. . . David got wind of Saul’s strategy to destroy him and said to Abiathar the priest, “Get the Ephod.” Then David prayed to God: “God of Israel, I’ve just heard that Saul plans to come to Keilah and destroy the city because of me. Will the city fathers of Keilah turn me over to him? Will Saul come down and do what I’ve heard? O God, God of Israel, tell me!”
God replied, “He’s coming down.”
“And will the head men of Keilah turn me and my men over to Saul?”
And God said, “They’ll turn you over.”
So David and his men got out of there. (1 Sam. 23:6, 9–13 MSG)
David dons the ephod, speaks to God, and receives an answer. Something similar occurs after the destruction of Ziklag. With his village in ruins and his men enraged,
he ordered Abiathar the priest, son of Ahimelech, “Bring me the Ephod so I can consult God.” Abiathar brought it to David.
Then David prayed to God, “Shall I go after these raiders? Can I catch them?”
The answer came, “Go after them! Yes, you’ll catch them! Yes, you’ll make the rescue!” (30:7–8 MSG)
What is happening? What is this ephod? What made it so effective? And are they sold in department stores?
The ephod originated in the era of the wilderness wanderings. Moses presented the first one to Aaron, the priest. It was an ornate vest, woven of white linen, in-wrought with threads of blue, purple, scarlet, and gold. A breastplate bearing twelve precious stones adorned the vest. The breastplate contained one or two, maybe three, resplendent diamonds or diamondlike stones. These stones had the names Urim and Thummim. No one knows the exact meaning of the terms, but “light” and “perfection” lead the list.
God revealed his will to the priests through these stones. How? Ancient writers have suggested several methods. The stones
• illuminated when God said yes;
• contained moving letters that gathered to form a response;
• were sacred lots that, upon being cast, would reveal an answer.1
While we speculate on the technique, we don’t need to guess at the value. Would you not cherish such a tool? When faced with a puzzling choice, David could, with reverent heart, make a request, and God would answer.
Will Saul come after me? He will.
Will the men capture me? They will.
Should I pursue the enemy? You should.
Will I overtake them? You will.
Oh, that God would do the same for us. That we could ask and he would answer. That we could cry out and he would reply. Wouldn’t
* * *
The God who guided David guides you.
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you love to have an ephod? Who’s to say you don’t? God hasn’t changed. He still promises to guide us:
The Lord says, “I will guide you along the best pathway for your life. I will advise you and watch over you.” (Ps. 32:8 NLT)
Seek his will in all you do, and he will direct your paths. (Prov.3:6 NLT)
Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.” (Isa.30:21 NIV)
My sheep recognize my voice; I know them, and they follow me. ( John 10:27 NLT)
The God who guided David guides you. You simply need to consult your Maker. I wish I’d sought counsel before I made a recent decision. I awoke early one morning for a meeting. When searching for some breakfast, I spotted a plastic bag of cookies in the kitchen. Denalyn and our daughter Sara had just attended a school bake sale, so I thought, What great luck! Breakfast cookies. Denalyn must have set them out for me.
I ate one and found it very chewy, almost gummy. Interesting tex-ture, I thought. Reminds me of pita bread. I ate a second. The taste was a bit subtle for my preference, but when mixed with coffee, it made for an interesting option. I grabbed a third for the road. I would have grabbed the fourth, but only one remained, so I left it for Denalyn.
Later in the day she phoned. “Looks like someone has been in the bag.”
“It was me,” I admitted. “I’ve had better breakfast cookies, but those weren’t bad.”
“Those weren’t breakfast cookies, Max.”
“They weren’t?”
“No.”
“What were they?”
“Homemade dog biscuits.”
“Oh . . .” That explained a lot. That explained the gummy texture and the tasteless taste. That also explained why all day each time I scratched my belly, my leg kicked. (Not to mention my sudden inter-est in fire hydrants.)
* * *
You have a Bible? Read it.
* * *
I should’ve consulted the maker. We need to consult ours.
