Category: bible (Page 6 of 7)

At the King’s table

September 11, 2012 / Michele Minehart

Added to the list of things I love: teachings on classic Bible stories that reveal new insights about context, specifically culture. Shane Hipps never disappoints. As he was retelling the story of Daniel, I thought to myself, “I’ve heard this before. Except not about Daniel.” I had to wrack my brain a little but it finally came to mind: Esther. I’m completely enamored by her story, a slight little obsession. I think it’s my love of a good spa and her year of basically living in one.

I began to mull over the similarities of the stories. It became too large to track and my Bible Geek self resorted to an excel spreadsheet.

No seriously. (And my last 2 friends will suddenly be “busy” on all Saturday nights).

After the forbidden worshiping, the stories begin to diverge and distinct differences rise to the top. Daniel stands firm and makes a statement. He boldly tells the King that his God can rescue him but if he doesn’t, God is no less powerful. Off to the lion’s den he goes as a testament of his allegiance.

In stark contrast to Daniel’s defiance we find Esther. Making dinner. Twice. Then she slips in that she’d really like her people to be rescued from the grip of looming death. Pretty please? If it were mere slavery, I wouldn’t bother you with such a matter.

A real scholar can provide insight into Biblical storytelling and narrative and how it powerfully spoke to the audience through both form and function, but I have none of those insights. I’m guessing these stories are similar for a reason. I believe that the commonalities reveal something about its nature. However, the distinct divergence from commonalities leaves me to question, as I’ve been doing with much of scripture, “What makes this remarkable? What does the different twist to this story reveal about the nature of God?”

I’m still in hypothesis-forming mode, but key to the story is when Uncle Mordi tells Esther, “Do not think that because you are in the king’s house you alone of all the Jews will escape. For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time is this?” (Emphasis mine. Singing it to the chorus of one of my favorite Helvetica is for Lovers songs).

Position. In the King’s house. Power and favor and loyalty and heritage and belonging and exiling and what does it mean to be faithful to God in this? What do we believe God’s faithfulness looks like?

I wonder if Esther’s hospitable approach had anything to do with the fact she was a woman. A young girl, at that. I wonder if a Daniel-inspired rebellion simply lived outside the bounds of possibility thanks to a culture that gave women such little status (read the first chapter and see how King Xerxes believed in a disposable nature of women). But at such a time as this, God can and will use any willing follower. Heroes of faith don’t only arise from the strong and strapping young gentlemen like Daniel, though he needs commended. The lowly, the least of these*, aren’t excluded from Kingdom work.

And kingdom work doesn’t just pick up a few stones or enter a den of lions. Kingdom work also makes dinner. It reminds the world that She’s beautiful and can be trusted.

Daniel and Esther remind me that there’s more than one way to convince a king. We can fight power with power and win. Or we can fight power with humility and win. God isn’t beyond any method; he just needs a willing heart to invade. He’s looking for a home for His spirit and how that seeps into the world around us cannot be controlled or reduced to a formula. God will move and he will save and he will do it through willing participants, asking them to pick up and use whatever tool is sitting next to them at the moment.

*Esther was also an orphan, a noted group within the “least of these”

biiiiillllll brrraaasssky

November 2, 2011 / Michele Minehart

The Bible maintains a bit of a reputation for being a dry read. If you start in Numbers, I might agree. On the other end of the spectrum, there’s a group of people who read it like the directions that come with your Ikea closet system. To me, that’s just as dry as reading Numbers without a historical narrative accompaniment.

Instead, I prefer to see the story involved with the Book. Yes, yes, it’s not “just a collection of stories” as it’s much deeper than that. But nonetheless, these are the stories of the Faithful Ones, and sometimes how the story is told gives as much insight to what was happening as the actual narrative arc. This is another reason I love reading it in The Message.

This morning I read about David’s Mighty Men (who doesn’t think of Robin’s Merry Men, especially the Men in Tights version?). These were men. Manly men. Grunt. The stories are of them slaying an entire army with a single spear… defending a field of lentils when the rest of the army retreated…. leaving a battle to run to Bethlehem for a glass of water to make David happy.

