He scatters seed everywhere. The hard ground, where birds snatch it up. Among rocks where it can’t take root. Where thorns will spring up and strangle it. And some, where it will grow.

He’s careless, it seems, not careful; not saving his grain for straight rows in turned-up soil.

“A farmer went out to plant some seeds. As he scattered them across his field, some seeds fell on a footpath. Other seeds fell on shallow soil with underlying rock. Other seeds fell among thorns. Some fell on fertile soil, and they produced a crop. (Matthew 13:1–8, NLT)

We misunderstand the Farmer. We misappraise the field. We misjudge both seeds and soil. We haven’t the faith of the Farmer.

Anyone with ears to hear should listen and understand. (Matthew 13:9, NLT)

Jesus freely shared “The Parable of the Sower” with the multitudes, but only to those who asked, He explained,

“Now listen to the explanation of the parable about the farmer planting seeds: The seed that fell on the footpath represents those who hear the message about the Kingdom and don’t understand it. Then the evil one comes and snatches away the seed that was planted in their hearts. The seed on the rocky soil represents those who hear the message and immediately receive it with joy. But since they don’t have deep roots, they don’t last long. They fall away as soon as they have problems or are persecuted for believing God’s word. The seed that fell among the thorns represents those who hear God’s word, but all too quickly the message is crowded out by the worries of this life and the lure of wealth, so no fruit is produced. The seed that fell on good soil represents those who truly hear and understand God’s word and produce a harvest of thirty, sixty, or even a hundred times as much as had been planted!” (Matthew 13:18–23, NLT)

A prudent farmer would be more discriminating with His assets, but this is a farmer like none other. Every seed from His hand has potential. Every seed, however scattered, bears life.

The seed and its settling are as the Kingdom’s message and the human heart colliding. The message is always good news, but its hearing doesn’t guarantee a harvest.

Not this season.

The Farmer doesn’t forget the seeds that fall on hard ground. He doesn’t abandon the plants that fail in rocky soil. He doesn’t discount the plant among the thorns. He watches over them, waiting for a more fruitful time.

Seeds on hard ground. When the message of the Kingdom falls on hearts prepared, few will reject the good news. But hardened hearts don’t understand it; can’t believe it; won’t receive it. In a world of pain, it’s hard to comprehend any news as good news. In a world of deceit, it’s hard to recognize truth.

Yet the Farmer’s seeds can survive the enemy’s devouring, to be planted again in softer soil.

It’s all by design of the Farmer.

Those who hear the message and receive it are like seeds that germinate and begin to grow. But harvest time may be seasons away.

Plants in shallow soil. A hungry heart in the midst of a troubled life will be quick to reach toward the light. Yet, intent on growing, it has no concern for grounding. With persecution and problems as scorching heat, a lack of depth becomes apparent. With little hope as an anchor, faith fails, and it withers.

Plants in thorny ground. A life crowded with commitments and preoccupied with wealth is like a plant that is choked by thorns. Worries persist; lust overtakes. That heart receives the word of God but is smothered by lesser concerns.

Plants in good soil. A heart that embraces the message of the Kingdom and grows to yield the same is like a seed nestled in the soil prepared for it: broken by the plow, soaking up water in storms, enriched by past years’ death. The seed sprouts, its roots go down, it reveals itself, and yields its fruit. The heart with a harvest recognizes seasons — times for resting, times to grow, and times to yield life for others.

One plot of soil in the middle of much ground. Without the faith of the Farmer, it might seem there is little to show.

But the Farmer is patient, unconcerned. His seed is good seed. His life is eternal; His word, never failing. The message of the Kingdom endures; it will have its field.

Let him who has ears to hear stay close to the Sower. Listen and understand.

When someone says “parable,” what do you think? More specifically, if someone mentions the parables of Jesus, what comes to mind?

Stories to entertain the kids in the side rooms while their parents try to pay attention up front? The phrase “earthly stories with a heavenly meaning”? How about “simple illustrations that reveal profound truths”?

Me? I think, “Jesus’ favorite way to describe the kingdom of God.”

Let’s consider them all.

Stories for kids?

Hardly.

Jesus’ parables were definitely good stories, but they were jam-packed with life-changing truth. And while kids can certainly glean from His parables, He was targeting all with childlike faith. Or those too hardened to learn.

Entertaining? They might have held His audience’s attention, but they were far from easy listening. They were confusing riddles with no apparent answer.

Earthly stories with a heavenly meaning.

Sounds wise, but slightly misses the mark. Yes, Jesus’ parables were stories about the things of earth— farming, taxes, parties — but their focus wasn’t on “that place we go when we die.” Most were about heaven’s workings on earth, right here, right now — something we know little about.

Jesus told parables to fix that.

Simple illustrations to reveal profound truths

Now we’re getting somewhere.

The illustrations may be simple, but their powerful truths aren’t easily discerned. They’re often hidden; we have to hunt for them. Only the hungry will.

Most likely, seekers will have to take off the lenses they’ve been using to see something profound.

Jesus’ favorite way to describe the kingdom of God

Of all of Jesus’ teaching, none was more important than those that began, “The kingdom of God is like…”

When He said that, you could expect a parable. Not a get-out-your-pen-and-paper teaching, but a story.

Yet a parable goes beyond a story. Parables are far from predictable. The punchline often pokes. The “end of the story” isn’t meant to be the end.

The subject of Jesus’ parables wasn’t new; the prophets had been speaking of God’s kingdom since the time of Isaiah (Isaiah 9:7).

But now, by presenting parables, Jesus was shining a light on things that were strangely dim, digging up what long had been buried, exposing what was covered by the shroud of religion.

Yet, He told parables He knew most wouldn’t understand. Sometimes, even His disciples needed Him to break it down.

When people came to Him seeking answers, His parables often left them with even more questions. When He was confronted by his adversaries, He didn’t explain Himself, but challenged them with parables.

When the end of one of Jesus’ parables, some were satisfied with the story, some were scratching their heads, and some were downright angry.

So why parables?

Because parables present themselves as stories. And who doesn’t love a good story?

Stories capture your attention. I would rather listen to a story than a lecture any time. A lecture confronts what I already know; I’m expected to believe what the lecturer says. But when I listen to a story, there’s no pressure for me to learn. I get to hear about someone else’s experience, and I get to choose if I care.

Stories hold your attention. Ever been watching a great movie, it’s getting late, you should be in bed, but you just can’t leave until that last line? Even if the plot isn’t going your way, you’re going to stay there, glued to the screen, hoping it will turn around. Like that, a parable will keep your attention until its end, even if you don’t like what you hear.

Stories involve your imagination. A good story invites you in. My guess is, when you are reading a good story, you pick a character to identify with, someone to be your hero. Now, what if your character turns out to be the bad guy? You can put the book down, upset that the writer doesn’t think like you do, or totally entertained, laughing at yourself because you missed the clues.

That’s what Jesus was doing for his listeners when He told a parable. He was letting them decide who they were in the story and leaving them to make a judgment about themselves.

When listening to a sermon, we can so easily stay detached. We can put up the walls when the truth gets too near. Stories don’t threaten, don’t poke— they’re about someone else.

But when a story becomes a parable, you’ve gone beyond the page.

A parable is sneaky. Before you realize it, you’re immersed in it, surrounded by it. What began as a good story becomes an opportunity to be offended or to open the door to change.

You get to choose.

“He who has ears, let him hear.” (Matthew 11:15, ESV)

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For a very long time, and perhaps to a measure even now, I’ve had a strange relationship with the word “holy.” If I think “holy” while thinking of God, my heart bows in awe. If I think “holy” when thinking of man, I see a stern look and a wagging finger. My mind, thank God, has been largely washed of that image, but it’s still there, a corner of it peeking out from beneath the pages of truth.

In truth, “holiness” means “set apart.” God is set apart. He’s far above Satan and the fallen angels, far above all the other heavenly creatures, far above all so-called gods, and far above the crown of His creation, mankind. Which makes it all the harder to grasp that God invites humanity to share in His holiness. He said, “Be holy, for I am holy” (Leviticus 11:44; I Peter 1:16). That’s not a terse command to a people with no potential; it’s an invitation to greatness. In God’s playbook, humanity was created to display His holiness by walking in His righteousness on the earth.

In opposition to God’s holiness is man’s battle for autonomy. He wants his own way, and he thinks he knows best. But when what man wants isn’t working, he looks to God, often with accusation, and asks, “Can’t you do anything?” or shouts, “Won’t you do anything?” or cries, “Why are you doing this to me?” He casts God as either impotent or heartless. He thinks He neither sees nor cares. And if that thinking isn’t arrested, man’s heart becomes bitter. He begins to build walls, and everything outside becomes the enemy. Within the walls of his kingdom, he raises scaffolding to support his throne. The freedom he once knew is compromised for the liberty he lusts after. He begins to confuse good with evil, light with darkness, truth with error, and tries to control everything within his reach. The cords of deceit he thought could hold his kingdom together become the ropes that bind him.

