Crisis Envy

“[My dad was] boring. I’d look at the other kids at my school, and there was always drama. Someone’s father was an alcoholic, someone else’s gambled, someone’s parents were getting divorced. I mean, from the outside, it almost seemed glamorous. But my dad, he worked hard, he never played away, I don’t think I ever even heard him raise his voice. He was ordinary, boring. I don’t think I ever realised just how wonderful that was.”

Being Human S3 E6, ‘Daddy Ghoul’ (2011)

Ever heard of ‘pink lit’? It’s apparently the term used for chick lit aimed at teenagers, not that I knew that when I used to read it: I just called them ‘real-life’ books. I read a lot of them as a teenager, because they were funny and readable and at that stage in my life I’d read pretty much anything I could get my hands on that I had the emotional intelligence to comprehend the point of, but if I were honest, I’d have had to say that I usually found myself rather irritated by the teenaged heroines who guided me through these stories in whingey first-person narrative voices. They devoted so much time and trouble to pining after boys, feeling insecure about their appearances, trying to circumvent their parents’ supposedly unfair rules, and, most irksomely of all, complaining about how unacceptably weird their lives and families were. I couldn’t relate. I couldn’t see what there was to complain about, at least not to the extent that the heroine reliably did. For a start, her lamentatory¹ descriptions of her life and family rarely left me with the impression that they were particularly weird – I mean, no more than average. I firmly believed that everyone was weird, in his or her own way; that ‘normal’, the desperate aspiration of these pink-lit protagonists, was no more than a myth, which made it a very poor ambition indeed, for anyone. As a bit of a weird kid myself, I had learned to construe ‘weird’ as ‘interesting’ and ‘normal’ as ‘boring’; ‘weird’ as a badge of honour and ‘normal’ as an insult. The girls in my books, meanwhile, were depressingly normal already, and yet they sought to lower themselves to even duller levels of normality.

 

Because they’re pink. Like pink lit. Nope, you’re not getting anything cleverer than that.

And then there was the exception to the rule. My So-Called Life, subtitled The Tragically Normal Diary of Rachel Riley, is the first in a pink-lit series by Joanna Nadin, whose heroine’s chief preoccupation is – in contrast to the norm for the genre, but as betrayed by the subtitle – how tragically normal her life is.² Rachel lives in Saffron Walden with her mum, dad, and brother – which constitutes, let’s be real here, the most ‘normal’ family setup that exists – and tries to liven up her uneventful middle-class existence by introducing factors that might make her more interesting. I forget most of the details of the series, but I believe there was one occasion when she was disappointed to be forced to conclude that she definitely wasn’t a lesbian, another when she was mistaken for a single mother and was so taken with the possibility that she just went along with it, and another when she thought pretending to have a drug problem might make her more interesting in the eyes of her latest crush, who subsequently told her that since he’d had a drug problem himself in the past, he didn’t think it was a very good idea to get involved with her in case she tempted him to relapse. I’m not sure the actual quality of the writing was much better than the pink-lit average, but it was, at any rate, an amusing twist on the real-life genre. Rachel Riley’s life is normal, yes; boring, perhaps arguably; but also safe, privileged, and relatively easy. That she would wish to introduce factors that would make it less safe, privileged, or easy, merely for the sake of being Interesting, is surely laughably silly at best, and at worst, a gross insult to those whose troubles she would steal.

But the thing is, I sort of get it. More than I got all those other pink-lit heroines who wanted to be normal, I get Rachel Riley’s wanting to be interesting. I get the sentiments expressed by George from Being Human in my opening quotation.³ I get wanting to have some Issue going on, instead of just safe and privileged and easy. I’m not proud of the fact, but I get it. I call it Crisis Envy and I’ll try to explain it.

On the last day of my first summer working at Tyndale House in Cambridge,⁴ I, like everyone else on the programme I’d participated in, was called in for a pastoral chat with the person in charge of that programme. He said, I feel as if I haven’t got to know you very well this summer, Anne, because you’ve just sort of been fine. And it was true; I’d just sort of been fine. He gave me some good advice in that pastoral chat, but most of it was, of a necessity, rather generic. It felt like a kind of distillation of something that was happening to me all the time: I’m just sort of fine, I’m always just sort of fine, and you don’t get any special attention or support when you’re just sort of fine, because you don’t need it. More than that, you don’t deserve it. I saw no possibility of satisfaction in merely seeking attention, but I coveted the gaining of warranted attention. And in order to warrant attention, one needs to have some sort of Issue or Crisis going on. Hence springs up Crisis Envy. Like Rachel Riley, I didn’t want the unspecified Crisis merely for the Crisis’ sake; I wanted it because of how I thought it would prompt other people to behave towards me.

