I've learned something about myself.
When I'm in the middle of a semester, I feel less compulsion to write blog posts because I already have an outlet. My students — like it or not — get to hear what I'm thinking about.
Add to that three women's retreats in the space of a single month, and you'll understand why a month has passed since my latest post. I haven't run out of things to say. It's just that I've already said them. In person. It's been a rich season, full of the joy of rekindled friendships and growing momentum in the classroom, but rather breathless.
Last night I turned a corner. After the big push to get three kids settled in three different schools (elementary, middle, and high school), get into the groove with my own classes, and meet a publishing deadline, I'm coming up for air. Yesterday I had lunch with a student and felt the freedom to stop and chat with colleagues. Last night I ordered a magazine, did a load of dishes, dusted our bedroom, and looked for a new medical provider online. I caught up on old emails and started strategizing about the next major thing on my calendar: a trip to San Antonio for academic meetings (IBR and SBL). I can't even tell you how good that feels.
They say that class prep will take as much time as you give it. And that's true. My pattern has been to start with prep and let the rest of my to-do list fill in the cracks. But I'm learning that I might be better off doing things the other way around. At the very least, I need to get better at self-care. It's been over 5 years since I've seen a doctor (my kids are all in the same boat!). There's just never enough time. That needs to change.
Breathing feels good. I hope to keep doing so regularly.
Thursday, October 13, 2016
coming up for air
Dr. Carmen Imes is the Associate Professor of Old Testament at Biola University in La Mirada, CA, and serves the broader church through teaching, speaking, writing, and creating YouTube videos. She earned a PhD in Biblical Theology (Old Testament) from Wheaton College under Dr. Daniel Block, an MA in Biblical Studies from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary (Charlotte), and a BA in Bible and Theology from Multnomah University. She and her husband, Daniel, served as missionaries with SIM 15 years. They have three children: Ana, Emma, and Easton.
Sunday, September 11, 2016
9/11 and Biblical Prophecy
Fifteen years ago today I woke up in Aurora, Oregon to the phone ringing. Oma was down for a brief visit on her way to California. Eliana was less than 6 months old.
It was Dad. "Turn on the TV," he said. "A plane just hit a building."
I was puzzled. Planes crash several times a year, but this was the first time Dad had called us to turn on the news. I was thinking, "That's sad, but is it sad enough to wake me up early?"
Then, gathered around the TV, we saw that it wasn't just any building. To see the New York skyline like that, with billows of smoke pouring out, we began to wonder. "Could this have been an accident?" It seemed that to hit the World Trade Center one would have to be . . . trying. We shuddered at the thought.
The minutes ticked by and we watched live footage of the panic, as everyone but first responders raced away from the scene.
Then, the unthinkable. We watched on live television as the second plane hit the second tower. We gasped. A sickening feeling gripped us. Horror hung in the air like the smoke now billowing from both towers. It was obvious now:
This was deliberate.
This was coordinated.
Whoever it was was attacking America.
Where would they strike next?
The answer came as the morning unfolded. Long minutes stretched by as we sat, our eyes glued to the screen.
Within 30 minutes, a plane crashes into the side of the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. Danny's mom is there in D.C. for work. We call her. She's close enough to see the smoke from her hotel window.
Another 20 minutes pass. Suddenly, the already unthinkable tragedy grows sickeningly worse: the South Tower of the World Trade Center is swallowed up by the ground before our very eyes. We watch live as it simply vanishes, leaving great billows of grey smoke.
Less than 10 minutes later Flight 93 crashes into a Pennsylvania field, killing everyone on board. While the story takes time to decipher, it is clear that this plane was headed to the White House.
Twenty minutes later the North Tower collapses into itself, leaving an aching emptiness in the New York skyline and in the hearts of every American.
"The worst day" was a barrage on our senses. It stretched credulity. We were living an apocalyptic nightmare. Oma was supposed to leave that morning to drive herself to southern California. I remember our fear -- where will they strike next? We urged her to stay another day, to wait things out and see whether it was safe. She opted to go. At 81, she had lived through WW2 and felt it was no good to sit around, anxiously waiting. She had a life to live. And so she went.
