Who understands this mystery? Even the angels are baffled!
The Maker of the universe As Man, for man was made a curse. The claims of law which He had made, Unto the uttermost He paid.
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His holy fingers made the bough Which grew the thorns that crowned His brow. The nails that pierced His hands were mined In secret places He designed.
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He made the forest whence there sprung The tree on which His body hung. He died upon a cross of wood, Yet made the hill on which it stood.
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The sky that darkened o’er His head By Him above the earth was spread. The sun that hid from Him its face By His decree was poised in space.
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The spear which spilled His precious blood Was tempered in the fires of God. The grave in which His form was laid, Was hewn in rocks His hands had made.
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The throne on which He now appears Was His from everlasting years. But a new glory crowns His brow. And every knee to Him shall bow.
“The Maker of the Universe,” lyrics by Phil Keaggy, 1986
“You have given me many troubles and bad times, but you will give me life again. When I am almost dead, You will keep me alive.”
Psalm 71:20, NCV
“He was despised and forsaken of men, A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.”
Isaiah 53:3, NASB
I have never spoken out like this, but my wife and I had a daughter who died in a terribly vicious way–she was stillborn, dead at birth, in November 1999. She was doing great, up to a week before Lynnie’s due date. We knew that in a few days, we would be able to see her– face-to-face. What a joy that was going to be!
But yet that’s not what happened.
Elizabeth Grace Lowe died from strangulation from her own umbilical cord. Nothing could have been done. My wife had noticed a moment of very frantic activity, as Elizabeth fought for her life. We plummeted from ecstatic joy to devastating sorrow in just seconds. It came “out of the blue,” totally unexpected. Who could prepare us?
We were completely undone.
“For the Lord will not reject forever, For if He causes grief, Then He will have compassion According to Him there is abundant lovingkindness. For He does not afflict willingly Or grieve the sons of men.”
Lamentations 3:32-33, NASB
Yes, there can be horrifying pain, but there are also solid promises.
There can be brutal sadness, but there are those specious Psalms. There is a blessing for all those who grieve. This topic deserves far more attention than this simple post. (If you’re in the thick of things, I’m trusting the Holy Spirit will help you to your next step.)
There can be such sorrow in this life, far much more than the human heart can possibly contain. But our Savior has a title (one of many). He is called the “Man of Sorrows.” He is the one who is “on point.” He leads us through such intense hostility and mind-numbing pain. He is there when the switch is flipped on us and it becomes instantly dark. He can’t, won’t, and will not leave you to face your pain alone. He knows.
There are a few things that I want to communicate to you.
These have come out of great darkness. I have tried awfully hard to be a disciple, even though I’m doing the worst job of it. These may be right, or wrong, or just okay–you decide. I don’t really know anymore.
God amazingly takes the full weight of our pain and sorrow (Isa. 45:6-7, NLT). He doesn’t shift the blame or deny His work in the life of people. He’s fully sovereign. (Sometimes we need to adjust our theology.) Maybe it’s hard to trust Him right now–that’s more than understandable. In eternity, I believe, it’ll make perfect sense. Sometimes, we need to wait.
Jesus has fully entered into our sorrows. All that you are feeling right now, He feels. If you feel you are at a minus 10, then He does as well. As you suffer, He is closer than your shadow. He knows us. He feels it all. Please don’t short-circuit over this.
Nothing is ever wasted. We really shouldn’t treat these moments of sorrow as a waste. Have you ever wondered at Jesus’ ‘economy’ after the 5000 were fed? He assigns value to the leftovers. The disciples pick up their baskets and collect everything again. Nothing will go to waste. I strongly suspect that His kingdom works this way.
This pain, this sorrow, is the intensive crash course in becoming a person of mercy. You now will always walk with a limp. At times the scars will be quite visible to those who can really see. This pain will become forever a “healed wound,” (but a wound nevertheless). It helps to seek out others who have walked this same path. And yet, to be honest, I don’t think I will ever fully trust a person (or a pastor even) who doesn’t walk with a limp.