“That is why the Lord’s anger burns against his people…”

There’s no tiptoeing around it; Scripture makes it clear. God gets angry.

That is why the LORD’s anger burns against his people, and why he has raised his fist to crush them. The mountains tremble, and the corpses of his people litter the streets like garbage. But even then the LORD’s anger is not satisfied. His fist is still poised to strike!
— Isaiah 5:25 NLT

Pretty troubling stuff, isn’t it? Who wants a god like that?

What would God be like if He didn’t get angry? Never indignant. Totally accepting. Smiling continually.

Sound good? I think not.

I think this: Apathetic. Indifferent. Unconcerned.

We don’t want a god like that, do we? I don’t. I want a God who is passionate. Protective. Zealous.

Familiar with the account of God’s anger in Exodus 32? While He and Moses were busy writing down His covenant with His people, His people were making a god of their own. It appeared to them that both God and Moses had gone AWOL, and tradition demanded they have a god. So they did the best they could with what they had and made a calf out of earrings.

Both God and His man Moses got mad that time.

And it wasn’t the last.

A survey of the Scriptures reveals when and why God gets angry.

When we don’t trust Him to do what He says He’ll do, we’re calling Him a liar (Exodus 4:14).

When we whine, we’re telling Him we don’t trust Him to take care of us (Numbers 11:1–10).

When we speak against His leaders, we’re telling Him He doesn’t know what He’s doing (Numbers 12:1–9).

God isn’t insecure in who He is, is He? Why does He get so angry?

Because when His people walk away from Him, they are walking away from the only hope they have. When a man walks around with his eyes closed, the best thing he can do is run into a wall.

For Israel in the time of Isaiah, that wall was the nation of Babylon. God’s people were trusting in their own military might, their loose alliances with the nations around them, and their false friend Egypt — everything and everyone but the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Time and again, the prophets reminded them that God had been faithful through the ages, yet they thought it wiser to depend on less reliable heroes in the present. So God whistled for their enemies and handed them over.

Seems a little harsh from a God of whom David said:

“The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love” (Psalm 103:8, ESV)

So how slow is “slow“?

According to the timeline and the testimony of Scripture, the children of Israel had heaped up hundreds of years of bad behavior before the prophets pronounced judgment. How many times had God held back the consequences He had spelled out in the covenant they had agreed to? How long had God held back His wrath while waiting for their repentance? How many times had they said “no”?

Ponder with me: what could have happened had the children of Israel accepted their Messiah when he came? If they had repented when He said, “Repent and believe”? If they had run to Him when He said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest”? Instead, they plugged their ears and hardened their hearts, and Jesus ended up saying, “Jerusalem will be trampled underfoot by the Gentiles until the times of the Gentiles are fulfilled.”

Not forever, just until the times of the Gentiles are fulfilled.

The psalmist promised His people,

He will not always chide, nor will he keep his anger forever. He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities.”
— Psalm 103:9 - 10, ESV)

It’s been a long time now, but it’s not “forever” yet.

So what about God’s anger? What does it say about Him?

There comes a time in man’s mutiny when God’s anger is the only righteous response. But it’s slow in coming, it’s less than we deserve, and it will not last forever.

God’s anger, really, is the fruit of His compassion.

Judgment isn’t God’s first response. His judgments hand men over to the logical end of their own choices. Think Eden.

When men refuse to trust that God’s way is perfect, God’s judgments abandon them to their own disorder. Think flood.

When man continues to try any way but God’s way, God’s judgment becomes the only way. Think Israel.

But never forget, on the other side of God’s judgment is man’s redemption. Think Jesus.

The Bible is filled with metaphor, simile, symbolism — all manner of literary devices designed to draw pictures in our minds when logic is unhelpful. In some cases, they leave the mind wide open for all sorts of imaginations. But some of the strange stuff in the Bible is presented so many times, and in so many ways, it’s evident there’s reality behind the rhetoric.

“Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’? The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’” “You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” (Genesis 3:1–5)

This is a snake like none other, yes?

He talked. Weird.

He was able to take the words of God and twist them for his own devious purposes. Weird and scary.

And the big question is, “How did he get there?”

It’s a long, strange story, and given there’s no marking of time in the spirit while Earth’s clock ticks on, we may never understand, at least not until the end. And then, we may not care.

But I assume it’s our assignment to understand what’s laid out before us in the here and now.

Enter the prophets.

In Ezekiel chapter 28, God tells Ezekiel to address two rulers: the prince of Tyre and the king of Tyre. Some scholars argue that the two are one and the same.

You decide.

It appears the prince of Tyre had become prideful to the point of thinking he was a god, and God, with just a tiny bit of sarcasm, reminds him that he’s not.

He then goes on to address the king of Tyre. The prince’s father?

Well, yes. In a manner.

But read on and you’ll find that this ruler is no human. He was wise and beautiful to the point of perfection. (That narrows it down dramatically.)

He was present in the garden of Eden. (Who but Adam and Eve and the animals were there?)

He was clothed with precious stones and gold, while Adam and Eve were naked.

Who could it be?

Verses 14 and 16 say he was a beautiful guardian cherub, a spiritual being who was in God's sacred space until wickedness was found in him. He, like the prince of Tyre, had become prideful, and he, like the prince, lost his place.

The apostle Paul, in his letters to believers throughout Asia Minor, talks of principalities — realms or territories — in both heaven and earth. (Ephesians 2:2, 3:10, 6:12; Colossians 1:15–16 , 2:15; 1 Corinthians 2:6–8; 15:24–26; Romans 8:38–39. I encourage you to read all of these passages, but if you only have time for a crash course, Ephesians 3:10 and 6:12 make it pretty clear.) Evidently, there are spiritual powers, in addition to God, that direct activities here on earth.

The “king of Tyre” was not the physical father of the prince but a spiritual “father“ operating behind the prince’s earthly rule — none other than the capital “E” enemy himself.

This is more than a bit odd to the natural mind, especially here in the West, where most of us give little thought to what’s beyond the physical realm. If our minds can’t grasp it, we cast it off as a myth.

But according to the Bible, just as there are heavenly beings in the service of God, there are heavenly beings in the service of hell. And not just one or two.

The oddest, in my opinion, are “the sons of God.” Read about them in Genesis 6:1–4 and Job 1:6–7, and you’ll see the books’ authors are definitely not talking about you and me and Jesus. These are otherworldly creatures, called “sons of God” simply because they were created by Him.

Some of these bad boys took the “daughters of Eve” as wives — spiritual beings procreating with earthlings, blurring the boundaries between those designed for heaven and those designed for earth.

The result?

Nephilim — hybrid giants living on earth, causing all kinds of trouble for men (Numbers 13:31–33). Generation after generation of hybridization meant the eventual end of the Nephilim, but their legacy of violence lives on.

Not to worry, though.

The New Testament book of Jude tells us their fate: And the angels who did not keep their positions of authority but abandoned their proper dwelling — these he has kept in darkness, bound with everlasting chains for judgment on the great Day. (Jude 6)

II Peter 2:4–9 elaborates:

For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but sent them to hell, putting them in chains of darkness to be held for judgment; if he did not spare the ancient world when he brought the flood on its ungodly people, but protected Noah, a preacher of righteousness, and seven others; if he condemned the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah by burning them to ashes, and made them an example of what is going to happen to the ungodly; and if he rescued Lot, a righteous man, who was distressed by the depraved conduct of the lawless (for that righteous man, living among them day after day, was tormented in his righteous soul by the lawless deeds he saw and heard) — if this is so, then the Lord knows how to rescue the godly from trials and to hold the unrighteous for punishment on the day of judgment.

So why all this talk about the dark side if their days are numbered and their leash is short?

Good question.

As someone who enjoys digging into lesser-known texts, I find these odd accounts interesting. And although I sometimes share them to wow and impress, the real reason I do is that I think it’s important information. If Paul and Peter and Jude thought it was worthy to share, who am I to argue?

Ignorance is never our friend.

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul said the ruler of the kingdom of the air is still at work in the disobedient (Ephesians 2:1–2). Meaning, wherever there is disobedience, there will be dark spiritual powers at work.

The good news is that if you are no longer dead in your trespasses and sins, they won’t be at work in you.

The bad news is they may still be at work in those around you.

But the good news is that since God has put His Spirit in you, you have an abundant supply of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control to deal with them.

Right?

Besides, “all of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our flesh and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath but because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions — it is by grace you have been saved (Ephesians 2:3–5).”

Don’t stop there! If you think God has lavished His grace on you to keep you safe and hidden, by all means, read on.

“God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith — and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God — not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” (Ephesians 2:6–10)

That’s why you’re in this big, weird world.

There is another spiritual being I haven’t talked about yet; I’ve saved the best for last.

He is called “the angel of the LORD.”

He appeared to Hagar in the wilderness to announce she would have a son (Genesis 16:7-13) and called out to Abraham when he was about to sacrifice his son (Genesis 22:9–19).

