I spend a large portion of my Christmas holiday with three post-Christian women I’ll call Grandmother, Mother and Daughter because of their relationship to one another.  I call them post-Christian because they were all professing Christians at one time.  Grandmother still calls herself a Christian.  She means a non-Buddhist, non-Hindu, non-Jew, non-Muslim who believes in Jesus.  Her ex-husband was a Baptist Sunday school teacher who abused her, and Mother as a child.  Daughter is the most non-Christian, vocally pagan of the three with Mother falling somewhere between.  Their transformation began with a desire for a more feminine God.  I regret now not taking Mother’s question more seriously.  I didn’t understand at the time that this desire would lead through Mother Earth to a Mother Goddess and on to full-fledged paganism.

I pointed out that y^ehôvâh (יהוה) created male and female: God (ʼĕlôhı̂ym, אלהים) created humankind in his own image, in the image of God (ʼĕlôhı̂ym, אלהים) he created them, male and female he created them.^[1]  I talked about the meaning of El Shaddai (ʼêl, אל; shadday, שדי) and a few other references to God as feminine.  But I emphasized that the general understanding of God as masculine was due primarily to the fact that we are all feminine in relation to the operation of his grace through Jesus Christ.

I am accepted among them as the kindly, odd, somewhat benighted, old man who studies the Bible in his spare time, so ordinary conversation—what’ve you been up to?—offers many opportunities.  A recent conversation with Grandmother and Daughter turned naturally to Jesus’ dying thoughts on the cross.  I read Psalm 22 aloud.  Daughter was visibly, tearfully moved and vocally overwhelmed that David could write such exact knowledge so many centuries before Jesus was born.

I spoke of God having mercy on whoever he chooses to have mercy and hardening whoever he chooses to harden.  I said I had been considering how, and told them the story of two prophets, Nathan and John the Baptist.  When Pharisees and Sadduccees, religious leaders, came to be baptized for repentance (Matthew 3:11, 12; Mark 1:4-8; Luke 3:15-17) John said, You offspring of vipers!  Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?^[2]  And he challenged them to put their works religion to the test: Therefore produce fruit that proves your repentance…^[3]

What I didn’t say but will record here for my own memory’s sake, whether these particular Pharisees and Sadduccees were directly responsible or not, John’s words were not secret and would have tended to harden the resolve of the religious elite to kill Jesus: the Lord (y^ehôvâh, ויהוה) desired to crush him (e.g., Jesus).  On the other hand y^ehôvâh desired David’s repentance and sent Nathan to that effect.

He was sent after King David had committed adultery with Bathsheba and then had her husband killed to cover it up.  Nathan told David a story (2 Samuel 12:1-6) about a rich man who had entertained a traveler with a meal.  The rich man hadn’t served up any of his own sheep or cattle, but the one ewe lamb he took from a poor man.  Then David became very angry at this man.^[4]  You are that man!^[5] Nathan said to him.

“Did he kill him?” Daughter asked.  I was actually surprised that she had forgotten the story.

No, I answered, I have sinned against the Lord!^[6] David said and then he wrote the 51^st Psalm.  I got to read Psalm 51 aloud to them.  When I finished Grandmother responded to a look on Daughter’s face at the line—Look, I was guilty of sin from birth, a sinner the moment my mother conceived me.^[7]

“I don’t believe that either,” Grandmother said.

This is a point to concede by the way.  If it offends or hurts your feelings, welcome to the human race.  Being guilty of sin from birth, a sinner the moment my mother conceived me is equivalent to being born of the flesh of Adam (Romans 5:12-21; 1 Corinthians 15:42-58).  You do not want a relentless God who will pursue you with goodness and mercy all the days of your life to spend that time convincing you the hard way that you are a sinner instead (John 16:7-11).

Goodness and mercy, by the way is the NKJV translation of Psalm 23:6a.  In the NET it was translated goodness and faithfulness (chêsêd , וחסד).

chêsêd	Hebrew	KJV	NET	Tanakh	Septuagint
Psalm 23:6a	וחסד	mercy	faithfulness	mercy	ἔλεός[8]

Daughter informed me that my religion has a lot of guilt in it as she praised me for my adherence to it, and insisted that we, she and her pagan friends, desperately need a canon (i.e., of written scripture).

