Respect, gender roles, and sacrificial love

Love and respect
The Bible does not talk much about marriage relationships and gender roles. There are only a few passages that discuss this in the New Testament. I have tried to catalog most of the important ones here. The fascinating discovery is that women and men in relationships are not told to relate to each other in exactly identical ways. Men are told to “love” women, but women are told to “respect” men. Look at some of the patterns in the table below.

Scripture	Husbands	Wives
Colossians 3:18	Love your wives, and do not be harsh with them	Submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord
Ephesians 5:22-33	Love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her…to present her to himself in splendor, holy and without blemish	Submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its savior
	Love your wife as your own body	As the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands
	Love your wife as yourself	Respect your husband
Matthew 19:6	So they are no longer two but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together, let no man separate
Titus 2:5		Working at home, submissive to their own husbands
1 Peter 3:1-7	Live with your wives in an understanding way, showing honor to the woman as the weaker vessel, since they are heirs with you of the grace of life, so that your prayers will not be hindered	Be subject to your own husbands. …your respectful and pure conduct… but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit …submitting to their own husbands
1 Corinthians 7	Give to his wife her conjugal rights…for the wife has authority over his body	Give to her husband his conjugal rights…for the husband has authority over her body
1 Corinthians 11:3	The head of every man is Christ, the head of a wife is her husband, and the head of Christ is God.

This is a key distinction that is overlooked by many in our culture. For men, the equivalent of what love does for a woman is a kind of love that is best called “respect.” Notice that most deep man-to-man friendships are built on this kind of love—gruff, unspoken, yet real and strong. Men are giving each other this respect-ish love.

This is important because husbands (or boyfriends) in our culture are often expected to accept from their women the exact same kind of love that women receive best. Asking a woman to respect a man is not cool—it sounds chauvinistic and archaic. But I suggest from personal experience (if sola scriptura were insufficient) that the Bible described things correctly. It is immensely empowering, refreshing and delightful when my lady honors me in public, defers the final call on a decision to me, or trusts my judgment. It makes me love her so much when I sense supportiveness, not competition, from her. Although submission has unfortunately been coerced out of women in former eras, the proper manifestation does wonders to the masculine psyche. We are missing some major aspects of how men are wired that I think are necessary for cultivating the healthiest relationships between men and women.

Equal value, albeit unequal roles
The first objection to the idea of submission is always that it makes women inferior. I suggest that, according to the Bible, women are not at all ontologically subordinate, yet they are at the same time functionally subordinate. In other words, women and men have equal value, but not identical roles. Women are not less important because they are under men in “rank”. We can see this for at least two reasons. First, the top of the hierarchy chain that establishes this functional subordination are God the Father and Jesus (1 Corinthians 11:3), who, although distinctly different in subordination, are nevertheless entirely co-equal. Second, in God’s economy it is not leaders, but servants, who are “the greatest among you” (Matthew 23:11-12); in this sense, the woman’s position is the one of greater honor.

Who has the harder role?
It is harder to do the man’s part of loving or the woman’s part of respecting? The answer is, “Yes.” Because both actions are nuanced by the tendencies of manhood and womanhood, this is really comparing apples and oranges. I can only assume that, in some ultimate sense, they are exactly equal in difficulty. But this is really outside the scope of human evaluation.

It will take sacrifice, not just compromise
When the system of love and respect is broken, one side must go out on a limb to give love that is not guaranteed to return. The simple application for a man is, “love her regardless of whether she respects you, and trust that God will (perhaps gradually) change her heart as you do so.” The application for women is the same. “Respect him regardless of whether he loves you, and trust that God will cause his love for you to grow.” This does not mean that we should perpetually cast ourselves as martyrs into dysfunctional relationships. That is not healthy or helpful. A long period of unreciprocated reaching out might be a red flag to run deeper diagnostics on the relationship. (“Okay, something is broken deep here.”) But we cannot always be waiting for the other person to “come half way” and “meet us in the middle.” No, I suggest that Christ does not model that. He initiated. “We love because he first loved us,” and paid us the intolerable complement of allowing us to never love him back. So, I cannot tap my fingers and wait for my partner to reciprocate. I must give freely. Even if they are in the wrong. (We were in the wrong, not Christ.) This is the difference between simple compromise, which works for most circumstances, and sacrifice, which is the apex and glory of love.