He accompanied the Israelites as they trudged through the desert (Exodus 16–19) and appeared to Balaam (Numbers 22:24–38) and Gideon (Judges 6:11–22) when they were found in places they weren’t supposed to be.

He visited Sampson’s parents (Judges 13:13–22) and the prophets Elijah (1 Kings 19:1–8) and Zechariah (Zechariah 1:7–17), and he scared the pants off King David when he failed to trust the Lord (1 Chronicles 21:14–27).

In each account, this being is identified first as “the angel of Yahweh” and then as Yahweh himself, and in some accounts, his ID switches back and forth. Like when he met with Moses at the burning bush:

The angel of the Lord appeared to Moses in a blazing fire from the midst of a bush; and he looked, and behold, the bush was burning with fire, yet the bush was not consumed. So Moses said, “I must turn aside now and see this marvelous sight, why the bush is not burned up.” When Yahweh saw that he turned aside to look, God called to him from the midst of the bush and said, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” And he said, “Do not come near here; remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” And he said, “ I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” Then Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God. (Exodus 3:2–4)

See what I mean?

So this messenger wasn’t just a messenger from God, but God Himself appearing with a message.

Once again, eternal truths mess with my earthly understanding.

Can a being be Yahweh and yet be distinct from Him? These accounts would indicate it’s so. And so does the gospel.

The apostle John tried to put it into words:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. (John 1:1–3)

The Nicene Creed does a bang-up job of trying to explain it: “We believe in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father; God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God; begotten not made, being of one substance with the Father; through Him all things were made.”

This “angel of the Lord,” the most-high messenger from heaven, appeared in Old Testament times to prepare His people for the enigma of the New — Jesus, at once appearing as God and man.

“In the past God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom also he made the universe. The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word. After he had provided purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty in heaven. So he became as much superior to the angels as the name he has inherited is superior to theirs.” (Hebrews 1:1–4)

Our God is a complex being who, fortunately for us, can remain transcendent, a consuming fire, while at the same time being present and accessible to men.

This is the mystery of Jesus — holy God, wonderful Savior, and friend.

When we pray for protection, God may send an angel

If you’re a movie buff, you may remember that God sent an angel in response to the prayers of George Bailey’s family and friends.

If you are a Bible buff, you know that Psalm 91 promises that God will send angels to guard us wherever we go (Psalm 91:11–12).

When we need deliverance, God may send an angel

You also may remember that God sent an angel to deliver Peter from death at the hands of Herod. At its appearance, Peter’s chains fell off, and the angel led him out of prison.

Note: When Peter arrived at the door where those gathered were praying, they had a hard time believing it was him — they thought it was his angel. A testimony, I guess, that believing in angels wasn’t hard for Jesus-followers at all. It seems it was harder for them to believe that their prayers would be answered.

When we least expect it, God may send an angel

— and we may get more than we bargained for.

When the prophet Daniel was praying in Babylon, asking God for understanding of the odd visions he was having, God’s answer came via angels. Each time, it gave Daniel an awe-full fright.

In one instance, the angel brought not only understanding but a bit of information addressing a question that may have crossed Daniel’s mind a time or two during the twenty-plus days he prayed: “God, what is taking you so long?”

The angel offered up this explanation: enemy forces had been trying to stop him on the way.

He said,

“Fear not, Daniel, for from the first day that you set your heart to understand and humbled yourself before your God, your words have been heard, and I have come because of your words. The prince of the kingdom of Persia withstood me twenty-one days… (Daniel 10:12–13a, ESV)

The answer to Daniel’s prayer for understanding had been dispatched the day Daniel prayed, but “the prince of the kingdom of Persia” had held the delivery angel back. And the angel expected resistance on the way back, too.

Warring angels

“But now I will return to fight against the prince of Persia; and when I go out, behold, the prince of Greece will come.”

The angel speaking to Daniel would face off with “the prince of Persia” now; the “prince of Greece” would come later.

If you’re a history buff, you’ll know that Persia was ruling Babylon while Daniel and the angel were speaking, and Greece would be ruling Babylon in “the days yet to come” (Daniel 10:14).

It seems there were princes in the heavenlies — “spirit princes” as the New Living Translation calls them — watching over the region to withstand God’s intent and protect their own.

They are often called “territorial spirits” today.

It’s a good name. But it seems territorial spirits need boots on the ground — of the human kind — to have any authority on the earth. “The prince of Persia” follows the Persians around, “the prince of Greece” follows the Greeks around, et cetera.

Because God’s people — though held captive in Babylon — had God’s princes at work there, too, to ensure that God’s word made it to God’s man.

The angel that made it through to Daniel said,

“But Michael, one of the chief princes, came to help me, for I was left there with the kings of Persia” (Daniel 1013b).

Michael, a “chief prince,” in Jude 9 is called an archangel. One of the big guns.

I guess you could call Michael the archangel a territorial spirit over the nation of Israel — the spirit prince fighting on behalf of God’s intent for His people.

Warrior angels — territorial spirits wrestling in the heavenlies.

Are they still wrestling today? What do you think?

A read through the Scriptures and one cannot deny that God has a host of angels on assignment in heaven and on earth: in the heavenlies as worshippers and warriors, and on earth as guardians, ministers, and messengers.

What goes on in the heavenlies — that realm between God’s throne room and the domain of man — seems to get a lot of press. With a stretch of the imagination and a few Scriptures, grand narratives can be constructed that catch the attention of the fervent and skeptics alike.

The book of Daniel provides us with a look into both realms.

Daniel tells of his experiences on earth and the angels sent to tell him of their experiences in the heavenlies. A responsible study of the Scriptures retelling these encounters gives us insight into the interaction between heaven and earth when God’s people pray.

During Daniel’s service in the royal courts of Babylon, he had several encounters with heavenly beings, including Gabriel, the angel perhaps best known for his later visit to Mary, the mother of Jesus (Luke 1:26–27).

In Chapter 8 of Daniel, Daniel describes his puzzling vision of a ram and a goat doing battle, with great emphasis on the horns of each. Even today, books and blogs and debates abound about what that vision could mean.

Daniel was wise. He asked the one who was sending the message:

“When I, Daniel, had seen the vision, I sought to understand it.” (Daniel 8:15, ESV)

In response, Daniel heard a voice from some distance away and saw another figure standing before him. Although the one who appeared before Daniel looked like a man and the one who spoke sounded like a man, Daniel’s reaction indicates that they were no ordinary men: he fell on his face and into a deep sleep.

It was only when the one standing by Daniel touched him that he was able to stand up to listen to the angel’s message.

The voice that spoke called the one standing before Daniel “Gabriel” and gave him this instruction:

“Make this man understand the vision.” (Daniel 8:19, ESV)

But the end of the account leaves us wondering how successful Daniel, or even heaven, considered the encounter:

“And I, Daniel, was overcome and lay sick for some days. Then I rose and went about the king’s business, but I was appalled by the vision and did not understand it. (Daniel 8:27, ESV)

Some years later, Daniel had another encounter. It doesn’t appear that Daniel was requesting angelic intervention, and yet, as he prayed, Gabriel appeared again.

Daniel’s study of the Scriptures had caused him to approach the Lord in a posture of humility, confessing the sins of his people and asking God, in His mercy, to act on Israel’s behalf.

The angel Gabriel said his purpose in coming was once again to give Daniel understanding. Since then, Gabriel’s message has been the subject of numerous math exercises, simple and complex.

Daniel’s third encounter with heaven’s messengers had much in common with the first two: he received the vision after extended prayer and fasting; the heavenly messengers appeared as men, yet were terrifying, nonetheless; and the messengers made it clear they were there to bring him understanding.

But this time, the messenger shared a piece of information only hinted at elsewhere in Scripture: he had to struggle with an opposing force to make his way to Daniel.

It seems Daniel had no idea.

He had simply done what he was called to do: cry out to God for what he knew only God could do — forgive His people and deliver them according to His word. How He would do it, Daniel left up to Him.

So why did the messenger feel it necessary to give Daniel that glimpse behind the scenes, and why was Daniel inspired to share it with us?

Perhaps to encourage men to be patient and persistent in prayer?

Then he said to me, “Fear not, Daniel, for from the first day that you set your heart to understand and humbled yourself before your God, your words have been heard, and I have come because of your words.” (Daniel 10:12, ESV)

That the prayers of the righteous are heard in heaven the moment they are spoken?

Though the heavens may seem like brass, nothing can keep them from the Father’s throneroom?

That God moves the heavens to deliver His answer to those who are greatly loved?

The messenger then gave Daniel an explanation for his delay:

“The prince of the kingdom of Persia withstood me twenty-one days, but Michael, one of the chief princes, came to help me, for I was left there with the kings of Persia, and came to make you understand what is to happen to your people in the latter days. For the vision is for days yet to come.” (Daniel 10:13–14 ESV)

Gabriel had said much the same thing during Daniel’s earlier encounter with him and had included this instruction: “Therefore consider the word and understand the vision.” (Daniel 9:23)

Often, God’s answer is understanding.

