Every time I read through the Old Testament, I am amazed at how Israel acted. God made covenants with them and provided for them and rescued them over and over and after every single time they turned their backs on him and rebelled again. It’s fascinating that one people who knew God so intimately and interacted with him on a daily basis could continually fail over multiple centuries.
Then I look in the mirror. Ouch.
In the ninth chapter of Nehemiah, a remnant of God’s people has finished rebuilding the wall around Jerusalem with all its gates.
(For a fun study, go figure out what each gate represents in the Christian’s life. A pastor of ours many years ago preached a message on this and it was one of my favorites of all time. Unfortunately, this was pre-Internet; I think maybe we had the message on cassette tape, but sadly it is long gone. I recently wrote to him and asked if he still had his notes from that message, and he sent me a very brief description of each gate. I still love it.)
So the Jews rebuilt the wall and gates of Jerusalem. Then the book of the law, God’s word, was read before them and there was a big celebration and a seven-day feast. It was party time because finally Jerusalem—what the Jews considered the home of God—was being restored after being destroyed.
Then the history of God’s people was recited, beginning with God’s promise to Abraham to make of him a great nation and give them a land he had reserved just for them. Their history continued like this:
God heard the cries of Israel and rescued them out of their 400-year bondage in Egypt.
They complained about water and food in the wilderness and wished they were back in Egypt. They became proud and refused to obey.
God did not forsake them but showed great mercy and provided for all their needs.
While Moses was up on Mt. Sinai receiving the law, they made a molten calf and worshipped it instead of God.
God showed mercy.
They promised to do better, but then they rebelled against God.
God heard when they cried to him in distress, and showed mercy.
They did evil again.
God showed more mercy.
They refused to hear God through the prophets.
God continued to show mercy.
Do you see a pattern here? Israel kept doing the wrong thing, yet God did not give up on them. He did not quit or throw in the towel. He was committed to them. Not leaving. He’d made a promise and he wasn’t going to bail on them.
He let them suffer the consequences of their choices, but he did not leave them without hope. He always had an ear open to them. Always knew their situation. Was always waiting for them to call out.
Here’s how Nehemiah described their God:
So many people—Christians even—have this view of God as a harsh disciplinarian, sitting on his throne looking down his nose at us, just waiting for us to mess up so he can squash us like a grape.
We were talking about this in our Wednesday night Bible study last week and one man said he tended to think of God as Judge and nothing else, like that was God’s number-one job—to keep us in line, to dole out punishment with a perpetual scowl on his face.
I wouldn’t say this is the actual opposite of the truth, but it is dangerously lopsided.
Yes, God is the righteous Judge. Yes, there are consequences for our actions. But God is also “Abba, Father.” Daddy. Papa.
I picture him sitting on his throne, leaning forward with a hand stretched out toward me, just waiting for the moment I need help.
He is “ready to pardon,” no matter where or how badly I’ve gone wrong. All I have to do is turn to him and there he is, RIGHT THERE.
He is “gracious and merciful.” That’s FULL of grace and FULL of mercy. I need all he has to give and it is an unlimited supply.
He is “slow to anger” when he could rightfully throw up his hands in disgust and leave me to fend for myself and pick up my own broken pieces.
He is “of great kindness” when he is under no obligation to be. This might be my favorite—that God is so completely kind to me, without fail, all the time. He picks up the shards that are me and lovingly glues them back together with holy super-glue, making me better than before, stronger, less likely to break along those same cracks. He does a little cleaning up, a little polishing, smoothing out the rough places. I am not as good as new—I am better.
His character is to pardon, to be full of grace and mercy, to not be angry, to be kind. While I know God is Judge, I also know he is Comforter, and I need both.
“Blessed be thy glorious name.”