On Yule I learned that Mother had been taking drugs.  I wasn’t personally that aware of the winter solstice.  Daughter and Mother wished one another happy Yule in the car as I drove them to rehab.  It’s probably the only reason I knew anything at all.

I hadn’t known the night before that Mother had informed Daughter she was abusing drugs.  Daughter called me the next morning when Mother hesitated to actually commit herself to rehab.  In the car on the way Daughter was jubilant and excited that Mother was doing the right thing.  Yes, rehab is better than sitting home alone shooting dope, but I was much more somber and subdued.

At her home I had sat with her, held her and listened to her enough to convince myself that Mother had no interest in repentance.  Daughter was right.  My presence alone persuaded Mother to shower, dress and leave with us for the rehab facility.  But in the car I felt like I was delivering her up for more hardening.  In my admittedly limited experience I know no one who has returned to faith in Christ from the higher power mysticism of a twelve-step program.  I watched sadly the full realization of incarceration creep across her face as she was taken from us.  No matter what I say or how much I protest, Mother and Daughter believe I live a life of rules, while they are free.

I gave them My statutes, y^ehôvâh explained in the philosopher’s dream chapter of Ezekiel the prophet, and informed them of My ordinances, by which, if a man observes them, he will live.^[9] I call it the philosopher’s dream chapter because y^ehôvâh explained so much of his own understanding of Israel’s history there.  Then the twelve-year-old Jesus had this chapter at his disposal to renew and refresh his now human mind.

The Hebrew word translated My statutes was chûqqâh (חקותי).  It was translated προστάγματά in the Septuagint.  The Hebrew word translated My ordinances was mishpâṭ (משפטי), and δικαιώματά, a form of δικαίωμα, in the Septuagint.  This was translated the righteous requirements in: Therefore if the uncircumcised man obeys the righteous requirements (δικαιώματα, a form of δικαίωμα) of the law, will not his uncircumcision be regarded as circumcision?^[10]

In the same chapter y^ehôvâh explained: I also gave them statutes that were not good and ordinances by which they could not live.^[11]  Here the Hebrew word translated statutes was chôq (חקים); chûqqâh is the feminine of chôq according to Strong’s Concordance.  It was still translated προστάγματα in the Septuagint.  And again, the word translated ordinances was mishpâṭ (ומשפטים) in Hebrew and δικαιώματα in the Septuagint.  I don’t think these are different statutes or different ordinances.

The commandment…was intended to bring life.^[12]  The law is holy, and the commandment is holy, righteous, and good.^[13]  But if a law had been given that was able to give life, then righteousness would certainly have come by the law.^[14]  God achieved what the law could not do because it was weakened through the flesh.^[15]  For sin, seizing the opportunity through the commandment, deceived me and through it I died.^[16]  For we know that the law is spiritual – but I am unspiritual, sold into slavery to sin.  For I don’t understand what I am doing.  For I do not do what I want – instead, I do what I hate.^[17]

Also I gave them My Sabbaths, y^ehôvâh said in the philosopher’s dream chapter, to be a sign between Me and them, that they might know that I am the Lord (y^ehôvâh, יהוה) who sanctifies them.^[18]

In practice many professing faith in Jesus do not believe that y^ehôvâh/Jesus sanctifies^[19] them.  We trust Him for justification only, primarily forgiveness.  We believe our sanctification is a measure of our own good works, obedience accomplished in our own strength for our own glory.  We do not believe that here and now a Sabbath rest remains for the people of God.  For the one who enters God’s rest has also rested from his works, just as God did from his own works.^[20]  I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me.  So the life I now live in the body, I live because of the faithfulness of the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.^[21]  Thus we must make every effort to enter that rest, so that no one may fall by following the same pattern of disobedience^[22] (ἀπειθείας, a form of ἀπείθεια; literally, disbelief)  Do we then nullify the law through faith?  Absolutely not!  Instead we uphold the law.^[23]

I want to consider the movie The Host as a Holy Spirit metaphor for one who does not yet experience Him.  There are many spoilers here and as a metaphor the film is fatally flawed.  But in the hope of communicating some small portion of the Ineffable, here goes.