Mind you, I didn’t want it as much as Rachel Riley; I did know that, in reality, having a Crisis wouldn’t actually be half as much fun as being just sort of fine, and I certainly never tried to engineer one for myself the way she did. But still, the resentment sat there. Why should everybody else get a chance to play the victim, and not I? Indeed, without wanting to ruffle too many feathers, I think our current culture of elevating victimhood really plays into Crisis Envy. We divide the world into victim and oppressor, hero and villain; we create hierarchies as to who is the most marginalised; we mistake victimhood for virtue, and small wonder that people scramble to claim as many of these oppressed identities as they feasibly can, and so prove that they warrant attention.

But small wonder or not, Crisis Envy is, straightforwardly enough, sin, as it likewise was for me: it was a desire to be served rather than to serve, which, if you hadn’t realised, is the exact opposite of the model Jesus left us to follow. It was self-centredness and a love of the glory – the attention, the praise and admiration for coping so well under such difficult circumstances – that comes from human beings, instead of the glory given by God who throws down the proud and lifts up the humble. I have his attention and support – his unchangeable love, his constant willingness to hear my prayers, his presence ever with me and strength for every task and temptation, blimey how he’s blessed us in Christ – and I didn’t gain that because I and my circumstances warranted it, but because he is generous and merciful to self-centred sinners like me.

But here we run into another element of my Crisis Envy. See, the Bible tells us as Christians to expect suffering; beyond that, it calls suffering blessed and downright commands us to undergo it. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, said Jesus. If [we are] children, then [we are] heirs – heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him, wrote Paul to the Romans. And in his second letter to his mentee Timothy, not one but two imperatives, share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus, and endure suffering, and sandwiched somewhere between them, all who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted. And then in the letter to the Hebrews, if you are left without discipline, in which all have participated, then you are illegitimate children and not sons.⁵

I am supposed to be suffering, I thought. I am not supposed to be enjoying a safe and privileged and easy life; I am not supposed to be just sort of fine. If I don’t suffer with Christ, can I hope to be glorified with him? If I am not persecuted, can I suppose that I am truly desiring to live a godly life? If I don’t feel the pain of being disciplined by my heavenly Father, can I suppose that I am really his son and heir?

This bothered me. I told people that it bothered me, basically whenever the issue came up in Bible study. “Jesus says if we follow him we’ll suffer, and I just haven’t ever suffered at all,” I said. “But you must have done, somehow or other,” they said. Or alternatively, “Don’t worry, you will.” And so I held my breath and waited for a Crisis; I waited for the storm to hit, so that I’d know for sure I was a real Christian – but the storm never did hit. I was just sort of fine.

 

Ah yes, a storm, the classic Christian metaphor for a Crisis of some sort. Apparently this is an 1846 painting by someone called Anton Melbye.

This was a different kind of Crisis Envy. This wasn’t wanting a Crisis so that I’d have a legitimate claim on other people’s attention; it was worrying that never having had a Crisis meant I had no legitimate claim on adoption as a son of God. It was a terrifying possibility.

I’ve still never had a Crisis. I’m still just sort of fine. But I don’t worry so much about not being a real Christian any more. Crucially, even though the Bible is clear that following Jesus does entail suffering, hanging our fundamental confidence in our salvation on anything other than what Jesus actually achieved on our behalf through his death and resurrection, is trying for salvation by works. Anyone can suffer; only someone who’s been cleansed of sin and adopted into God’s family can trust in the cross of Christ for salvation. The latter action, not the former, is the vital proof of the status.

