When God Asks A Question

When my kids were young, they asked lots of questions. How does the car engine run? What does that street sign mean? Why do I have to use good manners? And the one I heard more often than any other: When will we get home?

Questions are an important part of communication and of learning. If we don’t ask, we don’t learn. Many a teacher has said, “there are no dumb questions.” We ask questions to learn more about something—to acquire necessary information. We even ask questions to show another person that we are interested in learning who they are and what is happening in their life.

A question implies that we lack knowledge in some area. We need directions to a location. We need to understand the correct method or steps to accomplish a task. We need data or facts about a situation. We need wisdom and understanding. We ask so that we can know.

Questions God Asks

This leads me to a question: why does God ask questions in the Bible? Consider when Adam and Eve sinned in Genesis 3. They ran and hid from God and the Bible says, “the LORD God called to the man and said to him, ‘Where are you?’ (v.9). Did he really not know where they were? Did he need directions to find their location? Of course not. God doesn’t need to learn anything; there’s no knowledge he needs to acquire. There’s nothing that he lacks. He sees all things, knows all things, and rules over all things (Ps. 33:13; Lam. 3:37-39; Is. 40:28; Heb. 4:13). He even knows what we are thinking and feeling before we do (Ps. 139:1-3). One commentary suggests God asks them this question, not about their physical location, but their spiritual location. They are no longer united to him as they once were. There is now a barrier between them. A sin barrier. He wants them to confess their sin, to realize the full significance of what has happened. But God does so with grace. He doesn’t seem to appear immediately after they sin, for they have time to create coverings for themselves. They likely hide out all night in the cover of the trees until morning. God doesn’t come stomping his way to them. He simply walks in the garden as he always did with them each morning. They then receive the due punishment for their sin—but grace upon grace!— they learn of a promised Redeemer to come (Gen. 3:15). He covers them with a sacrificed animal skin and sends them out of the garden.

God asks another interesting question in 1 Kings 19. This is the story of what happened with Elijah after he killed the prophets of Baal in the previous chapter. Queen Jezebel learns of it and promises vengeance against him. He flees in fear into the wilderness and says, “It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers” (v. 4). An angel attends to him, feeds him, and he rests. Then he goes to meet with God on Mount Horeb. There God asks him a question, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (v.9). Is God surprised that Elijah has shown up at the mountain to see him? No. God sent an angel to attend to him, to strengthen him so that he could journey to the mountain to speak to him. Elijah responds by recounting all that he had done as a prophet and how God’s people continue in their worship of false gods. God then reveals himself to Elijah and not in the way he expected. He reveals himself not in wind, earthquake, or fire (ways in which he showed himself to Moses and the people on Mt. Sinai) but instead, in a gentle whisper—in silence (vv.11-12). God then asks him again, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (v. 13).

God asks so that Elijah would see what brought him to this place—his fear, not of God, but of Jezebel. Elijah believed he had failed in his job. He believed God’s people would never turn from their sins. He believed he was all alone. And he saw Jezebel as greater than the God who rules the wind, the earth, and fire. He forgot that he was never alone. God was merciful to Elijah even as he complained and despaired and forgot the truth. Even before Elijah made it to the mountain, God met Elijah in his exhaustion with food and rest. He then told Elijah his plan to destroy the house of Ahab, save a faithful remnant, and provide a prophet to replace him. Even more, Elijah had feared death by the hand of Jezebel; God made a way for him to never face death (2 Kings 2:11).

What about when God asks Jonah a question? Many are familiar of Jonah’s story where he fled from God rather than obey him. He didn’t want to bring God’s word to his enemies and see them repent and God spare their lives. So he took a ship going the opposite direction and ended up in the belly of a great fish. He eventually—and begrudgingly—went to the city of Nineveh and called them to repentance. They did repent and God did not destroy them. Jonah then responds in anger. He says, “O LORD, is not this what I said when I was yet in my country? That is why I made haste to flee to Tarshish; for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relenting from disaster. Therefore now, O LORD, please take my life from me, for it is better for me to die than to live” (vv.2-3). And God responds with a question. “Do you do well to be angry?”

In many ways, this is rhetorical. As readers, we know Jonah’s anger is not righteous anger. God doesn’t ask it because he doesn’t know the answer. He doesn’t ask it because Jonah needs to explain himself or justify his response. He asks it so that Jonah would evaluate his heart and see the sin that resides there and repent. He’s offering him the same opportunity God gave to the Ninevites.

