P.O. Box 53055    
Los Angeles, CA 90053   

SIEGFRIED & ROY AND OUR UNTAMABLE GOD, PART 2

“Where is God?” the Israelites asked. After all, they had just been decimated in a bloody battle with the Philistines. So the Israelite army retreated and brainstormed a way they could force God’s hand to show up in the next battle. They schemed to get the Ark of the Covenant and pick a fight with the Philistines again. Only this time they had God in a box. God would have to fight for them if they carried the Ark, wouldn’t He? Like a wild tiger tamed for Siegfried and Roy’s show, they thought they had God completely domesticated, but—like Siegfried and Roy—they were sadly mistaken.

We pick up the story in 1 Samuel 4:4-11. 4So the people sent men to Shiloh, and they brought back the ark of the covenant of the LORD Almighty, who is enthroned between the cherubim. And Eli’s two sons, Hophni and Phinehas, were there with the ark of the covenant of God.

When the ark of the LORD’S covenant came into the camp, all Israel raised such a great shout that the ground shook. 6Hearing the uproar, the Philistines asked, “What’s all this shouting in the Hebrew camp?”

When they learned that the ark of the LORD had come into the camp, 7the Philistines were afraid. “A god has come into the camp,” they said. “We’re in trouble! Nothing like this has happened before. 8Woe to us! Who will deliver us from the hand of these mighty gods? They are the gods who struck the Egyptians with all kinds of plagues in the desert. 9Be strong, Philistines! Be men, or you will be subject to the Hebrews, as they have been to you. Be men, and fight!”

So the Philistines fought, and the Israelites were defeated and every man fled to his tent. The slaughter was very great; Israel lost thirty thousand foot soldiers.

The ark of God was captured, and Eli’s two sons, Hophni and Phinehas, died.

It was a very dark day for God’s people. As it turned out, God would not be manipulated by some clever scheme to drag the Ark into battle. God did not intervene on behalf of His nation.
The story that unfolds next in the Bible account describes a messenger who runs from the battlefield to Shiloh, 18 miles away. He brings a message to Eli, the priest who sits by the city gate anxiously waiting for the news. Eli is 98 years old and blind.

Now there is a striking progression in the way the messenger delivers the news to Eli. It gets progressively worse. First, he reports, “Israel fled before the Philistines. We lost 4,000 men.” But the news gets worse. “So, we retrieved the Ark from Shiloh and returned to battle. This time we lost 30,000 men.”

In the first battle they lost on the battlefield. In other words, at least they stood their ground. The second battle was so devastating that we’re told “every man fled to his tent” (verse 10).

Third piece of news: “Worse than that, Eli, your sons, Hophni and Phinehas, were both killed.” Eli must face the harsh reality that he will have no one to care for him in his old age.

But the news gets even darker: “The unthinkable has happened,” the messenger reports. “The Ark of the Covenant has been captured.”

Now, one of the ways a real skillful storyteller in ancient literature will emphasize the most important theme is by sheer repetition. It’s a way of alerting the reader—without interrupting the flow of the story—“Here’s what you need to pay attention to.” In this case, the storyteller does just that. In verse 11, verse 13, verse 17, verse 19, verse 21, and in verse 22, the same message gets repeated: “The Ark of the Covenant has been captured.”

So what’s the big deal about the Ark of the Covenant being captured? Well, the answer comes from the most unlikely theologian—Eli’s daughter-in-law, the wife of Phinehas. She is pregnant when she hears of her husband’s death. She goes into premature labor. As she is giving birth, the midwife tries to encourage her by saying, “Don’t despair. You’ve given birth to a son. Even in the midst of all this death, there’s still hope.” But the mother—this anonymous widow—will not be encouraged. Verse 21 says, “She named the boy Ichabod, saying, ‘The glory has departed from Israel’--because of the capture of the ark of God.”

The name Ichabod is the negative form of the word kabod. Figuratively, kabod meant glory. Where there was kabod, God was there. Where there was kabod, there was hope.

