And It Was . . . Done

According to all that the Lord had commanded Moses, so the people of Israel had done all the work. And Moses saw all the work, and behold, they had done it; as the Lord commanded, so they had done it. Ex. 39:42-43

Reading those words, do you hear an echo?

And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good . . .

And Moses saw . . .

From the beginning of Genesis to the end of Exodus encloses a lot of history—much more than any other Bible time-period. From prehistory all the way up to the birth of a nation, the LORD is building a grand plot. From the promised seed, through the flood, Father Abraham, the 12 patriarchs who grew into a multitude now gathered on a desert plain, the question is, Will they take Yahweh to be their lawfully wedded husband?

He covenants with them, he feeds and shepherds them, he instructs and promises to live with them. And then they fall into a terrible act of apostasy that should have ended it all. The people go back on their word just days after swearing to it. Even while Moses is on the mountain receiving instruction on how to consecrate Aaron as chief priest, Aaron is down on the plain hammering out a golden calf.

Doesn’t God know what’s going on, even while giving detailed instructions about how to build his dwelling place? Of course he does. But he waits, allowing the measure of sin to fill up on. And then he storms upon the scene, threatening to destroy his people. Moses intervenes for him, using every persuasive argument that comes to mind, until the Lord “changes his mind.” I won’t go with you/ I will go with you/ I will destroy them/ I won’t destroy them.

(This back-and-forth echoes a long-ago conversation with Abraham, who bargains with the Lord until he gets the acceptable number of righteous men needed to preserve Sodom down to ten. It’s not enough, of course; not even ten righteous men can be found in Sodom, and nephew Lot’s righteousness-status is rather iffy. But that doesn’t mean God is merely humoring Abraham in this conversation. He’s God; he knows the outcome. But he is also an active participant in the story, along with Abraham. The play is written, but that makes it no less compelling or real. God “changes his mind” according to what he’s already determined.)

Anyway. After this great trauma, with a people properly repentant and eager to make amends, the tabernacle work goes forward. Sixteen times in chapters 39 and 40 comes the phrase, “as the Lord commanded Moses.” As though there is to be no doubt that they’ve learned a lesson—for now—and “All that the Lord commands, we will do.” At the end, they’ve constructed a dwelling place that follows the blueprint to the letter.

But is it “good”? At the end of Creation, God saw all that he had made and pronounced it good. At the conclusion of tabernacle construction, Moses surveys the work and declares it “done.”

Is it good? No, but it’s done, according to God’s command. One more step toward redemption is accomplished. After the golden calf disaster and the recriminations and accusations and consequences dealt, God will still dwell with his people. Because he’s committed. What could have been the finale instead becomes a major plot point in the continuing drama.

But do you hear another echo?

It is finished.

It was good at the beginning. It was done as a temporary expedient, and kept on being “done” through a first temple, a second temple, and a third temple; through major dissolutions and reformations, countless animal sacrifices and rivers of blood.

Now it’s finished: the plot wraps up.

But it also continues, in present tense. We live in the dénouement, or “falling action,” of the great story that came to a climax when the main character walked out the grave . He had solved the unresolved tension between man and God—that is finished. The uneasy debt is paid.  But each generation experiences that “finishing” for itself as the drama plays out again over millions of individual lives. And he’s just as involved and active as he ever was, only through his Holy Spirit at work in every reborn soul.

For there’s no more back-and-forth, no more bargaining. For each one of us, it is finished: in present tense, until we reach the final page.

It’s the Day after Easter, and We’re Still Alive

Brad’s Status is a quiet little movie that didn’t get much attention, partly because the title does not roll trippingly off the tongue.  But not because of poor production values or mediocre script.  It wanders into places most movies don’t touch and ends up hanging between comedy and tragedy, where most plots would have made up their minds long before then.

Brad Sloan (Ben Stiller) is living a comfortable west-coast life in a spacious home with a pretty, preoccupied wife (Jenna Fischer).  He owns a nonprofit fundraising organization and she teaches at a university, and together they’ve raised a musically-talented son who will soon be leaving for college.  Cue mid-life crisis!

Sure enough, as the big 5-0 rapidly approaches, Brad can’t help thinking of his four college buddies, all of whom went on to be more successful than he: the architect, the super-rich hedge-fund manager, the political pundit, the early retiree cavorting on the beach with swimsuit models.  And Brad?  The idealism that led him into non-profits leaked out a long time ago.  His friends are showing up in magazines and on book jackets, and what’s he got?

I spend so much time inside my mind, puffing myself up . . . and tearing myself down . . .

The action takes place over a single weekend when Brad and his son Troy fly to Boston to visit colleges.  Tufts is Dad’s alma mater, but Troy is thinking about Harvard, because there’s a particular music professor he’s interested in.  Also, one of his friends from high school is going there now.  This is like a gateway of significance to Brad: his son, a Harvard man!  He charges past Troy’s vague ambitions (the kid is not sure what he wants, besides music) and starts pulling any strings he can find to score an interview with the admissions counselor.  This involves getting in touch with some of the old gang, and in the process he’ll discover that their lives (big surprise) aren’t quite the success he pictured them to be.

But what about his life?  At the same time he’s hoping to peg his future value on Troy, Brad is trying to justify the past, or accept it, or regret it.  Like a middle-school kid, he takes his cues from his peers, tearing himself down seconds after puffing himself up, envying and resenting his wife, admiring and lecturing his son, reaching for the beauty and meaning that’s just outside his grasp–until it turns and meets him.

He has ducked out of a dinner date with his political-pundit “friend,” and shows up at a concert Troy is attending.  Two college girls that Brad met during the course of the day (one of them Troy’s high school friend) are soloing on flute and violin.  For the first time all weekend, Brad isn’t scheming or regretting.  He’s listening.

I sat there and just listened, and let myself really feel the life inside me.  The music was beautiful.  The girls were beautiful.  I could love them and never possess them.  Just like I could love the world and never possess it . . .

I still did love the world.

Later that night, in their hotel room with his son asleep in the bed beside him, Brad lies awake.

I tried to imagine the future . . . I kept saying in my head, We’re still alive.  I’m still alive.

We’re still alive.  Why?  What are we doing here?  It seems so random sometimes, the choices we make and the paths we walk down, usually without a great deal of thought.  But at the center of each life is one fat wad of ballast called self: what I want, what I need, what I have to have in order to be fulfilled.

Jesus said, “I came that they might have life, and have it abundantly.  He also said that we must lose our life in order to find it.  He lived a life so big we can all find ourselves within it, if we let go.  We’re so accustomed to holding on, our fingers lock in position, but surprise can pry them loose.  That’s what happens sometimes when the world wraps its arms around us and squeezes us tight, and status updates seem like dusty little points on someone else’s timeline because we’ve found something to genuinely love.

Whoever loses his life for my sake will find it, and sometimes that starts with realizing we’re still alive.

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Note: Brad’s Status is rated R for language