You can only give that kind of love if you have received it
This kind of love can only be motivated and sustained by someone who has a very deep reservoir of love. The natural heart is incapable; it will run out. But if we have the holy spirit of God as the “fountain of living water” in our hearts, by which we continually receive the incomprehensibly sweet love of God, which he showed us on the cross, then we too can love selflessly. If the Lord is my strength, if I commune with him and confide in him and drink strength from him deep in my heart, then I will be empowered to love my significant other with a wild, dangerous, foolish self-sacrifice. And God will thus be glorified in my heart and in my actions.

Gender roles extend into the community
Two passages of scripture, 1 Corinthians 11:1-16 and 1 Timothy 2:1-15, seem to extend these roles to the corporate gathering of believers. As women are to submit to their husbands within the family sphere, so they ought to submit to their husbands in the church sphere, but moreover, women, considered as a group, should corporately submit to men, considered as a group. As a husband leads a wife, so the churchmen lead the churchwomen. Thus, women should not teach the collected church, and when they pray or prophecy, they should do so with a mark of submission. What counts as “teaching” and a “mark of submission” in today’s church is a very difficult question, which I will not attempt to answer here. But the point is clear that the gender roles extend corporately. This is not a popular idea at all, because our culture hates “traditional” gender roles in public even more vehemently than it hates them in the home; but believers today must wrestle with these scriptures and to seek to respect them in contextualized methods.

**Note: read my subsequent post for part two, the role of a man who is to receive submission.**

Melvin and Feer

There once were two gentlemen known by the names
Of Richard P. Melvin and Phineas Feer.
Richard, a banker, had money and fame
And lived in a waterfront house with a pier
But Phineas, a chimney sweep, hadn’t the same
He barely scraped by after taxes each year

One day, Richard realized “All that I’ve gained
Still isn’t enough”
So he took a rope and chair
and hung himself

That very day, Phineas despaired
that he had never made himself a name
So he took too many pills
And ended his shame

Now what they knew not I will tell, lend your ear
The pursuit of material things is all vain
So to us who are left between Melvin and Feer
Let us look not henceforth to the trophies of man
Nor in man himself, even, for wife and dear child
Will not themselves sate the desire inside

I know of only one satisfaction
That which rich and poor seek
The grace of God

Why the Bible isn’t a power document

Liberal strains of textual criticism of the Bible question whether it was really written (as we have it today) by the apostles. Some people think that early church leaders, hungry for the control that comes from “having the keys to heaven,” tampered with the words of Jesus, and the whole Bible in general, in order to get Jesus to say and be what they needed him to be to get power in his name. In reality, some people think, Jesus was just a teacher of love and peace, who never claimed to be God; but disciples-turned-propagandists put words in his mouth so that they could use his teachings and life as the basis for theocracy.

The problem is, what is contained in the Bible is destructive to any attempt at theocracy. Jesus destroys the concepts of centralized access to God and religious hierarchy. If there was tampering going on, the perpetrators did a terrible job of securing their own authority.

Jesus refused to set up an “establishment”
For example, Jesus reproves the apostle Peter for acting satanic, probably moments after he was told he would be the rock on which Jesus would build his church. I.e. Peter was the first pope. If you are trying to establish clean roots as a church politician, you might want to omit that one. What is most striking is why Jesus calls Peter Satan: simply because he said Jesus wouldn’t die. Peter wanted Jesus to use his power and destroy his enemies.

Jesus says that his kingdom is not of this world. (John 18:36)

He models service for the apostles of washing their feet- a job reserved for lowly servants. Peter doesn’t like the idea.

Peter was eager to establish a theocracy, but Jesus shot him down. Eventually, Peter himself wrote
1 Peter 2:13-17

at a time when Rome still ruled.

Jesus decried the religious establishment of his day.
Matthew 234:1-12

So if you’re trying to make people think that you’re God’s emissary, in charge of mediating between God and man as the vicar and successor of his incarnated self, you probably want to write a different scripture.

But, if you’re a real eye-witness who is telling the truth, you might say exactly what we find….

No mere teacher

And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.” (Matthew 14:32, 33 ESV)

If Jesus was just a good teacher, then how could he have accepted worship without protest? (cf. Peter and Paul’s reactions in Acts) God alone should be worshiped. Indeed, if those honest monotheist Jews were worshiping a mere man, they ought to have been rebuked. Jesus knew that. But here, as with Thomas after the resurrection, he takes it.