His wisdom, His timing, and His resolution are beyond the comprehension of the common man but are available to the righteous who will “consider” what they cannot understand.

These verses in Daniel 9 and 10 make it clear that heavenly hosts are opposing each other in a realm beyond this earth, some in the army of God and some in the army that seeks to thwart the plans of God.

The Scriptures also make it clear that God’s army is at God’s command.

Several New Testament verses confirm that there are forces in the heavenlies intent on keeping God’s kingdom from invading the earth: 2 Corinthians 10:3–6; Ephesians 1:15–23; and Ephesians 6:10–20.

These verses have become the basis for the battle plan of some in the Church: invade the heavenlies and make war with the forces of evil.

But consider: has heaven’s battle plan in spiritual warfare changed? Is it now the believer’s assignment to invade the heavenlies to overcome the forces of evil? What exactly is the New Covenant believer’s assignment, his battle?

Though I am no angel, my exhortation to you is the same as Gabriel’s instruction to Daniel: consider the words that God has delivered to us.

The answer is in the Scriptures. Just be sure to consider it in its context.

A samayim sandwich.

We writers, I admit, sometimes introduce words from the original languages of Scripture to try to impress our readers, but there are times we do it for good reason. In this case, I do so to lift the lid for a peek beneath our everyday understanding of the word “heaven.”

And God made the expanse and separated the waters that were under the expanse from the waters that were above the expanse. And it was so. And God called the expanse Heaven (samayim). (Genesis 1:7–8a ESV)

Many think of “heaven” as some place “up yonder.” And someday, when this life is over, it’s where we’ll all fly away. Oh, glory!

But there’s a lot more going on in the samayim than we suppose.

In Hebrew, the word samayim is plural: the suffix “-im” indicates “more than one,” much like the added “s” in English does. But in Genesis 1:8, for example, many translators muffed it, leaving us moderns a little short on understanding.

The ancients knew there was more in the samayim than we naturally see. Between the heaven where the Highest has His throne and the sky where the stars and planets do their dance, there is a place where supernatural beings move about.

There is the samayim in between, and regardless of what Renaissance paintings and cathedral ceilings portray, it’s not all cherubs with harps.

It’s a place of intrigue and war

Apostles and prophets and their scribes recorded visions and dreams and visits from awe-inspiring creatures: divine beings in rapt worship as well as fearsome champions at war, and in most instances, the earthly was admonished by the heavenly, “Fear not!”

Halos and white wings would hardly require such consolation.

Some of the most compelling of these accounts are found in the prophet Daniel’s journal of what happened as he prayed for God’s will to be done on earth.

Three of his encounters involved heavenly beings we commonly call “angels.” In the first, Daniel called the messenger “one having the appearance of a man” while a voice offstage called him “Gabriel” (Daniel 8:15–17). The second time Gabriel came to visit Daniel, Daniel called him by name (Daniel 9:21). In the third encounter, the identity of “the one having the appearance of a man” was assumed (Daniel 10:18).

In each case, Gabriel came to reveal the meaning of Daniel’s visions, but in the third, he revealed his experience on the way.

Daniel had been fasting for twenty-one days when Gabriel arrived, and as they spoke, Gabriel explained that he had been dispatched with Daniel’s answer on the first day that Daniel prayed, but contrary forces in the samayim had hindered its delivery. Only when he received the aid of a more powerful warrior, the prince Michael, was he able to break through. And now that his errand on earth was done, he was returning to fight another battle in the heavens.

Wild? Yes. Believable? Only if you believe the Scriptures.

Angels are still on assignment today, and their assignments involve more than watching over your stuff.

There is still war in the samayim

The warfare is the same as when Daniel prayed: princes of the kingdom of darkness attempt to hinder our understanding by holding back the messengers of Light. Yet, emissaries of the kingdom of Light are faithfully dispatched with the understanding and strength that we need.

Paul called some of the enemy ranks “cosmic powers over this present darkness,” or “spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Eph. 6:12), but they don’t appear to us as warriors with flashing swords.

They are far more strategic than that.

From a sphere unlike those layered about Earth, they launch “flaming arrows” to pierce our hearts with discouragement and lies. Unseen, they attempt to take us off guard, deceive us, and leave us disarmed and defeated, without hope or faith in the power of God.

How do we, mere mortals, wage war?

Can we ascend into the samayim and aid the forces God has commissioned for His kingdom?

First, do you think that’s necessary? Contrary to what we may see, feel, or imagine, God and His forces have that arena in hand. (See Col. 2:15; Heb. 2:8).

Second, and more importantly, do you think that’s wise? The Scriptures give us no such instruction, and God has given us no pass (See Ps. 115:16).

So what is man’s winning strategy for dealing with heavenly forces?

It’s not nearly as spectacular as you may have read. No marching, yelling, or discerning of names or territories necessary.

It’s simply this:

Stand.

Three times Paul says it in his instructions to the Ephesians: “withstand,” “ stand firm,” “stand therefore” (Eph. 6:13–14, ESV).

Prepare.

Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. (Eph. 6:11, ESV)

Guard your vulnerabilities with a life of truth and righteousness. Let the peace of the good news, not a bravado born of fear, be your grounding. Let your faith in what God has said protect you from the lies and discouragement of the enemy.

Protect your mind from thoughts that undermine the deliverance you have in Christ, and defend that truth with God’s unchanging Word.

Pray like Daniel did, persevere like Paul, and intercede for those beside you in the battle to proclaim the Name of the Lord.

James adds, “Resist.”

Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. (James 4:7, ESV)

Other “strategies” have been introduced in the Body of Christ, methods of warfare that leave believers exhausted and earth unchanged.

But the truth is, the samayim is a realm outside of our reach.

We have an earth to win

The heavens are the Lord’s heavens, but the earth he has given to the children of man. (Ps. 115:16)

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There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them. — C.S. Lewis, Preface, The Screwtape Letters

Hear, hear, C.S. Lewis!

Equal and opposite. Both in error.

Why do I believe the two are such hindrances to the body of Christ?

The first results in an intense struggle to change oneself, leading to physical and mental exhaustion without producing any lasting change.

The second? Excess energy expended shouting at demons at the cost of personal responsibility.

Both result in the enemy’s desire: no advance in the Kingdom of God.

For centuries, the Western world was most comfortable with all things logical. Anything supernatural was tied to the dark arts. Reaching into the spirit realm was considered evil, and anyone drawn toward the supernatural was rejected by society.

In recent decades, however, the supernatural has become fascinating and fashionable to the world, yet it is still rejected by much of the church.

The larger sector of the Western church, the more established in the realm of religion, may admit that “God is mysterious,” yet tries to explain how He works and why He does what He does. The unexplained is set aside.

Strange scriptures are stumbled over or ignored, and the Christian’s highest calling is considered to be a life of righteousness. The work of the Holy Spirit is thought to manifest solely in Jesus.

Another, the smaller yet more infamous sector, easily accepts the supernatural. They pray, “God, come down,” commanding angels to battle evil forces in the heavenlies to make way for change on the earth.

How I wish there were a meeting of the two!

I’m guessing most of you who study the Scriptures can quote this verse with me: “For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds…” — 2 Corinthians 10:4, NKJV

Weapons? Warfare? What are we fighting?

What is spiritual warfare?

I looked it up on Wikipedia.

You laugh?

Wikipedia is an important source of information, not because it is scholarly or reliable, but because it is one of the ten most visited websites in the world. It could be the world’s greatest influencer.

It is the place people go when they are curious but don’t care to learn.

In this instance, Wikipedia can shape what those outside the church believe about what goes on inside the church, and may even serve as a source of answers for those too busy to study their Bibles.

But Wikipedia does have its strong points. It is a composite of information, written in a neutral tone, and peer-reviewed by volunteers who sit on more than one side of the issue. Frankly, you have a better chance of getting the full picture of a thing than asking advocates on either side.

Wikipedia’s article on spiritual warfare begins:

“Spiritual warfare is the Christian concept of fighting against the work of preternatural evil forces. It is based on the belief in evil spirits, or demons, that are said to intervene in human affairs in various ways.”1

Much of the rest of the article describes what “spiritual warfare” is considered to be in the minds of neo-charismatics, and what it is not in the minds of most others in the Western church.

First, Wikipedia mentions the common practice of prayer as spiritual warfare and lists practices of exorcism and deliverance, the laying on hands, fasting with prayer, praise and worship, and anointing with oil.

It uses space covering in the spotlight or under the microscope: spiritual mapping and prayer walking in the battle against territorial spirits.

According to information gathered by Wikipedia volunteers, within the realm of traditional Protestantism, warfare against the demonic realm is largely rejected, considered to be in opposition to the spirit of the gospel.

Adherents to the doctrines developed between the 16th to the 19th centuries believe that Paul’s reference to warfare is not about a battle, or even a stand, against the demonic, but rather a metaphor for the Christian’s struggle against self in the affairs of this life, and that the strategies advocated and employed by neo-charismatics are eccentric and even dangerous, having no Scriptural or historical basis.

