Dear church,

There is something incomplete about prophecy. There’s something about prophecy that leaves us wanting more. It’s like a teaser – or maybe like a movie trailer. We get a glimpse, and it’s a good glimpse. But it’s not enough. We want more. That’s because prophecies are partial, and sometimes they are hard to understand.

All prophecies, in fact, are partial. Apparently, there is more to know that is left unsaid.

The apostle Paul said Christians – people full of the Holy Spirit – only prophesy “in part.” He said, “For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away” (1 Corinthians 13:9). It’s kind of like looking in a fogged over mirror. We can sort of make out the truth. It’s helpful – a good glimpse. But it’s not enough. We want more.

Daniel 12 – in fact, the whole book of Daniel – is a good glimpse that leaves us wanting more. We encounter things that we, as Christians, are quite familiar with. We see a glimpse of the end of all things. And we see an Old Testament picture of resurrection and of judgment. We see a man dressed in white who reminds us of other men who were dressed in white. There are some New Testament connections for us to pursue – Matthew 25:31-46; Mark 16:5; 1 Corinthians 15:51-58; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18.

We see the angel Michael, and we remember his connection to the end of all things. From the Book of Revelation, “Now war arose in heaven, Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon … ‘And they have conquered him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony.’ …” (Revelation 12:7-12).

The Book of Revelation – like Daniel – is a book of prophecy. It teases us with truths about the future. It’s a good glimpse, but it leaves us wanting more. I think we never can be fully satisfied in our readings of these books. We can puzzle over the time, times, and half a time – and over two similar but different lengths of days. We can puzzle over the strange imagery. We can puzzle over unknown and intricate meanings of it all. We’re left wanting more.

So what’s the point of these types of books in our bibles? I think it is this: They give us hope. The Book of Daniel, like Revelation, is a book of hope. God remains in charge, even amid the chaos of this present world. Even as humanity spins in a relentless cycle of downward decay, God is in control. His end purposes will prevail.

We need hope today, just as Daniel needed hope in his day and the first readers of Revelation needed hope in their day. We need a word – a word that is sealed up and secure – about God’s firm grasp on a world that all too often seems out of anyone’s control.

Hope begins with a realistic look at the world. First, we understand that the world is bankrupt, and there is nothing we can do about it. There has been a time of trouble, such as never has been since there was a nation till that time. Think, perhaps, of the cross of Christ! And we discover there is more trouble all around us. And despite our human efforts to change things, the decay only continues.

Daniel was told, “Many shall purify themselves and make themselves white and be refined, but the wicked shall act wickedly. And none of the wicked shall understand.” A realistic look at the world understands this. Humanity is bankrupt. We cannot fix it, nor should we expect to do so. (The church is not here to fix the world. It is here to testify to the one who will.)

At the same time we take a realistic look at the world, we also understand that there are some unseen realities at play. The angels are at war. And a clock is ticking. Not everything is visible to us. Not everything can be heard by our ears. As we look realistically at our bankrupt world, we understand that more is going on in God’s creation beyond what we can see.

And then we put our hope in someone. And as yet, that someone has not yet been seen fully by us. We’d like to think we know it all, but we don’t. Remember, prophecy is only “in part.” The disciple John said, “Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2).

This someone is Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Messiah of Israel, the Savior of the elect exiles of this world. Only Jesus can fix this bankrupt world. Only he can set it right.

And in Daniel 12, we have hope. The writer of Hebrews said, “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” And we talk about faith, and we understand faith for what it is. Daniel gives us something to hope for – things we cannot see but hope to be true.

If there’s a day in my life to remember Daniel 12, it is today. Things in our nation aren’t as bad as they’ve ever been, but they are about as bad as I can remember. And I’m certain they will get worse. “The wicked shall act wickedly.” As Christians we look at this world realistically. We see the truth.

And we aren’t disheartened. We hope in Christ. Today, we know and prophesy “in part.” But the perfect is coming.

