Onions of Gold

When I was young I thought studying the Bible was for older folk. But after having children, I needed its insights and became a devotee.

Eventually I saw the Bible as an exceptional, one-of-a-kind book, becoming convinced it had supernatural powers and multi-layered meanings. As a child I’d heard adults say that studying Scripture was like peeling an onion. As soon as you learn one interpretation, there’s another waiting beneath it.

Now, after decades of sermons and studies, I can vouch for that. No matter how many times I read a specific verse and think I understand it, suddenly a brand new meaning “shows” as if I’d never read it before. That must be one of the reasons it’s called the “living” Word.

This happened not too long ago as I was reading Hebrews. Although I studied this biblical book for a year, marking meaningful verses with colored pens while learning hundreds of new things, this time God peeled away one more layer revealing a bit more scriptural gold.

Hebrews 1 is God’s description of how his Son Jesus is better than the angels, detailing how they were not born of the Father as Jesus was. To prove the high position of his Son he says, “Let all the angels worship him.” (v. 6)

And right after that came the biblical gold. In a passage where he called Jesus by his name and rank, “my begotten Son,” suddenly he calls him “God”. It’s the Father acknowledging his Son as God.

I’d never registered this dramatic statement and was astounded to hear God say this. It demonstrated the closely intertwined relationship he had/has with his begotten Son.

That one phrase also hints at the devastation of the Father when his God-Son left heaven for earth, separating the two of them in a way they hadn’t yet experienced.

That statement rumbled around in my brain for a long time. I’m thinking of it still.

In this same chapter, God tells us Jesus is “the exact imprint of his nature.” (v. 3) In other words, one is as much God as the other. The Father is giving us a peek into the mystery of the two of them being one, which is another onion of gold whose multiple layers have yet to be peeled.

There must be thousands if not millions of layered bits of glittering biblical gold, and as long as I live, there will be no end to them.

So many onions. So little time.

“Of the Son, [God] says, ‘Your throne, O God, is forever and ever’.” (Hebrews 1:8a)

Is it dead?

As we move through the 24 hours of every day, our priorities become fixed on the demands of whatever shouts the loudest. Although we have our pre-planned agendas, the squeakiest wheel usually gets its oil, and there isn’t a day without abundant squeaks.

Last week while walking Jack, I marveled at the kiwi green dominating the neighborhood. Gardens were shouting, “It’s spring, and I’ve come back to life!” Yards were in that magical window of lush beauty when greenery is sturdy and stands tall.

However, there was one plant Jack and I passed daily that was dead, a cluster of lifeless sticks. I wondered why the gardener hadn’t dug it out. Today, though, after a week of warm weather and lots of rain, it had suddenly come to life, putting on the brilliant green of spring. It hadn’t been dead after all.

Most of us travel through dry, lifeless periods with God when we pray but feel the relationship has died. Answers don’t come, and we have the sense he’s turned his back on us. Well-meaning friends say, “Don’t worry. He hasn’t turned away.” But we can’t shake that feeling.

The scriptural “Doubting Thomas” had heard the rumor that Jesus, who was dead, had come back to life.  But he couldn’t have a relationship with someone he thought was lifeless until the two of them talked face-to-face.

Many of us feel that same way. We’re jealous of the disciples who got to hear Jesus teach in a human voice. Even in the Old Testament, God’s voice factored into many of his relationships. Adam and Eve got to converse with him daily and apparently so did Noah, Moses, Job, Abraham and others. Unable to hear his voice, we sometimes think we’re on audio-blackout from God.

What we have to remember is that not hearing him doesn’t mean we’re without his words. We have our Bibles, complete with multiple versions and scholarly commentaries. (I can see 29 copies of God’s Word right now, from where I’m sitting.)

None of us are in a black-out.

We may come to dry places in our spiritual lives, but it helps to know Jesus did, too. He was in an arid Middle Eastern desert for over a month, assaulted by evil the entire time, possibly feeling an audio black-out from his Father. So what did he do? He opened his ears to hear God through Scripture, then made sure the devil heard it, too.

Two other times, once in a garden and once on a cross, he prayed, but God didn’t respond. The spiritual parching of those moments nearly overwhelmed him.

It’s important to notice, however, those dry spells didn’t last. They had a beginning and an end, which is still true today. If we can’t hear God in the moment, we should believe we soon will.

The dead plant in my neighborhood seemed hopeless, but when God ended its dry spell, life burst forth.

“For a brief moment I abandoned you, but with deep compassion I will bring you back…” says the Lord your Redeemer. (Isaiah 54:7,8)

 

The Rat Race

When Nate came out of law school in 1972, he was hired by the trust department of American National Bank in Chicago’s Loop. I was glad to be moving back to the Chicago area, and he was thankful to be starting his career in a big city.

I remember the day we bought his first briefcase, a plain black leather model with expandable pockets and niches for pens.  We waited while the shopkeeper embossed Nate’s initials near the handle, and from there we went and picked out a new suit.

After he began working, I loved walking from our second-floor apartment to meet him at the train each evening. Picking him out from a sea of suit-clad, briefcase-carrying commuters never failed to make my heart flutter. “Oh, there’s mine!”

He loved going to work and made friendships during those first years that were still current when he died 37 years later. But as the decades passed, Nate began to label his work routine a “rat race.” Career goals, once met, had been withdrawn, and his enthusiasm had waned.

Work was a means to an end, and he lived to come home. The luster had gone from boarding the commuter train and parading across the Loop with others running the same race. Yet he never wavered in his commitment to go. Even after the tumultuous collapse of his real estate company, he didn’t stay home even one day but rented a single-room office downtown, arranged for a phone, packed his briefcase and went to work.

When we moved to Michigan, his commute time doubled. But ever an advocate of riding trains, he daily boarded the South Shore Line for a journey from Michigan to the Loop. Amazingly, he didn’t mind, despite low energy and serious back pain. He took the 6:20 AM train to work the day we received his cancer diagnosis, and the next morning, against all logic, he climbed on the train again.

Jesus never experienced the pressure of a fast-paced commute with masses of people, but he definitely knew stress. His response was to decompress with the Father, separating himself from others and pulling close to his Sustainer. Amazingly, that same stress-reducer is available to us today with the identical benefit. Jesus successfully dealt with the burdens of his life by sharing them with God, and we can do the same. The invitation still stands. If we choose to go-it-alone, we step away from our most valuable resource.

Today I traced Nate’s commuter footsteps back into the rat race, riding the South Shore train to the Loop. Realizing the enormity of his commitment to continue commuting and working, I was emotionally moved while bumping along the rails.

What I did today took effort (finding the schedule, watching the clock, driving 19 miles to the station, waiting for a parking spot, hassling with the ticket machine), but he did this daily. I was making the journey for recreational reasons, but he did it to meet the demands of a pressure-cooker job.

My admiration for Nate’s willingness to run the rat race for his family knows no bounds. And it’s nice to know he has finally decompressed 100%.

“Jesus went out to a mountainside to pray, and spent the night praying to God.” (Luke 6:12)