storiesofvalue

Can We Really See God? 

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God”.  Jesus said it, therefore it must be true.  But what about those other verses in the Bible that seems to suggest seeing God is not such a good idea?  In particular are God’s words to Moses in Exodus 33:20 when He said, “you cannot see my face, for no one can see me and live.”

I vividly remember as a kid being terrified at the prospect of seeing God.  There were two things I knew I should never do: stare at the sun and look into the face of God.  How or when I thought I might encounter God’s face, I have no clue, but I was ready to cover my eyes should it happen.

Yet, according to the scriptures there are those who saw God’s face and lived to talk about it.  Among them are Abraham (Genesis 17:1), Moses, Aaron, Nadab and Abihu and seventy elders of Israel (Exodus 24:9-11).  So which is it?  Can we, or should we see the face of God, or not?

In the case of Jesus’ Beatitude, we could view seeing God as an eschatological event.  If we have been washed clean by the blood of Calvary, and if the Holy Spirit is working in us daily to transform us into the image of Christ, we will be pleased to see God’s face at the end of time.  We will have been changed from our earthly state and will have no fear of death.  But even if we accept this interpretation it still doesn’t resolve statements that appear to conflict in the Old Testament.

Some say no one on earth has actually seen God in a natural way.  Instead, He has appeared to them in vision and dreams, or they have been caught up in some intermediate state between heaven and earth.  This reasoning works for some God sightings, but certainly not the one in Exodus 24 where Moses and his associates appear to be very much awake on earth, eating and drinking together.

Perhaps the best answer rests in something Jesus said in John 6:46: “No one has seen the Father except the one who is from God; only he has seen the Father”.  If no one but Jesus has seen the Father, then who did they see?  How could they see God, but not see the Father?  One possible answer is that Old Testament servants saw Jesus before His incarnation.  In the Upper Room Jesus told His disciples, “Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:9).  To see Jesus is to see the Father, but the unique quality of Jesus in His role as Mediator allows humans to see Him and live.

Yesterday… The fact that Jesus told His disciples to be like children so they could enter the kingdom of God presupposes the possibility.  But how does it happen?  How can someone who has been stained by sin be clean again?

The Bible talks about two kinds of cleansing; one an event with ongoing implications and the other a process.  The event is the washing away of our sins through the blood of Jesus.  In 1 John 1:7 the apostle John writes, “But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin” (1 John 1:7).  Jesus cleanses our hearts from sin, and continues to keep us in a state of grace until we reach the end of our journey.

The second cleansing, a process, is known as sanctification.  Simply put, sanctification is the means by which Christ reverses the effects of sin in our lives and returns us to a place of personal peace and purity.  His daily flow of grace restores us to spiritual health.  In this way we become like little children again.

When we become like children, we don’t lose the wisdom we have gained in life, and we don’t forget the difficult lessons we have learned along the way.  We wouldn’t want to.  Our memory of Satan’s crimes helps us appreciate the Lord’s renewal, and we are able to offer hope to others by sharing our testimony.  As we share, we will discover many of the people who need grace already have a childlike attitude, regardless of whether or not their hearts have been sprinkled clean.  The trials of life have forced them to their knees and they are waiting eagerly for someone to show them the way.

Made Pure Again

Once while Jesus was teaching, some people brought little children to Him to receive a blessing.  The disciples rebuked them.  After all, the Savior was much too busy for children!  Then Jesus rebuked the disciples.  He said, “I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it” (Mark 10:15).

The likeness of a little child has generally been associated with a pure heart.  Children don’t have the baggage adults have and they are often able to understand eternal truths with astonishing clarity and simplicity.  The prayers of a three year-old can be as theologically sound as that of a sixty-three year old, and what they lack in vocabulary they make up in passion.  One prays for the neighborhood cat and the other for world peace, but God hears them both.

Children are a great example, but it is important that we not think they are the only ones with pure hearts.  A child’s heart is pure because it is unpolluted by the world, but what has become polluted can be made clean again.

