Number Our Days

Teach Us to Number Our Days. It is a divine ability to reckon, comprehensively and decisively, the true situation. Humanity simply cannot find the edges of its own reality, not to mention make numbered determinations upon reality. God alone can and does. “He determines the number of the stars; he gives to all of them their names” (Psa. 147:4). For us, the backstory and the future ramifications of every experience extend far beyond our line of sight in each direction. Men and women remain in the metaphysical realm as boys and girls remain in the physical realm—we simply do not know what is dangerous versus what is beneficial, what hastens death versus what fosters life. We lack the capacity to make a proper accounting of our own selves, to number our days. Left to ourselves, we fundamentally lack wisdom.

This finitude was displayed in the primordial temptation and our original sin. Satan hissed with the serpent’s forked tongue, “’For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.’ So, when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate” (Gen. 3:5-6).

By no means was it coincidental that Moses, who narrated Genesis, used some of the keywords from the Garden in a totally different light in Psalm 90:12. “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” Adam and Eve stridently reached outside of their relationship with God for the ability to determine what is good and what is evil. God is wise, and since they had a relationship with God, they had wisdom through God. Satan tempts us to lunge for knowledge and wisdom apart from God; to become autonomous.

Moses’ prayer in Psalm 90 seeks the undoing of the deed in the Garden. “Teach us to number our days,” could be translated, “Cause us to know the determined edges of our days.” Or define our days! It is an admission of incapacity. Moses cannot (and should not try to) attain this knowledge. He asks for it through a relationship with God, not instead of a relationship with God. To the same God who numbers the stars and gives them each a name, Moses approaches in terms of his own allotted time on Earth. Cause us to know that you, O Lord, have appointed our times and our seasons. Inside that relational knowledge built on faith, God causes us to enter into wisdom. By steering us into himself, God is effectively steering us into wisdom. Our search for wisdom ends with knowing Christ, just as surely as our appetite for wisdom begins with knowing “Christ, who became to us wisdom from God” (1 Cor. 1:30).

And On Earth Peace

And On Earth Peace.  An artistic competition was sponsored, goes the fable told by Berit Kjos (A Wardrobe from the King, pp. 45-46), because a patron sought but could not find the perfect picture of peace. The submissions were eager yet predictable, still two finalists emerged. “A mirror-smooth lake reflected lacy, green birches under the soft blush of the evening sky. Along the grassy shore, a flock of sheep grazed undisturbed. Surely this was the winner.” But the prize went instead to the unexpected and more complicated interpretation of peace. “A tumultuous waterfall cascaded down a rocky precipice . . . a spindly tree clung to the rocks at the edge of the falls. One of its branches reached out in front of the torrential waters as if foolishly seeking to experience its full power. A little bird had built a nest in the elbow of that branch. Content and undisturbed in her stormy surroundings, she rested on her eggs.” Rather than the absence of turmoil, peace is calm serenity inside though unaffected by the tangle of dangerous complications that swirl outside.

An often-asked question for Christmastime is: Why December 25th? The answers are eager yet predictable. Most scholars insist that the Christians invented a holiday that evolved from and intentionally coexisted with the pagan festival of Saturnalia. The sprawling Roman pantheon of gods included worship of Saturn, who was—among other things—over the winter sowing of the spring crops. In Saturn’s honor, a week of partying crowned the Roman year surrounding the Winter Solstice and Sol Invictus, when the unconquerable sun god, Helios, was reborn (so-called). During this week, disorder was celebrated as wine cellars were emptied, in a topsy-turvy reprieve from the usually strict orderliness of Roman rule. In many Roman households, a King of Mischief was mock-crowned and permitted any sort of raucous behavior. Slaves were jovially served by their masters. A pig would be sacrificed at the temple of Saturn in Rome’s Forum. Even the Emperor would sometimes wear the conical cap of a freed slave (www.history.com/topics/ancient-rome/saturnalia).

