Resting in God's Wrath

Wrath.

It was a long time before I understood it. Even longer until I could say that I am deeply thankful for it. That sounds weird, doesn't it? That I love and appreciate the wrath of God.

Wrath means different things to the lot of us.

The Wrath of Kahn. Honestly, the ear bud monsters seemed more fearful than the mastermind Kahn. But it is always great to see William Shatner at his best: cocky.

The Grapes of Wrath. I remember reading this in Steinbeck book in high school. Though I don't remember much outside of the dust bowl and the chapter chronicling a turtle crossing the road. Apparently it's an American classic though. And I support America.

Sermons preached/screamed about God's wrath. Why is it than when we think about the wrath of God, we picture ourselves in an old traditional church, seated on a hard wooden pew on the receiving end of warnings of sin, hellfire, wrath and judgement? And brimstone. What is brimstone, anyway?

Whether we like it or not, the word wrath is associated with negative context of scaring the hell out of people. To fill them with a sense of fear of an angry God, so they would either (1) cower before him in fear or (2) reject him for not being loving enough.

So it's easier to just not talk about it. Lay off of the wrath sermons. Take a break from the hellfire and sulfur.

Bet let me be clear in this:

I never understood the angry wrath of God until I connected it with the overwhelming love of God.

God's wrath is intertwined with God's love. They are inseparable. The answer is not to scream about the wrath of God. Not to carry signs in crowded cities reminding people of their pending doom. Nor is it appropriate to neglect to mention his wrath. To sweep it under the proverbial rug. Beauty is found when the two cross.

"For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth...Though they know God's decree that those who practice such things deserve to die." Romans 1

"And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell." Matthew 10

Why should a God of love be also be known as a God of wrath? It seem so contradictory, so antithetical.

But imagine this. How terrible, how awful and wrong if we served a loving God who never angered, never raised his fist against the truly disgusting of the world?

What if our God never took vengeance for sex enslavers?

What if our God dismissed the sins of Nero who would set Christians on fire to light his garden?

What if our God pardoned those who slaughtered the Jews?

If our God refused to punish the abominations that torture the innocent, then our God would be no God of love. Mark Buchanan explains it better with this childhood story,

"My brother and I and some friends were playing street hockey in the wide curve in front of our house, when the neighborhood bully wandered down the street. This was a kid I'd been having some trouble with. He was three years older than me, and big. He'd often wait for me on a pathway I had to walk on my way to and from school. Then he'd shove me, punch me, push me down.

On this occasion, he grabbed my bike and started horsing around on it. I yelled at him to stop. "Make me," he said. I went over. He threw my bike on the ground and then started to thrash me. I fell under the blows.

And then it stopped.

I looked up and saw my oppressor hovering against the sky, but now his face was terror-stricken. My father, who had been watching the bully's antics from our window, had come to my defense. He grabbed the boy by his coat collar and lifted him straight off the ground, like a man hanging from a noose, and shook him.

"Don't you ever," my father bellowed, "hurt my son again!"

It was enough. Here was a love I could count on to protect me, to defeat my enemies, to make things right. I basked in that for weeks. His wrath had made my father heroic in my eyes. I could sing in the shadow of his wings.

Strange, but true. I learned to rest in my father's love because of his wrath."

God shows his love by his rescuing. If not now, then one day.

One day.

One day, all will be made right.

One day, evil will be punished for sins hidden, consequences escaped, justice perverted.

One day, God will pour his wrath onto a deserving world.

In the pioneer days, out on prairies, sometimes a fire could catch and spread faster than a horse could travel. To survive, a quick thinker would begin to burn the ground and grass around himself, and then cower on the scorched ground. The flames would then burn around the spot, leaving the survivor safe.

In the same way, one day, God will pour out his wrath over all the earth. The wicked will be punished, destroyed. Yet there is a place where his wrath already fell. It fell at the Cross of Jesus and scorched the ground. And there, at that spot, is the only place of safety. Survivors will be found cowering at the spot where the wrath of God had already fallen. There is the only place of safety, where God's love and God's wrath crossed.

I never understood the angry wrath of God until I connected it with the overwhelming love of God.