Suppose you lived in the mountains and a clear stream ran by your home.  The stream was so pure you could drink from it, and in the warm summer months you loved wading in it barefoot.  Then, one year the spring rains failed to come and the stream ran low.  It became blocked by twigs and leaves, and the marshy silt where the water once flowed emitted a putrid odor.  It was disgusting!

But the rains came at last.  They fell relentlessly, producing a torrent in the stream basin.  The rushing water washed the twigs and leaves away and cleansed the silt.  When the rain stopped, you kicked off your shoes and waded in where the clear, cool water rushed past your ankles.  That which was pure, and had become stagnant, was made pure again.

The fact that Jesus told His disciples to be like children so they could enter the kingdom of God presupposes the possibility.  But how does it happen?  How can someone who has been stained by sin be clean again?  (we find out tomorrow…)

We Can Make a Difference

There is an obvious “if-then” aspect to Jesus’ mercy Beatitude.  It is hard to miss this lesson in the parable of the two servants.  The flow of mercy into my life is connected to it flow out of my life.  I am not certain how God weighs the mercy He shows me against the mercy I show others, but I suspect He is not as concerned about a point for point scorecard as He is the condition of my heart.

But I close our time with this Beatitude with an additional perspective.  If we can only give what we have received then Jesus’ teaching is as much about our endless resource of mercy as it is about our actions.  We should never run out of mercy because God’s supply is infinite.  There are times in our lives when it is difficult to show mercy because those who need it most have hurt us deeply.  It is also hard to be merciful toward those who are struggling as a result of their own irresponsible behavior.  In these cases mercy must sometimes be tempered with tough love and the establishment of boundaries, but it is necessary just the same.

When you are required to share mercy where mercy isn’t deserved, remember this: the inherent nature of mercy presumes something is undeserved.  Perhaps you remember the words of the Apostle Paul when he wrote, “You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly.  Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die.  But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:6-8).

“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.”  What has God shown you?

But I Need Definition!

It is one thing to say we should not quantify and qualify mercy, but much harder to avoid the practice.  After all, everything needs definition or structure, and mercy is no different.   How else do we know when we have shown it, or not?

At the risk of relying too heavily on the parable of the two servants, I am convinced the answer can be found there.  Just as the first servant’s compartmentalizing shows us how we separate grace received from grace shown, the actions of the king provide the  positive alternative.  I believe the key rests in the fact the first servant’s debt was so great it could not possibly have been forgiven.  

 I have tried to formulate scenarios in which a servant could have racked up a debt of 10,000 talents.  The only one I find plausible is something similar to George Bailey’s unfortunate circumstances in the Christmas classic “It’s a Wonderful Life”, where his bookkeeper lost a large deposit and brought his business to the brink of disaster.  Perhaps the servant was in charge of the king’s treasury and allowed it to fall into the hands of thieves.  But an amount in the billions of dollars would be an epic heist, and it is doubtful that much money would be entrusted to one servant.

Instead, I find this principle: The quantity lost by the servant was unfathomable and the quality of the king’s mercy was unconditional.  Therefore, the mercy we show others should extend to wrongs that cannot possibly be paid back and our kindness should reflect the absolute grace of God.  This makes Jesus’ mercy Beatitude less of an equation and more of an attachment to God’s heart.  Luke reveals this truth in his record of Jesus’ words, “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful (Luke 6:36 NIV).”

This is the final and ultimate definition.  The only way to truly be merciful is to study the mercy of God and emulate Him.  We will never do this perfectly, but at least we have a principle that can be learned.  If we want to show more mercy we must learn more about God’s mercy.  This is the mistake the first servant made.  He failed to learn from the king, compartmentalized his life, and as a result lost his opportunity to change his world.  We have the opportunity to choose a better way.

Mercy or Sacrifice? 

In many ways, we have a fortunate perspective when it comes to Jesus’ teaching on mercy.  Unlike those who followed Him throughout His ministry, we have almost two thousand years of reflection on the cross.  We possess the biographical and theological words of the apostles in scripture, and centuries of thought shared by some of the greatest minds in history.  But this doesn’t mean we are less prone to put form over spirit and miss the heart of God on this subject.  I fear we are more like the second servant in Jesus’ parable at times than we would like to admit.  How?