Jesus never behaved like a mere good teacher. Good teachers do not let themselves be worshiped. He did not leave that option for his biographers.

But if he was God incarnate…

Future joy

Psalm 13:5-6. I thought of these two verses in a new way this morning. Look at the tense contrast: I have trusted (present perfect), I will rejoice (future); I will sing (future), because the Lord has dealt bountifully (present perfect).

Now: we hope on God, remembering (1) our commitment to trust in him and (2) his faithfulness so far.

Some day: we rejoice and sing because of the consummation of his salvation, the forever end of our “how long”s.

Although this is also David resolving to sing and rejoice in the midst of suffering, I think it’s also his reminder to himself of a future joy, of a song he cannot yet sing. Which is in itself a joyful thought.

Redemption by literature

The following is excerpted from Tony Rawson’s summary of a talk by Richard Rorty, which can be read here. Rorty, although unnecessarily being wary of redemptive truth, accurately identifies its distinct import into culture, and traces the movement whereby Modernist redemptive truth is giving way to the Postmodern disintegration of metanarrative into mere narrative, indeed, as many narratives as their are people.

[Redemptive Truth] brings a feeling of self-fulfilment. This is the sort of truth that Rorty regards as suspect and potentially harmful. He expresses it in this way “I shall use the term redemptive truth for a set of beliefs which would end, once and for all, the process of reflection on what to do with ourselves. Redemptive truth would not consist of theories about how things interact causally, but instead would fulfil the need that religion and philosophy has attempted to satisfy. This is the need to fit everything – every thing, person, event, idea and poem – into a single context that will somehow reveal itself as natural, destined and unique”…..

Rorty’s version of the history of Western philosophy he says that intellectuals in the West have, since the Renaissance, passed through three stages. In addition, that these three stages have been moving us ever closer to self-reliance.

Stage one: Redemption by Religion. The hope for redemption through entering into a new relation to a supremely powerful non-human person. Belief – as in belief in the articles of a creed – may be only incidental to such a relationship.

Rorty sees the transition from a religious culture to a philosophical culture beginning with, “the revival of Platonism in the renaissance, the period in which humanists began asking the same questions about Christian monotheism that Socrates had asked about Hesiod’s pantheon”. In other words, one should ask not whether one’s actions were pleasing to the Gods, but rather which gods held the correct views about what ought to be done.

Stage two: Redemption by Philosophy. This being through the acquisition of a set of beliefs that represent things as they really are. To agree with Socrates that there is a set of beliefs which is both susceptible of rational justification and such as to take rightful precedence over every other consideration in determining what to do with ones life.

Rorty would also claim that it is a mistake to look to science for redemption. That science has a function in improving our lives by providing us with better technology and that other than this, science books should be read as narrative along with all other works.

Stage three: Redemption by Literature. For members of the literary culture, redemption is to be achieved by getting in touch with the present limits of the human imagination. The literary culture is always in search of novelty rather than trying to escape from the temporal to the eternal.

In Rorty’s words, “the sort of person that I am calling a literary intellectual thinks that a life that is not lived close to the present limits of the human imagination is not worth living. For the Socratic idea of self-examination and self-knowledge, the literary intellectual substitutes the idea of enlarging the self by becoming acquainted with still more ways of being human.

For the religious idea that a certain book or tradition might connect you up with a supremely powerful or supremely loveable non-human person, the literary intellectual substitutes the Bloomian thought that the more books you read, the more ways of being human you have considered, the more human you become – the less tempted by dreams of an escape from time and chance, the more convinced that we humans have nothing to rely on save one another”.

What Redemption by Literature has right: It’s an epic story, not a scientific or philosophical “figuring out” of the world, that redeems us.
What Redemption by Literature needs: The right story.

APTAT (or, How to Wield Promises)

I don’t live the ideal Christian life.

I can’t count the missed opportunities, the unmet expectations I’ve had for myself. I can look at a dozen Christians I wish I were like, but I just can’t seem to get my daily life to look like theirs. I routinely commit sins with pervasive consequences. Freudian slips of the mind and heart make me wonder, “What really am I in there?” I get caught in eddies, stagnation, cycles. Even regression and backsliding from certain hills of discipline and joy I had once conquered. I go through many joyless, depressed stretches in my Christian walk, exacerbated by the realization that such stretches seem to have actually occupied the majority of my timeline. Sometimes I feel more like the Israelites wandering around in the wilderness than Joshua conquering the Promised Land.