Personally, I read these stories to the tune of the old Bill Brasky skit from SNL, inserting the names of the Mighty Men:

I love that the tales of these men is a legacy of strength and honor so big that it’s almost unbelievable. These guys were a big deal. As the stories were passed among generations, their legacy (and victories, I would venture to say) grew bigger.

But what I also caught was the story of Abishai. I’d read about him a few chapters earlier when David gave him a special mission and his brother ganked the glory by murdering someone and covering up the body. In the description of these mighty men, it says, “He once got credit for killing three hundred with his spear, but he was never named in the same breath as The Three.”

Wow. Harsh. And who of us hasn’t been there? The fifth wheel. The JV team. B league.

I only read one more chapter (a listing of the Thirty, with it’s own surprise ending), so I’m waiting to see if there’s a moral at the end of the story by listing Abishai. If nothing else, the stories of lore tell us that we’re not alone.

wash. rinse. repeat.

October 21, 2011 / Michele Minehart

Some sort of psychological effect comes from hearing a message or idea too much, that it’s too common to you. It begins to loose meaning and become part of the scenery. I find this to be true at times of reading passages in the Bible that are popular preaching material; it’s difficult not to go into with “I’ve heard all this before.” Alternatively, when you approach with a posture that you will “learn something new”, quite often the shiny nugget of insight turns out to be fools’ gold, something conjured because otherwise we believe our time spent in the passage will be in vain.

Or perhaps I’m the only one who suffers these afflictions. It might be possible that the rest of the world approaches scripture in a much healthier way.

In any case, the story of David and Bathsheeba came through the line up. This time around my attempt was to simply let it be. Take the time to read and soak, and then move on. That was the goal. But it took me too many days. So many things jumped out at me that I needed to keep rereading.

A summary of what I’d heard before:

“At a time when Isreal was off to war” – David was not where he was supposed to be.

“David saw a beautiful woman” – keep your eyes out of other people’s bath tubs.

Also, in seminary it was discussed that when this passage is brought up in an American context and the question is posed: “What was David’s sin?” the answer is largely sexual impurity. However, when posed to a non-American (specifically in our discussion, 3rd world countries), the answer is abuse of power and greed. Because I’d heard these things before, here’s what caught my attention:

Then David confessed to Nathan, “I’ve sinned against God.” Nathan pronounced, “Yes, but that’s not the last word. God forgives your sin. You won’t die for it. But because of your blasphemous behavior, the son born to you will die.” (Ital mine).

Blasphemous? Really? It sounds quite extreme. But in Nathan’s word to David, he had explained that God gave David everything that he wanted or needed, yet David craved still more.

Juxtaposed next to this passage is then the story of Amnon, David’s son raping Tamar, his half-sister.

So, there was this tree. And from it fell nuts. But those nuts didn’t fall very far….

Snuggled into this story: King David heard the whole story and was enraged, but he didn’t discipline Amnon. David doted on him because he was his firstborn.

I have to wonder what David’s experiences have to teach us as parents who have screwed up some place in our own lives. Though David’s particular sin was absolved, it continued on by repeating itself through his offspring. While we want to protect those we love, how do we become honest about our mistakes and shortcomings in our lives in a way that doesn’t justify it or write it off?

And more so, if David lived forgiven – which he was – did Amnon believe that such an act was simply forgivable and therefore he partook? I partially-read a book by the father of a drug addict who did research on the topic of parental drug use. He found that being “completely honest about past mistakes” didn’t always yield itself as a deterrent. Actually, the opposite was true. No matter the sob story you tell about how bad life was, if you’ve been able to rectify it and you end up alright, the kids generally think, “well you did it, and you ended up okay.”

So, I don’t lobby for hiding our sin from our kids.

And yet, living as if it didn’t have lasting consequences doesn’t seem to work either.

Perhaps living forgiven doesn’t mean living forgotten?

Has anyone seen this done well? How have parents you known stopped one cycle and began another?

Category: bible (Page 6 of 7)

At the King’s table

biiiiillllll brrraaasssky

wash. rinse. repeat.

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