him), then you have faith. And you are welcome in his
presence. In other words, the foundation of his kingdom is not built on you,
but on him. The key question is not “Who am I?” but rather “Who is God?” Your
achievements, however noble, are not important. Your credentials, as remarkable
as they may be, are of no concern. God is the force behind your journey. His
strength is the key factor. Don’t focus on your strength, but on his. Occupy
yourself with the nature of God, not the size of your bicep.
That’s what
Moses did. Well, at least that’s what God told Moses to do. Remember the
conversation at the burning bush? The tone was set in the first sentence. Take off
your sandals because you are standing on holy ground. (Ex. 3:5) Immediately the
roles were defined. God is holy. Approaching him on even a quarter-inch of shoe
leather is too pompous. With those eleven words Moses was enrolled in a class
on God. No time is spent convincing Moses what Moses could do, but a lot of time
was spent explaining to Moses what God would do. But we tend to do the opposite,
don’t we? Our approach would have been to explain to Moses how he’s ideally
suited to return to Egypt – who better to understand the culture than a former
prince? Then, we’d remind Moses how perfect he was for wilderness travel – who knows
the desert better than a shepherd? Then, we’d spend a lot of time reviewing
with Moses his resume and his strengths- “Come on Moses, you can do it. Give it
a try.”
God doesn’t. The
strength of Moses is never considered. No pep talk is given; no pats on the
back are offered. Not one word is given to recruit Moses. But a lot of words
are given that reveal God. You see, the strength of Moses is not the issue. The
strength of God is. You aren’t the force behind a volcano, or the mortar within
the foundation: God is. And I know you understand that statement, but do you
accept it in your heart? One of the most encouraging ways to study God is to
study his names. The study of the names of God is no brief reading, either.
After all, there are dozens of them in scripture. But if you want a place to
begin, start with some of the compound names of God in the Old Testament. Each
of them reveals a different aspect of God’s character.
Truth is, the
more God’s people came to know him, the more names they gave him. Initially God
was known as Elohim. “In the beginning God (Elohim) created. . . .“ (Gen. 1:1) The
Hebrew word, “Elohim,” carries with it the meaning of “strong one," or
"creator.” Thus, when we call God Elohim, we refer to his strength, or
omnipotence. In fact, Elohim appears 31 times in the first chapter of Genesis alone
because that’s where we see his creative power. As God revealed himself to his
children, however, they saw him as more than just a mighty force. They saw him
as a loving creator who met them at every crossroad of their lives.
Jacob, for
example, came to see God as Jehovah Roi, a caring shepherd. “Like a shepherd,”
Jacob told his family, “God has led me all my life.” (Gen. 48:15) And the
phrase is surely a compliment to God, because Jacob was not a cooperative
sheep. Twice he tricked his brother, and at least once he suckered his blind
father; he out-crossed his double-crossing father-in-law by conning him out of
his livestock and then, when father-in-law wasn’t looking, made like a Charger out
of San Diego in the middle of the night sneaking off with anything that wasn’t
nailed down.
Jacob was never
a candidate for the best-behaved sheep award, but God never forgot him, either.
God gave him food in the famine, forgiveness in his failures, and faith in his
final years. Ask Jacob to describe God in a word, his word was Jehovah Roi —
the caring shepherd.
Abraham had
another word for God: Jehovah-jireh. “The Lord who provides.” And Abraham came
by the name honestly. It all began when Abraham heard the call to go to the
land of Canaan, and so he went. God promised to make him the father of many nations
and he believed. But that was before Lot took the best land. That was before
the king of Egypt took his wife. That was before he found out that he, the
father of the nations, was married to a woman who couldn’t have children. But
then Lot ended up in Sodom and Gomorrah, the Pharaoh ended up returning Sarah,
and Abraham ended up bouncing his first-born on his hundred-year-old bony
knees. Abraham learned that God provides. But even Abraham must have shaken his
head when God asked him to sacrifice his own son on Mt. Moriah.
But up the
mountain they went. “Where is the lamb we will burn as a sacrifice?” his son
asked. (Gen. 22:7) And you wonder how the words made it past the lump in
Abraham’s throat, “God will give us the lamb for the sacrifice, my son.” (vs.
8) Jehovah-jireh: the Lord will provide.
And then Abraham tied up his son, placed him on the altar and raised the knife …
and the angel stayed his hand. Abraham had proven his faith. And just then, he
heard a rustling in the thicket and saw a ram caught in a bush by his horns. He
offered it as an offering and gave the mountain a name: Jehovah-jireh — The
Lord Provides.
And then there’s
Gideon. The Lord came to Gideon and told him he was to lead his people in
victory over the Midianites. That’s like God telling a kindergartner to get in
the car and go to work; or a high school student to take on a drug cartel.
Gideon stammered. We stammer. But then God reminds us that he knows we can’t
but he can. And to prove it, he gives a wonderful gift – peace. He brings a spirit
of peace. A peace before the storm. A peace beyond logic, or as Paul described
it, “A peace which passes all understanding.” (Phil. 4:7) He gave it to David
after he showed him Goliath. He gave it to Saul after he showed him the gospel.
And he gave it to Jesus after he showed him the cross. And he gave it to
Gideon. So Gideon, in turn, gave the name to God. He built an altar and named
it, “Jehovah-Shalom” The Lord is peace. (Judges 6:24)
God the Creator;
God the Caring Shepherd; God the Provider; God, the Lord of Peace. Just some of
the names that help us understand the God Who Is. God is the God who always is.
“I am who I am,” he says. (Exodus 3:14) Who is the one who created the world?
God is. Who is the one who provides the needs of his children? God is. Who is
the one who saves his people? God is. Who is the one who rewards those that
diligently seek him? God is.
And, no, it
doesn’t depend upon what the meaning of the word “is,” is.
Grace,
Randy
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