Anybody with me?

Then I read verses like these:

His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire.
2 Peter 1:3-5

For all the promises of God find their Yes in him.
1 Corinthians 1:20

What promises? Countless. Some of my favorites:

No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.
1 Corinthians 10:13

But the path of the righteous is like the light of dawn, which shines brighter and brighter until full day.
Proverbs 4:18

I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus, that in every way you were enriched in him in all speech and all knowledge— even as the testimony about Christ was confirmed among you— so that you are not lacking in any gift, as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will sustain you to the end, guiltless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.
1 Corinthians 1:4-9

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.
Philippians 1:6

Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory.
Psalm 73:23-24

The angel of the LORD encamps
around those who fear him, and delivers them.
The young lions suffer want and hunger;
but those who seek the LORD lack no good thing.
The eyes of the LORD are toward the righteous
and his ears toward their cry.
The LORD is near to the brokenhearted
and saves the crushed in spirit.
Psalm 34:7, 10, 15, 18

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.
Psalm 32:8

As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him.
Psalm 103:13

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
“The LORD is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”
The LORD is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul who seeks him.
It is good that one should wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.
It is good for a man that he bear
the yoke in his youth.
Lamentations 3:22+

What do we do in the divide between these promises and our actual, often lower experience?

We strive.

This life is a process of character development, of learning faith, that happens in the gap between what is on earth and what waits to be in heaven.

For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it.
Romans 8:24-25

Now for this very reason also, applying all diligence, in your faith supply moral excellence, and in your moral excellence, knowledge, and in your knowledge, self-control, and in your self-control, perseverance, and in your perseverance, godliness, and in your godliness, brotherly kindness, and in your brotherly kindness, love. 2 Peter 1:6-7

How do we strive? John Piper offers a method, an acronym that thankfully is not alliterative or acrostic.

APTAT

Admit (you can’t do it)
Pray (“God, help me.”)
Trust (a promise)
Act (as you would if the promise were true)
Thank God (immediately after)

It’s a process of casting yourself on the future grace of the Lord, moment after moment. I haven’t arrived yet, but God’s in charge of this journey. What hope! So then, let us seek out the promises of God (we must know them to trust them) and then let us take them to heart, so they may energize our perseverance, even while we are waiting for our still-distant happy ending.

God has granted…I make effort

His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire.

For this very reason,

make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, and virtue with knowledge, and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with steadfastness, and steadfastness with godliness, and godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love….be all the more diligent to confirm your calling and election. (2 Peter 1:3-8, 10)

God has given me everything I need to live out his salvation. I have all the access codes, all the resources, all the power. I just have to take advantage of them. Therefore, since all that stands between me and righteous living is my failure to take advantage, I must “make every effort.”

It seems that my Christian walk inevitably comes back to this: if I want God to move in a new way in me, I have to “just do it.” It comes down to whether I have the guts to take action or not. It doesn’t always make sense how Peter, James, Paul and the other NT writers can say, “God has completed your salvation in Jesus Christ, by his virtues, wholly apart from yours” and then follow that with “Now be virtuous!” — but that is universally what they say.

Somehow, the process of believing that Jesus has saved my life and the process of living a life that looks like his are one and the same.

Recently, I have failed to live in proper response to all that has been granted to me. God, give me grace as I roll up my sleeves and make every effort. Thank you for your gracious promises.

Injustice

There once was a young farmer named Jitandra who lived in the countryside of India. He came from a poor family. He grew rice on his family’s land and worked hard each year until his hands were rough and crisscrossed with scars.

Now there was a young woman named Aadab in the neighboring town whom this young man loved, and she loved him. They had known each other since childhood and dreamed of being married one day. The man’s family had arranged with the girl’s family to get her as his bride, after he earned enough money and established himself. So he labored hard year after year, and finally the year came when they could be married.

Their wedding day was a day of celebration for the people of both villages. Food and drink, song and dance, they lasted until the sun set, and after. Jitandra’s bride sat beside him on a cushion, with gold earrings and nose ring, with finely embroidered red, blue and gold cloth hanging elegantly over the smooth curves of her brown shoulders. Her eyes were vibrant and mesmerizing. Best of all, they looked back at Jitandra with joy and love.