Now in Hebrew, placing an “I” in front of a word renders it to mean the opposite. We have something similar in the English language with the letter “a.” For example, an atheist is the opposite of a theist.

So Phinehas’s wife names the child--not Kabod--but Ichabod, meaning, “God has abandoned us.” When this happens, she despairs and dies.

Now there is such irony in this story. For as wild and fearsome as this God of Israel is, He still represents the safest place to live. Paradoxically, the greatest security comes in His presence. When the presence of God is lifted, there’s no reason to live.

There is something strangely comforting about living in the presence of this untamable God. Rabbi Harold Kushner gives us this example:

The next time you go to the zoo, notice where the lines are longest…. We find ourselves irresistibly drawn to the lions, the tigers, the elephants, the gorillas. Why? [… Because] we are strangely reassured at seeing creatures bigger and stronger than ourselves, creatures we did not make and who are not subject to our control. It gives us the message, at once humbling and comforting, that we are not the ultimate power. Our souls are so starved for that sense of awe, that encounter with grandeur which helps to remind us of our real place in the universe, that if we can’t get it in church, we will search for it and find it someplace else (Who Needs God, p.58).

We desperately crave the reassuring reminder that man is not the last word. Thankfully, we do not possess ultimate power. We cannot control God; we can only trust Him.

You may remember the scene from The Chronicles of Narnia where the children are on their way to meet Aslan the lion, the Christ figure in the story.

One of the girls admits, “I feel rather nervous about meeting Aslan.”

Mrs. Beaver replies, “That you will, dearie, make no mistake. If there's anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they're either braver than most or else just silly.”

The girl asks, “Then he isn't safe?”

“Safe,” barks Mr. Beaver, “Don't you hear anything my wife tells you? Who said anything about safe? Of course he isn't safe, but he is good. He's the king, I tell you. He is good.”

Our God is not safe. But He is good.

Remember that the next time you feel like your name is Ichabod and you wonder: Where is God?

What do you do when your name is Ichabod? Well, in this story there is no easy answer, As John Ortberg puts it, there are no “Five Simple Steps to Recapture Lost Glory.” Remember, we don’t have God in a box.

Really, all we can do is to hold on and trust God. Don’t despair, don’t give up, and don’t cave in to your doubts. For if you keep holding on to Jesus, your story may unfold as it did for the Israelites. In the ancient account the tale takes an astonishing twist. What God does next will blow your mind.

God allows Himself to be taken captive. God permits the Philistines to drag His Ark—the manifestation of His presence—through the streets of Ashdod. The Philistines have a grand parade as they mock and spit upon the God of Israel.

This God of Israel, unlike any other god, takes upon Himself the suffering and pain and humiliation of His people. He carries their shame on his back. What kind of God would do such a thing?

You understand this is a foreshadowing of a day when God would be present on the earth, not in a box, not in an ark, but in a person. And John says, “And we beheld his kabod… and the word became flesh and dwelt among us.” And we beheld His glory and it didn’t look anything like what we imagined. No power. No money. No army. And at the end of a rather tame life, he becomes a prisoner and His body, which was the manifestation of God on this earth—a kind of new Ark of the Covenant—His body is taken captive. It is mocked, cursed, taunted, and spat upon on the Road to Golgotha.

Then, on the cross God becomes Ichabod. He cries out, “God, where are you? Why have you forsaken me? Why is my name Ichabod?” Then He gives up His life. And His body--the manifestation of God on earth--is placed in a box. And Pontius Pilate posts a guard to stand watch to make sure nothing happens to this body; to make sure that the movement Jesus started is totally tamed, thoroughly domesticated.

Pilate says to himself, “I don’t know much about this Jesus, but we sure have built him a nice little cage.” But God won’t be put in a cage. A tiger like Montecore may appear to be tame, but he’s still a tiger. And a God like ours may seem at times to be meek and mild. But that’s not all He is. He’s still God.

On the third day Jesus exploded out of the box they tried to put Him in. And because He did, we can now flourish in the hope and the power and the presence of this magnificent and thoroughly untamable God