Neo-charismatics contend that these practices were demonstrated by Jesus and His disciples and addressed in the teachings of Paul.

So which is it?

Have the neo-charismatics gone too far? Does traditional Protestant doctrine dismiss some practices of the first-century church?

“I have noticed over the years that the topic of spiritual warfare is itself the subject of spiritual warfare. It is as though certain hidden forces would much rather we didn’t talk about it or that we swept it under the carpet.” — N.T. Wright2

Near the end of Wikipedia’s article was a quote from Paul Hiebert, a graduate of Fuller Theological Seminary and considered a leading missiological anthropologist.

I wish I were a Wikipedia volunteer. I would put it in bolder, larger type.

“Hiebert speaks of the flaw of the excluded middle in the thinking of some evangelicals who have a cosmology of God in Heaven and humans on earth, but have ignored the “middle” realm of the angelic and demonic.” 3

The “excluded middle.”

God in heaven and humans on earth — but what is in between?

Who can ignore the angels we sing of on Christmas Eve? Were they here to teach us Christmas carols?

When Jesus and His disciples cast out demons, where did they go?

Wikipedia is a good source of general information, but what does the Bible say? How does the “His Kingdom come” and “His will be done”? Is it all Him? All us? Is Heaven rescuing Earth or are humans establishing the Kingdom?

Are you curious, but not satisfied with Wikipedia?

This volunteer’s advice?

To the neo-charismatics: study the Scriptures a little more, read those sensational books a little less.

To the traditionalists: stop skipping over those verses that seem a little weird, but ask the Holy Spirit for understanding.

I’m quite certain it’s all right there.

“But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, He will guide you into all the truth. He will not speak on His own; He will speak only what He hears, and He will tell you what is yet to come.” (Jesus to His disciples, John 16:13, NIV)

When I was young, I spent a lot of time across the street at my grandma’s. It seemed I was always at odds with my older brother, and he was bigger than me, so…

I liked being at Grandma’s house. I knew where her candy was, and she never questioned why I was there. While she was busy in the kitchen, I would lie on her living room floor and watch television. There I was introduced to Rex Humbard and Oral Roberts, and as a result, to the wilder side of Jesus.

I was raised in a good Lutheran family, in church every Sunday. I don’t know how much influence those afternoon appointments with Pentecostals had on me, but I actually liked reading the Bible, and when it was time to go to Confirmation class, I didn’t mind at all. I liked challenging what the pastor was teaching. Not much has changed.

Somewhere along my journey through various expressions of Christianity, I was introduced to gospel tracts. To prove your devotion to Jesus, you hid them in places where people could find them, and if you were really brave, you placed them in their hands, then hurried away, hoping it would scare the pants off them and they would accept Jesus.

It was the duty and privilege of every serious Christian to distribute gospel tracts, and we were sure to get credit in heaven if someone prayed “the prayer.”

I never liked them.

The God Mr. Chick introduced, the one stoking the fire, was a God I never knew. But since my Lutheran upbringing had been pretty low-key, and I was hanging out with the fiery Christians now, who was I to argue? Only so much information can fit in a 3” x 5” pamphlet, after all, and Mr. Chick and company evidently felt the most important information was the imminence of hell.

As time went on, I got increasingly irritated by the things. Their emphasis seemed out of step with the message of Jesus. I knew you could make a case for fire and brimstone, but in my mind, larger truths should occupy center stage.

Like the gospel Jesus preached. He called it “the good news of the kingdom” (Luke 4:43).

The nation of Israel had been waiting on the kingdom of God for centuries, looking forward to the time when their messiah king would take his throne and break the backs of every foreign power. Since the time of Solomon, Israel had been under the thumb of one oppressor or another; during Jesus’s time, it was Rome.

Israel’s king was a puppet, the Romans were in control, and the Jews were sick and tired of it. Their great hope was a king who would come and restore Israel to its former glory. So when Jesus said the Kingdom of God was at hand, people listened.

And watched. Often as Jesus went from place to place proclaiming the kingdom (Matthew 4:23), people approached him for healing and deliverance. He hadn’t put out a sign: “Demons Cast Out Here!” he just talked about the kingdom of God.

People heard; they were amazed; they were healed and set free. People followed him; he didn’t have to chase them down. The good news he preached drew them, and they sought him out wherever He went. They gave him little rest. Eating was an afterthought. Though the masses were fed a time or two, they weren’t at his feet for the food. They wanted to know about the kingdom.

It’s like a mustard seed, he said. Though it starts small, it becomes large. It’s like yeast, affecting everything around it. It’s like a farmer who plants a field, like a pearl of great price, like a search for treasure, and a net catching all kinds of fish (Matthew 13).

He said the kingdom’s citizens were like salt and light, humble and generous. He taught them what kingdom people do and what they don’t. He said there was a price and a reward for being a part of the kingdom.

“The kingdom of heaven is yours,” he assured them. “It’s the Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom“ (Luke 12:32).

When his disciples asked him how to pray, he said they should ask the Father to change the world: “Your Kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:9–10).

When one of the rebels crucified at his side said, “Remember me in your kingdom,” Jesus said, “I’ll see you there” (Luke 23:42–43).

After his visit to hell and his ascension to heaven, Jesus spent forty days with his disciples speaking about the kingdom of God (Acts 1:3). When he left, those he left behind did the same (Acts 8:12).

While in Corinth, the apostle Paul spoke in the synagogue for three months, “arguing persuasively about the kingdom of God (Acts 19:8).” And in his last days, he proclaimed the kingdom while teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ (Acts 28:31).

Sidewalk evangelists today, though, are more familiar with “the Romans Road.” Before you can share the good news, you have to convince people how bad they are. “There is none righteous — no, not one.” “All have sinned and have fallen short of the glory of God.” And “God demonstrates His love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

All true.

All written to people already in the kingdom.

Seldom have I seen mention of the gospel Jesus preached.

What, then, shall our gospel tracts say? (Romans 8:31)

What if they talked less about man’s sin and more about God’s promise? What if they focused less on the power of evil and more on God’s goodness? What if, instead of offering a “get out of jail free” card, they proclaimed the freedom of God’s kingdom?

We might be hard-pressed to keep people out (Luke 16:16).

“The Bible is not an answer key or an instruction manual.”

I get in trouble for saying that.

It makes some Christians uncomfortable. Some publications have asked me to remove it from my articles or rewrite it to reflect a more Biblical worldview.

I stand by it.

The Bible is not an answer key

Here are some common verses we hang on our refrigerators as God’s personal promise to us:

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” ~ Jeremiah 29:11, NIV

Here, the prophet Jeremiah was relaying God’s words of encouragement to His people in Babylon, but they’re not what you’d expect.

These words were in contradiction to the words of a false prophet who said that prosperity for the Jews would come swiftly. God’s promise came in the context of deliverance that wouldn’t come for seventy years.

Some listening had no reason to believe that they’d still be alive.

Now you know the rest of the story.

How about Mark 10:27?

“With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.” ~ Mark 10:27

Jesus had just instructed the rich young ruler to sell everything he had to follow Him. When the rich young ruler left, Jesus told His disciples that choosing Him over earthly things would be far more difficult than they thought.

So He was referring to disciples giving up things to enter the Kingdom, not Him removing things that stood in their way.

Another?

“I can do all this through him who gives me strength” ~ Philippians 4:13, NIV

We quote this when we’re trying to make it through tough situations. But in context? Paul was saying, “Be content in whatever situation you are in.” In other words, stop trying to overcome, and trust God.

Context, context, context.

A verse lifted out of context to meet our current wants or needs can lead us to disappointment or worse, to follow after false teaching.

The Bible is not an instruction manual

The book of Proverbs is filled with “if…then…” statements instructing people how to live a life of prosperity and peace on Earth.

Yet we all know of men, both in Scripture and who have lived long since, who have walked in wisdom and righteousness yet whose lives have ended in tragedy or they have died a pauper’s death.

And the wicked? Well, they don’t always receive the wages of sin before they die as the Proverbs indicate they will.

Yes, the Proverbs are a source of wise instruction, so go ahead and post them on your fridge, but recognize that proverbs are not the same as promises.

What about the New Testament letters? Didn’t Paul offer instruction in them? He did. But take the time to find out why and you’ll see that his direction was often given to establish churches, not to direct your personal life.

Context, context, context.

The Scriptures are a story

Before you jump in hard on the word “story,” let me assure you I am fully convinced that this story is true. It’s like the “story” of Corrie ten Boom, not the “story” of Peter Pan.

God spoke to men and men passed down His words, not as a manual for living, but to draw all men unto Him — not as “the Answer Man,” but as He is — the Word — the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

Some chapters from the story

The man Job experienced greater trials, I’m guessing, than any of us ever will. His children were killed. He was living in physical agony. He’d lost all his material possessions. He had no one standing by him — not even his wife. Her answer for him was, “Give up.”

And then there were his friends.