You will need (but maybe not accept) the transformation of your suffering into glory. This will take some time, and it almost feels like you’re not progressing at all. I encourage you to re-think each of these simple points. The Holy Spirit may be working, perhaps behind the scenes.
Finally remember this: God is not a monster, stomping on us like a boy crushes ants. He has carried all of our pain and illness. He clearly comes alongside every suffering believer. It is Satan who would suggest to you that God is a Celestial Menace, not worthy of our love. I will be very blunt with you, that idea has to be implicitly rejected. Its origins are truly satanic.
“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.”
Psalm 147:3
“The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is upon me, for the LORD has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted and to proclaim that captives will be released and prisoners will be freed.”
Isaiah 61:1
“He heals the wounds of every shattered heart.”
Psalm 147:3, TPT
I’m pretty much convinced that this post is a bit much for some. But please hold it close, maybe it’ll matter later on? (But I hope not.)
“One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” 40 But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? 41 And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” 42 And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
And he said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”
The pain was incredible, but I know that deep down I deserved to die. But not like this. Never like this. I was almost out of my mind with fear. What they were about to do to me was terrifying.
You must understand that I was just a common thief. I had stolen a loaf of bread when I was eight years old and that’s how it all got started for me. It more or else got bigger and easier. I knew how to steal and I was quite good at it. I was Jacob, the master thief!
When I was finally caught, they had sentenced me to die.
I supposed it was inevitable. I fault no one but myself, I knew what I was getting into. As I dragged my beam up to Golgotha, it was really strange but I suddenly remembered a verse from the scripture and it really did unsettle me.
“Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree.”
It’s a terrible thing to die this way. There were three of us, nailed to the wood and lifted up between heaven and earth. Jesus was nailed to the middle cross, not that it really mattered; all three of us were going to die today. Many hope for a simple and easy death, maybe in their sleep–but that’s not going to happen to us.
The third man could only mock, he was afraid, and I suppose he just echoed those Pharisees who didn’t really understand. But I knew better. I knew who this other man was, I had heard all the stories. Deep down I knew that this man on the center cross was the Messiah.
A crowd had gathered to watch us die. The Romans in their wonderful ingenuity had made a sign that they nailed above Jesus’ head, and it declared to everyone that Jesus was “the king of the Jews.” Even as he was dying, they found a way to malign him and to stir-up the crowd.
The other man being crucified continued to mock Jesus, and it infuriated me.
Why I defended him I don’t know for sure.
But I understood. He was being murdered out of envy and jealousy. He didn’t deserve to die like this, but the powers that be hated him, and who can confront these religious men without becoming a victim. Jesus had repeatedly crossed the line, so now they were now putting him to death. It seemed evil was really winning today.
I saw the soldiers throwing dice for Jesus’ clothes. He was now being mocked by them as well, even as he was dying on a brutal cross.
But all of a sudden it all made perfect sense, he really was the Messiah, and these bastards were killing him. Crucifixion was starting to work on me now. I began to choke on my words, and it was getting hard to breathe.
“Jesus… please remember me. When your Kingdom comes, please let me be a part of it.”
And as beaten as he was, he managed to turn and look directly at me. They had whipped and brutalized him, and yet he was still aware. His words were whispered now, but I understood. “I promise that today you will be with me in paradise.”
I was starting to spasm again, but the horror of death had left me. Some time had passed, and I could hear his breathing stop. But for the first time, I had peace. They used a spear on Jesus, but he was already dead.
The soldiers now came to the two of us, and they were carrying an ax to break our legs. It all had to do with the coming festival, and the Pharisees wanted us dead. When they swung that ax I knew pain that I could never describe. My own death came quickly after that.
I was suddenly standing in paradise, whole and complete.
Someone was standing before me. He was shining I remember, and I knew he was powerful; stronger, and he was more glorious than anyone I had ever met. It was crazy but somehow I knew that he was an angel and he had been sent to meet me. It’s funny, but I realized that somehow I really did belong. Me–a dirty rotten thief.