Two RIGHTS Can Make a WRONG

I’d like to bring up a difficult subject: The NEED to be right.

The NEED to be right is a dangerous thing.

Ever been around someone like that? It can be annoying enough to where you don’t want to be around that person.

Needing to be right ALL THE TIME is wrong. Why? Because you destroy the relationship. Here, John Maxwell talks about his first two years of marriage. It’s a fairly wordy passage, but worth the read.

“Like most people, I thought I was right nearly all the time, and I let my wife [Margaret] know about it. I’ve always been a good talker, and I can be pretty persuasive, so I used my skills to win arguments. We never yelled or screamed at each other. It was always very rational and controlled, but I always made sure I won. The problem was that with my approach, Margaret always had to lose.

We did a lot of things right during those first two years of marriage, but this wasn’t one of them. Unknowingly I was slowly but surely beating Margaret down emotionally. We’d disagree, I’d overreact, and I’d unwittingly lay another brick in the wall that was building between us. I didn’t realize that winning at all costs could eventually jeopardize our marriage. Then one day Margaret sat me down, shared how she felt when we argued, and explained what it was doing to our relationship. It was the first time I understood I was putting winning the arguments ahead of winning the relationship.

From that day I decided to change. Realizing that having the right attitude was more important than having the right answers, I softened my approach, listened more, and stop making a big deal out of little things. In time, the wall that had begun to form came down, and we began building bridges. And since that time, I’ve made a conscious effort to initiate connection anytime I’m in conflict with someone I care about.”

“The problem was that with my approach, Margaret always had to lose.” Thats powerful.

Now allow me to bring this home. And it’s probably going to hurt.

I think we (Christians in general) do this all the time concerning spiritual matters.

We have to be right about homosexuals.

We have Scripture that says so.

We have to be right about abortion.

We believe it is a life inside of the womb.

We have to be right about politics.

Our politics match our religious belief.

We have to be right about the Bible.

It’s the foundation of our religion.

We have to be right about how sinful the world is, so we stand on street corners and yell.

We have to get the message out somehow.

Even if we are right, our need to BE right pushes people away.

Ouch. I know. It hurt me when I figured this out, too.

We believe whole heartedly that we are right. And we are passionate in our need to be right because it’s our religious conviction. I am not saying that we are wrong in our dogmatics. And I don’t for a second want us to compromise our beliefs.

But I think we are wrong in our approach. We push people away.

Think of the last time you talked to someone who disagreed with you on homosexuality or abortion. Did you ask, “Well, what do you think?” and respectfully listened?

We quote this passage a lot concerning sharing our beliefs, but I think we miss some key words.

“Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander.” (1 Peter 3:15-16)

Here is another,

“And the Lord’s servant must not quarrel; instead, he must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful. Those who oppose him he must gently instruct, in the hope that God will grant them repentance leading them to a knowledge of the truth, and that they will come to their senses and escape from the trap of the devil, who has taken them captive to do his will.” (2 Timothy 2:24-26)

These passages talk about keeping respect while sharing your beliefs. And a powerful way to show respect is to listen. Listen to beliefs that differ from yours.

One of the quickest ways to form a relationship, respect, and credibility is to simply ask, “What do you believe?” Of course, you have to listen too.

Also, just to let you know. Conservative Christian beliefs are widely known. Chances are, they already know what we believe. And they assume we don’t want to hear their opinions. So when we ask, it surprises them.

A few months ago, I was listening to a sermon by Jay Bakker. I’ve quoted Jay a few times. He is a liberal pastor in New York who receives a lot of harsh criticism from conservative Christians because of his liberal stances.

During the sermon, Jay was speaking of his critics. He wondered if those harsh critics really loved him. They were so quick to point out where he was wrong. But then he asked a hard question, “Where were you when my wife left me? You were there to pick apart my theology, but where were you when my life fell apart?”

Do his critics really love him? Or do they just want to focus where they are right and where he is wrong?

Do we really love those we disagree with? Are we willing to pursue a relationship with people whose opinions contradict ours?

Do we believe that our need to be right is wrong?