Several months after the wedding, Aadab was walking to the creek near Jitandra’s house, with a pot for water. Jitandra was standing knee-deep in a rice paddy, watching her from a distance, daydreaming about how happy he was to have won such a woman. His contemplation was interrupted by a group of horsemen—maybe 10 or 15—approaching down the creek. By their elaborate colors and banners, he judged they must be officials of the king of the province. They halted in front of Aadab, and Jitandra suddenly felt nervous. He began wading hurriedly toward the edge of the paddy.

***

“What have we here?” said one of the men on horseback, eyeing Aadab with interest. Aadab bowed and nervously corrected the shoulder of her garment, which had slipped low.

“A fine blossom! What says the prince?” said another, with a red banner billowing behind his turban. A third rider kicked his mount forward and pressed out in front of the two. Aadab instantly knew this must be the son of the king, for he wore a red sash with a symbol that matched the banner, and there was a gold medallion on his turban. She lowered her eyes reverently from his gaze.

“Indeed, a fair flower,” said the prince. Aadab bowed lower, not out of respect, but to shrink away from their lustful stares. The first rider nudged the prince. “Better than that woman you got from the south province, in my eyes. I think she’d make a fine addition to the palace.”

“I am the wife of your servant, a humble farmer,” said Aadab, face still lowered, hear heart fearful. The prince was known to do whatsoever he pleased, caring little for the well being of his father’s subjects.

“Married – the blossom has to be plucked out of some weeds,” said another of the riders, and the group laughed. The prince dismounted and slowly encircled Aadab, his eyes evaluating her with growing interest.

“What is a rice-paddy rat to me? Such beauty is worthy of a nobler house.” He stood in front of Aadab now and lifted her chin with his finger until she looked back at him reluctantly. “Wouldn’t you say so?”

“My lord…” Aadab’s voice quivered fearfully. “I don’t…”

***

Jitandra saw the man with the medallion on his turban dismount and circle his wife. The prince,he realized, and scowled. Royal pickpocket, rather. Jitandrawas on solid ground now, and he broke into a sprint. But even as he did, the prince gestured to his retinue, and a mounted man grabbed Aadab and swung her onto his horse. The prince remounted his own horse.

“Stop!” he shouted. “My lord, wait!” Jitandra rushed up to the horses just as they were turning to leave. He slowed, panting, as the prince reared his horse around.

“The paddy rat, I presume?” said the prince.

“I am the humble servant of your father the king. That woman is no virgin, but my wife. We are only these three months married. Respect the gods, I adjure you! Return her.”

The prince looked over the poor farmer with legs coated to the knee in mud from the rice field. He sniffed in disgust. “Go back to your mud hovel before you regret this impertinence. The woman is mine now. You should be grateful that I have rescued her from your sad existence.”
Before Jitandra could reply, the prince kicked his mount with a “Hee!” His retinue followed, laughing at the poor farm boy as the hooves of their steeds began to thunder on the ground.
“Noo!” screamed Jitandra, following. He tried to reach Aadab, but the rider drew his blade and jabbed it at him threateningly. “Respect royal blood, dungheap!” In a moment, the horses were shrinking into the distance. Aadab craned her head around and met her husband’s eyes with a tearful gaze that cried out to him in desperation.
“No, no, no, no,” Jitandra mumbled incoherently as his head pounded in a mixture of rage and dread. His vision was blurring as the party disappeared in a cloud of dust. Disoriented, he fell to his knees.

***

Aadab’s parting glance haunted Jitandra as the moon rose. He couldn’t sleep. There was only one way to get her back – to appeal to the king himself. But a commoner entering the king’s presence without invitation could mean imprisonment or death, and if the commoner was bringing an accusation against the king’s son, then…. But then Jitandra thought about the prince lying with his beloved, while he lay there doing nothing. Death was better. Before dawn he rose and gathered rice cakes, a gourd of water, and Aadab’s wedding jewelry. Putting these three things into a small satchel, he set out on the three-day journey to the capital city.

Jitandra arrived there more dirty than usual, and his feet were sore and bleeding. His clothes puffed dust when he touched them. He found his way through throngs of people in the frenetic bazaar until he recognized the spire of the government citadel. He had seen it once when he was a boy, when his parents took him on a religious pilgrimage. The gate was guarded: half a dozen burly bronze-plated guards brooded with expressions that suggested they would gladly sculpt an impetuous commoner with their swords just to liven up their day. Jitandra decided to find an alternative route. Waiting until dusk, he left his satchel in a narrow alley that ran along the back side of the government citadel. He waited for silence, then climbed onto a cart and from there, and leaped up to grab an ornamental sconce of the wall. That provided a toehold from which he stood and extended himself another body’s length, until his fingers barely caught the top of the wall. A moment later he over, dropping into the shadows on the inside of the wall.

