Their idols are silver and gold, the work of human hands. They have mouths, but do not speak; eyes, but do not see. They have ears, but do not hear; noses, but do not smell. They have hands, but do not feel; feet, but do not walk; and they do not make a sound in their throat. Those who make them become like them. So do all who trust in them. (Verses 4-8)
I have been to several nail salons in my California city where Buddhist women have placed the little fat-bellied idol of their god in a prominent place and lovingly set oranges and incense before his squatting golden frame. Buddha, who didn't want to be a god to anyone, now is an icon for millions of priests and acolytes. Lest we Christians judge, I've seen crucifixes and sculptures of Biblical heroes carved in churches and in homes all over the world. Perhaps these have become idols for some. Those who need a physical representation--a visual prompt--in order to feel their relationship to God is more substantial. I think that's the reason God said early on: "You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water underneath the earth. You shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I the Lord am a jealous God." Not jealous of a stupid idol. Jealous over our hearts. God isn't daunted by a thing that can't talk, walk, eat, sleep, smell, hear or feel. But He knows how He made us. To worship. And He wants it made clear that there is no power in a thing we've built. A golden cow we formed in our own rebellion.
Most of us probably don't fall down in front of a household idol and pray. But if we think we don't have idols, we are mistaken. Our idols grin at us from celluloid, prance for us on our computer screens, beckon us from the bottom of a bottle, scream for our attention when our bodies run out of the drugs, the power, the money or the mindset that has us hooked. Asherah was the goddess wife of Molech, the Baal of the Canaanites. It was at the feet of the wooden statues of Asherah that the pagans sacrificed their children. Trading their own flesh for their flimsy salvation. Are we different? Our gods are less visible, but we have shaped them in our hearts. They loom large in our spirits. And we bow down to the god of self gratification. A god that need not be formed with our hands into a wooden idol for we carry it everywhere we go. It has overtaken us. We have become it. More shattering still than Asherah. We sacrifice our lives to our own godlike selves.
Why would God be jealous of this? Why does any good parent grieve at the self-destructive behavior of her child? Rehabs are filled with children who have been overtaken by an idol. Marriages are broken because the god of self rose up and ate the joy once present in a home. Devoured the covenant, then roared with laughter as circumstances plunged to a new depth. God is jealous because He knows the one behind the idols. All of them. Wooden, metal, gold and straw. The same old lies trap us in the same old ways. "You shall not surely die. For when you eat of the fruit of this tree your eyes will be opened and you will be like God." You will have control. And the same old lie produces the same old results. We fall down. First in front of the selfies we've become. Then all the way down into hopelessness and defeat. Addicted. Overcome. Sorry and destructive. For "the thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy (John 10)." But God, in Jesus, came to bring us life...and that abundantly. So how loving would our God be if He weren't jealous of our following after something or someone else?
I watched a woman struggle on her bloody knees for blocks and blocks when Bill and I honeymooned in Mexico City. She was on her way to the steps of the Basilica of Our Lady Guadalupe, doing penance. Her mission was to get to the shrine of the Lady and plead for someone or for herself. I stood and cried because I knew not only was this unnecessary, but futile. There are no heavenly saints answering our prayers. Mary herself is enjoying heaven with the Son who saved her. The bloody sides and oozing stripes of Jesus had already paid the woman's penance. The veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom so she could run boldly into His presence. Petition His grace, face to face, heart to heart. Why would our God not be jealous over her, knowing she was crawling toward an idol when He was standing near enough to whisper in her ear?
And we become eventually like what we worship. Eyes that can no longer see the destruction of the path. My father had to be counseled that his pedophilia was wrong. It had been a part of his life for so long, he couldn't think about it correctly. The drug becomes us. Life centers around having to have a fix. Or a drink. Our politics of self drive us to believe we have a right to sacrifice our children to the goddesses we are. Convinced that it can't be wrong when it feels so right, we destroy our homes for what drives us. Money is king. All we live for is to acquire it. Control is power. So we become controlled by our own need for it. And we are numbed to all else, just like the ridiculous wooden idols have no senses. We become like what or who we worship. And God wants His children to look like Him. Know Him. Have life to the fullest.
It means recognizing we have idols, though. Allowing God to point out the lie we've believed so long we don't even remember when we first heard it. Looking around the house not for the thing that peers at us with its four eyes and six legs--the obvious crazy image we know isn't really god. But allowing God to clean up the interior temple where our gods sit comfortable and happy. Controlling us from the thrones of our own hearts. Let Jesus cast out in anger what has taken over the place where God should dwell. Not because He has to be numero uno or else. But because the center of our beings were designed at their core for only One God. And He is light, love, peace and hope. Come to indwell by the power of the Holy Spirit. And He must cast out our idols in order to be King.