9/11 shaped us as a nation. Far from defeat, we rallied as a country and experienced unity and a singleness of purpose like never before in my lifetime. Prayer services were packed. All of us cried out to God with our grief, our questions, our hopes. Our national resolve was strong to prevent future terror attacks and eliminate their sources.
This reminds me of the Old Testament prophets.
Many people find it hard to connect with the biblical prophets because of the great gaps that separate us -- geographically, chronologically, and culturally. We're a long way from ancient Israel and Judah. We understand little about the historical and political challenges they faced. Our respective cultures are vastly different.
However, we have something in common that can help us bridge that gap. We have 9/11.
The Old Testament prophets were God's spokesmen to their own generation. They pointed out the failure of the covenant people of Israel and Judah to walk faithfully with their God, Yahweh. They announced the judgement that God had planned. And they spoke of the restoration, God's vision for a future in which divine blessings would again flow through the land.
How does this relate to 9/11? The devastation felt by the people of the northern kingdom of Israel in the exile of 722 BC and the southern kingdom of Judah in the exile of 586 BC mirrors the devastation of Ground Zero, only worse. For the people of Israel and Judah, Palestine was not only home, but it was the only home possible. God had promised it to them. It was the physical proof of their covenant relationship. When the Assyrians bore down on the Northern Kingdom and dragged the Israelites into exile, those ten tribes dissolved into the sands of history. Like the South Tower, at least 500 years of national history was swallowed alive. When the Babylonians gained the upper hand and attacked Judah in 586 BC, they decimated the temple in which God had promised to be present and the city in which God had appointed David and his descendants to rule. Exile brought an abrupt end to proper worship, legitimate kingship, and to the nationhood of God's people.
Where was God anyway?
How could God have allowed these things to happen to his own people?
Have God's promises been annihilated?
Has the covenant come to an end?
What does it look like to be God's faithful followers when everything we know has changed?
How can we sing the songs of Zion in a foreign land? (Ps 137)
If we can remember how we felt on 9/11, how we were shaken as a nation and how we grieved and feared and raged and sat stunned, then we're in a position to identify with the ancient people of Israel and Judah. The prophets addressed them shortly before, during, and after the exile, when they were wrestling deeply with the meaning of the events that played out around them.
God's word to them continues to speak powerfully today — to any of us who identify ourselves as disciples of Jesus, and who are therefore members of the (re)new(ed) covenant. The prophets reveal to us the devastating consequences of unfaithfulness and God's glorious vision for restoration.
My children do not remember 9/11. Our oldest was just a baby, and the others were just a gleam in my eye. This morning we watched a video together so that they could see what I saw on that fateful morning, and so that we could wrestle together with the way it shaped our nation. My children may not have experienced 9/11, but they cannot afford to ignore it. It's part of who we are.
The same is true with all of us who claim allegiance to Jesus. We can't afford to neglect the message of the prophets, because they address the people of God at one of the most devastating and pivotal times in our history. Their story is our story. We must listen and learn.
It was Dad. "Turn on the TV," he said. "A plane just hit a building."
I was puzzled. Planes crash several times a year, but this was the first time Dad had called us to turn on the news. I was thinking, "That's sad, but is it sad enough to wake me up early?"
Then, gathered around the TV, we saw that it wasn't just any building. To see the New York skyline like that, with billows of smoke pouring out, we began to wonder. "Could this have been an accident?" It seemed that to hit the World Trade Center one would have to be . . . trying. We shuddered at the thought.
The minutes ticked by and we watched live footage of the panic, as everyone but first responders raced away from the scene.
 |
| 9/11 Photo (Source: https://metro.co.uk/2015/11/21/man-shot-in-paris-attacks- had-also-survived-911-5517199/ |
This was deliberate.
This was coordinated.
Whoever it was was attacking America.
Where would they strike next?
The answer came as the morning unfolded. Long minutes stretched by as we sat, our eyes glued to the screen.