Jesus had promised me, he had pronounced me righteous, me of all people.
I suddenly had a joy that I could never explain. I really was a part of the Kingdom that was beyond anything I had ever known. And all I can really say about this was that I was privileged to die with him. That is all I could claim. I simply believed him and asked if somehow I could be part of his eternal rule.
I simply asked and you know what, He gave me everything.
And so, I’ll see you in heaven.
Cover Art: “Christ on the Cross between Two Thieves,” by Peter Paul Rubens
“Two men went to the Temple to pray. One was a proud, self-righteous Pharisee, and the other a cheating tax collector. 11 The proud Pharisee ‘prayed’ this prayer: ‘Thank God, I am not a sinner like everyone else, especially like that tax collector over there! For I never cheat, I don’t commit adultery, 12 I go without food twice a week, and I give to God a tenth of everything I earn.’
13 “But the corrupt tax collector stood at a distance and dared not even lift his eyes to heaven as he prayed, but beat upon his chest in sorrow, exclaiming, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner.’ 14 I tell you, this sinner, not the Pharisee, returned home forgiven! For the proud shall be humbled, but the humble shall be honored.”
Meet the Pharisee:
I had it all together. I had shaped myself to be the ultimate Pharisee–the Pharisees of the Pharisees. I understood the Law; I could quote whole books, forward and backward. I fasted twice a week, and tithed everything, right down to my herbs and spices. I had it all together.
And I made sure everyone saw my commitment.
I strenuously kept God’s Law. I was consumed by understanding it, I tried to grasp all its nuances and complexity. The 10 commandments were emblazoned on all that I did. I wanted everyone to know that I was one of “the pure ones,” for that was the meaning behind the word Pharisee. I knew that I was pure.
I went to the Temple every day to pray, I stood holy and set apart, standing before a real and holy God. I was always the truest example to the people of Israel. I always stood when I prayed, for I was completely committed to doing all that the Law demanded of me.
One day I saw a wicked man in God’s holy temple. I had to thank God that we were total opposites. He was a tax collector and an evil person. I really was nothing like him. I rejoiced that I had become a true example of a righteous man.
I knew I was righteous, and certainly not at all like that sinful tax collector.
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Meet the Tax Collector:
I didn’t have it all together. I understood this and was horrified that I had become so evil. I came to the Temple, driven by my guilt and shame–no one had to tell me this, for I knew my sin and I was deeply ashamed.
Why I came, I don’t know. I honestly didn’t belong here, and I kept a distance from the front. I guess that’s where I belonged. On the fringes before the Holy One. It seemed now that I was drawn to this place, and I’m still not sure why I came that day.
I knew that I breathed evil and had become evil.
I fell to my knees, and I begged God to forgive me. I saw the Pharisee standing in the presence of God, but I knew I wasn’t at all like him. He was righteous and I knew I was not. Oh, how I wanted God to forgive me for all the sins I had committed.
I must tell you that my spirit was in agony.
“Humble men are very fortunate!” he told them, “for the Kingdom of Heaven is given to them. 4 Those who mourn are fortunate! for they shall be comforted. 5 The meek and lowly are fortunate! for the whole wide world belongs to them.
Matthew 5:3-5, LB
Jesus clearly told us who was truly forgiven that day. When we think we have it all together, we’re deceiving ourselves.
Let’s not pretend otherwise, okay.
alaskabibleteacher.com
Art: Eugene Burnand, 1850-1924, litho; Scripture used here is from the Living Bible.
“They kept demanding an answer, so he stood up again and said, “All right, but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!”
(John 8:7, NLT)
“None knows the weight of another’s burden.”
-George Herbert
As believers, we must discern motives and false doctrine. We’re to be constantly aware of people and issues that swirl around us–of this, there is no doubt, we mustn’t be ignorant. This is a healthy “discernment.” But we must learn that having discernment isn’t a way that passes out a ‘guilty’ penalty. We are ‘seeing’ things these things–not to pass judgment, but that we might pray clearly and earnestly, and grow into His love for the weak.
