God Does Not Reside on Mount Olympus

After my two-month marathon of grad school this summer, I decided to take a break from the rigors of academia to read Rick Riordan’s popular series: Percy Jackson and the Olympians. I’m a fifth grade teacher, and I try to read children’s books when I can so I'm able to recommend quality literature to my students. But the truth is –I wanted to read this series. For me. And I wasn’t disappointed.

The series is based on the premise that the Olympic gods are alive and well –only now they reside above New York, the major city of the modern world power. And the Olympians, being who they are, of course, have demigod children running around the United States. One of these demigods is the protagonist: Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon. The series follows him from the moment he discovers his true identity to the moment his greatness is ultimately tested in the final battle. The stories are fast-paced, intriguing, and humorous. They are about heroism, honor, and friendship. Read them. I know you’ll love them.

But –as I took the journey with Percy and his gang across the U.S. and under the ocean and through the Labyrinth, I wandered about the profit of reading a book saturated in the mythology of pagan gods. Perhaps I think too much, but this consideration led to more fruitful thoughts. In the end, I found Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, and Co. to be painfully lacking as deity worthy of authentic worship. And I found God even more securely established as the One who is worthy. Not that I expected anything different, but the absurdity of the Olympians as "gods" is laughable.

The books rely heavily on the ancient myths I learned in high school and college. Revisiting them as an adult, the gods of Olympus seemed to be sniveling, spoiled tyrants clearly constructed from the minds of men. They react to the actions of men. They are wooed by the beauty of women. And they are as fickle as, well, as a hormonal woman! They are altogether too human to be divine. In other words, when it came to explaining natural phenomena and all the other mysteries of life through their gods, it is evident that the Greeks only had the faculty of their own minds to do it. They couldn’t create something truly supernatural because they themselves were not supernatural. The Olympians act in ways that make sense to the Greeks because the Greeks were writing the book. They were incapable of thinking beyond that. The Olympians can only be founded in humanity because they are the brainchildren of humans. So, human nature, with a smattering of imaginative, superhuman steroids, is the DNA of the Greek gods.

Compare this to the Bible, and you’ll find Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The sovereign God who does not bend to the actions of insignificant men. The holy God who is supremely righteous. The gracious God who is truly immortal and wise. The merciful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with His people. This God may not always make sense to our feeble minds, but He does not need to –and I would venture to say, He doesn’t care. I don’t mean to be flippant. God is omniscient. If He deems it wise to reach down and open our eyes so we understand Him better, He will. But He doesn’t have to. He doesn’t owe it to us. Because He is God, and we are not. He need not make sense to humans to be real. Unlike the Olympians, man did not invent Him. Instead, God took the initiative to tell us who He is. God reveals Himself to us in the Bible. Perhaps men held the pen, but God is the author. If a man had created God to be accepted by the rest of humanity, he would have been better off making God a little more understandable, a little less mysterious. The God of the Bible wouldn’t ever win a divinity popularity contest because He simply doesn’t fit into our measly mental boxes. We don’t like what we don’t understand because we can’t control it.

Take, for example, the story of Job. Terrible atrocities were put upon this godly man. Were he Greek, he would have comforted himself in the logical conclusion that Zeus and Hera were having a marital rift. Or Athena was grumpy because of a cold. So he would have tried to make his life better with sacrifices and any other notion that would appease the offended god. Instead, Job humbly proclaims, “Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth...I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted...The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed by the name of the Lord” (Job 40:4, 42:2, 1:21b, ESV). Job realizes that God does not owe him an explanation. If He gives him one, that is His loving purpose. If He withholds one, that is His loving purpose. God answers to no man lest He chooses. And we are wise to not try controlling our circumstances with attempts to make them better, but to depend fully on the One who can sustain us in them –rain or shine.

Another difference that struck me in the books is the capriciousness of the Olympians. I briefly mentioned this previously, but I especially want to note this moody vacillation toward the gods' own children. Percy and his demigod friends are always in limbo as to whether or not they are pleasing their Olympic parents –and questioning what sort of catastrophe may occur as a manifestation of their rage if they are not. Now, God is perfectly merciful, gracious, and loving. He is also perfectly righteous and just. If He must exhibit His wrath toward sin as a rightful extension of His righteousness, He has every right to do so. He would not be truly just if He didn’t. But He will not extend that wrath to His children. That is why Christ came. The wrath of God was satisfied in the suffering and death of Jesus Christ. [See 2 Corinthians 5:21 and 1 Peter 2:24.] Those who repent of their sins and believe in that perfect work need never wonder about God’s love toward them. It was purchased, once and for all, by Jesus’ blood. For those repentant souls, God’s wrath was poured out entirely on Christ. There is not even a drop left in the cup.

