The Ultimate Test
Of all the tests God blesses us with to, perhaps the most difficult is the one that settles the question, “Do we love God only for his blessings?” Or perhaps that is the greatest test, the others being variations as he removes blessings in different areas and aspects of our lives.
What do we call the person who loves someone only for what he or she receives?
Job answers this question quite succinctly:
His wife said to him, “Are you still holding on to your integrity? [Bless] God and die!
He replied, “You are talking like a foolish woman. Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?”
In all this, Job did not sin in what he said.
Job 2:9-10, NIV
The annotated NIV has an interesting note for “foolish woman.” It says, “The Hebrew word rendered foolish denotes moral deficiency.” The first time I read this, I scratched my head for a moment in puzzlement. Then I realized, “Job basically called his wife a whore!”
Job’s test was what we usually recognize as a baptism of fire: a removal of health, wealth, companionship, contentment, or peace—blessings that most of us expect to enjoy as God’s children. However, the most foundational test is that of a removal of God’s presence.
We see a version of this kind of test in Exodus 33. Even as Moses was receiving detailed instructions for the dwelling in which God would put his presence among his people, they were defeating the plan with a man-conceived, man-made, and man-manageable version: the golden calf. God realized that they rejected him even as he was drawing up the terms of his covenant with them. He was being stood up on his wedding day for public necrophilia with a rotting corpse, and he was understandably disgusted. Bound by promise, God didn’t kill off Israel, but sent her away, saying “Look. Just take everything I swore to your parents I would give you and get the heck out of my sight.”
It was actually quite a generous offer to the Israelites. Supernatural ascendancy over any who would oppose them. Wealth they didn’t have to work for. Only without his presence, which they had already rejected.
I wonder, if this story is, as Paul alleges, written for the instruction of the Church[1], what the comparable application would be. Is it that he is bound by promise to bless us with every material and spiritual blessing even if we replace him with the manageable appearance of worshiping him[2]? And would we be only too glad to receive them even if it cost us his presence? Doesn’t all this suggest that it is possible to worship him and be blessed, all the while foregoing his actual presence?
I wonder sometimes if there remains that lonely tent of meeting outside the Encampment, hidden by rocky escarpments, accessible only across the burning sands. There definitely remain a dissatisfied few that say, with Moses, “Lord, I could care less about my ease in the comfort and blessing of the Encampment. I’d sooner die in the fiery desert looking for you.” They venture out, and some never return. I wonder if they’ve found their way and remain, with Joshua, worshiping the object of their desire by the flap of the tent, content to have found all that they left and everything else besides. Or perhaps they even sit inside, face-to-face with God, receiving with joy his intimate loving words.