When God Asks Us a Question

These three accounts make me think that when God asks a question, it might be for our benefit rather than for his. He asks questions so that we might learn. It’s no coincidence that each of these stories show people on the run, hiding from what they fear. But they hide because their fears are disordered fears. They hide because they don’t fear God with a holy fear—he isn’t great in their eyes. Someone or something else has become greater. Adam and Eve desired to be like God and sinned against him by eating the fruit. They realized their nakedness and feared standing before God in their shame. Elijah feared Jezebel and saw only her wrath and power, forgetting that the LORD of hosts never left his side. Jonah feared the loss of what he held dear; he feared the Ninevites would receive the grace he believed belonged only to the nation of Israel.

In each of these circumstances, they turned their gaze from God. They yielded their heart to something else. They forgot who he was. They forgot who they were. So God asked a probing question—a question that gets at the heart of their problem.

What question might God be asking of you or me today? Where are we spiritually? What has brought us to this place? Is it right and good for us to think or feel the way we do? God knows the true state of our hearts. He knows where our allegiances lie. He knows the ways our hearts are tempted to seek life and hope apart from him. He knows the false loves we turn to. He knows how we worship what we fear and fear what we worship and far too often, it’s not him.

God knows. The question is, do we know?

Photo by Artur Rutkowski on Unsplash

When We Try To Shape God's Will to Our Own

Have you ever said, “I just want to know God’s will?”

It’s a question many believers ask in the face of a dilemma or a difficult decision. We may stand at a crossroads, looking at two different paths before us, and don’t know which way to go. We fear the unknown and want God to make it clear which path is better than the other. We just want to know what to do. There are times where we need wisdom in a complex situation and we desire God to provide that wisdom. We pray for God to help us make decisions that glorify him, that are in keeping with what he has called us to do.

There are inevitably times in life when we search God’s word for wisdom and what we find clashes with our wants and desires. We read the Bible and find that our plans conflict with God’s revealed will—that what we desire is sinful and we are called to turn from it. In that moment, it is tempting to step back and say, “Did God really say…?” Or to attempt to bend what God says to conform to our own will. Or to deny his will altogether and do what we want to do anyway.

In the book of Jeremiah, we see God’s people desire to know God’s will, or at least that’s what they say they want. After the king of Babylon destroyed Jerusalem and took most of the people into captivity, he left behind a small remnant to tend to the fields. The king also placed a governor over them. But a man named Ishmael led a revolt and killed the governor (Jer. 41). The people were afraid of what the king would do to them. They thought they ought to flee to Egypt. So they asked the prophet Jeremiah to tell them what God wanted them to do. They asked for God’s will: “Let our plea for mercy come before you, and pray to the LORD your God for us, for all this remnant—because we are left with but a few, as your eyes see us—that the LORD your God may show us the way we should go, and the thing that we should do” (Jer. 42:2-3). They then promised to do whatever God said.

Jeremiah then brought them God’s response: "

“If you will remain in this land, then I will build you up and not pull you down; I will plant you, and not pluck you up; for I relent of the disaster that I did to you. Do not fear the king of Babylon, of whom you are afraid. Do not fear him, declares the LORD, for I am with you, to save you and to deliver you from his hand. I will grant you mercy, that he may have mercy on you and let you remain in your own land. But if you say, ‘We will not remain in this land,’ disobeying the voice of the LORD your God and saying, ‘No, we will go to the land of Egypt, where we shall not see war or hear the sound of the trumpet or be hungry for bread, and we will dwell there,’ then hear the word of the LORD, O remnant of Judah. Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel: If you set your faces to enter Egypt and go to live there, then the sword that you fear shall overtake you there in the land of Egypt, and the famine of which you are afraid shall follow close after you to Egypt, and there you shall die” (42:10-16).

God called them to stay in the land and not flee to Egypt. He tells them he will plant them there and they will be fruitful. He calls them to trust in him, to fear him and not the king of Babylon. He promises them mercy and deliverance. But if they disobey and leave for Egypt, he warns them of punishment.

As it turns out, they don’t like what God has to say. They decide Jeremiah must be lying to them. After all, he didn’t tell them what they wanted to hear. So they go to Egypt, where they wanted to go from the beginning (Jer. 43). They didn’t trust God and sought salvation apart from him.

Isn’t that what got them into trouble in the first place? Their relentless pursuit of idolatry brought Babylon to their gates. They turned from God to pursue false saviors and he punished them by sending Babylon to defeat them. The ink was barely dried on the their new passports when they once again turned their hearts from God, seeking salvation apart from him.