There was one thing I appreciated about the spirituality of Riordan’s characters. They revere the Olympians. This is particularly expressed through discussions of the gods’ names. When Zeus’s name is mentioned, the sky thunders on cloudless days. Poseidon’s name churns the sea. Percy is often reminded to “be less casual about throwing [the gods’] names around” (The Lightning Thief, page 67). Yet the true God’s name, Jesus’s name, and every variation of the two are glib curse words today. That wasn’t always the case. For the Israelites, speaking the name of Yahweh was in and of itself an act of worship. In fact, we see the reverence of His name directed in the Ten Commandments. Oh, that we would return to that awe and veneration! God’s name is abused in the streets and on TV...and even in the prayers of Christians. His name is not a prayer filler tantamount to “umm” or “uh.” But we use it as such. This whole thought process made me wonder why the names of other gods aren’t used as curse words. You never hear someone shout “Allah!” as they stub their toe, or “Buddah, I love these!” as they slurp down BBQ chicken wings. I wonder if it’s because of the popularity of Christianity. Perhaps the other deity are just more revered. Or perhaps Satan just doesn’t give a wit about slandering the names of myths so he doesn't even put the thought into human heads. Just wondering...

Anyway, bottom line: God does not reside on Mount Olympus. He is not borne of man’s imagination. He is God. But He is approachable through the sacrifice of Jesus. [Hebrews 4:14-16] May that knowledge drop you to your knees in worship. May you speak His name in humility, remembering that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge” (Proverbs 1:1).

Taste and See: An Ode to My God

Fiona (who I affectionately call Flea) and I stayed home from church this morning because the poor little dear caught the stomach flu. So she napped, the sky drizzled, and I sat down with my Bible and journal to reflect with God on past weeks. You wouldn’t think being trapped inside with the flu bug on a drippy day could be so encouraging but such was the case…to the extent that my heart overflows in praise to my Lord, and I want you to know what He’s done.

Situations and circumstances have recently catapulted me into a state of spiritual unrest, for lack of a better term. Some of this is due to my own sinful foolishness. Some of it is a result of living in a fallen world. But this morning I’d had enough. Feeling overwhelmingly sinful and spiritually thirsty, I knew I needed to soak in the wisdom of the Most High. I studied Ephesians this week in my class, so that’s where I went. Paul starts his letter reminding the church of all they have in Christ:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight making known to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.

In him we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to the purpose of him who works all things according to the counsel of his will, so that we who were the first to hope in Christ might be to the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory.

This is the gospel and its rich implications for those who believe. Here, in the beauty of Christ and the grandeur of God’s sovereignty, I found respite for my weary soul. But God wasn’t finished. As I prayed through the above verses, I was particularly grateful for Christ’s blood; because in my depraved wretchedness, it is my only hope for salvation. Christ’s sacrifice is sufficient -even in my miserable failings and fallings. What a comfort to know God’s favor towards me is not based on what I can or can’t do, but on the finished work of Jesus. That’s what it means to be saved by grace. But, as Paul wrote to the Romans, “Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means!” So I exalted in the finishing work of the Cross but continued to look for wisdom to be obedient in fighting against my own depravity.

That’s when I remembered Ephesians 5. Paul is talking to husbands but references Christ’s sacrificial death which sanctified His Bride, the church. She is “cleansed…by the washing of water with the word.” The author of Hebrews wrote that “the word of God is living and active.” So, in the knowledge that I have been betrothed to Christ by His death and resurrection, I prayed that God would cleanse and lead me by His Word.

I went on journaling and praying through all the stuff of the past weeks and the grime of my own heart. In the issue which caused the most havoc, I realized I was gripped by fear. I was afraid of my own propensity for sin –its subtlety and its strength. I was afraid of continuing on my current path for fear of making another mistake. I was afraid of making a new path for fear of the effects it may have. I was a slave to fear.

And here God faithfully answered my prayer to be sanctified by His Word. He brought to mind Paul’s words in Romans 8: “For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’” I realized that the fear of my own sin and weakness was inhibiting me from living boldly for the Kingdom. And if that’s how I’m living, then I’m functionally rendering Christ’s work on the cross as powerless and worthless. “For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery” (Gal 5:1). So with my eyes fixed on Christ and the hope of the gospel, I hopefully and joyfully continue on this path as a soldier of the King, made strong in Jesus and the Word.

