Obadiah (not the Minor Prophet) is an Old Testament character who gets overshadowed by the prophet Elijah, King Ahab, and his wicked wife Queen Jezebel.
Obadiah was in charge of Jezebel’s palace and he “greatly feared the Lord” (I Kings 18:3). This intrigues me. How does he maintain his integrity while living in the midst of extreme wickedness? And why does the king retain him in service? Perhaps he is trusted and faithful and humble. Who knows. I think of Joseph and Daniel who were also placed in positions of authority under not-so-nice rulers.
When Jezebel murders all the prophets she can find, Obadiah secretly hides one hundred prophets of the Lord in two caves and feeds them bread and water. Meanwhile, Obadiah knows that King Ahab is furious with Elijah, blaming him for the drought. (Typical to blame someone else for one’s own sin choices.)
One day while Obadiah is walking along a desert road, Elijah suddenly appears next to him and tells Obadiah to inform the king that he (Elijah) is here.
“No way!” says Obadiah. (Apparently, someone had reported to Jezebel about his hidden prophets, and he’s afraid for his life.) The king has been searching the land for Elijah and made the nations swear they had not found him. Obadiah has heard the threats against Elijah, so if he tells Ahab that Elijah is here and Elijah disappears again, it’s off with Obadiah’s head!
Obadiah reiterates that he’s feared the Lord since his youth. He’s obviously on the Lord’s side. But Elijah assures him that he won’t leave, and so Obadiah agrees to deliver the message.
Both Obadiah and Elijah made courageous choices–Obadiah hid true prophets, and Elijah confronted false ones atop Mt. Carmel. Both also experienced fear. Elijah turned and ran for his life when Jezebel threatened him. And both faced their fears in the end and became victorious.
What gives a man courage? What causes him to doubt and fear?
This morning, when I asked God how best to pray for my friend Suzie, He gave me this visual.
Jesus scooped me up on His white horse, and we flew over to Suzie’s heart castle. I was dismayed to look down and see the devastation. The enemy had penetrated in spite of the thick stone walls around the property. The castle and the grounds had been burned and blackened, and only the charred remains of the beautiful oak trees dotted the landscape.
“So where is Suzie?” I cried.
“Listen,” He said.
And then I heard it. Cries of anguish came from the direction of the one standing turret. I knew then that Suzie was trapped inside, fighting for her life. She had barred and locked the door from the inside, fully armed, on high alert. The enemy troops surrounded the walls and were gleefully gloating, not paying much attention except to their own shenanigans. They knew they were helpless to penetrate the turret, but they didn’t care. They knew that eventually Suzie would run out of food and water, and their mission of destruction would be accomplished.
My inclination was to rush in with a flaming sword and rescue the damsel in distress, but I knew Jesus far too well than to make plans without him. Besides, He had told me I didn’t need to bring any weapons with me because I had Him; and as long as I stayed close to Him, I’d be okay. I looked at Jesus to see what He would do.
We glided over the walls and landed softly in front of the turret. I laughed in glee as the enemy hordes scattered like rats to the edges of the compound. What will He do next, I wondered. Will He knock, inform her that all is well, and that would be that?
Instead, we slid off the horse, and He sat by the door and pulled out a bag of marbles. “Care to play?” He asked.
What!? Really? Well, okay, I trust He knows what He’s doing.
I glanced up to see a shadow cross the window above us.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
“She’s noticing the quiet,” He whispered.
I listened. The screeching of the devils around us had stopped, but no sound of birds could be heard or rustling in the trees. Just silence.
Okay, that’s good, I thought. What’s next?
“She needs to know that she’s safe before she will put down her weapons, stop fighting, and rest,” He said. (He had read my thoughts, of course.)
“So why don’t we just go on in and rescue her?” I asked. “You can go through walls.”
“I could . . . but it might scare her, and she’d pick the weapons back up if she hears noises on the stairs. I want her to learn to trust Me. I’m not like the destroyer who’s out to get her. But she doesn’t know that yet.”
“But she might starve to death while You wait for her!” I exclaimed.