Within 30 minutes, a plane crashes into the side of the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. Danny's mom is there in D.C. for work. We call her. She's close enough to see the smoke from her hotel window.
Another 20 minutes pass. Suddenly, the already unthinkable tragedy grows sickeningly worse: the South Tower of the World Trade Center is swallowed up by the ground before our very eyes. We watch live as it simply vanishes, leaving great billows of grey smoke.
Less than 10 minutes later Flight 93 crashes into a Pennsylvania field, killing everyone on board. While the story takes time to decipher, it is clear that this plane was headed to the White House.
Twenty minutes later the North Tower collapses into itself, leaving an aching emptiness in the New York skyline and in the hearts of every American.
"The worst day" was a barrage on our senses. It stretched credulity. We were living an apocalyptic nightmare. Oma was supposed to leave that morning to drive herself to southern California. I remember our fear -- where will they strike next? We urged her to stay another day, to wait things out and see whether it was safe. She opted to go. At 81, she had lived through WW2 and felt it was no good to sit around, anxiously waiting. She had a life to live. And so she went.
9/11 shaped us as a nation. Far from defeat, we rallied as a country and experienced unity and a singleness of purpose like never before in my lifetime. Prayer services were packed. All of us cried out to God with our grief, our questions, our hopes. Our national resolve was strong to prevent future terror attacks and eliminate their sources.
This reminds me of the Old Testament prophets.
Many people find it hard to connect with the biblical prophets because of the great gaps that separate us -- geographically, chronologically, and culturally. We're a long way from ancient Israel and Judah. We understand little about the historical and political challenges they faced. Our respective cultures are vastly different.
However, we have something in common that can help us bridge that gap. We have 9/11.
The Old Testament prophets were God's spokesmen to their own generation. They pointed out the failure of the covenant people of Israel and Judah to walk faithfully with their God, Yahweh. They announced the judgement that God had planned. And they spoke of the restoration, God's vision for a future in which divine blessings would again flow through the land.
How does this relate to 9/11? The devastation felt by the people of the northern kingdom of Israel in the exile of 722 BC and the southern kingdom of Judah in the exile of 586 BC mirrors the devastation of Ground Zero, only worse. For the people of Israel and Judah, Palestine was not only home, but it was the only home possible. God had promised it to them. It was the physical proof of their covenant relationship. When the Assyrians bore down on the Northern Kingdom and dragged the Israelites into exile, those ten tribes dissolved into the sands of history. Like the South Tower, at least 500 years of national history was swallowed alive. When the Babylonians gained the upper hand and attacked Judah in 586 BC, they decimated the temple in which God had promised to be present and the city in which God had appointed David and his descendants to rule. Exile brought an abrupt end to proper worship, legitimate kingship, and to the nationhood of God's people.
Where was God anyway?
How could God have allowed these things to happen to his own people?
Have God's promises been annihilated?
Has the covenant come to an end?
What does it look like to be God's faithful followers when everything we know has changed?
How can we sing the songs of Zion in a foreign land? (Ps 137)
If we can remember how we felt on 9/11, how we were shaken as a nation and how we grieved and feared and raged and sat stunned, then we're in a position to identify with the ancient people of Israel and Judah. The prophets addressed them shortly before, during, and after the exile, when they were wrestling deeply with the meaning of the events that played out around them.
God's word to them continues to speak powerfully today — to any of us who identify ourselves as disciples of Jesus, and who are therefore members of the (re)new(ed) covenant. The prophets reveal to us the devastating consequences of unfaithfulness and God's glorious vision for restoration.
My children do not remember 9/11. Our oldest was just a baby, and the others were just a gleam in my eye. This morning we watched a video together so that they could see what I saw on that fateful morning, and so that we could wrestle together with the way it shaped our nation. My children may not have experienced 9/11, but they cannot afford to ignore it. It's part of who we are.
The same is true with all of us who claim allegiance to Jesus. We can't afford to neglect the message of the prophets, because they address the people of God at one of the most devastating and pivotal times in our history. Their story is our story. We must listen and learn.