Chris

Dear church,

Whew. Chapter 11 contains a lot of prophecy in the most common use of that word – prophecy in the sense of predictions of the future. Here, Daniel’s vision moves from the heavenly realm of Chapter 10 to a very active earth. If the unseen spiritual world, filled with angels in combat with one another, is anything like the action Daniel observes on earth, then we can know why Daniel was so shell-shocked in Chapter 10.

The nations were raging. Psalm 2 starts with that phrase: “Why do the nations rage and the peoples plot in vain? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together against the Lord and against his Anointed …” (Psalm 2:1-2).

Much of the action in Chapter 11 has nations sweeping back and forth against each other. Jerusalem is an afterthought. Israel seems ignored – until it’s not. One king – probably Antiochus (who likely is a figure for the antichrist) – desecrated the temple. A persecution of the people erupted. A remnant taught God’s Word to the people. And they suffered and were refined.

The nations were raging. To rage means to express violent, uncontrollable anger. Toddlers rage when they don’t get their way. Grown-ups rage for the same reason. Raging is ugly business. We turn our heads when toddlers rage – letting their parents take care of them. We turn our heads when grown-ups rage, hoping they will stay away from us.

As the nations raged back and forth, they seemed intent on destroying or manipulating each other. Eventually, though, their vision settled on Jerusalem and God’s people. It makes me wonder about the raging that exists in our nation today. People are raging. Violence has occurred, and plots are being contrived.

I’ve never seen our own country in such turmoil – between the coronavirus pandemic and the Black Lives Matter protests. Some scream “health.” Some scream “freedom.” Some scream “racism.” Some scream “fiction.”

It feels like Daniel 11 is playing out in our own day and time. The nations, the tribes, the political factions, the interest groups are raging. I wonder when their eyes will turn upon God’s people – his church.

We need not fear this. “He who sits in the heavens laughs” (Psalm 2:4). None of the raging nations in our day want anyone to laugh. To laugh is to not take their claims seriously. To laugh is to become a part of some problem in the world.

But God rules over all of this. His is a laughter of control as he watches toddlers rage. God will prevail. It is a comfort in these troubling times, as the nations rage.

A question for your day: How do the daily headlines make you feel? In light of God’s Word – and God’s sovereign control over his creation, and even the “raging” nations – how should a disciple of Christ feel about these current events?

Chris

Dear church,

Daniel 10 gives us a glimpse of heavenly realities. We get a picture of the unseen spiritual world that was at work in Daniel’s day. Angels (“princes”), representing earthly kingdoms, were at war with each other. The unnamed man at the Tigris River was among them, as was the angel Michael, who apparently was the “prince” of Israel.

What do we make of this today?

Even as Christians, we can tend to be materialists. That is, we can tend to disbelieve there’s much going on behind the scenes that we cannot see with our eyes – or at least our microscopes. This is especially true in Western cultures like ours – in America and Europe.

I did find Daniel’s reaction to this vision interesting. He was overcome by weakness. It was a recurring theme in this chapter. “No strength was left in me.” “My radiant appearance was fearfully changed.” “I retained no strength.” “A hand touched me and set me trembling on my hands and knees.” “I stood up trembling.” “I turned my face toward the ground and was mute.” “Pains have come upon me, and I retain no strength.” “No strength remains in me, and no breath is left in me.”

At various times in this passage, Daniel was weak and trembling, mute and breathless. He was given reassurance and strength by his heavenly visitor, but the effects of the vision on Daniel were tangible.

The hand of God was moving in this passage. Kingdoms were being torn down and raised up. A good materialist in Daniel’s day – there probably weren’t any – would have attributed those changes in empires to worldly wisdom and strength, and to human error and aggression.

Should we fear the unseen spiritual realm? I don’t think so, but we should respect the fact it exists.

The apostle Paul gave us perspective. “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38-39).

