Twelve Pieces

The Story - Chapter 8

A man is walking through town, eager to return home with his concubine, servant, and donkeys.  He is a Levite from the hill country, who is returning from claiming his concubine who had ran away to her father's house.  He has passed through Jerusalem, he is resting at Gibeah, in the heart of Benjamin country.  It's growing dark, and he's unsure of why no one is extending hospitality to him and his small entourage.

Another man walks through the square - asking why the Levite is there.  After an explanation, he pleads with him to not stay in the square overnight but to come to his house.  All are relieved.  They feed the donkeys.  They sit to eat.  They break bread.

And then they hear men's voices surrounding the house.  There is terror - and fists began pounding on the door..."Give us your guest!  We want to know him personally!"  Much like Sodom and Gomorrah, the host of the house offers his virgin daughter and the man's concubine.  They refuse - they want the man.  And in an act of hostility I still don't understand to this day, they take the woman and abuse her throughout the night.  The abuse is so horrific, she crawls back to her host's doorstep, only to die there.The Levite opens the door to see her there, and tells her to get up.  He realizes what has happened, and carries her dead body onto his donkey and makes the rest of his journey home.

I wonder about that last leg of his journey.  Did he feel regret?  Revenge?  Sadness?  How could he have treated her so carelessly!?  Clearly he cared enough for this woman that he went and sought her out, at least a two day journey, to have her back.  And there she was, her silent, lifeless body, riding into the hill country.

We know one thing.  He faced anger.  Outrage.  He takes her body and carves into 12 pieces.  I wonder if there were tears.  I wonder if he remembers the arms that held him, as he wrapped them so carefully.  Each piece, each memory, is carefully parceled and sent out to each tribe - "This is what Benjamin has done.  This is how they treated her.  This is what they took from me."

Benjamin is later confronted and refuses to give up the "perverted men" of the city.  In the remaining eleven tribes, there is anger at Benjamin for protecting those wicked men. There is war.  And the tribes make an oath to not give any of their daughters to the men of Benjamin because of their horrid wickedness to the concubine and the Levite.  Benjamin is almost wiped out as God grants the rest of Israel victory over their brothers.  And 12 pieces are exchanged for the lives of 25,000 men.

There are many who suffer horrendous things and wonder if God ever sees, or ever cares.  The pieces of our lives can feel scattered - reminders to others that we are damaged, that wicked people have pursued us, that ugliness has found us and had its way.  We wonder where God is.  We wonder if people will ever be brought to justice.  We wonder if God cares.

The answer is He does.  We serve a God that does not rest easy when we're overtaken by the fallen state of humanity.  He doesn't slumber when even one of us suffers at the hand of another.

The story ends with Israel weeping because almost an entire tribe has been annihilated - they had to bring justice, and were willing to count the cost.  Benjamin, once strong and sure, is reduced to 600 survivors.  And in here we see the heart of a God who is not only holy, but wants to redeem.  He provides wives for the survivors, and in turn, raises champions and leaders from a wreckage of a situation - Saul, Mordecai, and more.

I struggle with this story.  And I know so much has changed.  That's why I love Jesus - he elevated my status into "two or more" instead of a safe-guarded investment, property to be handled.  I don't understand the Levite's mixed love for this woman.  I don't know if he anticipated what would happen.  I don't know if he struck down Benjamites on the field of war in anger because of the deep pit of regret he went to bed with every night.

But what I do know is this...in the hands of a sovereign God, as a woman, I am deeply loved and he doesn't take my treatment lightly.  I am His and He is mine.

Eliza Cortés Bast

I am a Rock.

Chapter 7 - The Story

Joshua!  How rich and full for one brief biography in the expanse of the Bible.  And the feelings his story evoke!  He is as memorable as he is quotable.

And yet, nestled in, is another theme engaging the entire nation of Israel.  Before committing him and his house, before outwitting and outlasting kings, before the terrible defeat at Ai, and before the mighty victory at Jericho, was another water-crossing.  A distant memory for the young nation whose previous descendants crossed the mighty Red Sea under Moses, this new generation would get to experience the storied miracle anew.  Yet there was no staff and bearded shepherd - this water crossing would follow the ark of the covenant, the ark of testimony of the wilderness.  They would be following the Spirit of God across the river.

They pick up their belongings.  The waters ebb away as the priests carrying the ark step into the clear water.  Dry land, dry ground.  A reminder that their miraculous God is still moving, still committed to the precious promise of a land dedicated for them.  "Follow me, I've got this, I still remember you and my word to you."  I wonder if Joshua felt gripped in his heart watching God perform the same miracle that He had performed for Joshua's mentor, Moses.  A reminder to Joshua too - "Be strong, be courageous, I'm with you too."  And they cross the river Jordan together, never to go back.

In my house, and on my desk, I keep little stones.  The one in my bathroom says, "I am not my own, I was bought with a price."  The one in my keepsake box from college is a reminder of God's peace.  If you enter my office, the stone there says, "Passion" - a reminder for ministry and direction.  Joshua asks each tribe to carry a large stone across the Jordan and set it up as a reminder.  Joshua 4 says, "In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.”