Dr. Carmen Imes is the Associate Professor of Old Testament at Biola University in La Mirada, CA, and serves the broader church through teaching, speaking, writing, and creating YouTube videos. She earned a PhD in Biblical Theology (Old Testament) from Wheaton College under Dr. Daniel Block, an MA in Biblical Studies from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary (Charlotte), and a BA in Bible and Theology from Multnomah University. She and her husband, Daniel, served as missionaries with SIM 15 years. They have three children: Ana, Emma, and Easton.
Thursday, September 8, 2016
a college student's back-to-school prayer
Thank you, Lord,
for a new semester.
Thank you for providing the means for me to study
in a community of fellow learners.
Sharpen my mind,
so that I can learn to think clearly and critically.
Melt my resistance
to new ideas that are good and right and true.
Calm my anxiety,
as I face an overwhelming list of assignments to complete.
Banish fear
so that I can embrace the task of learning with joy.
Help me to take one day at a time.
Open my heart
to those around me,
so that I can form deeper friendships.
Make me a blessing
to my fellow students
and to the faculty and staff who serve us.
Create here a community
in which transformation can take place
together.
Equip us
to carry out the work you have planned
for us to do.
Above all, may we glorify you
through all we say and do this semester.
For the honor of your name,
Amen.
for a new semester.
Thank you for providing the means for me to study
in a community of fellow learners.
Sharpen my mind,
so that I can learn to think clearly and critically.
Melt my resistance
to new ideas that are good and right and true.
Calm my anxiety,
as I face an overwhelming list of assignments to complete.
Banish fear
so that I can embrace the task of learning with joy.
Help me to take one day at a time.
Open my heart
to those around me,
so that I can form deeper friendships.
Make me a blessing
to my fellow students
and to the faculty and staff who serve us.
Create here a community
in which transformation can take place
together.
Equip us
to carry out the work you have planned
for us to do.
Above all, may we glorify you
through all we say and do this semester.
For the honor of your name,
Amen.
Dr. Carmen Imes is the Associate Professor of Old Testament at Biola University in La Mirada, CA, and serves the broader church through teaching, speaking, writing, and creating YouTube videos. She earned a PhD in Biblical Theology (Old Testament) from Wheaton College under Dr. Daniel Block, an MA in Biblical Studies from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary (Charlotte), and a BA in Bible and Theology from Multnomah University. She and her husband, Daniel, served as missionaries with SIM 15 years. They have three children: Ana, Emma, and Easton.
Sunday, September 4, 2016
encountering the light of Christ
When you enter the doors of a new church, anything could happen. Churches with dwindling numbers are often surprised to see a new face, as the greeters were this morning to see me. But their warmth made me feel right at home.
A single ring of chairs stood empty around the center microphone on the circular platform, expectant. A Steinway occupied the far end of the circle, its melodies soaring to fill the sanctuary and encircling all of us.
Pews faced the middle. I sat in the second row, waiting, observing. I was early. In time, others came and found seats in the first few rows. I knew no one. I had been invited by the son-in-law of a member to speak during the Sunday school hour. That was my only earthly connection.
A pamphlet in the pew back explained how a Quaker-style service works. Quakers embrace silence as they embrace each other, welcoming the opportunity to listen and learn from the spirit of Christ in their midst. The unprogrammed quiet is a soothing balm in a hurried life.
A man rolled in on a motorized wheelchair, making his way to the front to greet another worshipper, and then me. Jerry refused to let his disability cripple his contribution to the warmth of the community. (I learned later that he was relatively new himself, and that the man he greeted was there for only the second time. Signs of life.)
As the service unfolded, I gathered that this was a grieving community, searching for direction, wondering how to respond faithfully to a series of events that left most of their pews empty. I wondered, then, if I should scrap my seminar on 'Understanding Biblical Prophecy' and speak instead about lament, or about how to be rooted in the face of life's storms (Psalm 1–2). How does one walk into a community and speak without first listening long? first loving and hearing?