But to pass out a guilty sentence is God’s exclusive jurisdiction.
It’s far beyond our ‘pay grade.’ He is the final judge in everything. He judges justly and lovingly. He alone knows and understands everything very clearly. We don’t.
And yet how foolish we are. Do we really have the ability to pronounce a penalty to someone else? Could it be when we decide to throw rocks at certain people we’re in terrible danger of forfeiting our own salvation? “But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” (Matt. 6:15.)
We discern, not to pass judgment, but to pray more clearly and effectively. What you see or sense is for the prayer closet, not before a judge’s bench.
(If you have a ‘rock’ in your hand, you are in definite danger.)
“Don’t judge others, or you will be judged. 2 You will be judged in the same way that you judge others, and the amount you give to others will be given to you.
We really don’t have a problem with worldly people. We understand that they are lost in their sins, terribly wrapped up in their own personal darkness, and that should definitely disturb us. We must point to the Blood of Christ that forgives us. We share the good news of true repentance and faith. His Spirit teaches us to be witnesses of His love to everyone we meet.
But in light of this, isn’t strange that almost all of our judgment is somehow directed at other believers! Why?! For some strange reason, it ‘seems,’ we think that we must pronounce guilt and (by doing so) we declare our own “holy” attitude to our place in the Body. In a weird sense, we think we have the supreme calling to condemn someone else’ walk, and by doing so exalt our own!
“The life of faith is a struggle enough in a broken world without us complicating it for other believers.”
–Jake Colsen
It just may come as a shock to some, but it’s extremely difficult to throw stones at someone when we are busy “washing” their feet.
“The nature and end of judgment or sentence must be corrective, never vindictive; it is always for healing, and never for destruction.”
–John Owen
Perhaps when we judge others, we reveal that we don’t understand what ‘real’ discipleship with Jesus is? Somehow it seems, we really aren’t quite grasping the immensity of His grace on guilty people? Do we really understand His profound love for the fallen? “God so loved the World…” Have we had any idea how patient He is with us? Do we doubt His ability to correct others? (These are awfully hard questions.)
“Judge not lest you be judged.” (Jesus’ words really do scare me sometimes.)
Certainly, I intend to confront the darkness. “You are the light, a city set on a hill!” I am His salt and light and I do shine into this dark night. But that is His doing, not mine. I do not generate light on my own. The Bible declares me as ‘self-righteous’ when I try. I am a broken person, who is just starting to understand the scope of my own brokenness and weaknesses. I’m starting to realize I’m not in a position to judge someone else. I’m not quite healed myself yet and I must not think I can point to someone else as being worse than me.
Quite simply, I can’t throw ‘rocks’ at other believers anymore.
I can no longer pass out any condemnation from my own limited understanding. My chief concern right now is to be a humble, earnest Christian who is always ready to forgive those who, in their awful sin and confusion, are hurting others. I’m beginning to see that my calling is to be; a simple servant to my brothers and sisters, nothing more, and nothing less.
“And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.”
Luke 15:20, ESV
There comes a time when the prodigal stands up–looks around, and then decides he can’t live this way anymore–it’s now time to return home. But he is no longer a ‘rich man’s son,’ the pig-pen completely crushed that idea. He returns home, thinking that at least he can be a slave.
The devastated prodigal now understands.
And it’s that which gives him the propulsion to leave the pigs behind, and begin to somehow be received by his father. The trip is a long one, lots of walking, and yes, it’s hard–he’s far from where he’s supposed to be. He is tired, ragged and worn.
But please dear one, you must understand this about Jesus’ parable–the story isn’t so much about the prodigal son, rather I think that the focus should really be on the father. Jesus is teaching us that the love of God is a searching/seeking kind of love, and it cannot be shut down, or go away over time. Not ever.
You see, it is a 24/7/365 day kind of love. Intense and constant.