The key for Paul was our connection to Christ. That relationship ends any opportunity for anything – even angels, rulers, or powers – to separate us from Christ. Paul seemed to affirm those things exist. They just lose their authority because of the surpassing greatness of Jesus Christ. Read also Colossians 2:15.

But I wonder how we would feel if our eyes were unmasked and we could see the spiritual struggle that is ongoing in the world today. Jesus’ death and resurrection brought us victory over those things, but Jesus didn’t eliminate them altogether – at least, not yet. Paul says a battle still rages “against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places,” and we remain a part of it (Ephesians 6:10-20).

If we could see it for what it was, I wonder whether we would get a little weak in the knees like Daniel. I wonder whether we might need someone to come to us and put us back on our feet.

The promise of Christ is this: When we breathe our last breath and we fall into our own “deep sleep,” we will hear a loving word and be lifted up. “O Daniel, man greatly loved, understand the words that I speak to you, and stand upright, for now I have been sent to you.”

A question for your day: What might be a benefit of being mindful of the unseen spiritual realities at work around us?

Chris

Dear church,

This is a good chapter to puzzle about numbers. How many weeks – or “sevens”? When does that timeframe start and end? Has it already come to pass, or is it still in the process of being fulfilled. Theologians and bible scholars have spilled much ink in debating these things.

And Jesus told us not to spend a lot of energy on the numbers, times, and dates. “Be on guard, keep awake,” he said (Mark 13:33).

My own take, at this moment anyway, is the seventy “sevens” marks a 490-year span between the time when Nehemiah received the decree to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem to the coming of the Messiah. Only God knows whether that’s a correct interpretation!

That’s only one section in this chapter. Let’s not forget the prayer of Daniel.

This is what humility looks like. Daniel confessed the sins of the people of Israel. In fasting and sackcloth and ashes, the prophet laid out the hard truths. The people deserved to be brought into “open shame” – all of them, no matter which tribe of Israel they belonged and no matter in which land they had been scattered.

The people failed to obey God’s commandments. Someone needed to say it. Daniel said it.

In his mind must have been Leviticus 26. God told the people what would happen if they lived in disobedience to his commandments. The land of Israel would be left desolate, and the people would waste away in the lands of their enemies. Daniel had seen this firsthand.

In his mind, though, also was Jeremiah 25:11: “This whole land shall become a ruin and a waste, and these nations shall serve the king of Babylon seventy years.” That seventy years was nearing an end. Daniel knew that. And he hit his knees.

Daniel’s confession turned into petition. My own family, after we read this chapter together, remarked how strong Daniel’s requests eventually became. “O Lord, hear; O Lord, forgive. O Lord, pay attention and act. Delay not.”

We bear in mind that Daniel wasn’t saying the people of Israel deserved a reprieve in their exile. He wasn’t saying that at all. “For we do not present our pleas before you because of our righteousness, but because of your great mercy.” Daniel never lost sight of the people’s lostness. Rather, Daniel was begging for mercy. He knew he could appeal to the mercy of God. And he gave everything he could to that appeal.

And you might have noticed what happened next. The angel Gabriel showed up. Gabriel said some beautiful words we really ought to find a place for in our own lives. “At the beginning of your pleas for mercy a word went out, and I have come to tell it to you, for you are greatly loved.”

The answer was sent out at the beginning of the Daniel’s pleas for mercy – even before they were made in full. Even as Daniel was speaking, God’s grace was on the way.

This is God’s way. His grace comes first. Even before we cry out for mercy, his grace is available to us. The apostle Paul said while we still were weak, Christ died for the ungodly. That is, God’s grace came to the ungodly before they even had a thought about their ungodliness. While we were still sinners, living in un-repentance, Christ died “for us” (Romans 5:6, 8).

Daniel and Gabriel help us to strip away any idea we can earn God’s mercy.