In those quiet moments, I asked the Lord to guide me. By the time I reached the classroom after the service, I knew I should stick with my original topic and trust that God had guided my preparation. I suspected (rightly, I'm told) that Quakers typically camp out in the Gospels. That was my bridge to the prophets. How can one possibly understand the richness of the Gospels without an understanding of the Old Testament prophets? Spontaneously, I began in John 9, linking Jesus' miracle to Isaiah's commission in chapter 6. Then we moved into Isaiah 7 to examine verse 14, always a Christmas favorite. Both passages illustrate the value of reading the text closely for its historical, literary, and theological dimensions. They also illustrate the inherent dangers when we don't.
The hour flew by, followed by several follow-up conversations and a long lunch. I returned home with a full heart, grateful for the privilege of fellowship with other Christ-followers and grateful that I have the most wonderful subject matter in the world to teach -- God's Word -- which truly does not return void.
Encounters like this one are not accidental. God uses each personal connection in some way as we spur one another on to love and good deeds. A Quaker might say that the light of Christ within each of us illuminates the community as we gather. I'd say that pretty well sums up what happened today!
A single ring of chairs stood empty around the center microphone on the circular platform, expectant. A Steinway occupied the far end of the circle, its melodies soaring to fill the sanctuary and encircling all of us.
Pews faced the middle. I sat in the second row, waiting, observing. I was early. In time, others came and found seats in the first few rows. I knew no one. I had been invited by the son-in-law of a member to speak during the Sunday school hour. That was my only earthly connection.
A pamphlet in the pew back explained how a Quaker-style service works. Quakers embrace silence as they embrace each other, welcoming the opportunity to listen and learn from the spirit of Christ in their midst. The unprogrammed quiet is a soothing balm in a hurried life.
A man rolled in on a motorized wheelchair, making his way to the front to greet another worshipper, and then me. Jerry refused to let his disability cripple his contribution to the warmth of the community. (I learned later that he was relatively new himself, and that the man he greeted was there for only the second time. Signs of life.)
As the service unfolded, I gathered that this was a grieving community, searching for direction, wondering how to respond faithfully to a series of events that left most of their pews empty. I wondered, then, if I should scrap my seminar on 'Understanding Biblical Prophecy' and speak instead about lament, or about how to be rooted in the face of life's storms (Psalm 1–2). How does one walk into a community and speak without first listening long? first loving and hearing?
In those quiet moments, I asked the Lord to guide me. By the time I reached the classroom after the service, I knew I should stick with my original topic and trust that God had guided my preparation. I suspected (rightly, I'm told) that Quakers typically camp out in the Gospels. That was my bridge to the prophets. How can one possibly understand the richness of the Gospels without an understanding of the Old Testament prophets? Spontaneously, I began in John 9, linking Jesus' miracle to Isaiah's commission in chapter 6. Then we moved into Isaiah 7 to examine verse 14, always a Christmas favorite. Both passages illustrate the value of reading the text closely for its historical, literary, and theological dimensions. They also illustrate the inherent dangers when we don't.
The hour flew by, followed by several follow-up conversations and a long lunch. I returned home with a full heart, grateful for the privilege of fellowship with other Christ-followers and grateful that I have the most wonderful subject matter in the world to teach -- God's Word -- which truly does not return void.
Encounters like this one are not accidental. God uses each personal connection in some way as we spur one another on to love and good deeds. A Quaker might say that the light of Christ within each of us illuminates the community as we gather. I'd say that pretty well sums up what happened today!
Dr. Carmen Imes is the Associate Professor of Old Testament at Biola University in La Mirada, CA, and serves the broader church through teaching, speaking, writing, and creating YouTube videos. She earned a PhD in Biblical Theology (Old Testament) from Wheaton College under Dr. Daniel Block, an MA in Biblical Studies from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary (Charlotte), and a BA in Bible and Theology from Multnomah University. She and her husband, Daniel, served as missionaries with SIM 15 years. They have three children: Ana, Emma, and Easton.
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
faith in search of lament
If our picture of the Christian life is primarily shaped by the evangelical church service, what is missing? How might it be skewed?
This is the question I posed to myself after a campfire chat with a faculty colleague.
