Thursday, 3 October 2013

God's Repulsive Presence



read Genesis 3:1-10

The Church today is overwhelmed by an all-encompassing sentimentalization of God’s presence. The most famous contemporary worship figures are themselves the advocates of such a disposition. It is no wonder, therefore, that this metatrend is gaining more and more unstoppable momentum. The meta-ideology of worship today is that worship, if it is true worship, should be adrenaline-flooding, heart-warming, tear-dropping, hand-raising, and emotion-stirring experience, particularly when we sing, usually accompanied by a band. With this frame of thought, God’s presence is quantified primarily by the manifestations of loud applauses, whistles, extemporaneous words of praises, and numerous choruses of “Hallelujahs!” and “Amens!”

That God’s presence can be sentimentalized is not without biblical foundation and precedent.[1] Already in the Old Testament, God’s presence is understood as a comforting presence in times of trouble (Josh 1:5). Moses encouraged Joshua with the promise of God’s presence as they would conquer the Promised Land: “Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go” (Josh 1:9). The Israelites were doubting whether they could enter the land of the giants (Num 13:31–33; Deut 3:11), but Moses assures them by affirming that they stood in God’s presence (Deut 29:15). They were not alone in their endeavors; in fact, God would guide them in conquering Canaan (Deut 32:29, 32). God’s mere presence can truly drive our anxieties away. There is comfort in the awareness that we are not alone when we walk through the shadows and the valleys (Ps 23:4).

Through the Psalmists, we know that the presence of God is a haven of rest. Often times, we seek God’s presence because we know that it is where our petitions are heard. David himself sought the Lord’s presence when Israel faced a three-year famine (2 Sam 21:1). People gathered at the Temple because it was his tabernacle. Worshippers experience a special closeness to God in such a place. In fact, it is the Temple that constantly reminded Israel of God’s indwelling presence and nearness. God’s presence is a place of blessing. David proclaimed that he is filled with joy in the Lord’s presence (Acts 2:28). When we turn and come to God, there is forgiveness, sanctification, and refreshing (Acts 3:19). Throughout the whole of Psalms, writers spoke about seeking God’s face, because it is there that God’s grace and blessings are found, right where God’s “face shines upon us” (Ps 67:1). In the last days, God’s presence will mean ultimate blessing, for believers will see him face to face (1 John 3:2). But even today, if we, as God’s people, humble ourselves before God, he promised that he will hear our pleas and prayers (2 Chron 7:14; Mal 3:16).

But is the presence God solely to be understood as the place of blessing?

The story of Adam and Eve suggests that there is something about the presence of God that they wished to avoid; hence, they hid (Gen 3:8–10). The same is evident in the attitude of the Israelites before God at Mt. Sinai, narrated in Exodus 19:16–19 and 20:18–21:

On the morning of the third day there was thunder and lightning, with a thick cloud over the mountain, and a very loud trumpet blast. Everyone in the camp trembled. 17 Then Moses led the people out of the camp to meet with God, and they stood at the foot of the mountain. 18 Mount Sinai was covered with smoke, because the Lord descended on it in fire. The smoke billowed up from it like smoke from a furnace, and the whole mountain trembled violently.
When the people saw the thunder and lightning and heard the trumpet and saw the mountain in smoke, they trembled with fear. They stayed at a distance 19 and said to Moses, “Speak to us yourself and we will listen. But do not have God speak to us or we will die.” … 21 The people remained at a distance, while Moses approached the thick darkness where God was.

So the question is: what is there about the presence of God that made the people of God tremble? If God’s presence is a comforting, saving, revealing, forgiving, rejuvenating presence, why was there reluctance on the part of the Israelites? The same fear before God is evident in several other encounters with God. When Isaiah was in the presence of God, his reaction was not “Hallelujah!” but “Woe to me!” (Isa 6:5). When Peter realized that he was in the presence of God himself in Jesus Christ, he did not embrace him; rather, he cried “Away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man” (Luke 5:8). When Manoah realized that they he and his wife were in the presence of God’s messenger, Manoah lamented: “We are doomed to die! We have seen God!” (Jud 13:22; cf Exo 33:20). Many others who encountered God or his angels feared for their lives (Luke 1:11–12; 2:9). But it is only people who fear, for in God’s presence, the whole earth trembles (Jud 5:5; Ps 68:8). In fact, the Lord himself rhetorically asked: “Should you not tremble in my presence?” (Jer 5:22).