Job’s friends came to him with all sorts of answers while Job was drowning in questions. Who was chastised in the end? It wasn’t Job.

And even more amazing? God gave Job no answers — not a one — yet this is what Job learned:

Surely I spoke of things I did not understand,
things too wonderful for me to know.

“You said, ‘Listen now, and I will speak;
I will question you,
and you shall answer me.’

My ears had heard of youbut now my eyes have seen you. ~ Job 42:4-5, NIV

God said He was the one with questions and He expected Job to answer for himself.

Had Job listened to his friends’ canned answers, he would have walked away with nothing more than a list of to-dos and a load of guilt rather than what he really needed to survive his trials — a more intimate knowledge of the Holy One.

And then came Jesus

There’s this story in Matthew 13.

When Jesus appeared before His largest audience and had his best opportunity to offer instruction, He spoke in hard-to-understand parables. Some there got it; some didn’t.

The disciples came to him and asked, “Why do you speak to the people in parables?”

He replied, “Because the knowledge of the secrets of the kingdom of heaven has been given to you, but not to them.” ~ Matthew 13:10–11, NIV

Thousands walked away; a few followed.

Then there’s this story in John 6.

Jesus’ teachings in Capernaum were offensive to many; even his disciples complained.

From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him. “You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve.

Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.” ~ John 6:68–69, NIV

While Jesus was speaking of eating His flesh and drinking His blood, the Twelve understood no more than those who left, but they knew this one thing: they knew who He was.

And so they continued with Him.

Following Jesus was hard. It led to offense, separation, and persecution. They stumbled when they didn’t understand. They had to endure when they didn’t have answers.

All this was while they had the Living Word with them! Now we have the written Word, and what do we expect?

If the Bible were indeed an instruction manual, shouldn’t life be but a breeze?

Honestly? How’s that working for you?

So what is the Bible?

Can I encourage you if you have your Bible handy to pick it up?

This collection of sixty-six books and some helps carries the story of God’s Word revealed as the perfect demonstration of the natural filled with the Spirit.

If all that Jesus did was recorded, John said, the whole world would not have room for the books that could be written.

But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name. ~ John 30:21, NIV

That we may have life. Not all the answers or life’s instructions, but life in His name.

Jesus never said, “I have the answer to your problems.” He said:

“I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” ~ John 14:6, NIV

For both Him and His disciples, walking in the Truth led to persecution, and revealing the Way led to death, yet all that He was and is leads to Life for His Church, and we will establish His Kingdom forever.

The Bible tells us that story.

There once was a man named Job…

Even if you’re not a student of the Bible, you’ve probably heard of Job. He’s famous for his suffering and his patience.

But if you dig deeper into the story of Job you can find a whole parable on how friends can relate to the hurting.

While God and Job’s accuser converse behind the scenes and other characters make cameo appearances, the bulk of the narrative replays Job’s conversations with three friends: Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite.

When the three friends learned that Job’s children had died, his servants had been killed, and all his stock had been stolen, they left their homes to go to be with Job.

We don’t know how far they traveled; I’m guessing it was quite some distance or their countries of origin wouldn’t have been mentioned.

There is no reason to believe they didn’t have families, and the story hints that they were men of influence. Whatever they had going on in their lives, it’s clear they sacrificed to be with Job.

No question these men were more than mere acquaintances — these men were Job’s friends.

Given the modes of transportation in those days — camels or some such other four-footed beasts— it could have taken months for them to reach Job’s home once they’d heard the news.

The Bible says that when they saw the broken man lying off in the distance, they barely recognized him.

They began to weep when they saw his condition, and when they reached him, they did what was customary: they tore their clothes, threw ashes on their heads, and then sat with him in silence.

For seven days, they said nothing.

But the mind is never idle.

As Job’s friends sat in mourning beside him, they probably pondered possible reasons for his suffering.

“What in the world could have happened here?”

“How does someone go from riches to rags?

And, “Why would God allow this to happen to a man like Job?”

Imaginations engaged. Standard answers began to present themselves. Hidden offenses, no matter how small, emerged. Well-known proverbs and principles came to mind.

All could explain how Job got himself into this mess. The same could instruct him how to get out.

The friends’ presumed duty changed: “How do we tell Job what he needs to hear?”

It was Job who broke the silence, and when he did, he asked the question his friends were waiting to hear: “Why did this happen to me?”

And his friends began offering their insight.

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“You reap what you sow.”

Eliphaz had been acquainted with Job’s father; most likely, he was much older than Job. He presented his arguments from the perspective of age and experience. “I’ve been there...” “I’ve seen it…” “I know it…”

In short, “I’m wiser than you.”

So, like a wise old uncle, he began, “Come on, Job. You know how this goes. If you mess up, you pay the consequences.”

The inference was clear: Job certainly must have sinned.

Eliphaz was preaching a common thought: You do good, you get good. You do bad, you get bad. What goes around comes around. Eventually, it comes around.

Evidently, Job believed that, too. Why else would he be asking, “Why?”

Job knew he had done only good, and yet here he was: his children dead, his fortunes ruined, lying on the ground with painful boils from head to toe.

When Job argued with Eliphaz’s assumptions, Eliphaz questioned Job’s character.

Setting their friendship aside, Eliphaz shaped reality around his beliefs. His presumption had become his truth.

What Job’s friend Eliphaz said about the way things work reflected some wisdom, but it contradicted what God said about Job:

“There is no one on earth like him. Job is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil.”

“It only makes sense.”

Job’s friend Bildad was an intellectual and brutally frank.

His arguments were presented as logic.

Since the obvious answer to the question ”Can God do wrong?” is “no,” Bildad’s obvious conclusion was, “Job, you did.”

Bildad was like the Pharisees who, in a later time, Jesus rebuked — those who knew the Scriptures well yet knew very little about God.

A “Pharisee” is rigid and self-righteous, lacking compassion.

Now, reach into the muddled mix of all that Bildad said, and chances are you’d pull out something true. But when applied to Job’s situation, Bildad’s maxims led him to false conclusions.

Because God considered Job godly.

Bildad certainly didn’t understand compassion, and he certainly didn’t consider himself his brother’s keeper. He cared not at all for the effect his words were having on Job.

Bildad had created God in his own image — as a cold intellectual.

“It is better to have a heart without words than words without a heart.” — Mahatma Gandhi

“I understand.”

Zophar was Job’s zealous friend — a hothead, passionate and emotional.

Zophar took personal offense at Job’s self-defense. He overflowed with rhetoric, exaggerating and twisting Job’s words for the sake of his poetry.

Zophar could just as well have said, “I can feel it in my gut. Something tells me you’re not telling the whole story. Something tells me you’re holding back.”

His bluster must have worn him out because while Eliphaz and Bildad each carried on through three rounds of discussion with Job, Zophar only went two.

Foolish platitudes and heartless accusations, a friend’s suffering opportunity for a sermon. Friends had become adversaries, comforters turned mockers.

How in the world did they get here?

Job’s friends didn’t set out with the wrong motivations. They’d come to comfort their friend. They hurt because Job hurt. They wanted to ease his pain.

And that’s where things began to go wrong.

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Job’s friends had believed some lies:

They thought they were there to bring a solution.

Yet Job said, “Who asked you to come to my rescue? Who asked for your advice?”

See, the suffering seldom want answers. The suffering need friends who will listen, not talk.

But we like to fix things.

That’s noble, but not possible. We say it all the time, but I’m not sure we believe it: We can’t fix people.

The “why” of someone’s pain smack-dab in the middle of it really isn’t our business. That’s for them to sort out.

They thought what they knew was the key to Job’s healing.

Their knowledge provided no more relief than Job’s did. Sometimes, life just doesn’t make sense.

To Job, their instruction was not only a waste of words but condescending, as well.

“Everybody knows that!” Job said. “I’m not as dumb as you think!”

Friends, there’s a right time for a Bible lesson and a right time for prayer, and they’re not the same.

Friends know the difference.

They thought their own experience applied to Job’s situation.

It didn’t. It couldn’t. It never will.

In trying to be wise, they shared strategies that made no sense to the one fighting the battle.

For the suffering, input flowing from another’s experience sounds like a muffled voice from behind a wall.

“It is said that there are two kinds of people: those who have something to say, and those who have to say something.” — Unknown

Job just wanted his friends to stop talking. He said, “I’d rather argue with God.”

The three friends’ attempts to help Job almost spelled the end of their friendship.

Indeed, how in the world did they get there?

I think this was at the root of it all:

Job’s pain made them uncomfortable.

Job understood that.

He said, “You see the horrible condition I’m in, and that makes you afraid.”

We see our vulnerability in the middle of others’ pain and we think, “If it could happen to them, it could happen to me.”

So we’d rather close our eyes and quickly slap on a Band-Aid.

When there is no clear answer, or there is and the one in pain is in no shape to accept it, what is the wisest thing to say?

As in the case of Job’s friends, the wisest thing, the most loving thing— even though it’s the most uncomfortable thing — is to simply sit quietly beside them.

