Alarm Clock: Up and At 'Em, Sunshine!

This morning's time with the Lord was interesting and just a bit of a wild ride. I'm still trying to piece it all together. There were quite a few different focuses. I'll tell you about them all, and then try to see if I can draw them together at the end. This is my editor's brain talking; it is looking down over the following paragraphs and cringing. I really am going to try to pull it together into something coherent, but if I don't manage to... I blame the leftover chicken from last night. It was a little dry.

First item on the docket: Petrichor. I love petrichor. It's one of the side-effects of being a pluviophile. 

I see you looking at me like I've got two heads. Stop it. A pluviophile is a lover of rain. Why do I love rain? One reason is because I love the scent it brings when it hits the earth and washes it, cleans it, refreshes it. Petrichor is the name of the aroma that comes as a result of wet rain interacting with soil, with dead and decaying things, and bringing new life out of old.

Some people hate it. Others (me) love it.

2 Corinthians 2:15-16 talks about spiritual petrichor. It says: "For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one, we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life. And who is equal to such a task?"

Who indeed? 

Second item of interest: We've lost our control.

As I was praying this morning, I was actually so tired, I started to drop off to sleep, and I'd hit that stage where dreams begin, but you're still aware of your surroundings. I knew quite well that I was on the couch with my Bible in my lap, still praying, still asking God to speak to my heart, but I was also standing in my friend's garage at the same time. The garage door was open, and our kids were playing together in the yard. There was an adult out there with them, directing them, telling them how to play, what to do, which teams to be on, etc., and for a while, it was nice to have a babysitter (I don't know who the adult was, but it was obvious he was the authority in the picture. I was only the observer).

After a bit, the kids were getting crazy. They began to play more wildly. The leader called for their attention, but the children were too loud; they weren't listening. I watched as they decided to try something. They lined up, one in front of the other, and they got down on their hands and knees. Each kid grabbed the ankles of the kid in front, so that they made a train, and the last kid in line wrapped his ankles around the leader's ankles. 

The kids started running on their hands and knees, going impossibly fast, and the leader, with a whiplash start, was dragged along behind, tossing this way and that as the kids recklessly zigzagged around the yard and the driveway. The leader was shouting, trying to bring order to the out-of-control children, but they wouldn't stop, and he kept getting whipped around corners. It reminded me of a dog-sled team where the dogs had lost a harness trace and were running with abandon (I'm not calling the kids dogs).

I roused myself at this point, tried to brush it off. Lord, that was a really intense, bizarre dream. Help me to concentrate. As I refocused, quieted my mind, thought about more coffee... the Lord whispered: I'm showing you something.

Seriously? So I went back to the dream for a second look, and I prayed for clarity and an interpretation. This dream, I think, was a picture of 2020. A world spinning out of control, and that lack of control touches several different interfaces. This wild abandon is happening in our nation; it's happening internationally, it's happening with natural disasters, it's even happening in the church. We have leaders in all these various places for a reason, to promote order, structure, and viability. We have pastors for a reason, to guide us spiritually. 

When we stop listening to leaders and thrive in chaos, the structure topples. Anarchy results. I think this dream was a warning. Playtime is over. Anarchy is not yet here, but we are walking a very thin line where our leaders feel out of control, because the sheep won't settle. The parishioners won't play nice. The nation won't calm down. The pack won't follow its alpha. 

Third and last order of business: Isaac is living in a hostile land.

I'm still continuing through Genesis, so today, I was in chapter 26, which is divided into essentially two parts (although there are no section divisions per the publication). First, we've got Isaac living in the land of Gerar (the land of the Philistines), and he follows his father's example and lies to the men there, telling them that his wife Rebekah is really his sister. Why does he does this? Because he's afraid that if the men find out that he's married to Pretty Girl, they'll kill him to get Pretty Girl.

This isn't even a half-truth as it was in Abraham's case (since Sarah was his half-sister). This is a full-blown deception, and not only does he lie about it, he lies about it for a long time. 26:8 says: "When Isaac had been there a long time, Abimelech king of the Philistines looked down from a window and saw Isaac caressing his wife Rebekah." 

