What Only God Can Do!

Psalm 85

Some time ago a phrase became popular in the Christian subculture that was used so much that it became a cliché to the point of meaninglessness.  The phrase “It’s a God thing” was meant to express God’s divine care and supervision and was roughly equivalent to Providence, but much cooler and less theologically precise and stuffy.  It was used of circumstances resulting in a particularly beneficial event to a ministry.  But as with any overused adage it decayed to banality.  “It’s a God thing” degenerated to the point that finding a parking place near a store entrance was God at work.  It was never applied to the parking place at the outer edge of the parking lot.   But misuse and misunderstanding doesn’t mean it never happens. There are those things that only God can do and that is the time to say, “It’s a God thing!”

Psalm 85 is a brief Psalm of praise for God’s bringing the exiles back from captivity.  This moment in God’s salvation history is filled with wonder and marvel, but one specific verse expresses a “God thing” in its purest and richest form, verse 10.  The couplets are not opposite of each other, but can be in conflict with each other. 

In this verse, we see that Mercy and Truth have embraced each other like friends long separated.  It is almost as if they have lost contact with each other and have a happy and unexpected meeting.  But this happy meeting has a conflict.  The truth of the matter is we are guilty; we have worked hard to deserve punishment, wrath, exile and even death.  But while horrifically guilty, Mercy or Lovingkindness deeply desires that we be exempt from the penalty of our guilt.  Mercy and Truth hold the court papers that argue the opposite sides of the case. They are almost like a prosecutor and a defense attorney who were undergrad fraternity brothers suddenly reunited.  Here they are, old friends hugging and laughing and talking a mile a minute in the middle of a busy airport concourse oblivious to the others around them. 

Righteousness and Peace are even closer; they kiss.  Often Righteousness, or shall we say Justice, and Peace do not get along very well.  Justice demands that the wicked man be arrested, placed in handcuffs put in the squad car, and transported to jail.  Anyone who has seen reality TV police shows can testify that Shalom, tranquility, a sense of well-being, peace or wholeness, rarely accompanies an arrest.  Justice is breathless and sweaty from the chase; his temper while controlled is short.  The batons, Taser, pepper spray, and sidearm do not invite tender affection, but demand compliance.  If the wicked man is not restrained and controlled there is no justice for the victim.  Sometimes justice demands more than a Peace Officer; it demands bombers and artillery, invasions and tanks.  Justice for enslaved Europe demanded that Chamberlin’s “peace in our time” give way to the hell of World War Two.  Here again we see a reunion that looks more like a reunion of separated lovers than a landing at Normandy.  Peace and Righteousness are kissing; this is no perfunctory greeting but the outward expression of a powerful, deep love.

In some way the return of the exiles from Babylonian captivity saw these two couples in blissful union.  That was a mystery for those who returned.  They would never be able to work out the equation by which God made it all fit together.  The return of the exiles did something more.  It prefigured the day when on the cross God could bring together the apparently conflicting demand of Mercy, Truth, Justice/Righteousness and Peace.  Consider the wonder you would feel if you were there in the airport concourse, you wore the handcuffs, you were extradited for a trial you knew you would lose and you see the reunion.  The loud, happy foursome in genuine affection touches, holds, and laughs together.  They look at you and you know it will be more than all right; it will be more than you can imagine.  That is the marvel of the cross, which is what only God can do, that is the real “God Thing”.