Joel 3:1-2, 9-17
I
have a friend who recently decided to send out a manifesto through
Facebook. It was his time to show the world how it wronged him. It was
his time to show all those who had turned his back on him and doubted
him that he'd finally arrived. He'd finally made it in the face of
opposition.
When he was talking to me about this, it reminded me of a manifesto I sent out once to three hundred people. I had to let them know how they were doing it all wrong. I had to light a fire. I had to show the world that my problems were not of my own making, but all theirs. It was my time to shine, to avenge, to plow my plowshare into a spear and stick it where it hurt.
As I listened to my friend (and refrained from telling him about the train wreck that I was watching), I couldn't help but laugh inside as it took me back to that place.
There are these moments in life where we look back, and all we can see is that the world has wronged us, and we think, "They're gonna get what's coming to them. Just wait and see."
And, we wait. And wait. And wait. And nothing happens except that the anger and vengeance that remains inside us grows and grows. And one day, it finally explodes into this five page email telling the everyone we know about how they've wronged us and that we're right and they're wrong, and the world would be a better place if they just kind of disappeared.
It's our chance to finally catch a break, where all our bullies - fantasized and real - will finally get their final judgment.
And this is where we find the passage today.
[On a side note: when we read the scriptures, we're reading into the author's conception of how things are, and how they view God.]
The author is writing about a prophet named Joel. Joel is announcing to the world - the Israelites - that soon it's gonna be time to "beat plowshares into spears and pruning hooks into swords. No matter how old our children are, they're eligible to fight." This battle is ours to be won, and God's ready for us to bow up and fight. It's the only way we'll be able to avenge the ways we've been treated.
It's no wonder that when Christ came on to the scene, the Jews were like, "Okay, when are we gonna fight, Jesus? Where's the swords? Where's the spears? Hello? Did you hear what Joel said about how our enemies will be judged? Grow some spine!"
There's this thing inside me that's dying to play the "victim card" every chance it gets. There's this inner score sheet that's keeping score of who wronged me, how many times, and I imagine that the people with the most tallies will at least get a foreclosure or get fired from their job or something. Karma, right?
Then there's those times when I've played the victim so hard and so long, that I'll pray for God to "take care of those people. Teach them a lesson okay God? As you know, I've been flawless these last few years, but them . . . rough em' up a little bit. Amen."
The Israelites were looking for a God who would be their superhero, flying into battle, turning over temples, and destroying evil governments. What they got was a ridiculous, laughable, donkey-riding . . . Jesus?
I can hear them now, standing around the wineskin, "I didn't sign up for this. Did you?"
When we talk about judgment, we're talking about the human perception of God's judgment. Joel ascribes the characteristics of his own experiences, own perceptions, and own history onto the unknowable, unseeable, and unfathomable God of Israel.
Yet, when we read through the Gospels, we find something totally different. We find a God who says things like "forgive your enemies . . . bless those who persecute you . . . give your enemy food and water."
We find a God who takes all that pent up resentment of the Israelites waiting on a holy war, and puts it on himself so that everyone (including bullies and victims) is washed clean from their poopie diapers.
I hope today is a day that I don't play the victim card and wish God's terror on the people who irritate me, make fun of me, use me, annoy me, and look down on me.
Maybe today I can see the face of Jesus, the hands, the feet, the cross, residing between me and every person I interact with today. Maybe then, I won't play the victim card.
When he was talking to me about this, it reminded me of a manifesto I sent out once to three hundred people. I had to let them know how they were doing it all wrong. I had to light a fire. I had to show the world that my problems were not of my own making, but all theirs. It was my time to shine, to avenge, to plow my plowshare into a spear and stick it where it hurt.
As I listened to my friend (and refrained from telling him about the train wreck that I was watching), I couldn't help but laugh inside as it took me back to that place.
There are these moments in life where we look back, and all we can see is that the world has wronged us, and we think, "They're gonna get what's coming to them. Just wait and see."
And, we wait. And wait. And wait. And nothing happens except that the anger and vengeance that remains inside us grows and grows. And one day, it finally explodes into this five page email telling the everyone we know about how they've wronged us and that we're right and they're wrong, and the world would be a better place if they just kind of disappeared.
It's our chance to finally catch a break, where all our bullies - fantasized and real - will finally get their final judgment.
And this is where we find the passage today.
[On a side note: when we read the scriptures, we're reading into the author's conception of how things are, and how they view God.]
The author is writing about a prophet named Joel. Joel is announcing to the world - the Israelites - that soon it's gonna be time to "beat plowshares into spears and pruning hooks into swords. No matter how old our children are, they're eligible to fight." This battle is ours to be won, and God's ready for us to bow up and fight. It's the only way we'll be able to avenge the ways we've been treated.
It's no wonder that when Christ came on to the scene, the Jews were like, "Okay, when are we gonna fight, Jesus? Where's the swords? Where's the spears? Hello? Did you hear what Joel said about how our enemies will be judged? Grow some spine!"
There's this thing inside me that's dying to play the "victim card" every chance it gets. There's this inner score sheet that's keeping score of who wronged me, how many times, and I imagine that the people with the most tallies will at least get a foreclosure or get fired from their job or something. Karma, right?
Then there's those times when I've played the victim so hard and so long, that I'll pray for God to "take care of those people. Teach them a lesson okay God? As you know, I've been flawless these last few years, but them . . . rough em' up a little bit. Amen."
The Israelites were looking for a God who would be their superhero, flying into battle, turning over temples, and destroying evil governments. What they got was a ridiculous, laughable, donkey-riding . . . Jesus?
I can hear them now, standing around the wineskin, "I didn't sign up for this. Did you?"
When we talk about judgment, we're talking about the human perception of God's judgment. Joel ascribes the characteristics of his own experiences, own perceptions, and own history onto the unknowable, unseeable, and unfathomable God of Israel.
Yet, when we read through the Gospels, we find something totally different. We find a God who says things like "forgive your enemies . . . bless those who persecute you . . . give your enemy food and water."
We find a God who takes all that pent up resentment of the Israelites waiting on a holy war, and puts it on himself so that everyone (including bullies and victims) is washed clean from their poopie diapers.
I hope today is a day that I don't play the victim card and wish God's terror on the people who irritate me, make fun of me, use me, annoy me, and look down on me.
Maybe today I can see the face of Jesus, the hands, the feet, the cross, residing between me and every person I interact with today. Maybe then, I won't play the victim card.
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