Think of it like high intensity radar that steadily sweeps over extreme distances, it is always looking, seeking, and it won’t be denied. The Father is seeking for His sons and daughters. He intends to find them. If we refuse we will continue to feed pigs, over and over, and we will starve.
The Father never sits on His backside, calmly watching from His throne. He reaches out and runs to us. He is far from passive, rather He intensely yearns for His sons. And God is fully focused into the work of reclaiming His missing sons and daughters, just like in Jesus’ story.
He continues to search, even when things get really nasty for the son. He won’t give up.
I personally believe that this parable is the greatest of them all!
Jesus is explaining the deep love the Father has for prodigals like us. This story is so revealing, for in it we see that the Father who is running. We must know this about Him. We must internalize it and understand the compassion He has. If we stall in our discipleship it’s often because we don’t grip the awesome depth of His love.
There seems to be very few people who understand a God who runs.
As the prodigal hits bottom he realizes the futility of his choices and yearns to return to the forgiving embrace of his father. Overwhelmed by guilt and shame, he makes the long journey back to the home he once took for granted. Little does he know it, behind the scenes, his father has been watching, waiting, and hoping for his return.
And then, in a moment that encapsulates the beauty of unconditional love, the father catches sight of his boy from afar. Without a second thought, the father runs towards him with outstretched arms, his love insisting on forgiveness. His arms reaching through the filth.
Here we see a love that surpasses all human understanding.
Jesus teaches us a different kind of love. It’s not based on achievements or what society says. This love is given to everyone, regardless of their flaws, but in order to have it, they must leave the pigs behind. Sometimes that isn’t always easy. I hate to tell you this, but some will never make the journey home.
This profound depth of His love often leaves us feeling totally doubtful or skeptical.
Our logical minds struggle to grasp how such boundless love can exist, especially when we witness the failings and flaws of human love. Yet, it is precisely because love transcends logic that it is so powerful. It operates on a different plane, bypassing our human limitations and revealing a deeper truth about the nature of God’s infinite compassion.
We’re simply beggers telling other beggers where to find bread.
Let’s speak out boldly of this love that will transform lives. For when we approach Jesus’ parable with a bit more humility and faith, we may just catch a glimpse of its astronomical power and love that will never give up on His sons who are camouflaging themselves as pig farmers.
We shout of the love the Father has for His blundering and wayward children.
If the Church can just keep up with our running God, we will finally understand who He really is. And if we only accept the love of the Father towards prodigals—no matter what the sin—it’s then we will finally understand the ‘white-hot’ love of the Kingdom of Jesus.
And the Church will finally be doing His will in the world.
“Who makes His angels spirits and His ministers a flame of fire.”
Hebrews 1:7
Jim Elliot was a Christian missionary martyred by the Auca Indians of Ecuador in 1956. He was just 29 years old. This quote was found in a journal he kept, and it was found after his death. There’s much here to process.
“He makes His ministers a flame of fire.” Am I ignitable? God deliver me from the dread asbestos of ‘other things.’ Saturate me with the oil of the Spirit that I may be aflame. But flame is transient, often short lived. Canst thou bear this, my soul – short life? … Make me thy fuel, Flame of God.”
A wonderful and intense quote. Passionate. Maybe we should dismantle it and consider what he was trying to say. There are some great insights to be found here.
First, he writes of asking God to be saturated with the oil of the Spirit. Jim Elliot wants to be set on fire with his life, heart, and spirit becoming the fuel.
Second, he writes of “dread asbestos.” Almost 2000 degrees F is needed to melt this down. Now regarded as a carcinogen but because it’s basically fireproof it was used often. For the person walking by faith it illustrates the power of sin.
Third, he writes about the brevity and shortness of his life and his need to live in the bright light of eternity.
O.K. Let’s switch metaphors.
The ponderosa pine needs fire to propagate. Their seeds are fire-activated.
Fire activates the cone that holds the seeds. Looking we see a tight little bundle which is covered in resin. To germinate they must be burned. Fire melts the exterior and the pine cone and releases the seed; and actually they can lay dormant for several years just waiting for the heat.