I think we sometimes forget that a word is first an idea and then the expression of it. That ink on a page is the way it is captured and conveyed.

Written words are simply containers. Their life is in the source.

My first year at university, I registered for French 101 when I could have studied the German of my ancestors at my high school for free. I wanted to experience something entirely foreign, so I waited. French sounded so, so…romantic, not like the clunky syllables I’d hear my father exchanging with his mother.

And so here I was, sitting in a room with a company of expectant students, ready to receive the book that would teach us French. Through the door burst a grey-haired little lady, chattering away in what sounded like French, and fast.

In the center of the room, she stopped and took a look at us, eyebrows raised, as if she expected us to respond. In response to our blank stares, she spoke again. This time, just a couple of syllables. A short phrase — something that at least sounded familiar. “Bonjour, les étudiants.”

A brave young man up front took a chance and responded, “Bonjour?”

Only then did she speak one of the few English sentences we would hear that semester in that room. She told us that when we walked through those doors, it was as if we were in France, and we were expected to speak as the French do.

The texts she reluctantly distributed were hardly of any help, and the creators of Babbel, Duolingo, and YouTube may not have yet been born.

Some letters of the alphabet, although they seemed the same as those that constructed English words, were pronounced very differently. And in some cases, we had to speak through our noses.

We had to listen carefully to our teacher’s voice and become familiar with its inflections—was that an excited exclamation or a huff of exasperation?

We had to read her face.

There, in that room, I had to apply what I already knew.

As a teenager arriving home two hours after curfew, it wasn’t hard for me to discern if “Where have you been?” meant “I’ve been so worried!” or “What in the world have you been up to?” I knew the voice, I knew the face, and more than likely, I was in trouble.

Later, when I was living on my own and I neglected to call my mother, she would call me and I would hear: “Have you forgotten about us?” By the inflection in her voice, I knew there was a smirk on her face, not sadness in her eyes. I also knew that she was not prone to self-pity; I knew how to interpret what she was saying because I knew her.

These days, now that texting has all but replaced telephoning, we are left with little to aid us in decoding our incoming communications, and we have countless opportunities to offend others with our ambiguous phrases — that’s why LOL now has a place in the dictionary.

So, inconvenient as it might seem, there are times when a phone call or a face-to-face meeting can’t be avoided.

And there are times we want nothing less. We want to be fully understood; we want to fully understand. We need to hear the words from the mouth of their source, not hear them from some messenger or read them from a page. We need to see the face of the one who expressed them.

Such is the Word of God.

Seeing the face of God is still just a promise for those of us who seek it, but we are invited — and expected — to experience His presence right now, to hear His words in whatever “language” He chooses to speak.

In His presence, we can hear His words— perhaps not as the expelling of His breath, but as the transcendent expression of His heart. As concern. Or correction. Joy, or sadness. All with the inflection of love.

The fullness of His voice can’t be communicated on paper, or through a computer, or by the voice of another. Without hearing His voice in the medium of His presence, we can’t expect to fully understand what He’s saying.

Even if the Scriptures could contain all the information we need to know about Him, we still need His presence to make sense of it. It’s impossible to experience Truth through ink or pixels alone.

As teachers in the body of Christ, our understanding can be perfect, our pronunciation flawless, but we can’t be the sole interpreter of that which is on the page.

And as disciples, only by hearing His voice in the context of His presence, can you, or I, or those we love, receive and understand the Word who speaks.

I recently read a book by Peter Enns entitled The Sin of Certainty. I read it not because it was written by Peter Enns — I had no idea who he was — but because I was drawn to the title of the book.

The word “certainty” — that word that, in traditional thought, should cause a settling — is somewhat of an irritation to me.

It wasn’t always so.

In an earlier life, as in five years ago or so, I assumed that to every question there was an answer, and if I just read, or studied, or prayed enough, I would find it.

Right?

That’s what we’re supposed to do. Seek and you shall find. Knock and the door will be opened to you. (Matthew 7:7)

Sometimes I was seeking certainty because I felt my sanity depended on it— certainty would be my solid ground, my security.

Sometimes I was seeking it simply for the sake of knowing, for the accomplishment of it. How empty, unfulfilling, and embarrassing that can be.

Would I rather be right or righteous?

Since then, I’ve come to know that when I find myself certain of something, either as my lifeline or the sign that I’ve arrived, I’m standing on the edge of a big surprise. And not the friends jumping out from behind the couch shouting “Happy Birthday!” kind of surprise. No, the kind that rocks my world, throws me out of kilter, and invites me to reconsider what I believe.

So when I saw “The Sin of Certainty” calling from the cover of the book, I knew I had to have me a copy.

Not only did Mr. Enns have me nodding, he had me grimacing too, because regardless of all the questions I carry around in my head, I still have some pat answers tucked away in my back pocket.

Homeostasis

When climbing, our natural tendency is to seek the most stable footing. It’s a part of our survival instinct.

When hiking in the mountains of Croatia, I couldn’t enjoy the view because I was busy watching my feet. The trails were rocky, constantly shifting, so I was continually looking down.

That same survival instinct kicks in to protect status quo in our intellectual life. We don’t like instability. We want to walk on solid ground, all questions answered, cuddled up in certainty.

We love closure.

We in the West esteem our knowledge-driven society. We in the Western church aren’t much different.

Got a question? Grab your Bible! Dig until you find an answer that seems to fit and then hang on. You have your “faith confession.”

But certainty is not faith. Certainty hardens our hearts and dulls our ears to what the Spirit is saying. Or it steals the strength found only in God’s silence. It works against a God-breathed faith.

When we walk in certainty, we limit our capacity for revelation.

Certainty can be a sin.

The story of Job well demonstrates what I’m saying. If you enter the book of Job looking for an answer to the question, “Why do the righteous suffer?” you’ll come out sorely disappointed.

Thirty-nine chapters of Job are a question-and-answer session between Job and his “friends.” In eighteen chapters Job asks “Why?” and in twenty-one, his friends answer, “Because.”

In the final three chapters, God speaks up, not to hand Job an answer, but to ask some questions of His own — 77 of them, in fact. All to make the point, “Job, you don’t know who you’re talking to. Let me introduce Myself.”

And Job’s questions?

They went unaddressed — totally unanswered.

Yet in the middle of God’s barrage of questions, Job learned this:

His limited, earthly revelation, his knowledge and logic, though valuable and even valid, could not restrain, explain, or contain God.

Simply, there were things he did not know, and — listen now, this is the point: there was no shame in not knowing.

It was when he stood dumbfounded before the face of God that he entered into a more intimate knowledge of Him.

Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.
“You said, ‘Listen now, and I will speak; I will question you, and you shall answer me.’
My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you. (Job 42:3b-5a, NIV)

As for the friends?

The ones who were certain they had all the answers? They are the ones that got the tongue-lashing.

They are also the ones who received mercy and forgiveness because, well, that’s just who God and His righteous man, Job, were.

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This is my Bible.

It contains an introduction from the publisher, a table of contents, a collection of books called the Scriptures, an index, and some maps. I have six more Bibles on my shelf.

One of my Bibles contains eight translations — eight English renderings from the original languages of the Scriptures — and all are different. Most of the differences can be attributed to the nuances of translating one language to another.

But not all of them.

There are well over 100 English translations of the Bible right now. New translations are continually introduced and old ones are revised, either to make the Scriptures easier to understand for the current population or truer to the original texts.

Some consider the new translations to be improvements, and some consider them blasphemy. Some believe the new translations are part of a grand conspiracy; others believe they are developed because of advancing scholarship. Grand arguments arise about which translation is right, and you get to choose which one you like best.

It’s hard to explain how the Bible, if immutable, can cause such controversy.

Sixty-six books, gathered up and presented in a language I can understand, along with some helps, and not without controversy.

That’s my Bible.

The Scriptures

Though each of my Bibles is different, all contain the Scriptures.

The Scriptures are divinely inspired accounts of the history of man and his interactions with God. The Scriptures include the words of prophets, priests, and kings speaking with God and about God, and the words of God coming to men in visions, dreams, songs, prophecies, and by His audible voice.

Included in the Scriptures are accounts of what the Son of God did and said when He took on human flesh and walked on the earth, and prophecies of what He will say when He sits on His throne when the world is made new.

The Scriptures include letters from church leaders to other lovers of the Word of God, written to teach, encourage, and correct. Those writings are considered to be the Word of God to His people, although in some of his writings, the apostle Paul admitted to throwing in a few suggestions of his own.

The Scriptures included in my Bibles were penned by at least forty men. Some of the same events were recorded by more than one author, and some of those accounts disagree. Some even contradict one another.

Many who read their Bibles don’t notice the contradictions, some don’t read their Bibles enough to care, and some who know about them refuse to talk about them because that raises some difficult questions.

Although there may be easy explanations — different reports given by different witnesses and scribal errors made as one manuscript was copied to the next — how can the Scriptures, if inerrant, disagree?

Words inspired by God, carefully recorded by witnesses and scribes, and preserved for thousands of years to introduce us to the Word of God.