The Scriptures contain the full range of expression that animates the life of faith, and we develop the capacity to live faith-fully by patterning our own expressions after these.
Lord, teach us to pray.
But for our church services we typically take a select few of these elements and canonize them, leaving others nearly untouched.
We sing praise.
We greet one another.
We preach the Word.
We exhort.
We take up an offering for those in need.
We pronounce a blessing.
We remember the Lord's death by celebrating communion.
Occasionally we baptize.
We pray for the sick.
Now and then we pray for our nation's leaders.
What's missing?
We generally don't confess our sin (at least not out loud, to each other).
We don't seek refuge.
We don't complain.
We don't wrestle out loud over what's wrong and broken in our world.
We don't lament.
That is a problem.
It's a problem because the lack of confession and lament leaves us with a monotone, anemic faith. We miss out on the richness available to us in the Scriptures, and we lose touch with reality. Our faith becomes compartmentalized rather than a fully integrated part of our selves.
Put another way, Job and Jeremiah and David and Habakkuk and many other biblical writers model for us the language of lament. Do we think we no longer need these vehicles of expression?
What would it look like to incorporate the language of the Psalms -- not just the praise psalms, but the laments, too -- into our services? How can we create a reverent space where the groans of the human heart may be articulated?
How might it feel to leave things unresolved -- to refuse to tie a neat bow on it all at the end of the service because we as a community have become accustomed to letting God do the answering and not to answer for him?
Here I'm thinking of Elihu, the "friend" who shows up out of nowhere in the book of Job. After Job's complaint is laid out before God, Elihu rushes in to answer on God's behalf. Like the other three "friends" who respond to Job, Elihu is angered by Job's words (Job 32:1-5). He feels a strong need to defend God and put Job in his place, rushing in to fill the silence with correction. But when the Almighty does reply, Elihu's words are swallowed up in the storm with everyone else's. Literarily, the lesson is clear: God doesn't need us to answer on his behalf. God can speak for himself.
When we rush to the answer we lose the depth that comes through sustained waiting. To brood over our grief -- to articulate our deepest longings for God to do something -- positions us to experience God's answer more profoundly. Ignoring our wound, we miss out on the opportunity for healing.
Lord, teach us to pray.
Sure, now and then we're brave enough to complain to God on our own. Why did you let this happen? God do something! But communal lament -- lament as a body -- is a lost art. If we could find the voice of corporate lament it would open up new avenues to enter into one another's journey. Rather than fixing each other, we could join each other side-by-side in articulating the heart's cry.
Why should we be scared of lament when the Scriptures devote so much time and space to it? Why do we feel it's irreverent to complain when complaint is the backbone of books like Psalms, Lamentations, Habakkuk, and Job?
Life hurts. Missionaries get stabbed. Cancer returns. ISIS prevails. Lives are lost in meaningless altercations. Believers are falsely accused. When grief, complaint, longing, sorrow, and confession are kept to ourselves, out of sight, the muscles of our faith atrophy, and we lose the art of responding faithfully to our trials. It's a missed opportunity for our community to grow together in love.
One of my students, Beth Erickson, created this beautiful graphic poster of Habakkuk's lament in light of the recent racial tensions in America. I share it here with her permission. This poster is an example of one way we can begin to incorporate lament into our worship.
Every year, Jewish communities read the entire book of Lamentations aloud together. When I did this with my class on the Old Testament Prophets this summer, the effect was powerful.
Lord, teach us to pray.
This is the question I posed to myself after a campfire chat with a faculty colleague.
The Scriptures contain the full range of expression that animates the life of faith, and we develop the capacity to live faith-fully by patterning our own expressions after these.
Lord, teach us to pray.
But for our church services we typically take a select few of these elements and canonize them, leaving others nearly untouched.
We sing praise.
We greet one another.
We preach the Word.
We exhort.
We take up an offering for those in need.
We pronounce a blessing.
We remember the Lord's death by celebrating communion.
Occasionally we baptize.
We pray for the sick.
Now and then we pray for our nation's leaders.
What's missing?