I was handing out checks today as part of our Shop Redstone Initiative – a little effort we’ve undertaken to help out the businesses in our town. I went to a couple of shops and gave them checks in exchange for some certificates they’d redeemed from their customers.

It was an exchange. They handed me something, and I handed them a check. It was transactional.

The gospel doesn’t work like that. Rather, it should be pictured as a flood of grace sweeping over people – not “because of our righteousness” but because of God’s “great mercy.”

We empty the gospel of its meaning if we try to insert our own works into the equation. I suppose true “desolation” is thinking we’ve earned our salvation by our own righteous actions.

A question for your day: Are you content with knowing you’ve done nothing to earn your good standing with God – that it only is possible through the cross of Christ?

Chris

Dear church,

At the end of this chapter, we find a very puzzled prophet. Daniel said he was appalled by the vision he received from God, and he didn’t understand it. It had been explained to him – the Medes and the Persians would be overthrown by the Greek empire, and an especially evil king would arise from the Greeks – but Daniel still didn’t understand.

And yet Daniel did have a reaction to what he saw. He was appalled.

We are capable of gut-level reactions to the things we see, and some of these reactions can be very strong. The protests and rioting that we’ve seen across the country are, in many ways, simply the gut-level reaction to the images of a black man suffocating under the weight of a white police officer. People saw that and were appalled.

Daniel saw kingdoms waging war against each other. The kingdoms were represented by animal horns. The kingdom of the Medes and Persians was ousted by the Greek kingdom of Alexander the Great. After Alexander died, his kingdom was divvied up into four kingdoms that were weaker than the first. And then there emerged a king named Antiochus Epiphanes, “a little horn.” Antiochus was responsible for the desecration of the temple in Jerusalem – halting holy worship by the Israelites – and the setting up of a statue of the pagan god Zeus in the temple.

Some of this was explained to Daniel, and yet he didn’t understand. But he was appalled. And so we end this chapter with the prophet going about the king’s business – appalled at this vision from God.

It is good to appreciate the humanity of Daniel. We get a personal look at him. Here was a man who had feelings. He desired to understand. He reacted in a personal way to the things he saw. Daniel was a person.

But you’ll notice how the kingdoms of the world had been reduced in Daniel’s vision to something less than personal. They were described as inanimate objects – as horns. This is a continuation of the de-humanizing aspects of sin that showed up in Daniel 7. But now, it’s not just that these the kingdoms of the world had taken on animal-like qualities as a result of sinfulness. Now they have been reduced to objects, to horns – to things used for destruction.

This is what sin does. It makes us less than what we are created to be. And when we become less than human, the powers of this world can use us for its purposes. It can use us like animals and like tools – to do its own bidding.

Maybe this is part of the message of the vision.

Our culture is good at de-personalizing us. Identity politics in America is about de-personalization. You no longer are who God created you to be. Rather, you are one member of an identity group based on gender, race, or some other thing. And the powers of this world use those groups like horns in combat.

But our God is personal, and he created us to be persons – and not mindless tools in the systems of the world. And God wants to relate to us in a personal way. After the first sin, God went for a walk in the garden, and he couldn’t find his people. It wasn’t for lack of looking – “But the Lord God called to the man and said to him, ‘Where are you?'”

Jesus only interacted with people in personal ways. He extracted them from the worldly kingdoms where they had been trapped and introduced them to the kingdom of God. His approach caught people off guard. “How is it that you, a Jew, ask for a drink from me, a woman of Samaria?” (John 4:9).

God was cutting through the impersonal and de-personal systems of the world – systems that treat people like weapons of destruction – to build his kingdom of peace.

The contrast between the the kingdom of God and the kingdoms of this world should be clear. The world sweeps people up into its own agenda, which is endless competition and eventually complete destruction. People become de-personalized. They become objects of war, to fight against each other.

The kingdom of God releases people from the world’s bondage. Each person is filled with the presence of God. We’re not de-humanized. We are found in our very personal sin and rebellion and given grace through faith. Our hearts are changed.

