Digging Out of a Hole (Spenserian Stanza)


Jesus arrives not with a ladder for us to climb out of creation, but a shovel He’ll use to dig up the wicked root of our sin within creation. And in its place, He’ll plant the sacrificial love of God, burying His own body like a seed deep in the death of our world, cracked open to bring new life rising up from creation’s broken heart.

— Joshua Ryan Butler, The Pursuing God, 209.

We look up at the small blue circle there,
The roof of our self-excavated hole,
And wonder how or if we’ll breathe the air
Beyond this dirt-dacha of moping moles.
Rescue comes, but hope is once seen then stole’,
For a shovel and no ladder descends
And the blue above seems as black as coal.
But Rescue digs, His arms and back bend
Replacing a root with Self—vine-seed—out to wend.

The germinating seed sends shoots skyward;
Among its leaves we’re grafted and brought out
Of dirt-dark to blue-sky-light—free—upward,
Transforming grief into triumphant shout
The hole we dug became the Victor’s rout
Over the rank filth we once wallowed in
And the blue roof turns ashen with rain clouds
Whose drops fall on us, all the dirt is cleansed
By Rescue’s joy whose healthy sunshine will not end.



Laws as Vows

511mn5jjn1lNow, the Law is good, and God gives it to His people, but God’s primary purpose in bringing Israel to the mountain is not to give her the Law; it’s to give her Himself. We tend to think of the Ten Commandments as legalistic rules and regulations to keep a distant, uptight God happy. But Israel understood them as wedding vows, commitments of fidelity and devotion, aimed at the flourishing of their life together.

And they’re pretty simple vows:

Don’t cheat on me with other gods.
Remember to rest so we can celebrate life together.
Don’t lie, cheat, murder, or steal.
Let’s live together forever!

— Joshua Ryan Butler, The Pursuing God: A Reckless, Irrational, Obsessed Love That’s Dying to Bring Us Home, 35.

More Than an Example



Jesus is more than an example to be followed; He’s a Savior to be trusted. This is why we miss the point if we see Jesus’ wilderness temptation as only how to overcome temptation, with advice like “Jesus used Scripture, so you should too.” This focuses on a flea and misses the elephant in the room. The point is not, “He did it; you can too!” The point is, “You don’t do it; so Jesus did it for you.”

— Joshua Ryan Butler, The Pursuing God: A Reckless, Irrational, Obsessed Love That’s Dying to Bring Us Home, 20.

2015 Reading List: The Skeletons in God’s Closet

Butler, Joshua Ryan. The Skeletons in God’s Closet: The Mercy of Hell, the Surprise of Judgment, the Hope of Holy War.

I’m very thankful to Alia Hagenbach (@AliaJoy), from whom I won this book in her very generous giveaway!

Butler is a pastor in Portland, Oregon, and he writes this book as a pastor to people who struggle with the difficult truths in the Bible about hell, judgment, and holy war. This is one of the major strengths of the book: this is no “safe” academic discussion; this is borne out of the struggles of one desperate for truth.

The title comes from the idea that God has skeletons in His closet that He doesn’t want us to see and that we don’t want to look at. Hell and wrath and judgment make us uncomfortable, because they seem to conflict with the loving God we worship. What if He’s not like what we thought after all?

The subtitle of the book gives the reader the structure of the book’s three sections: the mercy of hell, the surprise of judgment, and the hope of holy war. In the beginning, he explains how our understanding of these three are often like a caricature drawing: close enough to the real thing to be recognizable, but with major exaggerations or distortions of certain features. Without the original to compare it with, however, the caricature can become the original in our minds, and we become blind to the distortions.

Hell is not an “underground torture chamber,” but rather the merciful (hence “mercy of hell”) containment of sin’s devastation from spreading throughout the new heavens and new earth. The most powerful portrayal of this is in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus from Luke 16. The rich man is in torment, not torture; furthermore, his questions to Father Abraham are actually cheap shots at God. Never once does the rich man express a desire to get out of where he is. The “great chasm” fixed between him and Lazarus prevents the spread of his destructive hatefulness into the shalom of Abraham’s bosom, where Lazarus now receives his reward.

Judgment is a surprise, because we are so easily deceived by appearances. There is so much injustice in the world that it often blinds us to the reality and hope of real justice. At the end of all things, however, the surprise of judgment will be when all the deceptive appearances are removed and shown for the truth. Butler takes us to the separation of the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25 to show the surprise: “When did we do these things [or not do them] to You, Lord?”

Holy war is a picture of God’s upending of systemic evil. The Canaanites were not happy-go-lucky, peaceful folks who were brutally slaughtered by the bloodthirsty, overpowering Israelites. The Canaanites had 400 years from Abraham to Joshua to repent, and they didn’t. Their sins and the blood of their victims screamed for vengeance, just as Abel’s blood cried out to God. After 400 years, the point of no return was reached. The descriptions of the fall of Babylon in Revelation are full of holy war language–the demolition of the systemic godlessness and oppression of the weak.

This book made me uncomfortable in a lot of places, and mostly because I found myself clinging to the caricature instead of the biblical reality. My discomfort wasn’t because Butler was wrong, but because I was being confronted with the original image without the caricature’s distortions. This is an immensely helpful book, because Butler’s primary purpose in the book is to show the goodness of God, even in the doctrines of hell, judgment, and holy war. Mission accomplished, without a doubt.

I do have a couple of hesitations about the book, which most likely arise because of focus or emphasis. First, the emphasis in the book is on God’s jealousy for His creation in general and His people in particular; there’s not as much emphasis on God’s jealousy for His own name and holiness. Hell, judgment, and holy war are geared more toward rescue and protection of us, and there’s not much discussion about how God feels about sin because of what it is to Him, independently of us. Again, this is most likely simply an issue of emphasis; I don’t for a second believe that Butler disagrees with my point. But I’d be interested to have the discussion to see where that fits into his paradigm.

Second, or perhaps another facet of the first, what about the language of God hating sinners and being angry with sin (e.g., Psalm 5:5)? Where does that fit within the book’s paradigm? This is traditionally seen as an expression of God’s holiness and purity; He is the One whose eyes are too pure to look on sin (Habakkuk 1). How should we understand this kind of language?

I thoroughly enjoyed this book, in no small part because I was challenged and made helpfully uncomfortable by it. This is a remarkably well-done offering to the Church and the world.