The second servant had a serious case of compartmentalization in his life.  We all compartmentalize.  Without this God-given ability it would be impossible for us to function and focus in the midst of trouble.  The catch comes when we fail to recognize how an event in one arena of our lives should influence how we behave in another.  It is easy to become arrogant in our successes and lose sight of those who have supported us along the way, or even in the way.  We have all met people who warm up to us when they need us and ignore us after they get what they want.  I have talked with husbands and wives who tell me they have “outgrown” their spouses.  I can’t help but think, “Really?  You have outgrown the one to whom you have committed your life and without whom you would not have succeeded?”

People who think they will be justified by their much sacrifice are compartmentalizers.  They pick and choose the kind acts for which they believe they should be recognized by God and they don’t want to be saddled with responsibilities that might keep them from reaching their goals.  The merciful, on the other hand, live in the shadow of the cross.  They are convinced their hopes and dreams are tied to Jesus’ willingness to set them free from sin.  When they sense a need for mercy they take on the role of ambassador, carefully administrating the grace they first received from God.  Merciful people make plenty of sacrifices, but only because they are necessary to express the heart of God in a difficult circumstance.

It is possible to keep the Law and miss mercy.  This was God’s message through Hosea and the principle Jesus attempted to apply throughout His ministry.  There was nothing wrong with the Law, but it could not offer grace.  It provided the backdrop against which the meaning of Jesus’ death on the cross could be understood, but it could not save.  Many thought otherwise.  The Pharisees believed they could be made just through a strict adherence to the Law.  Jesus portrayed their kind in His Parable of the Good Samaritan in which two spiritual leaders left a man to die because they wanted to preserve their ceremonial purity.

In truth, the Law as given by God was a Law of mercy.  It instructed Israel in matters of civil peace, justice and hospitality.  Unfortunately, any time humans use a moral code to justify themselves, the form of the Law overshadows its spirit.  Sacrifice is the form.  A heart of humility, bent on loving God and honoring Him in everything is the spirit.

Maybe Jesus’ parable about the two servants is beginning to make even more sense to you now.  The king wasn’t required under the law to forgive, but out of mercy he absorbed the enormous sum owned by the first servant. The first servant could require the second servant to repay him, under the law, and when he was unable he was treated harshly.  The king honored the spirit of the law while the first servant used its form for his own selfish ambition.  The parable seems horribly unfair, but there are aspects of it that come much too close to home.

Mercy and the Law 

Our perception of mercy changes when we see it in relation to an official moral code.  There are, of course, unofficial codes or social mores.  For example, the notion of a “mercy killing” suggests we are justified in killing a living being to relieve it of some misery.  In the violent venues of war and vigilante justice, an enemy might claim the virtue of mercy by killing his captives quickly instead of subjecting them to torture.

But for mercy to have a sound definition, it must be held against a true standard.  When a judge shows mercy in sentencing a convicted criminal his grace is apparent because others know it could have been worse.  Therefore, when we talk of God’s mercy, we aren’t tossing out His Law, but rather referring to an act by which the Law is satisfied.  Confused?  Stick with me.

The Law of God was satisfied when Jesus died at Calvary.  He paid our debt of sin, making it possible for us to be justified through faith.  Perhaps it has already occurred to you how this free gift is different from an earthly judge who reduces a sentence.  God, in His mercy, didn’t just reduce the penalty.  Instead, He completely erased it with His Son’s own blood.

This brings us to the heart of Jesus’ Beatitude.  We will receive mercy, even as we show mercy, but the mercy we receive from God is greater than anything we could possibly hope to share.  To compensate for our weakness, the Spirit of God touches our hearts and moves us to love as He has loved.  When Jesus heard the Pharisees and teachers of the law criticize His attendance at Levi’s party, He said, “But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners (Matthew 9:13).  We must learn the meaning of this passage, borrowed from Hosea 6:6, if we hope to exemplify the mercy of God.