Because it is a heart issue, the kingdom of God is somewhat secretive. It is quiet – unlike the kingdoms of this world, which boast about “outward appearances” (2 Corinthians 5:12). And God calls us into his kingdom from wherever we are. And he will gladly call us by name, even if we don’t fully know him yet. “‘Saul, Saul, …’ ‘Who are you, Lord?'” (Acts 9:4-5).

There is a lot in Daniel 8 to ponder.

Some questions for today: In what ways are we caught up in the kingdoms of this world, which would use us for their destructive purposes on earth? How does the church speak a different message than those of these worldly kingdoms that we see waging war on TV and the internet? How is a disciple of Jesus Christ distinct?

Chris

Dear church,

Daniel 7 is one of the most important chapters in the entire Bible. Here, we begin a new section in Daniel. The first half of Daniel is full of action and story. The second half is comprised of visions. Daniel 7 – the first of these visionary chapters – is full of really important biblical truths. It is a chapter that ties together some major themes from the bible, and it unwaveringly points to Jesus Christ.

The most prominent element here is the appearance of one “like a son of man.” Christians immediately recognize this as a prophecy of Jesus. As we will see next week when we begin our reading of the Gospel of Mark, Jesus frequently referred to himself as the Son of Man.

The vision Daniel received appears to portray the moment immediately following Jesus’ ascension into heaven to the right hand of the Father (the Ancient of Days). This was a magnificent moment where Jesus is given dominion over the earth. He appeared as a conquering king. Daniel reports this kingdom is one that never will be destroyed.

Within this image is a connection between the Tower of Babel in Genesis 11 and Pentecost Sunday in Acts 2. In Genesis, God scattered the prideful nations according to their languages. In Pentecost, people from all nations converged on Jerusalem, and the first Christians spoke in foreign languages. The scattering of all peoples and tongues became a gathering of all people and tongues. God is setting things right in the world.

The identity of the nations or kings or world philosophies represented by the four beasts is something Christians like to argue about. Needless to say, the world has endured a succession of vicious kingdoms and empires and world views.

The “little horn” probably is a reference, at least in Daniel’s immediate context, of a king named Antiochus Epiphanes. He was a Seleucid king who in 167 BC defiled the temple and offered a pig as a sacrifice there and set up a statue of Zeus. This was not good. And it is well-marked in Jewish history.

So that is some of the background of this chapter.

What struck me here was the ferociousness and animal-like quality of the four beasts. One was “like a lion.” One was “like a bear.” One was “like a leopard.” And one was just “different.”

These four beasts are marked by their aggressive nature. They are marked by their non-resemblance to humanity – even though we know these are human kingdoms with human leaders. The human “likeness” isn’t present.

Does sin make us all a little less human? Ah, we like to say we all sin because we are all human. It is reassuring to know that everyone sins. But perhaps the reality is sin drives us to be less than human – that is, less that what God created us to be and certainly less than what God would have us to be.

Our sin drives us toward animal-like qualities – to selfishness, to aggression, to a relentless drive to get our own. In the past three months, I’ve seen images on the internet of people fighting over toilet paper in a grocery store aisle and rioters beating storeowners who dared to resist them with 2x4s.

There is something dark and animal-like that enters into humanity, and it gains entrance through our sinfulness. Daniel chronicled the rise of four kingdoms that were marked with this animal-like quality.

And then he marked one who came “like a son of man.”

There was no aggressiveness in this son of man – no selfishness or relentless drive to get his own. This was no animal. This was a human as humans were created to be. (Please stop and read Philippians 2:1-11.) And this is the kind of human the Holy Spirit is shaping each of us to be.

A question for your day: In what ways do you find yourself grasping to things in this life – like money or reputation or personal desires – and in what ways do you find yourself letting go of those things and just trusting in the one who came “like a son of man”?