So, why indeed, is God’s presence not as awesome as we actually thought it is? How is God’s presence a threat? Why is God’s presence frightening and is something that many want to avoid, if at all possible?


God's Judging Presence

It is the people who know who God is, who are afraid of his presence. The people who shudder at the presence of God are those who recognize God in his majestic and incomparable holiness. Let us compare, for example, the attitude of the Pharisees with that of the demons to Jesus Christ. The Pharisees and the teachers of the law––who are both oblivious and blind as to who Jesus really is––have dismissed, accused, slandered, oppressed, mocked, and plotted against him. We, today, are utterly flabbergasted at how they have treated the Son of God, but that is because we know who Jesus is; they simply did not know or did not recognize such an important truth. Had they recognized that Jesus is God himself in the flesh, they would have acted like the demons in the Gospels. Demons who encountered Jesus responded to his presence quite differently. The Legion who recognized Jesus trembled and feared, crying out with a loud voice: “What do you want from me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?” (Mark 5:7). The said demons begged Jesus not to torture them (5:7) and that they be sent among pigs (5:12). In the presence of the Son, who is the Holy God himself, those who recognize him shudder. 

But why is God’s holy presence so frightening? Should not the presence of the holy God bring people closer to him? Should not the presence of the holy God be inviting? Why were the Israelites at the foot of Mt. Sinai so afraid of God? Why did Adam and Eve instinctively hide from God after they sinned?

It is because of this: the presence of the holy God reveals and condemns our sinfulness. Firstly, like Isaiah, it is in the presence of the holy God that our true identity is fully exposed. It is fascinating that throughout the history of the Christian church, it is those who we consider as spiritual giants that write about their sinfulness. When we read about the life of St. Anthony and St. Francis of Assisi, or the writings of Pseudo-Macarius or of Henri Nouwen, we don’t read them boasting about what they have attained or how they are different from others; rather, we read them confessing their sins, admitting their faults, divulging their daily struggles, acknowledging their weaknesses, even declaring their flaws and their self-assessed unspirituality and worldliness. The closer we are to God and God to us, the more he draws himself to us and the more we draw ourselves to him, the more do we see who God is in his holiness and see ourselves in our finite, limited, and sinful existence.

In our theology classes, we understand that the act of God making himself present is a moment of revelation, but we usually understand this to mean that it is God who is making himself known. The self-presencing of God is God’s self-manifestation and self-disclosure. We know God and about God because he appears and draws himself to us. Such is right, but we must also admit that God’s presence reveals not only himself, but also others. How can this be? According to 1 John 1:5, God is Light. Light has interesting properties. As an electromagnetic radiation, it can be seen. [Maxwell’s Equation, named after James Clerk Maxwell of Cambridge University, argued that light is a wave that has amptitude (the brightness of the light), wavelength (the color of the light), and a polarization (the angle at which light is vibrating). When Albert Einstein came, along with quantum theory, the electromagnetic radiation was also recognized as particles called photons. The famous dual slit experiment validates light as both wave and particle.] The importance of light, however, is not found in its color or amptitude, but in the fact that it is the agent by which we see other things. It is true that we see through our eyes, but our eyes are useless without light, even if nothing is wrong with them. What we usually interpret as “seeing an object” is actually a progressive process that starts with light clusters (or photons) travelling from the object to the eye.

Without light, we cannot see ourselves, or our features, complexion, and height. It is only when light appears that we realize what we look like. The stronger the light, the more will we see ourselves in our undeniable reality. The closer light is to us, the more we are revealed. Hence, if God is Light, the more God draws himself to us and the more we draw ourselves to God, the more we truly see who and what we are. God’s mere presence unveils us, and shatters our illusion that we can hide something from God. When God the Light comes, the darkness which has become the ally in our attempt to hide our true selves is banished. In this sense, there is comfort in the darkness especially for those who have many things to hide, for the darkness naturally conceals. In the absence of light, we can communicate with people without them seeing what or who we really are. But because God is light, we cannot be in his presence without being completely exposed. The New Living Translation of Hebrews 4:13 reads like this: “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God. Everything is naked and exposed before his eyes, and he is the one to whom we are accountable.” Being exposed is not something that nobody looks forward to.