He smiled. “Don’t worry, Little One. She’s been starving a long time already. That’s why she called for my help.”
“Then why don’t You help her?” I asked.
“I will . . . as soon as she opens the door and lets Me in.”
“But . . . ?”
“But what?”
The question died on my lips. I already knew the answer. I had learned firsthand the lesson of waiting—when I’m ready . . . when the Kairos time is right . . . at the appointed time, all shall be well.
“Thank You, Jesus, for letting me come with You today. I asked You to help her because I knew You would. But it’s always fun to watch You work. What’s next?”
“Wait and see the salvation of the Lord.”
And so we continued to play marbles on the soft dirt. Then Jesus began to whistle a tune—a lovely melody. (I love it when Jesus sings over me. I hoped it would reach Suzie’s ears so she could hear it too.)
And that’s when we heard the sobbing. Deep, wrenching sobs of pain coming from within the turret walls.
“Now, Jesus?” I looked to see what He would do. I wanted to rush in and scoop her in my arms and tell her all would be well.
He just shook His head, silent, and I knew I was expected to stay still and remain quiet. We both looked up at the same time. A shadow and then a tousled head appeared in the window. She glanced furtively about trying to determine where the sound was coming from. But all she could see was the desolation below in her garden. We were too close to the door for her to see us from that angle.
And so we waited. But it didn’t take long. We heard the sound of footsteps on the spiral stairs, closer and closer to the door. I held my breath. What would she do next? I glanced at Jesus. A little smile played about his lips. I could hear her breathing heavily on the other side of the door, waiting for something. Jesus paused for one beat, then two, and then very softly knocked on the door. “Suzie? It’s Me. Jesus. It’s okay. It’s safe to come out now. You are safe with Me.”
“How do I know it’s You?” she demanded. I’ve been tricked before.
“Tell you what,” He replied. “Why don’t you open the window in your front door and peek outside. Don’t open the door itself until you know it’s Me and not the enemy.”
“Yes, but the last time I did that, I saw what I thought was an angel of light. But when I opened the door, all hell broke loose.”
“Good point,” He countered. “Did you use the Demon Test first?”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“I know how much you love My words. You can trust them. They are life and they are true. Remember where I instructed John to write, ‘By this you know the Spirit of God: Every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is of God, and every spirit that does not confess that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is not of God” (I John 4:2-3)?’ Ask Me to say these words. The demons are incapable of saying them you know.”
“Okay . . . let me think about that . . . okay, yes, I do trust Your written words. So . . . whoever you are, say those words!”
“Jesus Christ is come in the flesh.”
Slowly and cautiously, the window swung open, and Suzie peered out. Jesus winked at her and smiled. “Good job!” He exclaimed.
And then He nodded over to the black spirits at the perimeter of the compound. Try making them say those words.
“Tell me ‘Jesus Christ is come in the flesh’!” she yelled in their direction.
Some of them smirked; others cringed; but they all looked away, silent.
Jesus waited.
“But what if I open this door and they come rushing back here?”
Silently, Jesus held up His flaming sword so she could see the words written on it:
And take . . . the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God (Eph. 6.17). For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart (Heb. 4:12).
“They really don’t like My sword.” He grinned.
And then I smiled because I knew what was coming. I’d seen it hundreds of times. I heard the bolts scraping open. Slowly the door swung inward, and Suzie stepped out into the bright sunshine. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes. And I saw Jesus sheath the sword and stretch out His hand in invitation. She hesitated. She still wasn’t sure she could trust Him. Maybe He was mad at her. Maybe He was going to whip out that sword to cut her in two. The thought was still very scary.
He lowered His arm. “Care to sit down and play marbles with us?” He asked.
“Marbles!? Are you mad?’ she said. “This place is in shambles; my kingdom is decimated, and you want to play marbles?! Aren’t you going to fix this place? That’s why I prayed to You, you know. You let this happen. Where were You when I was being attacked by the enemy? Where were You when my grandma’s life was cut short? You didn’t care that my parents divorced and left me to fend for myself.”
“Who are you really mad at, Suzie?” He asked gently.
