In this
issue:
i) Echoes of
Eden - J. Boot
ii) The significance
of the Psalms - Part 2 - B. Deffinbaugh
Echoes of
Eden
Joe
Boot
For weeks I had watched a conveyor
belt of silver trays pass before my eyes. In front of me, just beyond the
conveyor, still larger silver trays overflowed with a most unpleasant sight. To
my right lay a pile of cold, skinned chicken necks, in the center a mound of
chicken livers, and to my left, skinned chicken gizzards. As the small trays
sped by, great dexterity was required to place one of each of the innards into
every little tray. The trays then wound their merry way past my colleague who
placed two further lumps of unpleasantness onto them until they finally reached
a machine that tidily bagged the little goodies in plastic, ready to be shoved
into the chickens. Yes, I was working on a giblets-packing machine!
It
is hard to describe the intensity of boredom I experienced working at that
chicken factory. I remember getting the job as a stopgap earner after finishing
high school, before leaving for college. It was a sheer endurance test: seven
hours a day on your feet in the same position, functioning like a robot. To keep
myself mentally occupied, I would recite songs and passages of books to myself.
Most of all, however, I would daydream about the day I was so looking forward
to, the day that would revolutionize my young life—buying my first car! I knew
fulfillment was just around the corner. I was soon to be the proud owner of $700
worth of Talbot Samba.
The day had come when I could realize my dream. I
polished that car until the paint faded. How I enjoyed speeding away from the
scooters and bicycles! But gradually, after a couple of months, I began to
experience what I thought I could never feel—a pang of disappointment and a hint
of boredom. I realized something else as well: Nearly everybody else's car was
bigger, better, and faster than mine. In fact, I soon came to see my car as
embarrassingly dull; the truth was, it couldn't pull me out of bed. In no time
at all the novelty had worn off, and I wanted to change my car for something
better. The story of my motoring madness didn't end with my next car, nor with
the one after that. Like new clothes that become familiar in the wearing, every
car I've ever owned has lost its novelty before the oil needed a change.
Why do we long for anything? In the biological sense, our longings point
us to an essential source of fulfillment. When thirsty, longing for a drink, we
can turn on the tap for a glass of water or pop into the store for a can of
Coke. After satisfying ourselves with liquid refreshment our thirst is quenched.
The same can be said with regard to food, shelter, warmth, and so on. All of
these natural longings can be met in the material world for those with the
resources and human relationships to meet them.
However, the deeper
longing seems to evade satisfaction in any material way; the lingering desire
for a vague something remains. There are times, perhaps in a moment of passion
and romance, or in a place of great natural beauty, that we imagine the longing
has been met, but the elation does not last. As C. S. Lewis puts it, "The
supposed satisfaction to our deepest longing just fades away… something has
evaded us."(1)
What then can be the root cause of this dissatisfaction?
Blaise Pascal, with penetrating clarity of insight, writes, "Human beings do not
know their place and purpose. They have fallen from their true place, and lost
their true purpose. They search everywhere for their place and purpose, with
great anxiety. But they cannot find them because they are surrounded by
darkness." (2)
Our place and our purpose in this world are at the very
root of the great yearnings and longings we experience. We are told there must
be some highly technical psychological or genetic explanation for all this, but
the truth seems much simpler. Instinctively we expect our longings to be met
outside ourselves—our desires and emotions push us outward. New Age gurus, and
even popular songwriters, tell us to withdraw into ourselves and peer into our
own souls for happiness—but this fails to solve the longing.
The picture
becomes clearer when we read the words of Solomon in the Bible: "[God] has
planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole
scope of God’s work from beginning to end" (Ecclesiastes 3:11, NLT).
According to Solomon, our longing becomes a signpost to the only source
of satisfaction; our spiritual longing—this sense of eternity—has been planted
there by God himself and is part of our human makeup. Our yearning is also an
echo of Eden, an inescapable reminder of a time in human history when the
longing was satisfied, when human experience was bliss, and the soul found joy
and contentment in relationship with its Creator. It is, to put it another way,
a latent memory of an experience that we long to renew, that of knowing God
himself.
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(1) C. S. Lewis, Mere
Christianity (Macmillan, 1952), p. 119.
(2) Blaise Pascal, Pascal in a
Nutshell (Hodder and Stoughton, 1997), p. 40.
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[Copyright(c) 2005 Ravi
Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. A Slice of
Infinity is a ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.]
The significance of the Psalms (Part 2)
Bob Deffinbaugh
The
unique contribution of the Psalms: Religious poetry was not
unique to the Israelites of old. Archaeologists have found numerous “psalms” of
worship which peoples of the Ancient Near East offered to pagan
deities.
O Lord, decider
of the destinies of heaven and earth, whose word no one alters,
Who controls
water and fire, leader of living creatures, what god is like thee?
In heaven
who is exalted? Thou! Thou alone art exalted.
On earth who is exalted? Thou!
Thou alone art exalted.
Thou! When thy word is pronounced in heaven the Igigi
prostrate themselves.
Thou! When thy word is pronounced on earth the Anunnaki
kiss the ground.
How manifold it
is, what thou hast made!
They are hidden from the face (of man).
O sole
god, like whom there is no other!
Thou didst create the world according to
thy desire,
Whilst thou were alone:
All men, cattle, and wild
beasts,
Whatever is on earth, going upon (its) feet,
And what is on high,
flying with its wings.
The first of
these “psalms” is Assyrian, discovered by archaeologists in the ancient capital
city of Nineveh, a hymn to the Moon-god, Sin. The second is an Egyptian hymn,
sung to their sun god, Aton. In form, both of these hymns are strikingly similar
to the Psalms of our Bible. Why, then, are the Psalms of the Bible so widely
used in worship, while the others remain only the works of antiquity, studied
for their archaeological value, rather than their religious contribution to men
and women today? The answer to this question is found by considering the
significance of the Psalms, both in biblical times and in the history of the
church through the centuries.
The
Psalms are prominent in the New Testament:
Depending upon
which scholar you consult, Psalms is one of the two Old Testament books most
frequently quoted in the New.4 The other contender is the Book of Isaiah. Our
Lord saw Himself as the fulfillment of the messianic prophecies and types of the
Psalms.
Now He said to them, “These are My words which I spoke to
you while I was still with you, that all things which are written about Me in
the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled” (Luke
24:44).
In his debate with the Pharisees He cited Psalm 110
(Matt. 22:43-44) to show that David spoke of Him in the Psalms. The Savior also
uttered the beginning words of Psalm 22 from the cross (Matt. 27:46).
In their preaching and writing, the apostles often quoted
from the Psalms as biblical proof of the fact that Jesus was the promised
Messiah of the Old Testament. Peter quoted Psalm 16:8-11 as proof that Jesus
must be raised from the dead (Acts 2:24-36). Paul’s message was virtually
identical (cf. Acts 13:29-39). Any book so prominent in the minds of the New
Testament writers should also be important to
us. [To be
concluded]
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[Courtesy: Bob Bob
Deffinbaugh,
Th.M]