Nearby, an enormous building exuded light and sounds of mirth from its windows – the royal court. As Jitandra weighed out his next move, a guard appeared to his left with a torch.

“Ay! Intruder!”

Three guards stepped out of nowhere at the call and their eyes converged on Jitandra. He cursed. No time to think. Now it was either die in the courtyard, or in the courtroom. He sprinted for the glowing entrance to the court, guards on his trail. He made it there and the big doors creaked as he slipped inside.

In an instant his eyes took it all in. Guards, like statues, lined the sides of the long hall. Fires burned in braziers hanging from brass hooks on the sides of monstrous wooden pillars. Golden idols lined the alcoves between the pillars, and glowed, danced in the light of the fires. The room was filled with plumed magistrates, administrators, attendants, musicians, and servant girls bringing food and wine. At the far end of the room, the king’s throne towered over the scene, laid with intricate gold depictions of Vishnu and the ancestral gods, and atop the throne sat the king.

Before anyone knew what was happening, Jitandra ran past the dining lords and flung himself prostrate in front of the throne. The clang of plates and goblets, the chatter, all froze. Guards rushed toward him and were about to seize him.

“Justice!” cried Jitandra, so loud that the hall rang with it. “My lord, give me justice!”

The guards formed a circle around Jitandra and seized him, dragging him to his feet. The king size him up for a moment. “Peasant fool! Did you not know that the price of your caste interrupting a royal feast is your life?” He raised his hand to order the guards, but exchanged glances with his wife, who sat on a cushion beside the throne. His face softened slightly. “But we are beneficent and merciful, and so we will hear you first. Tell me, who is it who entreats the king’s justice?” he asked.

“My name is Jitandra Ahbaraja, of the northern province, your servant. My life is yours, my king, only correct the wrong that has been done to me.”

“What injustice?” asked the king.

Jitandra related to him the story, how the king’s son had three days ago stolen his bride of three months. “So my lord, there is none but you I can appeal to. Surely you know the love of woman, that is no different in noble or ignoble blood. Please give me back my bride!”

The king glared down at Jitandra. “A surf dares challenge the integrity of my son! For this dishonor, birds will dishonor your corpse in the city square!” He raised his hand to command, but stopped it in midair as his eyes made contact with his chief adviser. They exchanged a knowing glance, and the king’s voice became cool and calculated.

“However…so that royal blood can be vindicated before the gods,” he indicated the golden figures that surrounded the room, “we shall bring the woman here, and she shall declare to us which of you is her rightful husband.” The king gave orders that the woman be found and brought to the king’s court.

The courtroom was bubbling with murmurs among the nobles when the woman was brought in the next hour. The prince was with her, his red sash glistening confidently. He stepped up to Jitandra almost lazily and spat at his feet.

Aadab was wearing a thin, golden band around her forehead, and a blue dress. Her eyes flicked upward to Jitandra, but she lowered them almost immediately.

“Tell me, Aadab daughter of Kurshan,” called the king from the throne, in a regal bellow directed as much to the gathered nobility as to her. “Who is your husband, this peasant or the prince?”

Aadab didn’t move. Jitandra could see her body trembling.

The king grew impatient. “Kurshan’s daughter, who is your husband?”

Aadab slowly raised her arm toward the prince. “The prince is my husband, my lord.” She faced Jitandra. “I have never seen this peasant in my life.” The nobles erupted in approval, and the king clapped his hands, satisfied. Jitandra could not believe what he had just heard.

“Aadab, my love, do you not know me?” he pleaded to her.

She looked back at him, brow furrowed, jaw set. “I’m sorry,” she said. The prince’s lips curled upward into a grin and his eyes feasted on Jitandra’s ghastly expression.

The king slammed his fist. “This lying scum has wasted enough of my time. Go and hang him in the city center!” The guards began to drag Jitandra away. He let his feet slide limply – at Aadab’s denial, all energy had drained out from him.