The believer needs heat to grow.
I don’t think there is any other way. The Word and the Spirit, combined with the heat of the circumstances we face, creates a blaze that is often seen by others. The furnace is God’s way to bring lasting change to His people. I wish it were different.
“They said to each other, “Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?”’
Walking with Jesus to Emmaus, Luke 24:32
“Who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire? Who among us shall dwell with everlasting burnings?”
“Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom, let not the mighty man boast in his might, let not the rich man boast in his riches,”
“but let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth. For in these things I delight, declares the Lord.”
Jeremiah 9:23-24
There is bad boasting (v.23), and good boasting (v.24). When I think of someone who brags it’s almost always in a negative sense.
Boasting is one way pride becomes visible, it’s the way we exaggerate or embellish our identity. We magnify ourselves, amplifying our achievements beyond what is reality. We must understand that all it really is is arrogance on display.
There is no room for braggarts in the Church.
You cannot sanctify boasting. It is pride that we vocalize and use to influence. We want to change another person’s perspective of you. We desperately want others to admire and think better of us. Some have postulated that it really is nothing more than masking insecurity. I think they’re right.
The Word differentiates between good and bad boasting.
The book of Jeremiah (9:23-24) does precisely that. It explains that what is worldly: wisdom, strength, money– is the wrong way of seeking recognition and importance. God’s people are to declare (brag) that they are in an intimate relationship with God.
We understand, we know that we have a loving connection with the Lord.We learn we can brag about Him.
I encourage you to become aware of how you conduct yourself in front of others. We seldom think of ourselves realistically. For many of us our lives are so intertwined with the false that we struggle with what is true.
God resists pride. (James 4:6.)
Jeremiah tells us we can choose to be different. We can swivel from the negative to the positive. We must quit exalting any attainment we have and instead boast that we now know God.
No longer do we strut, but now we choose to kneel.
“Humility is to make a right estimate of one’s self.”
“He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and looked down on everyone else: 10 “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11 The Pharisee was standing and praying like this about himself: ‘God, I thank you that I’m not like other people—greedy, unrighteous, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of everything I get.’”
13 “But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even raise his eyes to heaven but kept striking his chest and saying, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner!’ 14 I tell you, this one went down to his house justified rather than the other, because everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”
He despised others. As a Pharisee he prided himself as a holy person; he stood before God and congratulated himself. I believe that self-righteousness has many levels. You can be blatant and obvious about it, or it can be subtle and hidden. But we must understand that the father sees and knows. Notice the “we all” here in Isaiah 64:6–
“We are all like one who is unclean, all our so-called righteous acts are like a menstrual rag in your sight. We all wither like a leaf; our carry us away like the wind.”
(Hmm. Is that what He sees? A menstrual rag? You got to be kidding!)
We often advance ourselves by demeaning those who struggle hard with their sin–there are those who see and somehow know that they’re superior. We don’t come out and say so; but we’ve arrived— but guess what— God (and scripture) tell us something radically different.
But we’re not dealing here with a hidden self-righteousness. The Pharisee truly believes that he is special. He stands and doesn’t kneel. He feels comfortable and confident in the holy presence of God Almighty. He’s not like the others. He is sure that he’s holy.
Look though, the tax-collector was being brutally honest.
He didn’t need anyone to tell him how sinful he was—he understood his own wickedness. Jesus’ story reveals God’s love for those who know that they’re twisted inside. Notice the heart of the tax-collector:
“He stood afar off” which showed his awareness of his separation from God.
“He wouldn’t even raise his eyes to heaven,” which declared his humility in the presence of God.
He kept “striking his chest,” which tells us of a deep pain over his sin against God.
He prayed, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner!’ This describes his desperate heart.
These both came to pray, but that is all they had in common.