In terms of their encounter with the prophet, God’s people had already determined what they would do; they didn’t want to know God’s will, they wanted his will to conform to their plans. They wanted his will shaped to fit theirs. And when it didn’t, they did what they wanted to do anyway.

The truth is, it is always God’s will that we trust him alone for salvation. It is always God’s will that we cast aside all attempts at self-rescue or deliverance from a counterfeit god. And it is always God’s will that we do what his word tells us to do.

I can’t help but think of my own wayward heart as I read these chapters in Jeremiah—as I thought of the times I’ve done the same. The times when my own foolish desires resisted doing what I know God’s word says. When I tried to find ways to fit my will in and around God’s word, bending it to shape what I want. And in the end, it revealed that I truly did not want to know God’s will at all.

But praise the Lord for his mercy! God knew what was in the people’s hearts. He knew their intentions. He knew they would turn and make their way to Egypt. And he knows what is in my own heart—the false saviors I trust in, my sinful desires, and rebellious pursuits. That’s why he sent Jesus, the One who perfectly lived the will of God. The One who cried out, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done” (Luke 22: 42). The One who walked into God’s will, fulfilling the plan created in eternity past to bear the sins of his people.

God is merciful when we are unfaithful.

Father, create in me a clean heart and renew a right spirit within me. Through your Spirit at work in me, help me to want what you want. Shape my desires and plans to align with yours. Thank you for Jesus, my savior and deliverer. He alone rescues me from my sin. Help me to turn from all counterfeit loves and serve you alone.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

Photo by Taylor Heery on Unsplash

Three Ways Comparison Steals our Joy

I recognize the feeling the moment it happens. A friend announces a new opportunity in her life or talks about a recent experience or shows me a material blessing and my first thought is, “Why not me?” I look at my own life and find it lackluster in comparison. I want what she has. It all seems so unfair. I’ve worked just as hard as she has but have nothing to show for it. Any blessings I have received fail to measure up to what she has. I then find myself stuck in the mire of self-pity— feeling sorry for myself that I’m missing out on all that my friend has that I don’t.

Comparison. It’s a struggle we all know too well. Whether it’s hearing about the ministry success of a peer or touring a friend’s new house or watching another child shine on the ball field while yours sits on the bench, we know what it’s like to compare our lives and what we have to someone else. And to want their life instead.

Such comparison reveals the idols of the heart in a way nothing else can. At least it does for me. It shows me how much I live for success or affirmation. It shows me how much I want other people to notice what I can do or what I’ve achieved. It reveals how much I live for the things of this world, rather the things of heaven.

Comparison is sneaky. It creeps up when we’re not paying attention. Yet the more we get caught in its trap, the more it steals our joy. It creates tension in our relationships. It turns our focus inward rather than upward. It tells us that God’s plan for us has failed; we know better how our life ought to be. It causes us to envy rather than give thanks for all that God provides.

While there are many ways comparison steals our joy, here are three ways I see comparison impact my own life:

Comparison makes us unable to rejoice with those who rejoice: In Romans 12:15, Paul exhorts us to “rejoice with those who rejoice.” In verse 10 he writes, “Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor.” These admonitions are all rooted in our union with one another in Christ. We are all part of the same body (12:4). God blesses each member of the body in different ways, giving us different gifts and graces. Because we are a part of the same body, the good that God does in another brother or sister’s life is our good as well and we are to rejoice with them in it. When we compare ourselves to one another, it keeps us from rejoicing with them. Instead, we feel bitterness. We begrudge the blessings in the life of another. We want ourselves to be honored rather than honor another. We want to be celebrated rather than celebrate what God has done for someone else.

Comparison pulls us away from community: When we hear of good news in the life of another, not only do we fail to rejoice with them, comparison then pulls us away from one another. It threatens our unity as we strive to outdo one another in our successes and achievements. We compete against one another, forgetting we are on the same team. We stop praying for the Lord’s blessing in each other’s lives and focus our prayers on our own desires. Instead of working with the body, we work against it.

Comparison breeds discontentment: Comparison also births discontentment in our hearts. The more we compare ourselves and our lives to one another, the more we are dissatisfied, because there’s always something we don’t have. There’s always someone who has something more. Rather than finding our satisfaction in Christ and who he is for us (Phil. 4:11-13), we seek after some elusive desire that fades like the sun burning off the morning fog.