At that moment a Buddhist priest approached the throne. His head was shaved, a rich, maroon cloth his only garment. From his careful shuffle and reptilian skin, he seemed to be as old as the wooden pillars that lined the courtroom. Jitandra’s mind was reeling so much that he did not hear what the priest was saying to the king, but when the guards let him go and bowed low before the priest, things came back into focus. This was Saji-dulal, the Great Sage, who some people in the mountains even called an avatar of the gods.

“My Lord the King, I suspect that this woman is lying,” said the sage. “My wisdom tells me she cannot be trusted. However, I have here a potion,” he held up a small onyx vile, “that causes a man to speak the truth, compulsively, once he drinks it. Let us administer it to the two men, the prince and the peasant, and in half an hours’ time they will speak the truth for themselves. After all, the king knows that the testimony of a man is more valuable in the royal court.”

The king squirmed, but his counselors nodded in approval. Finally he agreed. “The royal family will be vindicated,” he said confidently. “Let the potion be administered.”

So the prince and Jitandra approached the old priest, and he poured half of the potion into each of their mouths. Jitandra swallowed it with a bitter gulp. “Now, my lord, let each of these men be put into seclusion with the woman, each for a quarter of an hour, while the potion does its work.”

“Why is that necessary?” demanded the king.

“This truth potion requires the presence of lies, my lord, in order to mend them. When the woman speaks to each man, the power of the potion will perceive that which is false, and when its effect ripens, it will speak that which is true instead.” So the king allowed the woman to be taken to the storage chamber adjoining the courtroom. The prince was admitted first, and spent the allotted time. When he returned to the room, his eyes were as infuriatingly lazy and confident as ever.

Then Jitandra was admitted to the room. It was full of large barrels of wine and crates of food. As soon as the door was closed, Aadab lept into his arms. “Oh Jitandra, I’m so sorry! They made me say that I was the prince’s wife. They made me say that I didn’t know you!”

Joy and disbelief washed over him. “What?”

Aadab explained how the prince had threatened to kill Jitandra if Aadab did not disown him. “It was the only way to keep you alive!”

Jitandra exhaled, relief washing over him. “You still love me,” he smiled.

“More that life. I would gladly bear imprisonment in the harem for you sake, but I could not see you die for mine.” Jitandra embraced his wife, afraid it might be the last time he would touch her.

***

“The time has passed. Have them speak!” said the king. The nobles were on edge, the room was quiet. Jitandra and the prince stood before the throne, with Saji-dulal between them, sitting on the floor, his hands supine in meditation.

“Come, priest!” the king said again.

Saji-dulal opened his eyes. “Bring me largest wine-barrel in the cellar where the woman was.” Bewildered, the king nodded nonetheless and guards went and brought the barrel, placing it in front of the priest. The priest stood up, took a deep, slow breath, then said, “Riki! Come out!”

Suddenly, the top board of the barrel popped off, and a small boy jumped out. Before anyone could wipe the bewilderment from their faces, the boy handed Saji-dulal a piece of parchment. “Did you write just as you heard?” asked the sage.

“Yes, master, every word spoken. Although it was hard to write with one slit of light–”

Saji-dulal unfolded the parchment and examined it. After a long squint he nodded. “Well done, boy.” Then he turned to the king and spoke as loudly as his frail form allowed. “My lord! That potion was not no more magical than the triumph of wisdom over foolishness.” He raised the parchment in the air. “My servant has procured the words spoken in secret between the woman and these two men.” The sage spun around to face Jitandra. “This man spoke love with her…” Then he turned to face the prince, “…while this man spoke threats, lest she confess her heart!”

The nobles gasped. The prince turned as red as his sash and seemed to puff like a peacock with indignation. Saji-dulal raised his hand as if to stifle a retort, turning back around to face the king. “My lord, administer of justice: as surely as I live, this woman is the wife of the peasant man. Your son is a liar and adulterer, whose penalty shall be death.”

At this, pandemonium struck the court. The nobles all stood and began pushing each other and yelling, as if debating whether to defend or accuse the prince. The prince was bellowing and spitting curses at the priest. Shielded by the cacophony, and liberated by the proclamation of truth, Jitandra and Aadab rushed to each other clasped hands, eyes bursting with joy.

The noise suddenly ceased when the king bellowed, “Enough!” The court watched him silently. “My son wishes to speak.”