We generally don't confess our sin (at least not out loud, to each other).
We don't seek refuge.
We don't complain.
We don't wrestle out loud over what's wrong and broken in our world.
We don't lament.
That is a problem.
It's a problem because the lack of confession and lament leaves us with a monotone, anemic faith. We miss out on the richness available to us in the Scriptures, and we lose touch with reality. Our faith becomes compartmentalized rather than a fully integrated part of our selves.
Put another way, Job and Jeremiah and David and Habakkuk and many other biblical writers model for us the language of lament. Do we think we no longer need these vehicles of expression?
What would it look like to incorporate the language of the Psalms -- not just the praise psalms, but the laments, too -- into our services? How can we create a reverent space where the groans of the human heart may be articulated?
How might it feel to leave things unresolved -- to refuse to tie a neat bow on it all at the end of the service because we as a community have become accustomed to letting God do the answering and not to answer for him?
Here I'm thinking of Elihu, the "friend" who shows up out of nowhere in the book of Job. After Job's complaint is laid out before God, Elihu rushes in to answer on God's behalf. Like the other three "friends" who respond to Job, Elihu is angered by Job's words (Job 32:1-5). He feels a strong need to defend God and put Job in his place, rushing in to fill the silence with correction. But when the Almighty does reply, Elihu's words are swallowed up in the storm with everyone else's. Literarily, the lesson is clear: God doesn't need us to answer on his behalf. God can speak for himself.
When we rush to the answer we lose the depth that comes through sustained waiting. To brood over our grief -- to articulate our deepest longings for God to do something -- positions us to experience God's answer more profoundly. Ignoring our wound, we miss out on the opportunity for healing.
Lord, teach us to pray.
Sure, now and then we're brave enough to complain to God on our own. Why did you let this happen? God do something! But communal lament -- lament as a body -- is a lost art. If we could find the voice of corporate lament it would open up new avenues to enter into one another's journey. Rather than fixing each other, we could join each other side-by-side in articulating the heart's cry.
Why should we be scared of lament when the Scriptures devote so much time and space to it? Why do we feel it's irreverent to complain when complaint is the backbone of books like Psalms, Lamentations, Habakkuk, and Job?
One of my students, Beth Erickson, created this beautiful graphic poster of Habakkuk's lament in light of the recent racial tensions in America. I share it here with her permission. This poster is an example of one way we can begin to incorporate lament into our worship.
Every year, Jewish communities read the entire book of Lamentations aloud together. When I did this with my class on the Old Testament Prophets this summer, the effect was powerful.
Lord, teach us to pray.
Dr. Carmen Imes is the Associate Professor of Old Testament at Biola University in La Mirada, CA, and serves the broader church through teaching, speaking, writing, and creating YouTube videos. She earned a PhD in Biblical Theology (Old Testament) from Wheaton College under Dr. Daniel Block, an MA in Biblical Studies from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary (Charlotte), and a BA in Bible and Theology from Multnomah University. She and her husband, Daniel, served as missionaries with SIM 15 years. They have three children: Ana, Emma, and Easton.