Maybe you have no Urim and Thummim stones, but . . .
You have a Bible? Read it.
Has any other book ever been described in this fashion: “For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and mar-row; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart” (Heb. 4:12 niv)?
“Living and active.” The words of the Bible have life! Nouns with pulse rates. Muscular adjectives. Verbs darting back and forth across the page. God works though these words. The Bible is to God what a surgical glove is to the surgeon. He reaches through them to touch deep within you.
Haven’t you felt his touch?
In a late, lonely hour, you read the words “I will never fail you. I will never forsake you” (Heb. 13:5 NLT). The sentences comfort like a hand on your shoulder.
When anxiety termites away at your peace, someone shares this passage: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God” (Phil. 4:6 NIV). The words stir a sigh from your soul.
Or perhaps laziness is knocking on your door. You’re considering a halfhearted effort when Colossians 3:23 comes to mind: “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men” (NIV). Such words can cut, can’t they?
Put them to use. “Let the words of Christ, in all their richness,
* * *
You have a family of faith? Consult it.
* * *
live in your hearts and make you wise. Use his words to teach and counsel each other” (Col. 3:16 NLT).
Don’t make a decision, whether large or small, without sitting before God with open Bible, open heart, open ears, imitating the prayer of Samuel: “Your servant is listening” (1 Sam. 3:10 NLT).
You have a Bible? Read it.
You have a family of faith? Consult it.
Others have asked your question. You aren’t the first to face your problem. Others have stood where you stand and wondered what you wonder. Seek their advice. “Consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith” (Heb. 13:7 NRSV).
Is your marriage tough? Find a strong one. Wrestling with business ethics? Seek sage advice from a Christian businessperson. Battling midlife decisions? Before you abandon your family and cash in your retirement, take time to get counsel. “The way of a fool seems right to him, but a wise man listens to advice” (Prov. 12:15 NIV).
You don’t need an ephod to wear or stones to consult; you have God’s family. He will speak to you through it. And he will speak to you through your own conscience.
You have a heart for God? Heed it.
Christ nudges the Christ-possessed heart. “God is working in you to help you want to do and be able to do what pleases him” (Phil. 2:13 NCV). What does your heart tell you to do? What choice spawns the greatest sense of peace?
* * *
Christ nudges the Christ-possessed heart.
* * *
Some years ago Denalyn and I were a signature away from moving from one house to another. The structure was nice, and the price was fair. . . . It seemed a wise move. But I didn’t feel peaceful about it. The project stirred unease and restlessness. I finally drove to the builder’s office and removed my name fr
om his list. To this day I can’t pinpoint the source of the discomfort. I just didn’t feel peace-ful about it.
A few months ago I was asked to speak at a racial unity confer-ence. I intended to decline but couldn’t bring myself to do so. The event kept surfacing in my mind like a cork in a lake. Finally I agreed. Returning from the event, I still couldn’t explain the impression to be there. But I felt peaceful about the decision, and that was enough.
Sometimes a choice just “feels” right. When Luke justified the writing of his gospel to Theophilus, he said, “Since I myself have carefully investigated everything from the beginning, it seemed good also to me to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus” (1:3 NIV).
Did you note the phrase “it seemed good also to me”? These words reflect a person standing at the crossroads. Luke pondered his options and selected the path that “seemed good.”
Jude did likewise. He intended to dedicate his epistle to the topic of salvation, but he felt uneasy with the choice. Look at the third verse of his letter.
Dear friends, I wanted very much to write you about the salvation we all share. But I felt the need to write you about some-thing else: I want to encourage you to fight hard for the faith that was given the holy people of God once and for all time. (NCV)
Again the language. “I wanted . . . But I felt . . .” From whence came Jude’s feelings? Did they not come from God? The same God who “is working in you to help you want to do . . . what pleases him” (Phil. 2:13 NCV).
God creates the “want to” within us.