“I’m mad at myself! I’m mad that I trusted you; I’m mad that I trusted other people and they betrayed me. But I’m mad at You too.”
Suddenly she stopped. I could see the fear in her eyes. She had just told off the King of the Universe. Would He strike her down for such insolence and disrespect? He’d done it before. She’d read about it when he disciplined the Israelites. Would He react to her the same way? She shrank back into herself, still on high alert, ready to bolt back into the turret and slam the door if necessary.
Instead, He waited, saying nothing.
When He didn’t make a move, she whispered, “Don’t you care!?” I could hear the silent scream behind the question.
“Yes, I care very much,” He replied. “I cared so much that I died for you so that you could be set free . . . if you want it.”
“Of course I want it,” she retorted. “But You didn’t do anything to stop it. And You didn’t come when I called.”
He waited, silent and patient.
“Well!? Aren’t you going to do something?”
“I’d love to, Suzie. But first, would you be willing to hand your anger to Me? I’m big enough to take it, you know. You’ve been carrying this for so long. How has it helped you? What has your anger done for you?”
“It’s kept me quite safe, thank you.”
He glanced up at the turret. “Sure, sure . . . quite safe . . . and starving.”
“Tell you what,” He added.” How about we do an exchange? You give me your anger, and I’ll give you some bread.”
By this time, Suzie knew her blood sugar was crashing, and she couldn’t keep up the tirade for much longer. Meekly, she handed over the fireball she’d been clutching under her arm, and He produced a warm, fresh-out-of-the-oven slice of bread, thickly slathered with melted butter and raspberry jam. Quickly she wolfed it down and then drank deeply from the bottled water He handed her. It tasted like nothing she’d experienced before—cool and warm at the same time, fizzy, like little sparkles of light dancing on her tongue. And she remembered those ancient words, “I am the Bread of Life; I will give you springs of Living Water.”
Suddenly, she knew she wanted more. More where this came from.
“Jesus?”
“Yes, my child?”
“Thank You.”
There was more, much more, to this story to come I knew. The kingdom had yet to be rebuilt and restored. But I knew there was time, plenty of time, because I knew that God’s timing is always perfect. For now, it was good to know that Suzie was with Jesus, getting to know Him and learning His ways, and would be pouring out all of her pain in the days ahead. It had been a good day.
How many times have I glibly recited The Lord’s Prayer without understanding this phrase: “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil”? I have found no satisfactory explanation or commentary on this part of the prayer. I reject the notion that God is the source of temptation (which is what it sounds like). Wouldn’t it be better to say, “Lead us OUT OF temptation”?
Perhaps “testing” is the better translation for “temptation,” in which case does it mean: Don’t bring us into testing. Or keep us away from testing. But that’s not sound theology either, for He does indeed test us.
“Deliver us from evil” could mean: Deliver us from the evil that’s in our hearts. Or: deliver us from the Evil One (Satan and his minions).
If I ask Him to remove the stuff in my heart that draws me to sin, God won’t need to test me in this area. Perhaps the prayer is: Lord, help me to pass the test when I encounter evil.
If I had to lose one of my five senses, I always said I’d rather not lose my eyesight. It never occurred to me that losing taste and smell could also be so debilitating. Since I had Covid, everything smells the same, and it’s not pleasant.
“An odor pleasing to the Lord” is stated five times in Numbers 15. Of course this phrase catches my eye. I may not be able to smell, but God can. And I want my attitude, thoughts, and deeds to be a pleasing odor in His nostrils.
But I need some help with this. I’m still trying to quit complaining about my loss. I have an appointment with food three times a day, and three times a day I have to face the loss of sensory pleasure. Does giving up hope jinx it? If I give up hope, am I doomed because my mind will no longer have positive energy? We teach clients they may need to give up, or let go of, the hope that their dad will ever love them. What does letting go look like for me?
VISUAL: I’m tied to one end of a rope, and the taste of food is on the other end. As long as I hold onto my end, I’m not free to explore other things. Letting go doesn’t mean I don’t ever eat again. It means I let go of the pleasure, the drug.