But I like to imagine a more sophisticated reason that Christmas took up the December 25th slot on the calendar, though I don’t think anyone really has any solid data as to the actual day Christ was born in Bethlehem. Like the artist’s rendition of peace nestled inside chaos, Christians celebrate how Christ’s peace invades and overcomes from within our most decadent and depraved celebrations of darkness. The juxtaposition of Christmas and Saturnalia, even if it were invented by some cleric in the Dark Ages, was genius in terms of an object lesson. Christmas didn’t attempt to bring Saturnalia to heel but looked for and found a totally different and better peace in Jesus Christ. More than the absence of social restraints, the Prince of Peace incarnates the very presence of God. Christ intentionally came to be with us, as his name Immanuel means. “For he himself is our peace” (Eph. 2:14, cf. Micah 5:5).

Great Joy

Great Joy.  The text of the Christmas Story is certainly inspired and inerrant, but it is also excellent literature. Just like in 9^th grade English class, we can see the bell-curve of a good story at Bethlehem: problem, ascending plot, conflict, resolution, descending plot, and the establishment of a new normal. The narrative of Jesus’ birth has it all, especially in terms of character development. Even the minor characters spiritually duke it out with moves and countermoves. But the blood that flowed in the massacre of the innocents at Bethlehem was not merely a literary device. Real life was lost as the true Lord of Life was born. The stark reality is this: the cost of life for Christ is death but in Christ the reward of death is life forevermore.

However, at the speed of everyday life, it may have been very difficult to tell the good guys from the bad guys because they often speak the same lines. For instance, when the wise men inquired at Jerusalem about the Messiah’s arrival they said, “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him” (Matt. 2:2). But King Herod the Great, who was famously jealous of his throne and openly murderous when it came to the struggle over who would inherit that throne, used the same words as the wise men. “Go and search diligently for the child, and when you have found him, bring me word, that I too may come and worship him” (Matt. 2:8).

The similarity between the wise men and the evil king ended there at the surface level. Both said worship, but one used worship only as a disguise to cover up his malicious intent. The inner quality of each character was not found in their vocabulary, but in their response to the Infant King. “When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy. And going into the house they saw the child with Mary, his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh” (Matt. 2:10-11). Contrast their response with Herod’s reaction. “Then Herod, when he saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, became furious, and he sent and killed all the male children in Bethlehem and in all that region who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had ascertained from the wise men” (Matt. 2:16).

The visible difference was their joy. Herod has no joy, only fury. “Thus you will recognize them by their fruits” (Matt. 7:20). The pattern continues today with moves and countermoves. Many may sing, “Joy to the world the Lord has come,” but only some will fall down and worship him.

Love

Love.  The common sequence of the weeks of Advent flows from hope (week 1) to love (week 2), joy (week 3), and peace (week 4). While there is nothing compulsory or even biblical about the order of our celebrating, the rhythm of Advent is satisfying, like a steady beat laid down by a skillful drummer. Hope anticipates Christ. Love receives Christ. Joy exudes Christ. Peace overflows Christ. This week is love.

Not often thought of in the context of Christmastime, 1 Corinthians 13 is very incarnational, and so very Christmassy. By making the invisible God (John 4:24) visible, Jesus makes the unfathomable God (Rom. 11:33) fathomable, which is to say: knowable, relatable, and accessible. We have never seen God’s love, and therefore never known God’s love, apart from Jesus’ incarnation. “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14). “No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father's side, he has made him known” (John 1:18).

Jesus puts skin on love in the church just like Jesus put skin on God in the world. In that vein, 1 Corinthians 13 is secondarily incarnational. When the church—through Christ—loves one another, we make the now-ascended Lord Jesus knowable, relatable, and accessible in our communities. Locally, we put skin on the one who, universally, put skin on God. We, like Jesus but infinitely less than Jesus, incarnate the invisible qualities of the gospel in our relationships.

Therefore, that which we sometimes refer to as the Love Chapter, 1 Corinthians 13, is an excellent Christmastime passage. Not only is it filled at the center with love (vv. 4-8), but it is also bracketed front-to-back by the love of Christ (vv. 1, 13). Listen to its pulse as an extension of the incarnation of Christ. “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends” (1 Cor. 13:4-8). Inside the sphere of interpersonal relationships, love skillfully says, “Merry Christmas!” all year long. “We love because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19).