In all these ways and more, comparison steals our joy and leaves behind only bitterness, envy, and discontentment. When we find our hearts tempted to compare our lives to others, may we look to him who “emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Phil. 2: 7-8). Paul tells us that this mind of Christ—this heart of humility, of counting others more significant—is “yours in Christ Jesus” (v.5). This means we don’t have to compare ourselves to others. Because we are one with Christ, we have all that we need to resist the temptation. He given us the “same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind” (v.2) so that we can “do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves” (v.3).

Let us be satisfied in Christ today and rejoice with those who rejoice.

Photo by Andrew Moca on Unsplash

On Invasive Vines, Our Hearts, and Cautionary Tales

We once bought a foreclosure and renovated it. The house was a complete gut job, both inside and out. Its original 1980’s wallpaper covered nearly every room in the house. So we removed walls, stripped out cabinets, and redid all the flooring. The cedar shake roof was worn and covered in mold, so we replaced it with a metal roof. We bought new appliances, bathtubs, and even a new air conditioner.

Then we got to work outside.

It was difficult to tell from the street how big the yard was because an invasive tree had taken over the acre and a half lot, shading out all the other trees and bushes. Brazilian Pepper Trees are native to South America and have invaded much of southern Florida. They create an impenetrable canopy, blocking sunlight and harming native plants and trees. You can’t simply spray weed killer on them and expect them to die. They must be removed by hand. Needless to say, it took us a few years before they were eradicated from our property. And even then, we would periodically find evidence of the trees creeping and stretching their way across the yard again, and we’d have to once again do the hard work to remove them.

We now live in Georgia where another non-native plant, the Kudzu vine, blankets the roadsides. It too is just as invasive. When it’s out of control, all you see is the vine. It wraps itself around trees, power lines, and abandoned buildings, crisscrossing from one standing object to the next—like an intricate spider’s web.

There’s a lot of similarity to these invasive plants and the idols of our heart.

Like the Brazilian Pepper or the Kudzu vine, idols are an invasive species in our hearts; they don’t belong there. We were created to love and worship our Maker and Creator God alone; he is the true King of our hearts. He alone is worthy of all worship. He alone can rescue and save us. He alone gives our life meaning and purpose.

But because of the fall of man, our hearts are broken by sin. We don’t love God with all our heart. Instead, we turn to worship false gods. We look to substitute gods and give them honor and praise and worship rather than the One who made us. We turn to these idols to give our life meaning, hope, and purpose. We look to people, work, achievements, comforts, material things, and more to give us what only God can give.

These idols become like vines, taking deep root in our hearts. They grow and spread and stretch their way throughout our hearts as we turn to them time and again for help and rescue. They twist themselves around our heart, choking our love for God. They grow dense, blocking the Light of Life. Like a tree draped in Kudzu, we grow weak without the spiritual nourishment that comes when we abide in and cling to Christ alone. We find ourselves spiritually parched and our growth stagnant.

Like any invasive plant in our yard, idols don’t disappear when we ignore them or pretend they aren’t there. Or when we minimize their influence in our lives. They just continue to grow and spread. We must take drastic measures to remove them. We must rip them up by the roots. We must eradicate them. This is hard work and like the Pepper Trees in our yard, we need help from others. A team of friends came to our house and helped us remove the trees. Likewise, we can’t tackle our idols on our own; we need godly and wise friends who can help us identify the things in our life we worship apart from God. They can help us see how we’ve turned the good things God gives us into something we turn to for life and hope. And they can encourage us as we do the hard work, digging in, and ripping them out. 

The thing about idolatry is that eradicating it is a lifetime work. It’s something we have to tend to each day. Like a gardener looking after his garden, we have to look after our hearts. We must be on the lookout for idols and guard against any counterfeit loves. It’s easy to remove one idol only to replace it with another one. That’s why we must also plant a greater love for Christ in its place. We do this by focusing on who he is and what he has done. We do this by dwelling on the gospel and what it means for us to be saved by grace. We do this by abiding in Christ through our union with him. And the more our love for our Savior grows—the more we find in Christ our meaning, hope, identity, purpose, and life—the less we’ll turn to our idols and the weaker their grip on us will be.

The Bible is filled with agrarian analogies and it’s no wonder; there is much we can learn from observing this world God created. Perhaps there’s a good lesson learned from invasive species in our own backyard. May the destruction such species cause be a cautionary tale for the soil of our hearts.