Chris

Dear church,

It is unnerving to think we might have an enemy. It is even more so to think about the nature of the enemy that we have – one who desires the end of our body and soul. The disciple Peter said the devil is like a roaring lion, prowling around, seeking someone to devour. That someone could be me. Or it could be you.

The answer for Peter was simple. “Resist him.” Peter said we should be firm in our faith, and we should remember Christians across the world also are enduring suffering.

For Peter and for Daniel, the enemy entered into the life of God’s people through persecution. The early Christians were suffering because of their faith. Daniel was entrapped in his faith by those who opposed him and who knew how to work the levers of government.

This kind of persecution brings its own kind of temptation – the temptation to forsake the faith. Peter said we should stand firm in our faith in these moments. Daniel did this. His practice was to go up into his upper chamber, throw open the windows toward Jerusalem, and hit his knees. Even knowing the trap, Daniel kept doing this – “as he had done previously.” That’s a way of standing firm in the faith. We continue in the godly habits we’ve cultivated over the years.

What meaning, if any, does this have for us? We are only slightly persecuted at the moment. We are only jeered at (typically from a distance) and not flogged, imprisoned, or thrown to the lions. Still, perhaps we should continue with our godly habits that we’ve cultivated over the years – gathering, praying, reading, and the like.

The temptations we face today are of a subtle nature. We’re urged to slip back, to relax, to let down our guards. The temptation is to not stand firm. And the temptation is veiled. We are distracted by good things and good causes. We aren’t challenged outright to renounce our faith. Instead, we’re challenged not to make it the chief priority in our lives.

The enemies of Daniel knew all about his faith and the weight it carried in his life. Their aim was to use his faithfulness against him – to force him out of the picture. Their aim was the destruction of a man.

Jesus spent his time in the wilderness, with the wild animals, being tempted by Satan (Mark 1:12-13). The end goal was the destruction of a man.

As we struggle against the machinations of our enemy, we ought to remember our Savior – the one who did not succumb. He held firm in his faith and in the faith practices that he had cultivated over the years. And he is with us.

Chris

Dear church,

They were fingers of a human hand. And they wrote on the wall. There was nothing of note on the wall before, and then suddenly there were words: “MENE, MENE, TEKEL, PARSIN.” That is Aramaic for something like this: “Numbered, Numbered, Weighed, Divided.”

That is what would happen to the Babylonian kingdom and the rule of King Belshazzar. Its days had been numbered. The king’s life had been weighed in the balances and found wanting. And the kingdom was about to be divided up among the Medes and the Persians.

We have to keep in mind the blasphemy that proceeded this stern word of judgment – as well as the follow-through at the end of the chapter. King Belshazzar called for the sacred vessels from the old temple in Jerusalem, which had been sacked and destroyed by King Nebuchadnezzar. King Belshazzar called for those vessels to be brought out for a party he was holding with his fellow leaders and with his wives and concubines. Those sacred golden cups were holy to God, and they were being used in unholy ways.

King Belshazzar did not recognize the holiness of God. This is Romans 1:18-23 played out in full. Read it carefully.

For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth. For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse. For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and creeping things.

King Belshazzar knew God. The events of the life of King Nebuchadnezzar were known to him. The fact Nebuchadnezzar lost his mind and ate grass like an ox was available information. It was no secret. And neither was the fact Nebuchadnezzar finally recognized “the Most High God rules the kingdom of mankind and sets over it whom he will.”

Daniel looked at King Belshazzar and said, “You knew all this …”

For although King Belshazzar knew God, he didn’t honor God or give thanks to him. Instead, his foolish heart was darkened. And he became a fool and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images of created things. He took those cups of gold from the temple in Jerusalem – those very real symbols of the glory of the immortal God – and he used them like ordinary cups for wine. And he celebrated false gods – gods of gold, silver, bronze, iron, wood, and stone.