“The earth is at peace,” a resistance leader named Jebediah (William Hurt) narrates the beginning of the film.  “There is no hunger.  There is no violence.  The environment is healed.  Honesty, courtesy and kindness are practiced by all.  Our world has never been more perfect.  Only it is no longer our world.  We’ve been invaded by an alien race.  They occupy the bodies of almost all human beings on the planet.  The few humans who have survived are on the run.”

Then we are introduced to Melanie (Saoirse Ronan) fleeing her enemies: honesty, courtesy and kindness.  Following her earthly father’s example, she attempts suicide but lives, despite her best efforts, only to be possessed by Wanderer (also Saoirse Ronan).  Melanie’s old human survives to fight Wanderer for control of their body.

The Seeker (Diane Kruger) interviews Wanderer to glean Melanie’s memories for knowledge of other old humans in the resistance underground.  When she decides that Melanie’s old human is too strong for Wanderer, she plans to put Wanderer in a more compliant host, search Melanie’s memories herself and then let Melanie die the death she wanted.  But Wanderer has begun to love Melanie.  They flee The Seeker together.

Melanie tricks Wanderer into the desert and leads her to Uncle Jebediah and the underground resistance.  Uncle Jeb uses all of his authority as a leader to keep others in the resistance from killing the obviously possessed Melanie/Wanderer.  Even Melanie’s lover Jared (Max Irons) has no sympathy for her at first.  In a get-to-know-you walk-and-talk Uncle Jeb shortens Wanderer’s name to Wanda.

Melanie begins to love Wanda as she witnesses Wanda’s concern for the people Melanie loves, even some she hates or is indifferent toward.  The metaphor breaks down, of course.  The holy spirits, called souls in the film, are many and varied, and some or not as holy as Wanda.  The Seeker ironically becomes almost human in her fears that she personally is losing control to her host Lacey (also Diane Kruger) and that the holy spirits may ultimately lose their possession of the humans.  In the end The Host becomes Satan’s wet dream as The Seeker’s fears become flesh: holy spirits collaborate with the resistance to rid humans of the holy spirits.

 

Mother is on the verge of bankruptcy.  I helped her in a similar position nearly twenty years ago.  She called me before I left for Christmas.  I offered to help again.  She accepted.  As I drove the hundred miles or so to my own mother’s house the evening after Mother committed herself to rehab I understood why we hadn’t met to review her finances yet.  I recalled the things I’ve said and done with Grandmother, Mother and Daughter, fretted over some things I hadn’t said or done and heard Darth Vader echoing in my head, saying, “Now his failure is complete.”

As far as I know I am the believer of record in their lives.  I will give an account of this stewardship before Jesus.  As the enormity of my failure to live a life that commends others to Jesus inundated me in crushing waves, the image of my mother scrubbing the basement floor on her hands and knees popped into my mind.  Of all the things she had said or done, of all the things I might have complained that she hadn’t said or done, this simple image stuck with me.

I had overdosed on some hallucinogen.  I had thrown up all night long on her basement floor.  My mother cleaning up after me became a living metaphor of my life.  I had returned to drugs because a simple taste a few days earlier brought back the feeling I had lost since my early days of trusting Jesus again.  I made many more bad decisions along the way.  But my mother never gave up on me.

As I drove through the dark hills thinking perhaps I had been spared from helping Mother again financially, the admonition of my penny-pinching father came to mind:

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

The words weren’t his but Rudyard Kipling’s.^[24]  A man like me would be a fool to attempt Kipling’s vision of manhood apart from the Holy Spirit.  But the image of my mother’s loving persistence and my father’s words of counsel gave me some hope that I was there, the right person at the right place and time.  And that image and those words carried me through that dark night until the continuous infusion of the Holy Spirit’s love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and control took over again the next morning.