The prince stood at the foot of the throne and bowed. “My father, these men have conspired against you! This boy has written lies, and the sage lied to you about that potion! They are in league with this peasant!” Murmurs spread throughout the court. Jitandra couldn’t believe his ears. The prince was breathing heavily, still red in the face, and his eyes were on fire with malice. His words tumbled out fast, as if he were improvising to stay one step ahead of panic. “Saji-dulal’s wisdom has inflated his ambitions, father. He has enlisted this peasant boy to play a false role, so that your house would be defamed! He’s creating an opportunity to seize power – seize the loyalty of the nobles!”

“That’s outrageous!” shouted one of the magistrates. “Saji-dulal is a peaceful sage!”

“I have intelligence, spies among you, who say otherwise!” He continued, gathering confidence. “On my honor as the son of the king, this woman is my wife! This filthy priest and his cohorts have failed to defile noble blood. They are conspirators and liars!”

The prince leaned close to the king. The feigned confidence in his eyes flashed to pitiable pleading for an instant. “Father, don’t you see – how this peasant scum will ruin me—us—damage the magistrates’ loyalty to your power? Defend me!” The king’s eyes widened, and he stared back at his son, calculating…thinking. Finally, his expression hardened. He avoided eye contact with the queen as he stood and raised his hand in proclamation.

“A servant boy, an old man, and a peasant are unfit to bring a death sentence upon the heir to this throne. They have dishonored themselves by intruding into this court and levying rash accusations, and they shall be punished accordingly. This is my decree: execute them all!”

Jitandra’s heart sank into black despair even as his veins boiled in rage. He couldn’t hear the roaring of the nobles, or feel the rough grip of the soldiers as they grabbed him and pulled him away from Aadab. He was only aware of her eyes. They were as vibrant and mesmerizing as they had been on their wedding day. But this time they were moist, and her pupils were doors into an abyss of sadness.

As the knife neared Jitandra’s throat, to force life from his body before it was hung up in the city square, one word throbbed in his head with every throb of his pulse. Justice. Justice. Justice.

“I am but a simple farmer, just these three months married,” he whispered to no one.

Pictures of how God relates to us

(cf. the categories in the last post, by C.S. Lewis)
1. Tree and Gardener

Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers. (Psalm 1:1-3)

The Lord tends us, gives us fertilizer, prunes our bad spots, nourishes us, and cultivates us to yield fruit pleasing to him.

2. Potter and Clay

But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, “Why have you made me like this?” Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use? (Romans 9:20-21)

The Lord molds us, shapes us. We are his workmanship (Ephesians 2:10). He makes us for his uses, and our glory consists in our serving of his purposes and ornamenting his glory.

3. Shepherd and Sheep

All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. (Isaiah 53:6)

But we your people, the sheep of your pasture, will give thanks to you forever; from generation to generation we will recount your praise. (Psalm 79:13)

We are as dumb as sheep, and as vulnerable to predators. The Lord is our keeper and protector; he preserves our life, and our life in turn benefits him as the flock benefits the shepherd (because he has graciously chosen to make it so, even though he has no ultimate need of us, or any of his creation). The sheep develop a trust relationship with the shepherd (albeit quite one-sided, which also compares to us and God).

4. Father and Child

As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him. (Psalm 103:13)

Pray then like this: “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.” (Matthew 6:9)

Fathers are both authority and love – they are tender with their children, expressing love that penetrates perhaps deeper than any other into the heart of a child. They also discipline them. Why do they discipline? Also because of a love motivation: they see a vision for the kind of adults they want their children to grow into, and they discipline them in order to create in them the necessary virtues and character. God does the same for us.

5. Husband and Wife

“And in that day, declares the LORD, you will call me ‘My Husband,’ and no longer will you call me ‘My Baal.’ For I will remove the names of the Baals from her mouth, and they shall be remembered by name no more. …And I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness. And you shall know the LORD. (Hosea 2:16-20)

The Lord has prepared an intimacy of union with him, which romantic love between man and woman was made to echo. We are to love and be loved for all eternity by the bridegroom, Jesus Christ, and the Great City of his people will be the bride. God refers to our love for him in romantic terms, and our abandonment of him in terms of adultery.
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These and many other images are just the shadows of the one true Ultimate Relationship that we were made to enter into (Colossians 2:17). If you were to put these images on a graph with a myriad other comparisons in the created world, they would all be lines pointing in the same direction, illuminating the various facets of that glorious epicenter of purpose for which mankind was created – to relate to the Existing One, YHWH, in such a way that we both glorify and enjoy him forever. Take us up, O Lord, into the reality which all of these images are whispering to us.