And so, I let the rope drop, and it retracts into the food. The flavors are still there, in the food; they’re just not tied to me anymore. They don’t belong to me and therefore have no power over me. Thank You, Lord. Now I can pick up the food and examine it—see it, feel its texture, and experience it as I am able to sense it. It is what it is.
I’ve read through the Bible many times, but this time I’m getting bogged down in parts of Leviticus—a handbook for something that no longer exists. It’s like reading a manual for an outdated computer system or instructions on how to program a VCR. What’s the point or purpose? These rules were for a specific audience—the Levitical priests. Why do I need to study someone else’s handbook just because it’s available? And since there is no temple, there is no opportunity to practice these instructions.
There’s a difference between casual reading for interest, studying for information-gathering, grasping its significance, and attempting to master a subject. Rabbis say studying Torah is the highest and holiest calling, but only 1 percent, the cream of the crop, made it a lifetime achievement. But Jesus is Torah personified. Maybe studying Him is more of what I need. I don’t need to feel guilty if I skip over the priest’s manual today and return to the story.
I do have one take-away, however, from Leviticus: “Ye shall therefore be holy, for I am holy” (11:45 KJV). I’ve always read “be holy” as if it were a command about superior moral qualities. But the text is a statement: “You shall be holy.” Here’s what I found from the Jewish Bible Commentary.
God’s holiness is His essential “otherness,” His being separate from all that is not divine; humans are not called upon to be holy in this sense (the text doesn’t say, ‘as I am holy’). Holiness in humans, as in time, space, objects, and speech, is the state of belonging to the deity, being designated God’s “personal” property . . . Israel is holy simply by virtue of having been chosen.
The Israelites complained about having to eat manna every day (Numbers 11:1-9). They missed their fresh fish, along with the flavorful cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic.
I used to fault these people for their ingratitude. Here they were in the wilderness being miraculously fed free food, and all they could think about was what they were missing . . . and I’m convicted of my lament over loss of taste and smell. I, too, remember what pungent flavors used to burst on my tongue and the rich smell of onions, garlic, and pepper sauteed in a frying pan. I miss the diversity of flavors. I’m with you, dear travelers, in your complaint. But I want to discover the sweetness of holy manna, the gratitude for what I do have instead of the grief over what I’ve lost. How do I learn to leave Egypt behind and embrace the promise of a new land?
I see no fire of God burning at the edge of the camp, but I feel the fire of conviction in my heart for looking back. The smells and tastes in heaven are far superior to anything dull here on earth, and I look forward to what will be restored.
Returning to Egypt meant rejecting God (v. 19). I have not committed this sin, but complaining about my circumstances is a slap in the face of my God who gives me daily, adequate nourishment for my body. I must begin a more rigorous regimen of gratitude for God’s provision.
They asked for meat, and God sent quail. Be careful what I ask for . . .
But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. (Matthew 5:39 ESV)
Whenever I read this verse, I pictured a non-retaliatory response—a martyr passively submitting to bullies and taking abuse uncomplainingly. “Go the extra mile” or “give him your cloak as well” meant actively showing that you’re made of better stuff than the controlling person in your life. And so I’m intrigued with the following interpretation. See what you think.
A slap on a person’s right cheek meant the abuser was using the BACK of his right hand—an insult. “Turning the other cheek” called out the abuser: If you’re going to hurt me, do it like man-to-man, using the FRONT of your hand (which would land on my left cheek), not like a master hitting his slave.
If you take my cloak, I’ll give up my undergarment, too, and stand semi-naked. It will show up your cruelty.
The law stated a soldier could require a civilian to help carry his gear for one mile. If I offer to walk a second mile, the soldier will protest, or he’d get into trouble. My act shows up the injustice.
Either way you interpret these verses, it takes courage and grace not to retaliate.
The Law said to stone anyone with a “ghost” or “familiar spirit.” (Leviticus 20:27)*
The Law said to stone those who commit adultery. (Numbers 15:32-36)
The Law said to keep the Sabbath holy. (Exodus 20:8-11)
Jesus’ teachings were radical and seemed to contradict these laws. He expelled the demon rather than stoning the person. He dismissed the accusers rather than stoning the woman. He healed on the Sabbath and let His disciples pick grain.
