Exploring the Book of Ya’aqov, Pt. 16

From where do wars and from where do fightings among you come? Are they not from that place created by your passions—which are like soldiers at war in your body’s members? You desire, but you do not have, so you murder; and you are jealous, and are not able to get what you want, so you fight and war. But you have not, because of your not asking; or you ask, and you receive not, because you ask evilly—so that you can spend it on your pleasures. (יַעֲקֹב Ya’aqov 4:1-3, mjlt)

Though we as believers in Yeshua are the many members of one, united Body, we nevertheless seem to have a knack for finding things to fight about. They can be petty disagreements (like over the volume or style of music in our worship services) or more serious arguments (such as disputes over doctrinal differences). Some fights are legitimate and worth having, as we confront sin or seek to defend the fundamentals of our faith. But many controversies arise out of jealousy and factions, which lead to division—these days, often before open confrontation ever breaks out in the first place. We just leave. Either way, infighting and unresolved conflict causes devastation and the weakening of Yeshua’s Body. Read more

A Special Message for the Fall Feasts

[F]or everything that is revealed is Light. Therefore it says, “Awaken yourself, you who are sleeping, and arise out of the dead, and the Messiah will shine upon you.” Look diligently, then, at how you walk—not as unwise but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil. (Ephesians 5:14-16, mjlt)

In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, He set in motion a perpetual cycle of seasonal changes. Mankind, then, responded to and lived closely in accordance with those changes—changes many of us can largely ignore today, as we shuttle ourselves from one climate-controlled building to the next. But before there was the Internet or cars or supermarkets, people had to truly labor for their food. Literally, we had to harvest our own grains and raise our own livestock, and the longest and hardest season for working was summertime. People didn’t take vacations or time off from work or school like they do today—they toiled in the fields, in the exhausting heat of the sun, to bring in the life-giving harvest.

This was especially true for the ancient Israelites. Sum­mertime, which was the second major harvest time of the year, dragged on monotonously and uneventfully for months. Though it gradually produced a yield, it also induced the fatigue and lethargy that can come from hard, hot work. But then suddenly—virtually out of nowhere—the summer harvest season would abruptly come to its end. As the Israelites stood in their fields, bleary-eyed from the sun and sweat, heavy from the listlessness of unending labor, the faint sound of a shofar would begin to cut through the stupor. The workers would awaken from their laborious sleep to find that God was calling again.

According to the Torah, on the first day of the seventh month, the silence of summer is broken by the sudden, blasting sounds of Yom T’ruah. A dramatically different observance than the stoic Rosh Hashanah of Judaism, the Scriptures signal a day of t’ruah that is replete with the percussive praise of cymbal and drum, shofar and trumpet, stringed instrument and uplifted voice. The jarring explosion of sound generated by the people on Yom T’ruah interrupts the sleepy pace of summer, and reminds Israel that their purpose is more than just scythes and sheaves.

Sufficiently awake, all eyes are then directed toward a most austere event. As the cacophony of Yom T’ruah fades, the focus turns inward, and the inevitability of Yom Kippur—the Day of Atonement—becomes palpable. In less than ten days’ time, the high priest alone will perform all of Israel’s annual atonements—spilling innocent blood for the sake of the people, and prefiguring the singu­lar sin-covering work that the Messiah has accomplished once and for all. No one walks away from that day unchanged.

Finally, almost immediately following the conclusion of this 24-hour soul-searching pause, Israel begins to bustle with activity once again, this time in celebration of the renewal of their redemption. During the seven-day Feast of Sukot—with an eighth day tacked on for good measure—the people rejoice in the remembrance of Adonai’s everlasting provision. By way of a throwback to earlier, simpler times, the people live for a week in primitive, temporary huts, as Israel is reminded of her long, desert-wandering history, and given cause to rejoice and look forward to a settled and certain future.

This trio of special times in the latter half of Israel’s yearly calendar reveals a remarkable pattern for life in the Messiah. In response to the Master’s call, we must arise from our slumber, reform from our sin, and rejoice in Yeshua’s salvation. Don’t miss this special season, when we are given such a unique opportunity to look back, gain some perspective, and then realign ourselves with God’s will.

Evil days are upon us, and we give greater reign to that evil when we exhaust and fatigue our spirits through the busyness and distractions of life. Let us be diligent, then, to be found awake in wisdom, instead of asleep in the light. It is time to be revived and hear the sounds of the shouting and shofars. May we give in to spiritual lethargy no more, but rather arise, reform and rejoice!

What do you think? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

Exploring the Book of Ya’aqov, Pt. 13

If anyone does not stumble in word, this one is a perfect man, able to also bridle the whole body. Now if we put the bits into the mouths of the horses for their being persuaded by us, then we can also turn about their whole body. Look! also the ships of the sea—being so great, and being driven by fierce winds—are led about by a very small rudder, wherever the impulse of the helmsman wants. So also the tongue is a little member of the body, yet it boasts greatly. Look! such a little fire—yet how great a forest it sets aflame! And so the tongue is a fire—the world of the unrighteousness. (יַעֲקֹב Ya’aqov 3:2b-6a, mjlt)

The ability to speak—the capacity to formulate thoughts in our minds, and then to express those thoughts vocally in a way that other people can understand—is a miraculous gift from God to man. One would think that the mouth and the tongue are necessarily subservient to the mind—that one is only capable of saying what he is thinking. But many times—too many times—it seems as if our tongue has a mind of its own. We speak “without thinking,” and then claim we didn’t mean what we said. Or we say exactly what we’re thinking, although we didn’t intend to say it out loud. How is such a phenomenon possible? Can our tongues actually speak independently of our minds? Read more

Exploring the Book of Ya’aqov, Pt. 11

What is the profit, my brothers, if anyone speaks of having faith, but he does not have actions? Is that faith able to save him? [T]he faith by itself, if it does not have actions, is dead. But someone might say, “You have faith, and I have actions.” Show me your faith apart from the actions, and I will show you by my actions, the faith! [B]y actions is man declared righteous, and not by faith only. [F]or just as the body apart from the רוּחַ, ruach is dead, so also the faith apart from actions is dead! (יַעֲקֹב Ya’aqov 2:14-26, mjlt)

We sit and listen; we study and read. We pray. We praise. We seek. We believe. How, then, could it be possible that our faith might actually be dead? How, with all our prayers, all our devotion, all our time spent in the Word, all our focus on the things of God, could the ability of our faith to save us be honestly called into question? Surely, we are doing all that God expects of us. Undoubtedly, He merely desires that we believe. What could we possibly be missing? Read more