I have been to several nail salons in my California city where Buddhist women have placed the little fat-bellied idol of their god in a prominent place and lovingly set oranges and incense before his squatting golden frame. Buddha, who didn't want to be a god to anyone, now is an icon for millions of priests and acolytes. Lest we Christians judge, I've seen crucifixes and sculptures of Biblical heroes carved in churches and in homes all over the world. Perhaps these have become idols for some. Those who need a physical representation--a visual prompt--in order to feel their relationship to God is more substantial. I think that's the reason God said early on: "You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water underneath the earth. You shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I the Lord am a jealous God." Not jealous of a stupid idol. Jealous over our hearts. God isn't daunted by a thing that can't talk, walk, eat, sleep, smell, hear or feel. But He knows how He made us. To worship. And He wants it made clear that there is no power in a thing we've built. A golden cow we formed in our own rebellion.
Most of us probably don't fall down in front of a household idol and pray. But if we think we don't have idols, we are mistaken. Our idols grin at us from celluloid, prance for us on our computer screens, beckon us from the bottom of a bottle, scream for our attention when our bodies run out of the drugs, the power, the money or the mindset that has us hooked. Asherah was the goddess wife of Molech, the Baal of the Canaanites. It was at the feet of the wooden statues of Asherah that the pagans sacrificed their children. Trading their own flesh for their flimsy salvation. Are we different? Our gods are less visible, but we have shaped them in our hearts. They loom large in our spirits. And we bow down to the god of self gratification. A god that need not be formed with our hands into a wooden idol for we carry it everywhere we go. It has overtaken us. We have become it. More shattering still than Asherah. We sacrifice our lives to our own godlike selves.
Why would God be jealous of this? Why does any good parent grieve at the self-destructive behavior of her child? Rehabs are filled with children who have been overtaken by an idol. Marriages are broken because the god of self rose up and ate the joy once present in a home. Devoured the covenant, then roared with laughter as circumstances plunged to a new depth. God is jealous because He knows the one behind the idols. All of them. Wooden, metal, gold and straw. The same old lies trap us in the same old ways. "You shall not surely die. For when you eat of the fruit of this tree your eyes will be opened and you will be like God." You will have control. And the same old lie produces the same old results. We fall down. First in front of the selfies we've become. Then all the way down into hopelessness and defeat. Addicted. Overcome. Sorry and destructive. For "the thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy (John 10)." But God, in Jesus, came to bring us life...and that abundantly. So how loving would our God be if He weren't jealous of our following after something or someone else?
I watched a woman struggle on her bloody knees for blocks and blocks when Bill and I honeymooned in Mexico City. She was on her way to the steps of the Basilica of Our Lady Guadalupe, doing penance. Her mission was to get to the shrine of the Lady and plead for someone or for herself. I stood and cried because I knew not only was this unnecessary, but futile. There are no heavenly saints answering our prayers. Mary herself is enjoying heaven with the Son who saved her. The bloody sides and oozing stripes of Jesus had already paid the woman's penance. The veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom so she could run boldly into His presence. Petition His grace, face to face, heart to heart. Why would our God not be jealous over her, knowing she was crawling toward an idol when He was standing near enough to whisper in her ear?
And we become eventually like what we worship. Eyes that can no longer see the destruction of the path. My father had to be counseled that his pedophilia was wrong. It had been a part of his life for so long, he couldn't think about it correctly. The drug becomes us. Life centers around having to have a fix. Or a drink. Our politics of self drive us to believe we have a right to sacrifice our children to the goddesses we are. Convinced that it can't be wrong when it feels so right, we destroy our homes for what drives us. Money is king. All we live for is to acquire it. Control is power. So we become controlled by our own need for it. And we are numbed to all else, just like the ridiculous wooden idols have no senses. We become like what or who we worship. And God wants His children to look like Him. Know Him. Have life to the fullest.
It means recognizing we have idols, though. Allowing God to point out the lie we've believed so long we don't even remember when we first heard it. Looking around the house not for the thing that peers at us with its four eyes and six legs--the obvious crazy image we know isn't really god. But allowing God to clean up the interior temple where our gods sit comfortable and happy. Controlling us from the thrones of our own hearts. Let Jesus cast out in anger what has taken over the place where God should dwell. Not because He has to be numero uno or else. But because the center of our beings were designed at their core for only One God. And He is light, love, peace and hope. Come to indwell by the power of the Holy Spirit. And He must cast out our idols in order to be King.
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