We all cross a Jordan in our life.  We can even cross multiple rivers.  Places where God asks us to trust Him deeply and not ever go back to our old ways of living or believing.  The temptation is so strong to cross back over, be safe, figure out a different route.  What stops us cold in our tracks can be the simple reminder of God's amazing goodness and the call to not go back.  A pile of rocks.

What's even more astounding, is Peter's reference to stones in 1 Peter 2.  We are invited to know the "living Stone" - Jesus - the rejected cornerstone.  And even better, Peter calls us living stones also, being built into a spiritual house.  We look to Jesus, our reminder that God's got this, he's with us.  When my children ask me about the Living Stone, I can tell them too how Jesus found me in my own Egypt, enslaved to sin.  I crossed over and He's my rock.

And to a watching world?  Well, I'm glad I can be a living stone too.  For a world that is wondering where is a God who loves and cares, a God who is real, I stand next to that great river on the side of promise saying, "Cross here too".  Why?  Because the cross lives there too.  I've crossed there through the power of a resurrected Jesus.  Simon and Garfunkle said it best...I am a rock.  I am a reminder of Jesus.

Eliza Cortés Bast

Deliverance

Chapter 6 - The Story

I often find myself in that place between slavery and freedom.  That bitter valley where the Red Sea stretches endlessly across the horizon before me and behind me stands six hundred chariots, horses, horsemen, and troops ready to overtake me.  While I want to choose God and trust him in that moment by pressing into the Red Sea, the glint of the armor shining in the sun is a more immediate and visible reminder that says, "We are real.  Work for us or we will kill you."

How then can I choose God when I can't see him?  I find myself whining with the voice of the Israelites as I fear my own destruction, "It would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the desert!"

That first step into God's way often feels like dying, or at least coming face to face with death.  We are often surprised to read that the Israelites wanted to go back to Egypt.  Why?  Wasn't it awful there?  But what we often forget that the Israelites not only feared death in that moment, they feared the unknown, the uncertain.  At least in Egypt, while a slave you know when your food is coming and how to get it.  At least you know how hard you have to work before your legs cave out, or what each day will be like.  There is comfort in the certainty, even if it's an unpleasant one. 

But God's way - that is anything but certain.  We would often rather choose the tangible slavery we can see than risk a kind of freedom that is boundless and unexpected.

We each approach our own Red Seas before us and are unsure how to get through.  All we have to go on is some leader telling us, "Do not be afraid.  Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today...the Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still."

Be still?  How can I be still when everything around me seems to tell me if I stop working, I will fail? 

Our culture trains us to be workaholics.  Like many of us, I find myself a slave to work or a slave to control.  God has been showing me lately how He wants to free me of this - of the nagging feeling that if I don't do x, y, and z, somehow the world will come to a screeching halt.  While there is the world's praise for the hard-working individual in our culture, it breeds a kind of self-ego that says that we are in control of our success and that everything in our lives is dependent on it.  In reality, it's the kind of pride that gives us the illusion that we are God.  After all, if everything is dependent on us - we uphold the world around us, right?  Like God?  Even in ministry, there is the temptation to strive as though the ministry's success or failure ultimately depends on me.

Yet choosing God's kind of freedom is costly.  It means laying down my ambitions and acting in faith that God will do what He's said He will do - build His church.  It means taking a Sabbath and leaving some things undone, believing that He isn't hindered by it. 

When reading the passage, God seemed to tap me on the shoulder and say "Bette, you're so afraid of what you'll lose by choosing me - the comfort of security, the routine, the certainty of what to expect.  But you haven't thought about what you'll gain - milk, honey, a Promised Land, my protection, a new identity.  Freedom."

When I allow myself to be still, it is an act of faith that God will fight for me and that I won't be crushed by the Egyptians.  And when He delivers me, I am freed to partner with God, seeing what I do as a privilege and delight as opposed to a necessity for survival.

This passage begs the question: Will we choose God's way of freedom, trusting that He will provide a way through the Red Sea?  Or will we stay a slave in Egypt, comfortable and secure, but never knowing what kind of adventure God wants to lead us on?

Bette Dickinson
Bette serves with an InterVarsity ministry called Imago Dei on the campus of Western Michigan University.  Check out Facebook for more on her work with fine and performing arts students. 

The American League, the National League, God and Me

Chapter 5 - What is a Covenant?

What is it?  What's a 'covenant'?  And how does it relate to God? Or to me?  Today?

Some of us default to the 'marriage covenant'.  But what aspect?  The commitment?  he intimacy and closeness?  The sharing of life together?  These are things that picture marriage.  But was God proposing marriage to Abraham in Genesis 17?  Was He outlining wedding vows to Moses and the Israelites at Sinai?

The Hebrew word 'beriyth" is primarily translated into the English word "covenant" in the Old Testament - mainly referring to the connection between God and man.  Scholars also use other words to translate how we interact together, but it still holds the weight of "beriyth"  - League.  Alliance.  Treaty.

These words are not common to us - mainly because we don't live in small nation-tribes and city-states anymore.  We live in a large and complicated democratic republic with voting precincts and government officials.   Seriously - when I hear "league", I think American League and National League.  Or more broadly, an agreement between nations and kings.