Be careful with this. People have been known to justify stupidity based on a “feeling.” “I felt God leading me to cheat on my wife . . . disregard my bills . . . lie to my boss . . . flirt with my married neighbor.” Mark it down: God will not lead you to violate his Word. He
* * *
God will not lead you to violate his Word.
* * *
will not contradict his teaching. Be careful with the phrase “God led me . . .” Don’t banter it about. Don’t disguise your sin as a leading of God. He will not lead you to lie, cheat, or hurt. He will faithfully lead you through the words of his Scripture and the advice of his faithful.
You need no ephod or precious stones; you have a heart in which God’s Spirit dwells. As F. B. Meyer wrote a century ago:
Each child of God has his own Urim and Thummim stone, . . . a conscience void of offense, a heart cleansed in the blood of Christ, a spiritual nature which is pervaded and filled by the Holy Spirit of God. . . . Are you in difficulty about your way? Go to God with your question; get direction from the light of his smile or the cloud of his refusal. . . . get alone, where the lights and shadows of earth cannot interfere, where the disturbance of self-will does not intrude, where human opinions fail to reach—. . . wait there silent and expectant, though all around you insist on immediate decision or action—the will of God will be made clear; and you will have . . . a new conception of God, [and] a deeper insight into his nature.2
You have a heart for God? Heed it.
A family of faith? Consult it.
A Bible? Read it.
You have all you need to face the giant-size questions of your life. Most of all you have a God who loves you too much to let you wander. Trust him . . . and avoid the dog biscuits.
12
STRONGHOLDS
PETE SITS on the street and leans his head against a building. He’d like to beat his head against it. He just messed up again. P Everyone misspeaks occasionally. Pete does so daily. He blurts wrong words like a whale spouts salt water, spraying folly every-where. He always hurts someone, but tonight he hurt his dear friend. Oh, Pete and his quick-triggered tongue.
Then there’s Joe and his failures. The poor guy can’t hold a job. His career rivals the Rocky Mountains—up, down; cold, hot; lush, barren. He tried his hand at the family business. They fired him. Tried his skills as a manager. Got canned and jailed. Now he sits in prison, future as bleak as the Mojave Desert. No one could fault him for feeling insecure; he’s flopped at each opportunity.
So has she—not at work but at marriage. Her first one failed. So did her second. By the collapse of the third, she knew the names of the court clerk’s grandkids. If her fourth trip to divorce court didn’t convince her, the fifth removed all doubt. She is destined for marital flops.
People and their proverbial hang-ups. Pete always speaks before he thinks. Joe always fails where he should succeed. This dear woman wins at marriage as often as a burro wins at Churchill Downs.
And you. Does one prevailing problem leech your life?
Some are prone to cheat. Others quick to doubt. Maybe you worry. Yes, everyone worries some, but you own the national distributorship of anxiety. Perhaps you are judgmental. Sure, everybody can be critical, but you pass more judgments than a federal judge.
What is that one weakness, bad habit, rotten attitude? Where does Satan have a stronghold within you? Ahh, there is the fitting word—stronghold: a fortress, citadel, thick walls, tall gates. It’s as if the devil staked a claim on one weakness and constructed a rampart around it. “You ain’t touching this flaw,” he defies heaven, placing himself squarely between God’s help and your
• explosive temper,
• fragile self-image,
• freezer-size appetite,
• distrust for authority.
Seasons come and go, and this Loch Ness monster still lurks in the water-bottom of your soul. He won’t go away. He lives up to both sides of his compound name: strong enough to grip like a vise and stubborn enough to hold on. He clamps like a bear trap—the harder you shake, the more it hurts.
Strongholds: old, difficult, discouraging challenges.
That’s what David faced when he looked at Jerusalem. When you and I think of the city, we envision temples and prophets. We picture Jesus teaching, a New Testament church growing. We imagine a thriving, hub-of-history capital.