Isaac settles in his deception. He becomes comfortable with it. He allows it to grow up around him. He probably gets to the point where he doesn't even think twice about calling Rebekah his sister.

Until Abimelech calls him on it, just as happened with Abraham his father (who interacted with a different Abimelech, probably this Abimelech's father or grandfather. That's speculation, though; I do wonder if Abimelech is the same guy as in Abraham's story, just, you know... really old).

When Isaac is called on it, he offers what flimsy excuse he can (that is to say, nothing good). And you leave the scene a little disappointed in the guy. He's supposed to be a patriarch of the nation of Israel, the son of Abraham, the inheritor by primogeniture, the carrier of God's original covenant.

And he flops big-time. It's so, so easy to point my finger at him. Shame, shame, shame. Isaac, you knew better; what were you thinking?

Until the Lord turns the mirror back to me, and I see so many times I've settled. In my faults, I've settled. They grow up around me until I don't even think about them. I sit in my easy-chair and wrap the blanket around me, blinded to the urgency of work, of responsibility, of carrying out the commission God has given me. I am blinded by my own lies; I can't see where the Lord is leading me.

Does God punish Isaac for his "long time" of deception? Not directly, or not obviously. Isaac is still the inheritor of God's promise, after all. Instead it says in verses 12-13: "Isaac planted crops in that land and the same year reaped a hundredfold, because the Lord blessed him. The man became rich, and his wealth continued to grow until he became very wealthy."

So wealthy, he choked on it.

Enter the punishment, a slightly more indirect form of it... and longer-term. Because Isaac is so wealthy, the Philistines begin to envy him. When Isaac digs a well to provide for his abundant flocks and herds, what do the Philistines do? They fill it in. Yep, they shovel dirt right back into the well so Isaac can no longer access the water.

Abimelech tells Isaac, "Get out of here; you're too powerful for us." The hostility that often accompanies wealth has sprouted between them. Isaac seems like a fairly peaceable guy, a conflict-avoider like myself. He moves away as requested, to the valley of Gerar, which... is still in Philistine territory. Digs another well. The Philistines fill it in. Digs another one. The Philistines fill it in. Digs yet another one, and finally no one quarrels with him about it.

Punishment time is over; everyone takes a breath of relief. The Lord once again appears to Isaac and reminds him of the covenant God has made with Abraham and that Isaac now carries. Isaac and Abimelech make peace in an official ceremony where they swear to be friends, or at least to leave each other alone, and then they eat and drink together (apparently a great way of solidifying oaths). Isaac's servants find water in a new well at that same time, and this well signifies the completion of this peace. Isaac called it the Well of Shibah, which means: "Well of the Oath," or "Well of Seven." (Seven generally represents completion in the Scriptures). The peace was complete.

I'd just like to point this out: Isaac lived for a long time in the land of the Philistines, in the land of the pagan people. He obviously was not perfect, but he was still the carrier of God's covenant. As such, the Lord still made him separate and distinct from his surroundings, in such a way that he was hated by the people.

He was petrichor. Through him, new life was to come ("father of many nations"), because of him, the Philistines could see nothing good about him. He "smelled like death," even though he brought new life.

My editor's brain is cringing at this post, I admit. It feels all over the place. I'll try to wrap it up with some nice concise strings:

We need unity. In the church, in the nation, among the nations. If we don't have that unity, our leadership structures will topple. Play nice, kids. Stop pulling down our leaders.

Don't settle in sin. Be better than that. Get uncomfortable. Get out of your easy-chair and move away from things that fit too well and let you fall into a complacent existence.

Don't be afraid to be the smell of death to some people. Death comes before life; it's a part of that upside-down kingdom that Christ preached: The master will be servant of all. The first shall be last. My kingdom is not of this world. In Isaac's case, the older will serve the younger. Death comes before life. 

When we die to self, we live in Christ. Jesus died, conquered death, and came back to life in the most glorious resurrection ever! Get back to living. Isaac needed a wake-up call, a pull out of his settled lie, and God used a pagan king to do it.

Our circumstances are waking us up, even the ones we don't recognize as from God: Covid-19, political unrest, civil unrest, natural disasters, political tension, international tension. God is waking us up, so get up, church! Time to rise and shine! "Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you" (Isaiah 60:1).