And this is exactly what it is.  .  The structure of the entire Book of Deuteronomy is based off the ancient Near East "treaty" between a King/Lord/Protector and his Subjects. 

I am the Head Honcho. You are my People.

I will bless you.  You will send offerings.

If you try to rebel, I will put you back in place.

But if someone tries to take you from me, I will demolish them.

You are mine now.

Sure, it doesn't sound much like a "treaty".  The big technical word was "suzerainty".  (Look it up on wikipedia or something, interesting stuff).   In the 21st century, we normally don't think of "conquered people" and "terms of surrender".   But back then, it was perfect to describe our relationship with God.  An alliance not as equals, but as a loving, caring, protecting, powerful God who is definitely "higher" than us.

Marriage doesn't describe it. Parent-Child doesn't describe it. Master-Slave?  Nope.

Perhaps it kinda does go back to baseball?  To the "American League" and "National League"?  (Then again, perhaps it's just October and I'm just thinking baseball).

An All-Powerful Commissioner sets up the system and the rules.  Players are drafted into this system.  These players either live under the system and get rich while playing a fun boys' game, or these rational players decide to rebel and break rules and experience the punishment of the commissioner.  The Commissioner's ultimate purpose is not to police people.  No!  He wants people to enjoy playing the game!  

How about you? 

I can see two extremes.  (1)  Is God is imposing rules on you from 'on high'? Why do you view Him that way?  Or does He want you to enjoy playing the game called life and his relationship with Him?  (2) Is God an equal to you?  Are you interacting with God like a best friend - forgetting that He is "higher" than you... "better" than you... "suzerain" Lord Protector over you?

Which extreme did the Israelites tend towards?  Which extreme do you tend towards?  Why?

Dennis Leskowski

Dennis is regional director of CRU.  You can find more information about CRU at www.cru.org.

From a Wanderer

Chapter 4 - The Story
“We have received a large number of inquiries from highly qualified candidates for this role. At this time, we have decided to move forward with an individual who more closely matches the skills and qualifications required for this role.”

“I know you have said you are not interested, but I figure that if I just keep asking, you will say yes to me eventually.”

“Your car’s transmission is completely shot and needs to be replaced.”

“We met 3 weeks ago, he’s asked for my dad’s permission, and we’re getting married in June!”

“I appreciate the time you took to interview in-person with our team. I wanted to let you know that we have decided to fill the position internally.”

“I want to be clear with you that I am not pursuing you romantically.”

These are the words I have heard and am holding from the last few months.  They roll around in my head; they pile up on top of my heart like heavy stones. I know a thing or two about feeling disconnected, lost, and without a place to belong.  I know about wandering.

 In the last few months I have spoken a lot of words like this:

“How much longer, God??”

“I am listening.  I surrender control.  What do you want for me to see?”

“I am afraid.  I don’t know that I can take another rejection.”

“Jesus, I am angry at you.  I don’t know what else to say.”

Wandering is a seemingly senseless waiting place.  It is like driving through downtown Detroit with a dead phone and no map.  Every fiber of my being screams, “Get out of here!!!!”  But I can’t.  I can’t because wandering is powerless dependence.  It is God’s invitation for me to remember that I do not make my world work, I do not set the timeline, I do not pick the destination.  The truth is that I am in His story, which features a cast of Israelite sojourners in a desert, a Messiah who had no roof over his head, and a nation of Jews who spent thousands of years scattered across the globe before they were again given the chance to be a sovereign nation.  It seems “wandering” is a pretty big theme in God’s story, which means that whether you have wandered or not, you will.

It is curious, when I looked up that word “wander” in Numbers (ra`ah), I found that the original Hebrew word talked about grazing in a pasture, being led by a shepherd, being an intimate companion.  It is used over and over again in the Bible to talk of shepherds caring for their flocks and of the Lord being faithful to feed his children.  It appears that in the Bible “to wander” is never “to be alone.”  If anything, to wander is a time of intimate connection with God, a time when He is faithful to sustain and guide us.

If that is true, then God provides seasons of wandering for a very specific purpose.  I can guarantee that they always feel too long, like too much hardship, and like too little adventure or purpose.  I can also guarantee that they are times when your Father and Shepherd is saying to you, “I am here.  I am enough.  Your pain and your questions are not lost on me."  He also faithful to say, "I do not answer to you.  Walk with me.  Walk where you can’t see, feed on the unfamiliar, trust that we shall stay here exactly as long as I have determined we need to.  Know that I will never leave you and that our sojourn in the wilderness is evidence of my intimate and personal love coming for you.  Rest. Be. Wait.” 

I really can’t wrap a bow around my circumstances; they feel discouraging and isolating.  I wonder when my life is going to start moving.  I wonder if I have somehow caused all of this and am irreparably broken.  And yet. Jesus is here, reminding me to rest, be, and wait. 

Are you wandering?  Are you listening for the Shepherd’s voice in your wilderness?

Katy Johnson

You can find more about Katy at www.redtentliving.com