The Pharisees were strict observers of the Law, trying to do what was right. After all, God Himself made these laws, and they didn’t want to suffer the consequences of disobedience. No wonder they were incensed with Jesus.
So how do you reconcile the law about stoning a demon-possessed person with Jesus ignoring or disobeying or changing the Law? He compared murder and hate, adultery and lust, the letter of the law vs. the intent of the law.
Even rules of the road have exceptions. The posted speed limit on the highway may be 40-70 mph, but in bad weather, the rules change. The intent is safety.
Just like the Pharisees, we carry on traditions handed down to us, and our children pass them on to theirs. Take Christmas, for example. Exchanging gifts (a fun and good thing) can become mercenary and greedy and all about me—unless my heart is right. God is not pleased or displeased about my choices but about my heart. It is not sinful or wrong to give or receive a gift. I just need to check in with my heart—gratitude or grudging? Stingy or generous? A cover for pain or an overflow of abundance?
The Pharisees kept the letter of the Law without a heart of love and generosity. It became less about honoring God and more about self (e.g. long prayers in public places).
Mercy and grace trump rules I think.
*Note: Other versions say “medium” or “spiritist” or “wizard” or “necromancer.” This seems to imply someone who has deliberately aligned themselves with Satan, rather than someone who was tormented by evil spirits.
Woe to me! The Lord has added sorrow to my pain; I am worn out with groaning and find no rest. (Jeremiah 45:3 NASB 1995)
God said,
“Are you seeking great things for yourself? Do not seek them; for behold, I am going to bring disaster on all flesh,” declares the Lord, “but I will give your life to you as booty in all the places where you may go.” (v. 4)
Sounds like Baruch was struggling to accept God’s plan for Israel because it messed with his personal goals and life. Sound familiar?
“Each man’s eternal rewards are proportional according to his faithfulness and not to his earthly recognition or the lack of it.” (Commentary on Jeremiah)
Jeremiah predicted doom and gloom to all of Israel, and it made the king mad, and he shut Jeremiah up in the court. Jeremiah must have been having some doubts, so the Lord told him ahead of time his cousin would come to him and sell him a field. When it happened, just as God said, God then told Jeremiah to have the deed buried in a safe place. And just as God accurately predicted the scenario with his cousin, He would assuredly fulfill His promise to bring Israel back to the land and prosperity.
When Jeremiah still struggled with the prophecy, God said this famous quote: I am the Lord, the God of all flesh; is there anything too hard for Me?
A rhetorical question: No!
Jeremiah 33. God’s Word gives hope.
God sees the big picture; He knows the end from the beginning. Our sight is limited and finite, and the amount we know is miniscule, according to the will and desire of the Creator.
I fear I think like an American—individualist instead of tribal. What good did it do Jeremiah to learn that God would restore Israel and he’d never live to see it? Who cares how many descendants David’s throne would have when he was hurting, mocked, and imprisoned? The future won’t affect him personally!
But there’s that thing called “hope.” This earth, this life, isn’t all there is. There’s a bigger picture. I’m just one speck in the Grand Plan. My part is miniscule, but important, in God’s eyes. It’s not all about me and only me. God was showing Jeremiah that his life was not in vain. That His calling on his life was important for the greater good.
I am in awe of Jeremiah’s dogged persistence and obedience to the Lord. He was asked to do some pretty bizarre things, and he was given the very unpleasant task of telling bad news and warning people and no one listened—at least not the kings. His life was threatened. He was persecuted. But he continued to trust.
“Obey the Lord and it will go well with you” (38:20) was a promise to the king, but it has application for today. We cannot conclude, however, that God will always spare our lives if we obey Him. But we do know disobedience reaps consequences.
There are certain commands in Scripture we know we are to obey (love your neighbor, don’t lie or steal) and when we’re given a direct nudge from the Holy Spirit. There are consequences to our disobedience and blessings when we obey.
In the Pursuit of Peace 