It is also because God’s presence is a revealing presence that it is also a convicting and judging presence. When a man commits a crime, the mere presence of a police is an uncomfortable experience. When there is no police around, the criminal can forget about his crime and even pretend that nothing ever happened. But as soon as a police comes near, the memory of his past rises to the surface, and fear begins to creep into his soul, for he knows that judgment is at hand. In a similar way, when debtor owes money to a lender, and the debtor is unable to pay, as long as the debtor does not encounter the lender, there is a certain feeling of security. But as soon as the lender drops his or her presence to the debtor, the debtor knows that he or she can no longer escape judgment and shame. Avoiding the lender’s path, by all means possible, is the only way to escape embarrassment. It is for the reasons illustrated above that the absence of God implies the transcendence of judgment. The space between God and humanity forms a protective barrier against God’s penetrating gaze. But as soon as God makes himself present in our midst, we know that judgment has arrived. The world today lives in a fleeting and deceitful sense of security, but when Jesus Christ comes again, it will be a different story. The coming of God in Christ is the coming of an inescapable judgment.

The prophetic and apocalyptic passages in both the Old and New Testaments also speak about the presence of God as a double-sided coin. This is best illustrated in the concept of “the day of the Lord.” For the Israelites, typified by Joel 2:30–32, the day of the Lord is a day of salvation and redemption, usually entailing the defeat of their enemies and the restoration of their nation. It is basically a day of celebration, for God would come and bring salvation and deliverance to the Jewish nation. But the same day of the Lord is also painted using dark colors. Joel 2:28–32 speaks about the coming of the Holy Spirit, but verse 31 describes it not in a very pleasing manner: “The sun will be turned to darkness and the moon to blood before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord” (cf Matt 24:29–31; Rev 6:12–17). Paul similarly regards the day of the Lord as an eschatological day of destruction: “You know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. While people are saying, ‘Peace and safety,’ destruction will come on them suddenly, as labor pains on a pregnant woman, and they will not escape” (1 Thess 5:1–3; cf also 2 Pet 3:8–10). Isaiah seems to say that the day of the Lord is precisely the day he had “in store for all the proud and lofty and exalted” to be humbled (Isa 1:12). Amos paints the most depressing picture of all the prophets:

Woe to you who long
    for the day of the Lord!
Why do you long for the day of the Lord?
    That day will be darkness, not light.
19 It will be as though a man fled from a lion
    only to meet a bear,
as though he entered his house
    and rested his hand on the wall
    only to have a snake bite him.
20 Will not the day of the Lord be darkness, not light—
    pitch-dark, without a ray of brightness? (5:18–20)

Joel calls the day of the Lord as the day when “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved” (2:32) but also regards it as “great and dreadful” (2:31). The explanation is simple: the presence or coming of God is both saving and judging; it is salvation to the righteous and judgment to sinners.


God's Transforming Presence

If we think that it is unfortunate that God’s presence is an exposing and judging presence, then we must be prepared to be further disappointed. The presence of God does not only expose our ugly selves, but also demands transformation from us. God’s presence is a demanding and transforming presence. Before the holy God, our ugliness is exposed, not because God delights in seeing our stained-covered selves but because he wants us to be transformed. When we stand before God, it is either we are transformed, so that we are enabled to remain and bask in his presence, or to persist in our ugliness, so that we are banished from his sight. In the presence of the holy God, it is either we conform to his demands or we leave. The parable of the wedding banquet points out that we cannot stand before God without proper garments, and those who come before him without conforming to his will are thrown out (Matt 22:1–13). Hebrews 12:14 says that “no one may see the Lord without holiness.” Psalm 24: 3–6 even has greater demands:

Who may ascend the mountain of the Lord? Who may stand in his holy place? The one who has clean hands and a pure heart,
    who does not trust in an idol
    or swear by a false god.