What was known about God was plain to King Belshazzar. God had shown it to him. God’s invisible attributes were clear. God’s eternal power and divine nature were evident. But King Belshazzar didn’t give God glory. Instead, he exchanged the truth of God for a lie. He took the cups, and he defiled them.

And in the midst of this blasphemy, the wrath of God was revealed from heaven.

Today, when we say, “The handwriting is on the wall,” we mean the end is near. Things are as good as over.

The words were written by the fingers of a human hand. As Christians, we may think here of the incarnation of Jesus Christ. God and humanity were one in him.

And God is a writer of words. The finger of God wrote on the stone tablets containing the Ten Commandments (Exodus 31:18). So we know God writes. He is the God of the Word. And on that wall opposite the lampstand – near where the bread of the Presence would have been in the temple in Jerusalem – the finger of God wrote again. This time, the fingers were on a human hand.

The wrath of God was revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men: “Numbered, numbered, weighed, divided.”

A selfish king who thought he had it all was about to lose his life and his kingdom. You almost can hear Jesus speaking in this passage, telling the story about the rich fool – the one who tore down his barns to build bigger ones so he could eat, drink, and be merry. “But God said to him, ‘Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?'” (Luke 12:20).

Jesus was fully human and fully God. The words Jesus spoke were the words of God. And so were the words Jesus wrote. In Christ, God still is a writer of words. You remember the story of the adulterous woman. The scribes and Pharisees wanted to stone her, but Jesus knelt and wrote with his finger on the ground (John 8:6). I wonder whether he thought then about King Belshazzar, who tried to lift himself up over God. Maybe Jesus wrote on the ground, “Numbered, numbered, weighed, divided.” The scribes and Pharisees dropped their rocks and left. Whatever Jesus wrote, the scribes and Pharisees wanted no part of it. And the woman was given grace – and “from now on, sin no more.”

In the incarnation, the Son of God is fully human. He senses our weakness and the way in which we are tempted to sin. He knows which way we would fall if left on our own. And in the incarnation, the Son of God is fully divine. He has the power to help us. And he has the power to judge.

King Belshazzar was judged. He was found wanting.

There is a warning here for us and the rest of humanity. On our own, we would be weighed in the balances, too. “Numbered, numbered, weighed, divided.” Our days are numbered. Our sins will be weighed. Our little kingdoms will be divided.

Without Christ, we are lost. But the same hand that warns us of judgment was nailed to the cross on our behalf. Jesus took all of that judgment on himself. His own days came to an end. He gathered up all the sin of ours that leaves us wanting. And he hung there on the cross, his garments divided into the hands of others.

The gospel fills the Bible. And the Most High God is with us. The bread of life fills us up.

Chris

Dear church,

There was hope, after all, for King Nebuchadnezzar. We see a crazy, prideful king. And we see him correctly. Nebuchadnezzar was both of those things. Crazy and prideful. He threw people who didn’t worship him into the fire. And he wanted people to worship him as a god.

But there was hope for him. His vision was of a tree chopped down. It was a mighty tree. Its top reached to heaven. It had beautiful leaves, good fruit, shade for the animals of the field. The whole world revolved around that tree. It was a tree that stood for a king. This was Nebuchadnezzar, the most powerful man on earth.

To cut down the tree and to de-limb it and to remove all of its leaves and to scatter its fruit would have been a shock to the world. No one would have seen that coming. And what would this earthly kingdom become without its king?

It’s a story of a kingdom – and a Kingdom. Nebuchadnezzar said of God, “His kingdom is an everlasting kingdom.”

Nebuchadnezzar’s kingdom was not. And God was teaching him that. God forced Nebuchadnezzar out of his mind and made him eat grass. Seven seasons of eating grass. God wanted to make sure every living person knew God rules earthly kingdoms and that he gives those kingdoms to whomever he wants – even to the “lowliest of men.”