When David sees Jerusalem in 1000 BC, he sees something else. He sees a millennium-old, cheerless fortress, squatting defiantly on the spine of a ridge of hills. A rugged outcropping elevates her. Tall walls protect her. Jebusites indwell her. No one bothers them. Philistines fight the Amalekites. Amalekites fight the Hebrews. But the Jebusites? They are a coiled rattlesnake in the desert. Everyone leaves them alone.
Everyone, that is, except David. The just-crowned king of Israel has his eye on Jerusalem. He’s inherited a divided kingdom. The people need, not just a strong leader, but strong headquarters. David’s present base of Hebron sits too far south to enlist the loyal-ties of the northern tribes. But if he moves north, he’ll isolate the south. He seeks a neutral, centralized city.
He wants Jerusalem. We can only wonder how many times he’s stared at her walls. He grew up in Bethlehem, only a day’s walk to the south. He hid in the caves in the region of En Gedi, not far south. Surely he noticed Jerusalem. Somewhere he pegged the place as the perfect capital. The crown had scarcely been resized for his head when he set his eyes on his newest Goliath.
And the king and his men went to Jerusalem against the Jebusites, the inhabitants of the land, who spoke to David, saying, “You shall not come in here; but the blind and the lame will repel you,” . . . Nevertheless David took the stronghold of Zion (that is, the City of David). Now David said on that day, “Whoever climbs up by way of the water shaft and defeats the Jebusites . . .he shall be chief and captain.” . . . Then David dwelt in the stronghold, and called it the City of David. (2 Sam. 5:6–9)
This regrettably brief story tantalizes us with the twofold appear-ance of the term stronghold. In verse 7, “David took the stronghold,” and in verse 9, “David dwelt in the stronghold.”
Jerusalem meets the qualifications of one: an old, difficult, and discouraging fortress. From atop the turrets, Jebusite soldiers have ample time to direct arrows at any would-be wall climbers. And discouraging? Just listen to the way the city-dwellers taunt David. “You’ll never get in here. . . . Ev
en the blind and lame could keep you out!” (5:6 NLT).
The Jebusites pour scorn on David like Satan dumps buckets of discouragement on you:
• “You’ll never overcome your bad habits.”
• “Born white trash; gonna die white trash.”
• “Think you can overcome your addiction? Think again.”
If you’ve heard the mocking David heard, your story needs the word David’s has. Did you see it? Most hurry past it. Let’s not. Pull out a pen and underline this twelve-letter masterpiece.
Nevertheless.
“Nevertheless David took the stronghold . . .”
Granted, the city was old. The walls were difficult. The voices were discouraging . . . Nevertheless David took the stronghold.
Wouldn’t you love God to write a nevertheless in your biography? Born to alcoholics, nevertheless she led a sober life. Never went to college,
* * *
Wouldn’t you love God to write a nevertheless in your biography?
* * *
lege, nevertheless he mastered a trade. Didn’t read the Bible until retirement age, nevertheless he came to a deep and abiding faith.
We all need a nevertheless. And God has plenty to go around. Strongholds mean nothing to him. Remember Paul’s words? “We use God’s mighty weapons, not mere worldly weapons, to knock down the Devil’s strongholds” (2 Cor. 10:4 NLT).
You and I fight with toothpicks; God comes with battering rams and cannons. What he did for David, he can do for us. The question is, will we do what David did? The king models much here.
David turns a deaf ear to old voices. Those mockers strutting on the wall tops? David ignores them. He dismisses their words and goes about his work.
Nehemiah, on these same walls, took an identical approach. In his case, however, he was atop the stones, and the mockers stood at the base. Fast-forward five hundred years from David’s time, and you will see that the bulwarks of Jerusalem are in ruins, and many of her people are in captivity. Nehemiah heads up a building program to restore the fortifications. Critics tell him to stop. They plan to interfere with his work. They list all the reasons the stones can’t and shouldn’t be restacked. But Nehemiah won’t listen to them. “I am doing a great work, so that I cannot come down. Why should the work cease while I leave it and go down to you?” (Neh. 6:3). Nehemiah knew how to press the mute button on his dissenters.