From Friday: “But there’s more.  I draw on this event when someone younger than I am makes a mistake that creates a problem in my life.  I would be lying if I said I am always forgiving and gracious.  Yet, I remember.  Mercy works this way.  Fear, sorrow and relief leave an impression on our hearts and it is difficult to seek revenge on others for foolish acts when we know we have been guilty of the same.  “Lord, how many times must I forgive?”  If we stay stuck on this question we are missing Jesus’ point.”

As humans, it is hard for us to avoid the temptation to quantify and qualify our relationships with others.  In the case just mentioned, Peter wanted to know “how many.”  One of Jesus’ most famous parables was told in response to a lawyer’s question, “And who is my neighbor.”  Jesus answered with the story of a Good Samaritan who showed mercy toward a dying man (Matthew 10:25-37).

“How many” or “Who?” are irrelevant in the presence of the God who loved the whole world and offered salvation to “whoever believes” (John 3:16).  Yet, this was one of the most difficult realities for those who followed Jesus’ ministry to grasp.  The Pharisees and teachers of the law loathed Jesus’ attendance at a party thrown by Levi (Matthew).  They wanted to know why Jesus was eating with sinners and tax collectors. (Luke 5:30)  James and John wanted to call fire down from heaven to destroy a Samaritan village when its residents turned Jesus away (Luke 9:54).  The Samaritans rejected Jesus because He was on His way to Jerusalem,  I wonder if they would have treated Him differently had they known they would be the good guys in the parable of the Good Samaritan.  Jesus didn’t care how many times people needed to be forgiven, or who they were, but He certainly found Himself in constant trouble with those who did.

We shouldn’t be too harsh with those who seemed consumed with such things.  In Jesus’ day it was nearly impossible for people to administer mercy unless they had an official score sheet.  Jesus used this social norm as a jumping off place for His teaching on the subject: “You have heard that it was said, ‘eye for eye and tooth for tooth’” (Matthew 5:38).  This directive had been God’s way of making sure His people didn’t go overboard when exacting justice (Exodus 21:24).  But to Jesus’ dismay, a principle intended to govern retaliation had turned into a permission slip to seek revenge.

It would also be dishonest of us to pretend this was merely a first-century problem.  The modern proliferation of television court trial shows is just one reminder we have not come very far in our ability to resolve our differences with civility.  It is important that we realize mercy is not a willingness to live within the law when we would like to surpass it.  In fact, it is about the law.  To understand how, we need to delve deeper into the mercy God poured out on all of us at Calvary.

How do we define mercy, and do our motives for sharing it matter?  Technically, mercy is an expression of kindness or grace to those who deserve otherwise.  Years ago I braked on a wet road and slid into a car that had slowed down to cross a rough railroad crossing.  When our bumpers collided I saw the older couple in the car I hit lurch forward and bounce back into their seats.  I rushed to see if they were alright and the husband slowly exited his car and walked back to survey the damage without saying a word.  Fortunately, those were the days of huge rubber bumpers and incredibly both of our vehicles were unscathed.  I apologized profusely and braced myself for a barrage of angry words.  But they never came.  The husband said, “That’s alright.  There doesn’t seem to be any damage and we’re alright.  Just remember to be more careful when the roads are wet.”  Surely you will understand why I hugged him, and thanked him before returning to my car.  I didn’t deserve this act of kindness, but I received it gladly and to this day remember it when I catch myself following too closely on a wet roadway.

I have often wondered why the man in the other car was so gracious.  Was the accident less serious than I first thought?  I don’t think so.  The car I hit skidded at least two feet on impact.  Was the couple in the car afraid of reporting an accident to their insurance company, fearing it might hurt their status in their advancing age?  Or could it be the husband remembered when someone showed him mercy, and sensing my sincere remorse decided to give me a break?  I will never know.

But there’s more.  I draw on this event when someone younger than I am makes a mistake that creates a problem in my life.  I would be lying if I said I am always forgiving and gracious.  Yet, I remember.  Mercy works this way.  Fear, sorrow and relief leave an impression on our hearts and it is difficult to seek revenge on others for foolish acts when we know we have been guilty of the same.  “Lord, how many times must I forgive?”  If we stay stuck on this question we are missing Jesus’ point.