All in God's Character
Meditating on this first chapter of Hebrews, I sense the author’s intensity as he draws out a picture of God’s Son for the readers of his day as well as for us. Sixty years after His birth—how quickly the Judean Christians had forgotten who Jesus was. 2021—how the world has overshadowed the Son.
As I investigated Old Testament references to clouds, I noticed that when speaking to Job, God described clouds as the sea’s garment and thick darkness its blanket. (Job 38:9)
I remember my father saying, “I love a “buttermilk sky” while admiring a scenic view of puffy little clouds. By fourth grade, I’d discovered there was no official “buttermilk sky" cloud formation, only cumulus, stratus, cirrus and multiple variations based on combinations and altitudes.
What pictures come to mind when you think about Jesus? Maybe a newborn baby lying in a manger in a stable in Bethlehem. Maybe a child in the temple confounding learned men with his knowledge. Maybe a man in his early thirties teaching and preaching. Maybe bruised and beaten, hanging on a cross.
Job uttered these words, “I know my redeemer lives.” Job, of all people – deathly ill, loss of children, misunderstood by friends. Those words did not come at the end of his struggles -- he spoke them in the midst of them. What an encouraging testimony!
All she ever wanted was a horse. Our young daughter, Bre, rode carousel horses and played with toy horses until she was old enough to ride horses at summer camp each year through high school. She collected horse picture books, watched horse movies, and had horse-themed birthday parties, but she still wanted and frequently asked for a real horse.
I still remember when Ste was about 2 weeks old, and his dad was eager to show him off to the pharmacology lab where he was a graduate research student. He wanted to share his joy and excitement over his infant son with faculty and students. I dressed him in a soft green Onesie. My heart burst with love as they left. Proud, proud Daddy.
Sweat dripped down my back and forehead in the oppressive summer evening heat. I was still able to concentrate on my ten-year old granddaughter Mack playing softball. This was her first year, but she was all in, mentally and physically. When she pitched, she focused on all the game situations. She knew the pitching count and how many outs there were each inning.
Dad worked for the government his entire career. Monday through Friday for over twenty-five years he left home at 7:45 a.m. and returned home at 5:15 p.m. Mom packed him a sack lunch each day for his hour-long break.
Peace. Love. “Jesus freaks.” If you were around in the late 60s and early 70s, you are familiar with these words. The Jesus Movement, considered the fourth great awakening in the United States, ignited in California during this time, and exploded across the country, including Boulder, Colorado, where I lived until my mid-twenties. This movement was characterized by youthful counter-cultural transients. On the opposite side of the spectrum was conservative Billy Graham and his crusades. My family avoided and resisted both. We worshipped the Rocky Mountains.
The Lord’s speech out of the whirlwind is over. Only once has He stopped for a breath and Job dared to speak: “I am unworthy—how can I reply to you?” (40:4).
Finally, God breaks His silence. But He doesn’t come walking in the garden in the cool of the day (Genesis 3:8) as He came to question Adam and Eve. Nor does He come in a gentle whisper as to Elijah on the mountain (1 King 19:12). He comes out of a storm, a literal whirlwind, not angry but overwhelming and intense, questioning, challenging.
Ah, Job I thought as I contemplated the Womenary calendar last fall—not exactly the most uplifting book. Now wasn’t that just typical of 2020! But what better time than the present to consider the reality of suffering with all the ups and downs of that year and the February deep freeze of this. Let’s jump on into the deep end ladies, as suffering is indeed a deep subject.
It was a stormy night. I was driving slowly in a blinding rainstorm with a car following closely behind. I was having difficulty seeing the road ahead, but I noticed when I glanced in my rear view mirror that the lights of the car behind me illuminated the road markings. By frequently glancing, I was able to navigate somewhat better in my lane.
How do you respond when God does the unexpected? I am a planner. Before I begin something, I like to determine a plan of action and approximately how long my task will take. In a recent assignment, I thought I knew the plan of action, and I had an idea of the amount of time that would be involved. But then God did the unexpected.
My professional background is in healthcare, and ever since my very first anatomy and physiology class I have been fascinated with the beauty, complex simplicities, and precision of God’s creation-----us!
Have you seen all the hype about the releases of new phones, video games, etc.? People guess about release dates, and news is made when information about the product is leaked. People line up, maybe even camp out for days, to get the latest and greatest.
The endless cacophony between Job and his four friends is over and God essentially tells Job to be still: who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge?” Indeed! And with that the LORD beckons His servant Job (42:7,8)—servant having the connotation of the one I trust, who worships me (Strong’s)—to come in close: “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). You see, Job had to step away from his circumstances to know the One who was in control.
With the 2021 record Texas snow over, the big meltdown had begun and I had cabin fever. Caution! Caution! my brain said—those brittle bones should not slip and slide. So I stepped out on the back porch to take it all in. The crusty layer on the garden wall, sparkling like jewels in the brilliant sun, creaked and groaned, reluctant to shed its coat of white. The drip-drip-drip off the roof chimed in, running down delicate icicles, down-down-down to oblivion. Birds added their bit of harmony in their clamor for the remaining holly berries bared of snow. All quiet; yet all so alive.
As we travelled through Mississippi almost to our destination, we noticed a car on the side of the road. A woman stood beside the opened back door crying so hard her whole face turned red.
