The Wake Up Call

Me waking up my kiddos on the morning of Rosh Hashanah...

Have you ever heard the blast of a shofar?  The sound of a ram's horn is unlike anything you've heard before. It's both startling and beautiful at the same time.  to read the full blog post, click here

For Such a Time as This



Esther before the king
(from Distant Shores Media/Sweet Publishing)

Last weekend was Purim, the Feast of Esther.
 
As I reflected on my childhood celebrations of Purim, my fondest memories are the costumed parades - a conga line of kings and queens and villains and heroes.

And it struck me: No one wanted to be Vashti.
Vashti was the disobedient troublemaker.  The one whose public banishment paved the way for Esther to win the king's heart and hand.

So when Jewish kids dress up every year for the Purim parade, no one wants to be Vashti. No one. I certainly didn't.

Why would I?  After all, the celebration of Purim is jubilant - a carnival complete with games and sweets and music and dancing. And a parade, where everyone dresses to the hilt like their favorite character from Esther's story.

The boys dress as Mordechai the hero, or Haman the villain. And - truth be told - there are always more Hamans than Mordechais. Sometimes it's fun to play the bad guy.

But no one wants to be Vashti. No one wants to be the deposed queen. No one.

Until now.

The more I study the Book of Esther, the more I admire Queen Vashti.

If you don't know or remember the story, let me fill you in:

After seven days of feasting and drinking, the king of Persia summoned his queen, Vashti, "in order to display her beauty" for his guests. She refused, and was deposed for her disobedience.

To replace Vashti, the palace held a beauty contest of sorts.  The king chose Esther as his new queen. Unbeknownst to him, she was Jewish, a child of those dragged into exile from Jerusalem.

Meanwhile, Esther's uncle Mordechai served in the king's court. One day, he refused to bow down to Haman, the king's right-hand man.  Infuriated, the egomaniac deceived the king into ordering the massacre of all Jews in the kingdom, unaware that this death sentence applied to the queen.

Mordechai privately implored Esther to do what she could to save her people, famously asserting that, "...who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?" (Esther 4:14, NIV)

Esther resolved to approach the king uninvited - which, in itself, was tantamount to a death sentence.

Thankfully, when Esther approached the king, his heart was tender toward her.  Extending his scepter, the king spared Esther's life, offering whatever her heart desired.

In response, Esther invited her husband and Haman to a series of three banquets. Haman became puffed up, gloating over his repeated invitations to the royal table. Until, of course, he was outed as the villain during Esther's final banquet.

In the sudden turn of events, Haman was destroyed, the Jews were saved, and Mordechai was promoted to second-in-command.

It's an exciting story of love and loyalty, malice and murder, heartbreak and heroism.  And front and center is Esther:  the strong, beautiful protagonist who wins the king and saves her people. The kind of woman every girl wants to become.

Queen Vashti, on the other hand, is dismissed as a footnote amid hushed whispers and clucking tongues.

And yet.

Vashti's one infamous decision reveals more about who she was than any victory could have.

Esther made the right, brave choice because she had to. Her life and the lives of her people depended upon it.

Vashti made the right choice simply because it was the right choice.  You see, historians teach that once the wine started flowing, Persian queens were to leave the king's table. The only women who joined the banquet after that were for entertainment purposes only.

And Queen Vashti, during what some believe was her coronation celebration, refused to be degraded in such a manner.  She refused to go along to get along.

No, an entire people group wasn't at risk. But the queen's integrity was.

And, as often happens in life, Queen Vashti wasn't rewarded for making the right choice. In fact, she was publicly punished for it.

But imagine if she hadn't stood up to the king's improper request. What if Vashti had agreed to be ogled by all the king's men?

She never would've been banished. And if Vashti hadn't been banished, there would've been no contest for Esther to win. And if Esther hadn't won the king's hand, a Jewess wouldn't have been on the throne to intervene when Haman ordered the massacre of God's people.

A woman of integrity was married to a foolish king for such a time as that.

Indeed, Esther's "such a time as this" was made possible by Vashti's "such a time as this." 

(It must also be noted that the king greatly matured in the days after Vashti's banishment.)

Sometimes, our wise, brave choices bring success and salvation and accolades. Other times, they bring personal hardship. Both can be used by God to accomplish His greater plan.

The question for you and for me is whether we are willing to make the wise, brave choice simply because it is the right choice. To trust that whether the outcome is glorious or devastating, the One who judges justly has a plan for "such a time as this" that we will one day understand.