Friday, August 5, 2016
gems from Jobes on James
Here are some of my favorite gems on the book of James (emphasis mine):
"Simply put, the purpose of the letter [of James] was to instruct Jewish Christians how to live faithfully to Christ within their heritage as Jews." (166)
"James is presenting the Christian concept of a whole and unified person as the goal of spiritual maturity." (202)
"Every test [or trial in life] occasions a theological crisis, when the believer is more easily deceived or confused about who God is and how God acts." (167)
"Love for God expressed through love for neighbor is the wellspring of the faithful life wisely lived." (205)
"What is distinctive in [Jesus'] message is that he proclaims himself to be the way to life's highest good -- the way to eternal life reconciled with God." (211)
"Whatever a profession of faith in Jesus Christ might mean, it cannot mean a license to live free of God's moral order." (221)
"If believers of means [i.e. wealthy Christians] rely on their resources rather than God, if they expect to be treated with privileged status, if they oppress others to sustain self-interest, then they are 'the rich' who are condemned. . . . James's point is that Christians with resources must live differently than 'the rich' by caring for the poor; otherwise they have not truly understood and believed the gospel." (229)On the perceived conflict between the theology of Paul and James, Dr. Jobes writes:
"Given that James and Paul, as well as Peter, left the Jerusalem Council [see Acts 15] in agreement on the epoch-making decision that Gentiles would be received as Christians without becoming Jewish and keeping the law of Moses, it seems unlikely that they disagreed over the fundamental nature of faith and salvation." (173)
"James was not writing in reference to justification but rather to describe the moral responsibilities that flow from saving faith." (219)The final gem is a quotation from Ellen Charry's By the Renewing of Your Minds, quoted in a sidebar in Letters to the Church. This may be my new all-time favorite quote:
"The central theological task is and has always been pastoral, assisting people to know God, and by knowing him to be enabled to strive toward the excellence of his character in their own lives." (222)
Dr. Carmen Imes is the Associate Professor of Old Testament at Biola University in La Mirada, CA, and serves the broader church through teaching, speaking, writing, and creating YouTube videos. She earned a PhD in Biblical Theology (Old Testament) from Wheaton College under Dr. Daniel Block, an MA in Biblical Studies from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary (Charlotte), and a BA in Bible and Theology from Multnomah University. She and her husband, Daniel, served as missionaries with SIM 15 years. They have three children: Ana, Emma, and Easton.
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
a textbook that inspires
The BEST part is that I'm getting paid to learn.
Last week I was introduced to a new couple, and when they found out I was a Bible scholar, they popped their current nagging question, "So who wrote Hebrews?" It just so happened that I had worked through Dr. Jobes' chapter on the authorship of Hebrews the previous day, so I had an answer ready. Gaining knowledge is one benefit of this kind of study. (By the way, if you want to know the answer you'll have to read the book for yourself!)
But what strikes me most about this textbook is the depth of wisdom it offers for the Christian life. Dr. Jobes' writing is clear and compelling. Her theological insights are profound. Here are a few of my favorite gems from the chapters on Hebrews:
"Death is not a punishment; it is the inevitable consequence of turning away from the source of life, which is God himself." (119)
"[Sabbath rest] is not an invitation to idleness, spiritual or otherwise. Rather, it is a place of being where the normal routines of a right relationship with God can be established and enjoyed, because Christ has resolved the crisis of humanity's separation from God and an eternal stability has been achieved." (131)
"Anyone worried about committing the unforgivable sin or becoming apostate hasn't done so. Apostates are by definition hardened to God and arrogant toward what he has said by the Son." (141)
"The reason the unforgivable sin is unforgivable is that by rejecting the work of Christ as something other than the gracious work of God, one cuts oneself off from the only means of forgiveness and the only salvation that God offers. It is, therefore, the only sin that cannot be forgiven." (140)
"To stay in a spiritually immature state under the delusion that it is okay to sin is like walking backward in the dark toward the cliff of apostasy." (141)Dr. Jobes also has great sections on the cultural and Scriptural background for understanding Jesus' role as the Son of God, on what it means in a Roman context to be an "heir," on the reasons that Jesus supersedes the Old Testament, and on the meaning of "perfection" in the book.
If you're a layperson who is motivated to understand the New Testament more deeply, you could profitably work your way through this book on your own. It's filled with helpful pictures, charts, and a glossary that will guide you. If you're a professor who will be teaching on this part of the Bible, don't miss this great resource!
p.s. In case you're wondering, Zondervan didn't ask me to write this. I simply felt that this resource was too good to keep to myself!
Dr. Carmen Imes is the Associate Professor of Old Testament at Biola University in La Mirada, CA, and serves the broader church through teaching, speaking, writing, and creating YouTube videos. She earned a PhD in Biblical Theology (Old Testament) from Wheaton College under Dr. Daniel Block, an MA in Biblical Studies from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary (Charlotte), and a BA in Bible and Theology from Multnomah University. She and her husband, Daniel, served as missionaries with SIM 15 years. They have three children: Ana, Emma, and Easton.
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