I am overwhelmed by the mercy of my God. This morning I tasted and saw that He is good. I cried for help and He answered. Today, in another degree, the living Word conformed my heart and mind to Christ’s. And that is “to the praise of His glorious grace.”

Cling to the Rock

I once heard it said the Christian life is more like a rock climb than a walk down a path. Following in the footsteps of Christ is not so easy as walking down a path, however narrow it may be. Believers must cling to Truth, the Living Word of God, as they would the face of a mountain. Failure to do so results in falling away.

The Bible is replete in conveying our need for its pervasion of our lives. Moses declared to the Israelites:

Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.

Deuteronomy 6:4-9

Like any good simile of the Christian subculture, the rock climb connection convicted and inspired me. At the time, I didn’t realize how poignant it would become. I didn’t know I would be forced to move beyond conviction and inspiration, where the rubber meets the road in action.

We woman are emotional creatures. Wired that way, I’m told. Most of my life, I’ve been (I hate to jump into the mosh pit of post-modernist jargon, but…) relatively unemotional. Maybe it’s a product of growing up with only brothers; but times have changed, I guess. A few weeks ago, I found myself in an emotional blizzard. At least that’s what it felt like for a girl who normally cried once every few months to have uncontrollable crying episodes multiple times a day. Scary. Week-and-a-half scary.

The transition of moving, losing close-knit community, and changing plans isn’t easy, but it’s not that bad. My circumstances were only moderately more difficult. So the blizzard really made no sense. But it felt very real to me. Overwhelmingly real. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I prayed, read my Bible, called family and friends to pray, confessed sin, asked God to reveal hidden sin, sought community –all the things I knew to do weren’t changing the lack of comfort I felt. After all, didn’t God promise “I am He who comforts you” (Isaiah 51:12)? Why wasn’t I feeling comforted?

The rock-climbing analogy kept coming back to me. I didn’t understand the emotional craziness, but I kept hearing the lifeline cling to the Rock, cling to the Rock. When the blizzards would hit, I eventually came to the point where the only way I made it through without becoming completely hysterical was making myself recite a verse –any verse. It wasn’t like flipping a switch or performing a magic trick. I didn’t automatically feel better as soon as I thought of a verse. But it did keep me from falling. I realized I was on the mountain face. The grade was slightly steeper, but the real problem was the blizzards that would blindside me from nowhere. Now, clinging to the Rock didn’t make the blizzard go away, but it was the only way to survive. I had no other refuge. And, really, if I were in a blizzard, I would much rather be holding onto a mountain than wandering aimlessly.

I hope you’ve noticed the dangerous f-words which have infused my writing thus far. Feel. Felt. Feeling. Emotion is tantamount to intense feeling. We women are feelers. [Side note: If one more man tells me feelings are a good thing, it’s likely I’ll punch him in the mouth. I know it’s true; and I’ll even admit that it’s right for him to remind me of that truth. But he should beware the potential physical manifestations of my feelings at the intense point in which they are felt.] God created feelings. They must be good. But they can easily become the faulty foundation by which we live the day-to-day. This is fine, when feelings are supported by the truths of the Word of God. A Puritan articulated this in the beautiful prayer “The Divine Will” from The Valley of Vision: “Help me to honour thee by believing before I feel, for great is the sin if I make feeling a cause of faith.” Feelings, while good, must be constantly compared to Scripture. The Word of God is immutable, feelings are not. This is certainly a mental discipline. It’s much easier to roll with a feeling than consider its biblical validity and stop the thought at its onset. Rolling eventually turns to a spiral of despair. You will not find comfort apart from the Word, Immanuel. I realized, with the help of my brother, my definition of comfort was all about good feelings. The Always-Good-Feelings clause is not part of Christ's Covenant. In fact, He promises we will suffer persecution in following Him. (2 Timothy 3:12) But we can look to that with joy! For the Rock, the beautiful, majestic, steadfast Rock, is our Comfort! The promise of the Living Word, the hope of glory is our Comfort. And that's not a feeling -it's a fact.

So cling to the Living Word, brothers and sisters. Don't give your fellow believers the false hope of good feelings. This life is a difficult, uphill climb. The Rock is your only hope. The only Hope.