The Pharisee came to the temple to show off his righteousness, the tax-collector out of a terrible despair. It strikes me that the text in verse 11 says the Pharisee “began praying to himself.” It seems that his prayer never really met God—he was proud and showy, doing the things God hates (Prov. 29:23).
Things really came obvious in verse 14. That’s the critical point of the entire story—“one went down to his house justified rather than the other.” Wow! What a statement. One professionally religious man, sure of his holiness, the other a sinful sinner, who came humble and broken. One showed off his faith—boasting with a legalistic swagger. The other desperate and desolate, completely undone.
But it was the tax-man who became righteous in the eyes of God.
Humility is the foundation of the kingdom of Jesus. In Matthew 5:3-4 makes a lot of sense—to be “poor in spirit” and to “mourn” are the bedrock of a Christian’s discipleship. To be justified (made right) was a gift. He didn’t try to earn it, and there wasn’t a probationary period. The tax-collector now became righteous; the Pharisee carried his sin.
God wants us to have a broken-heart. He rejects everything else. I suppose that the question is this:Do you mourn over your sin?
“The Lord is near the brokenhearted; he saves those crushed in spirit
God’s temple was now filled with an evil darkness. King Manasseh made the Lord’s holy place a fountain of sin and filth. Instead of holiness, it was an evil place.
He brought in dark things that were twisted, perverted and clearly forbidden.
“Manasseh led Judah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem astray, to do more evil than the nations whom the Lord destroyed before the people of Israel.”
2 Chronicles 33:9, ESV
His own darkness was now encouraged by others, it became accessible, available and promoted:
The high places were rebuilt throughout the land.
Altars to Baal rebuilt, using images of wood.
In the holy temple, altars to the “starry host,” astrology, plain and simple.
Human sacrifice of his own sons to Molech, a false god. Murder.
He practiced soothsaying, used witchcraft and sorcery, and consulted mediums and spiritists.
Evil was being encouraged and something wicked was replacing all that was good and true. The analysis of Manasseh’s policies was way beyond disturbing. Of all the kings of Judah, he was the most sinful and the most corrupt. He was at the bottom of the barrel.
The Hebrew word for “led astray” can be translated seduced.
Manasseh was an incredibly immoral man, a king who ruled for 40 years. “He did all he could to pervert the national character, and totally destroy the worship of the true God; and he succeeded.” (Clarke)
It’s believed that he put Isaiah to death by cutting him in two.
Moreover Manasseh shed very much innocent blood, till he had filled Jerusalem from one end to another, besides his sin by which he made Judah sin, in doing evil in the sight of the LORD.
1 Kings 21:16
But then something happened.
And the LORD spoke to Manasseh and his people, but they would not listen. Therefore the LORD brought upon them the captains of the army of the king of Assyria, who took Manasseh with hooks, bound him with bronze fetters, and carried him off to Babylon.
2 Chronicles 33:10-11
Assyria came knocking on Manasseh’s door. I think there was a certain mercy here, but also discipline. Manasseh had “hooks,” inserted through his jaw and out of his mouth. Like a fish he was led to Babylon, a trophy of the power of the army of Babylon.
It was from a dark dungeon that Manasseh cried out to the Lord and repented.
There’s a Jewish fable that when Manasseh cried out to God the angels boarded up the windows in heaven. They wanted to block out his prayer so God wouldn’t be able to hear. But God, rich in mercy, bored a hole in front of His throne to hear Manasseh’s desperate cry.
The Lord’s intention was to forever show His kindness and grace given to the most awful repentant sinner.
I believe that Manasseh was the “Prodigal Son” of the Old Testament.
God is not at a loss when He moves to bring us back to Himself. He can woo or whip. He can draw or drive. He can work rapidly or slowly, as He pleases. In other words, He is free to be God! And in His own way, at His own pace, He brings us back.
God is wildly in love with you. Yes, the sin you’ve committed is awful, but the Lord wants you to come back. He may discipline you, but He forgives everything if you’ll turn and repent.
No matter how awful your sin, He forgives and restores. Manasseh is proof of that.
Alaska Bible Teacher 