The Feast of Tabernacles

A sukkah in Israel.  Click to learn more about this photo.

We are in the midst of Sukkot,* the Feast of Tabernacles. 

To be honest, I wish people didn't call it that. 

You see, this feast has nothing to do with the tabernacle of worship.  The word God used to describe the feast is completely different from the one referring to the sanctuary.  The Hebrew words aren't even close.  Tabernacle, the house of God, is mishkan,* while this is the Feast of Sukkot.

So Jewish bibles translate the word as “booths,” instead of "tabernacles," to make sure the difference isn’t lost – it’s the Feast of Booths.

This difference between the mishkan and a sukkah* is actually the key point God is trying to make. 

Let me explain.  Have you ever seen a sukkah – perhaps behind a synagogue or in a neighbor's backyard?  Does it look permanent and weatherproof?  Nope.

A sukkah is a temporary, flimsy hut - not a solid, ornate building.  The walls are to be made of branches or unfinished lumber.  There must be enough branches across the top to provide shade during the heat of the day, but not so many that you can’t see the stars at night.

For the entire seven-day feast, people are supposed to live and eat their meals in their booth.  You don’t see that too often in the United States except among the most religious these days, but that is the command. 

Spending time during the Feast in the sukkah can be very refreshing and spirit-lifting, especially on sunny, breezy, autumn days with children playfully hanging apples and pomegranates from the walls.  On the other hand, a sukkah can be absolutely miserable on a cold and rainy autumn day. 

But what's the point?  Why did God command His people to live in these makeshift booths for a week every single year?  And why should it matter to us today?

Actually, the point He was making for the ancient Israelites is incredibly relevant for us in the twenty-first century.

The Lord told His people to live in these huts to remind them of the their nomadic life in the wilderness after the Exodus from Egypt.  To remind them that through their ups and downs in the desert, He sustained them and protected them every step of the way.

You see, God knew that when His people got to the Promised Land and began to thrive, they might forget their reliance on Him.  No longer wanderers, they might get used to their fortified cities with stone walls.  They might start thinking that they had control over their environment – their safety, their security. 

The Feast of Booths was an annual opportunity to be physically reminded that the Israelites' true shelter and true safety was in the Lord.

Incredibly, more than 3,000 years ago, God proactively addressed something that we continue to struggle with today: material versus divine security.

Do we trust and rely on God, or do we trust and rely on the work of our hands?  

Or do we say that we fully rely on God, but live each day as if it all depends on us?

“Where does my help come from?” asks the psalmist (121:1)  It doesn’t come from brick homes or fat retirement accounts or five-star crash rated cars, or even from our mishkan – our church.  

Our true, unwavering, unfailing help – no matter what we may think to the contrary – our only Sustainer, Provider and Protector is the Lord Almighty.

All of those other things are what He sometimes uses to bring about that security and provision.  But they can all be stripped away in an instant.  And living in makeshift huts is a tangible reminder that, ultimately, God's protective Hand is our only real shelter.

So go out this week and hang out in a sukkah.  Pitch a tent.  Or just spend time sitting outside - whether the sky is crisp and blue, or gray and stormy.  The elements are all His, after all.  

And grasp hold of the fact if you choose to abide in Him, He will remain your strong shelter for all eternity, no matter the storms - or the calm - around you today.



(This is a repost of last year's Feast of Tabernacles blog; look for a new post about the last day of the Feast next week)

*sukkot is pronounced soo-kote, and is the plural form
*mishkan is pronounced meesh-kahn
*sukkah is pronounced soo-kah, and is the singular form

Breaking the Fast

As the sun set last night, Jews around the world ended their fast.  The holiest day on the Jewish, Old Testament calendar drew to a close.  

"...on this day atonement will be made for you, to cleanse you. Then, before the LORD, you will be clean from all your sins."  Leviticus 16:30 NIV

This was the day on which the High Priest was commanded to step inside the Holy of Holies, behind the veil, to offer perfect lamb's blood on God's earthly Throne, the Mercy Seat.  In doing so, the High Priest secured atonement for God's repentant people.*

"This shall be a statute forever for you...you shall afflict your souls, and do no work at all..."  Leviticus 16:29 NKJV

While the High Priest sprinkled lamb's blood on the Mercy Seat, offering atonement for the nation, there was absolutely nothing for the people to do but fast and pray. Fervently. Their eternal standing before the Almighty depended on it.