Those are the Scriptures.

The Word of God

Long before the Scriptures were recorded, the Word of God was. The Word was with God, and the Word was God, and the Word of God created all that is. It was the Word of God that said, “Let there be light.”

Long after creation — how long is a mystery — the Word of God came to earth through the sound of His voice and the etching of His finger on stone.

And then He appeared in the flesh.

As a man, He came to bring light and life to all, yet only a few recognized him as the Word of God. Men called Him Jesus.

Jesus said to the men who knew the Scriptures best, “You search the Scriptures, for in them you think you have eternal life; and these are they which testify of Me. But you are not willing to come to Me that you may have life.”

He said, “I have not spoken on my own authority, but the Father who sent me has himself given me a commandment — what to say and what to speak.” He testified that He was the Word of God.

And God, whom He called “Abba,” agreed. One day a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, my Chosen One; listen to him!”

When Jesus sent His disciples out in His name and in the power of God’s Spirit, He gave them the same authority to speak the Word of God. He told them, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

And so when they were sent out, the words they spoke were the Word of God. They were walking, talking, breathing vessels for the Word of God.

That “age” that Jesus spoke of hasn’t ended yet, so His charge to all of His disciples has not changed because the Word of God endures forever and it is immutable.

And though at times it seems we are no closer to seeing the fulfillment of the Word of God spoken by one of His prophets — that the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the LORD — we can be sure of it because the Word of God is infallible.

And while much in the Scriptures remains a mystery, the Word of God still invites us to seek Him: “It is the glory of God to conceal a matter; It is the glory of God to hide something and the glory of kings to discover something.” The Word of God that poured from King Solomon’s pen that day was divinely inspired.

As for any theological prejudice, sloppy scholarship, or human error in our Bibles? Man’s imperfections are no threat to the Word of God.

The Word of God is perfect.

It must be storming again.

The shifting of the solstice was messing with my circadian rhythms; I had no idea what time it was. That might have been thunder that woke me.

Moments later, I caught the movement of light through the blinds; it was too fickle for a car in the drive.

I got out of bed and put the coffee on.

In my study, I shifted my reading chair—I really must get one that’s easier to move— then shifted it again, and again, and again, as the lightning flashed and the blasted walls hid the fantastic from view.

Then I realized that the magic was all around me.

To the northeast, the center of the storm released a bolt of lightning resembling the symbol on battery boxes, its thunder a startling smack, sharp and loud.

Its path was nearly vertical, its release of electricity traveling from sky to earth so quickly that my eye could only catch the earth’s response — a stream of positive energy traveling up to meet it.

Another of nature’s optical illusions.

From the south, there came a fork of lightning, one tine traveling toward the ground, the other to the cloud beside it. I counted until I heard its thunder. One…two…three…four…five. Just a mile away. The memory of that long-ago science lesson made me smile — me and the boys, learning the science of wonder.

Hotter than the surface of the sun, moving a million times faster than the speed of sound, lighting is like a clash between earth and sky, thunder the sound of its meeting. Its exchange of opposite charges, though explosive, brings everything back into balance.

In the distance, an entire cloud lit up, its underbelly soft magenta. Red sky at morning, sailor take warning…

Suddenly the room filled with a blinding light and the contemporaneous “crack!” announced the storm’s immediate presence—no counting necessary.

The wispy clouds just overhead were hardly capable of producing such a crash and flash, but dawn’s approach brought with it just enough light to expose the foreboding layer of steel gray above them.

I stepped back from the window. The last time I stood this close to exploding air, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I felt a tingle run down my arms.

A neighbor used to call me when she saw an approaching storm, though she knew I would only go outside with my camera while she scurried to an inner room to watch the Weather Channel.

I had wondered back then what it would be like to be a storm chaser, racing dark clouds down dirt roads, trying to get ahead of the storm, not much interested in the hail or violent winds but rather the rumbling thunder that accompanied them.

Then the death of tornado researcher Tim Samaras left me wondering what it would be like to be his wife, his kids, or his team, left behind because he got too close to things that command reverent fear.

The storm moved east and I turned my chair, just as dawn replaced twilight and the dwindling contrast between darkness and light no longer made the storm fantastic.

When I say “apocalypse,” you say…

The movie buff: “an escalating crisis when Godzilla, King of the Monsters, arises from the sea to combat evil forces threatening the survival of humanity.”

The English professor: “a literary genre originating in Judaism in the centuries following the Babylonian exile but persisting in Christianity and Islam.”

The majority of Christians: “the final cataclysmic battle between the evil forces on the earth… or the Antichrist and Jesus… or the devil and the church, or…”

Merrium-Webster agrees with the literary scholars and defines it as “one of the Jewish and Christian writings of 200 b.c. to a.d. 150 marked by pseudonymity, symbolic imagery, and the expectation of an imminent cosmic cataclysm in which God destroys the ruling powers of evil and raises the righteous to life in a messianic kingdom.”

And Dictionary.com supports the common man’s definition: “an event involving destruction of damage on an awesome or catastrophic scale,” or the definition perhaps more familiar to Christians: “the complete final destruction of the world, as described in the biblical book of Revelation.”

But continue the search, compliments of Dictionary.com, to the origin of the word — back through the Old English by way of the Old French and Latin, of course, back to its source — and you’ll find the Greek apokalupsis, a word that means to ‘uncover or reveal.’

This is the word most often translated as “revelation” in the first verse of the first chapter in the last book of our Bibles: “The revelation of Jesus Christ…”

Hmm…

Perhaps our vision of the apocalypse is too small.

According to Abarim Publications Theological Dictionary, the verb kalupto means to wrap or cover, and it “applies mostly to knowledge (in its broadest sense), which is notoriously covered and must be discovered by the passionate investigator.”

And so, together with apo, which means “un-”, it means to uncover, to discover something new, or to see something that was there all along but was covered.

There it is, passionate investigators.

The apocalypse does not mean the end of the world, but the revelation of hidden things.

Paul used the word “apocalypse” when speaking of the revelation he had on the road to Damascus.

I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that the gospel I preached is not of human origin. I did not receive it from any man, nor was I taught it; rather, I received it by revelation — apokalypsis — from Jesus Christ. ~ Galatians 1:11–12 NIV

You’re familiar with the narrative in Acts 9, right?

Saul, a man who knew well the Scriptures about the coming Messiah, was supervising the death of those who had recognized the Messiah when He came.

Saul’s tradition, the veil through which he read the Scriptures, was blinding him to the truth of the gospel. But on his way to Damascus, he had an apocalypse. A bright light shone from heaven and the veil came off.

If you read carefully what he said to the Galatians, you’ll see that the apocalypse was not the event — not the bright light, not Saul falling to the ground — but the revelation he received when he did: that the man he was persecuting was the Messiah.

The truth revealed to Saul had been hidden in the Scriptures all along, but his apocalypse that day uncovered it.

An apocalypse can mean the uncovering of many things. Each of us may have our own. But there are some things they all have in common:

An apocalypse will be uncomfortable and strange.

Reading the book of Revelation can certainly make us uncomfortable. We don’t like the violence, the destruction, the death. And the symbolism, without question, is strange.

But your own apocalypse — coming to the knowledge that what you believed wasn’t true or complete — is uncomfortable, too, and newfound truth isn’t always easy to digest nor readily understood.

We may need our own Ananias. (Acts 9:10–18)

An apocalypse can lead to death.

Although an apocalypse does not mean the end of the world, it may be the end of the world as we’ve known it.

Saul had to say “goodbye” to all that he’d been and count as nothing all that he’d known.

“If someone else thinks they have reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for righteousness based on the law, faultless. But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ.” ~ Philippians 3:4–8 NIV

He became the enemy of those he used to represent, the hunted of those he’d done the hunting for, and all because of his apocalypse that day.

An apocalypse has no other purpose than to reveal Christ.

The Book of Revelation — most often thought of as a narrative of “the Apocalypse”—is itself the apocalyptic experience of the apostle John — a revealing of the Christ as seen from the perspective of heaven, through eyes guided by the Divine.

In the process of revealing Christ, John describes all kinds of weird things that will happen as a world in chaos comes to an end, and all to reveal the Kingdom of the Anointed One.

An apocalypse doesn’t have to be frightening.

While Jesus was chastising the arrogant and unrepentant, He looked up to His Father and said something that provides hope for us all:

“I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed — apokalyptō — them to little children.”
~ Matthew 11:25 NIV

To experience an apocalypse simply requires us to lay down our worldly wisdom and with expectation and hope look to our Father with the eyes of a child, trusting Him to reveal the secrets of the Kingdom.

The end of John’s vision — the most notorious apocalypse in the history of mankind — reveals a world where all that is right is uncovered, and all that is not is destroyed.

Let our anticipation of this apocalypse fill us with joy as we increasingly discover and uncover the kingdom God has prepared for us.

No longer will there be any curse. The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will serve him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light. And they will reign for ever and ever.
~ Revelation 22:3–5 NIV