But how can the mere presence of God exude such a demand for transformation? The relationship between Yahweh and Israel serves as an illustration. The Israelites, the people of God, were chosen to be the recipients of God’s blessing, provision and protection, but such things came with a costly price. The Israelites, being in relation with the holy God, needed to be shaped, molded, and transformed like clay pots (Jer 18–19) into the people that reflect the holiness and glory of God. Simply put, they are to be holy, for their God is holy (Lev 11:44; 19:2; 1 Pet 1:16). The more God drew himself closer to Israel, the more they needed to conform to his image; the more God revealed himself to them, the more they had to be redeemed from their previous worldviews and mindset; the more God gave his laws, the more they had to abandon their former lifestyle; the more God lavished his love on them, the more they were asked to reciprocate; the more God manifested himself in their midst, the more the demands added. When God was not in their midst they were free to think and act according to their own wishes, but as soon as God came into their lives, they had to live according to the transformation that God requires from them.

A more simple analogy from mundane human experience is that married people are not as free as when they were single. When two strangers meet, they have no demanding influence on one another’s lifestyle. But the moment these two strangers enter a relationship, each will have to realize that if the relationship is to endure, they need to conform their lifestyle according to one another’s likes and dislikes. When they get married, they will realize that they have to give up many things which they previously enjoyed in their uncommitted life. The more two persons draw themselves close to one another, the more the demands for transformation is felt.

This is problematic for us, self-centered human beings, for two reasons. Firstly, we are greedy and parsimonious beasts. Greed and thriftiness are twin brothers. We want to receive (greed) but we hate to give (parsimony). We want to enter God’s presence because we are aware that it is the place of healing, reinvigoration, and blessing––things that we can acquire––but seldom, if not never, do we think of coming before God in order to be transformed or in order that God’s will is done in our lives. The ironic reality is that our desire to be with God, as long as we only wish to be there for the goodies, is actually a symptom of our own unredeemed selfishness. Let’s face it: we want a gift with no strings attached; we want a presence that leaves us alone. Unfortunately, God’s presence is not just a giving presence, but a receiving presence. The more God draws himself to us, the more we become aware of the aspects of our lives that need to be changed or strengthened or simply given up. 

Secondly, we are rebellious creatures. The more God imposes himself on us, the more we tend to erect our defense barriers; the more God wishes to conquer the citadel of our heart and soul, the more we erect barricades; the more God demands transformation from us, the more we entrench ourselves and create imaginative grounds not to comply; the more God draws himself to us, the more we draw the boundary lines; the more God dwells us (1 Cor 6:19–20), the more we cherish the word “privacy”; the more God stretches his arms to embrace us, the more we raise our fists against him; the more he seeks us, the more we run and hide from him. It is in the presence of God that human sinfulness and pride manifests itself. It is because God’s presence demands transformation that it is repulsive.

Do you still want to be in the presence of God? Do you still want to pray, Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus!? Do you still want to invite the Holy Spirit in your prayers?


CONCLUSIONS

The presence of God is like eating a double-tasted candy: it is both bitter and sweet. Sinners hide from God because of the guilt and shame of their sins. God’s mere presence is an act of judgment for them. But it is better to come now to God, swallowing our empty-founded pride, while there is yet time. Today, we hide from God’s judging presence; in the last days, the Lord will cast us from his presence (Jer 15:1; 52:3). Our face-to-face encounter with God is inevitable anyway, for no matter how we avoid him, he will one day summon all nations before him (Rev 10:11). When the day of the Lord comes, people in his presence will beg for deliverance, but to no avail (Rev 6:16). In fact, the ironic consequence for avoiding his saving, judging and transforming presence today is that he too will banish us from his presence––this is what we call death––thanatos––which essentially means “separation.” Paul encapsulates it: “They will be punished with everlasting destruction and shut out from the presence of the Lord and from the majesty of his power” (2 Thess 1:9). Therefore, it is better to come to him now, before he hides his face (Isa 59:2; Ezek 39:29).

We are now invited to come to the presence of God to both be saved and transformed, and there is no better way to enact our coming to God than in the celebration of the Eucharist. As we partake of the body and blood of Christ, broken and shed for us, remember as well that we are also baptized in his suffering and death (Rom 6:1–14; 1 Pet 4:13).


[1] A lot of these are borrowed and copied from a study done by Bryan E. Beyer, posted online at http://www.biblestudytools.com/dictionaries/bakers-evangelical-dictionary/presence-of-god.html

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