And then, do you know what the people did when the ritual ended?  What they did after the High Priest emerged in one piece, their atonement accepted by the Almighty?

The people went home and drove the first nail into their sukkah.**

Their what?  What's a sukkah, you ask?

It's a booth. A flimsy hut. A tabernacle. 

You see, five days after the most sobering day of the year, a day spent doing nothing but fasting and repenting, Jews celebrate Sukkot, the Feast of Tabernacles. 

God commanded that His people spend seven days each year living in temporary huts. This was to remind them of the forty years the Israelites wandered in the desert. To remind His people that, through the journey of life, He is their true Shelter.  That He continues to dwell among His people to sustain them and protect them. 

So why is it significant that people drive the ceremonial first nail into their tabernacle as the sun sets on the Day of Atonement?

I think it's because, once a person has been made right with God, they experience true joy.  That's actually what Jews call The Feast of Tabernacles: Zeman Simchateinu, the Season of Our Joy. 

Once the debt of sin has been paid, once a relationship with God has been restored, He can come dwell among us!  Joy above joys!

And isn't that the Gospel?

Nailed to the Cross, the Lamb of God paid for our sin, restoring our relationship with the Father. And because of that ultimate Day of Atonement, we can now abide in Him and He in us!

The Season of Our Joy, indeed! 

God commands that people rejoice during the Feast of Tabernacles, and how can we not? The God of all creation - our true Protector and Sustainer - has atoned for our sin Himself and now dwells within us.

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!"  Philippians 4:4 NIV

*To learn more about the Day of Atonement, read my previous blog entry.
**Pronounced "su-kah;" Sukkot (soo-coat) is the plural of sukkah, and is the name by which the Feast is most commonly called. 

Sprinkled

The High Priest in the Holy of Holies

"But you have come...to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling..." Hebrews 12:22a,24 NIV

Has it ever struck you as odd, as you read New Testament letters, that believers are "sprinkled" with the blood of Christ?

This wording is no mere poetry. The Jewish men writing these letters understood that Jesus was our sin offering.  And they knew that the blood of sin offerings was not brushed or poured, but sprinkled on the altar. 

"He shall dip his finger into the blood and sprinkle it before the Lord..." Leviticus 4:17 NIV

Today is Yom Kippur, the Jewish, Old Testament, Day of Atonement. It is the holiest day of the year, because it is the day on which God instructed that atonement be made for His people.

Back when the Temple still stood, this was the one day each year that the High Priest stepped inside the veil, into the Holy of Holies. In doing so, he entered into the very Shekinah Presence of the Most High God.  

Doing this on any other day would have brought instant death. But on this day, The Lord demanded it. And He demanded that the High Priest bring with him the blood of a perfect lamb.  He was to sprinkle it on the Lord's earthly Throne, the Mercy Seat. 

"He is to take some of the...blood and with his finger sprinkle it on the front of the atonement cover; then he shall sprinkle some of it with his finger seven times before the atonement cover...  on this day atonement will be made for you, to cleanse you. Then, before the LORD, you will be clean from all your sins. Leviticus 16:14,30 NIV

Seven times, the High Priest sprinkled the lamb's blood on the seat of God's mercy. 

Seven is the number of perfection, of completion.  And so, with that seventh sprinkling, the lamb's blood completely purified the penitent children of Israel, paying the price their sin required. 

Truth be told, that was not the punishment that their sin really deserved. It should have been their blood.  Our blood.  But our just God is also a merciful God.  He accepts a substitute: a lamb's blood for man's blood. 

The image of those perfect drops of blood sprinkling on the Mercy Seat brings to mind other drops of perfect Lamb's blood, those that dripped from the broken body of the Messiah as He shed His blood for us on the Cross. 

"[You] have been chosen according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, through the sanctifying work of the Spirit, to be obedient to Jesus Christ and sprinkled with his blood: Grace and peace be yours in abundance."  1 Peter 1:2 NIV

As the High Priest counted off each sprinkle of perfect blood, he prayed that the lamb's blood would be enough, that it would satisfy the debt for another year. 

As Jesus' blood spilled from the Cross, the Lamb knew His blood was enough. God's perfect promise had been kept. The penalty of sin had been paid. 

Perfect atonement was made complete.  Not with man's blood.  Not with lamb's blood.  But with Divine blood that fell, yet rose again from the dust.

And because the Offering is risen, because the Atonement is Eternal, the forgiveness He offers is without end, for anyone who claims it both now and forever.

It is finished, completely and perfectly finished.