Jesus preached a new kind of kingdom. Next week, we will begin reading in the Gospel of Mark. “The time is fulfilled,” Jesus said, “and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel” (Mark 1:15).

Nebuchadnezzar learned his own gospel. Daniel told him, “break off your sins.” That means to repent, to turn around, to put an eye on the Most High who rules the kingdoms of humanity. And Nebuchadnezzar ended up eating grass.

I was at the church the other day throwing dirt into holes where Roger had dug up the sprinkler lines, fixing leaks. I got the easy job, putting the dirt back into place. It didn’t look very good after I was done. There were clumps of turf, with yellow grass still rooted and clinging to life, mixed with dirt. I packed it in and stepped on it and pushed it down level.

There were sprinkler heads nearby, and I knew this ugliness only needed to be temporary. There was some good there. Given water, given sun, given time – that grass would grow. The green would return. New seed could be added. The grass could be thick and lush again.

But it would require patience. And tamping.

There was hope for Nebuchadnezzar just like there’s hope for us, crazy and prideful people. I think we’re a mixed up mess a lot of the time, dirt and yellow grass clinging to life. It’s not much to look at. And the gardner keeps stepping on us, and he’s not worried. He’s in charge, and he knows.

And Nebuchadnezzar ended up lifting his eyes to heaven. And he acknowledged there is a King in heaven. There’s a story here about grace and faith, in that order.

Jesus described the kingdom of heaven like a mustard seed, so tiny and yet so capable of growing to provide shade for the birds. And we look at the muddled, mixed up messes of our own lives – we’re not really who we want to be yet. And we see the crazy pride of people like Nebuchadnezzar and ourselves – and we wonder whether there’s any hope.

There is.

Chris

Dear church,

Daniel 3 is a story about resurrection. It’s about being thrown into a fiery furnace by one who would kill those who do not bow down to the kings of this world. And it’s about having that “fourth” person standing with us in the flames. And it’s about emerging from the furnace without so much as the smell of smoke on our clothes.

Again, we see how narrowly we escape death – how close we come as sinners to extermination. And we see how Jesus enters into our suffering and stands alongside us as we suffer. And how he delivers us to safety.

And we see once more the way of this world. Like with King Ahasuerus of the Book of Esther, pride is the way of the world. And with pride comes rage. And we see both pride and rage in King Nebuchadnezzar.

And we see to what great lengths human beings will go to be recognized in their pride – to make the world be about them. Notice how many times Nebuchadnezzar’s statue is described in terms of how it came to be – “the image that King Nebuchadnezzar had set up.” As humans we are a scraping and grasping kind of people, working hard to build our own lives in our own image until it’s something worth our worship – until we realize that image is inherently unstable – as unstable as a nine foot wide and NINETY foot tall statue.

Nebuchadnezzar must have gotten this idea from his dream – the one Daniel interpreted back in chapter 2. His dream revealed a statue showing a succession of kingdoms, but it was smashed by a stone not cut by human hands. God was in control. But Nebuchadnezzar, like so many of us, ignored that little fact and built himself a statue anyway, determined to make the world bow down to him.

And the uniqueness of the Israelites was in their refusal to worship any but the One True God. And Jews and Christians through the centuries have met their earthly ends by refusing the world’s demands to worship something else. And the world constantly is tempting those of us who are still around to water down our worship of the One True God and to find other ways to spend our time, energy, and devotion. Football is on Sunday after all.

So there’s a lot in this chapter that we know so well.

In Isaiah, God promised to be with his chosen people Israel. “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you” (Isaiah 43:1-2).

God was with his people as they passed through the Red Sea, through the Jordan River, and, now, through the fiery furnace. The ultimate era of “God with us” is now, as the Holy Spirit resides in those who put their trust in Jesus Christ. You have God with you even now – even in this era of uncertainty – even in this exile of disease, economic anxiety, and cultural tension. Riots and coronavirus are faced by Christians with the God who walks with them.

Chris