The fact remains that scripture predicts and prescribes suffering as an unavoidable part of the Christian experience. But I have a bit of a different idea now as to what that suffering might actually look like. After all, anyone can have a Crisis. Having a Crisis might constitute suffering, perhaps extremely severe suffering, but it isn’t necessarily suffering for righteousness’ sake. Mere victimhood isn’t virtue. Whereas – well, when, for instance, I get really, really upset (like, many tissues’ worth of upset) about the fact that certain people don’t know the Lord Jesus and the salvation found in him, and I sit there as a sobbing wreck begging God to gather his sheep, does that maybe count as suffering for righteousness’ sake? When I drag myself out of bed in the middle of the night because my semiconscious brain has stumbled into sin and dragged me with it yet again, and I need to repent and receive God’s mercy and realign myself and pray against temptation, and to that end I forgo the better part of an hour of sleep, does that maybe count as suffering for righteousness’ sake? When I tell a friend what I really think about God and his standards for human behaviour even though I’m afraid she might not take it well; when I choose to stop spending time on something I enjoy because I’ve concluded there are more edifying ways I could be spending that time; when I fast to teach myself self-denial and God-dependence; when I refuse an impulse I know comes from a place of sin, and then refuse it again, and again, and again, as it continues to rear its head; when I work to tear down my idols, to pull out from under myself the things on which I have been accustomed to base my identity and security and satisfaction, and expel them from my affections – do these things maybe, just maybe, in however small a way, count as suffering for righteousness’ sake? It’s not what you’d call severe, I’ll admit that happily, but the point is, it’s there. It’s not true that I just haven’t ever suffered for the gospel at all.

Crisis Envy is sin, and like all sin, it’s ultimately completely stupid, because having a Crisis wouldn’t gain me anything at all that would be of benefit to me. I don’t need to gain the special attention of other humans, or to convince myself that I deserve it; I already have God’s special attention, even though I didn’t deserve it – and I can be sure that I have it, that I have the status of being his rescued and redeemed and regenerate child, not because he’s chucked a Crisis or two my way so that I might tick the box of having suffered, but because I know how Jesus suffered for my sake on the cross. And I am to imitate Jesus in the life God has given me to lead, not go chasing a less ‘normal’ one like Rachel Riley. I am to imitate him in suffering, yes, and suffering is an unavoidable part of the Christian life, yes, but that suffering doesn’t necessarily come in the form I’d learned to expect, as storm and tragedy and Crisis. On the contrary, to wake up every day and choose to die to oneself in hundreds of tiny ways is to suffer. You don’t get any special attention for it. It looks little different to being just sort of fine. But it makes you more like Jesus; and if we suffer with him, as his fellow heirs, then rest assured, we shall one day be glorified with him.

Footnotes

¹ Not a real word, apparently, but there doesn’t appear to be a word that serves the function I wanted, so I was forced to coin one. Alternative suggestions welcome.

² Not that you necessarily want to buy it, but I feel I should provide the link: https://www.hive.co.uk/Product/Joanna-Nadin/The-Rachel-Riley-Diaries-My-So-Called-Life/14707641. This is a new cover that lacks the exact same subtitle as the original.

³ Thanks, as usual, to Springfield! Springfield!: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=being-human-uk&episode=s03e06.

⁴ They’ve got themselves a shiny new website since I last looked at it: https://tyndalehouse.com/.

⁵ You’re looking at Matthew 5, Romans 8, 2 Timothy 2-4, and Hebrews 12. Why not start in 2 Timothy: https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2+tim+2&version=ESVUK.

The Old Testament Eschatology Project 3: Case-Studies

Karen’s daughter:    We’ve been given our parts in the nativity play – and I’m the lobster.

Karen:                        The lobster?

Karen’s daughter:    Yeah.

Karen:                        In the nativity play?

Karen’s daughter:    Yeah. First lobster.

Karen:                        There was more than one lobster present at the birth of Jesus?

Karen’s daughter:    Duh.

Love Actually (2003)

All right – I’ve introduced the research question; I’ve explained my methodology; now it’s time to get cracking on the meat of the thing. Let’s take a look at some case-studies…

Case-study 1: Numbers 24

This is from Balaam’s last oracle – after Balak, the king of Moab, hired him to curse Israel, and instead he blessed them three times, and Balak was like, shut up and go away, and Balaam was like, OK, but first I’ll tell you what Israel’s going to do to your people in the latter days. A little bit of bonus extra prophecy that was bound to make Balak’s day.

We see him, but not now; we observe him, but not near. A star trod forth from Jacob and a sceptre arose from Israel.

 

Excuse for a pretty space picture.

This much is FULFILLED. You all know about the star that rose and settled over the place where Jesus was when he was born, as observed by the Magi, and of course that was a long time after Balaam was speaking. The sceptre is a symbol of rulership – which we now get described in more detail:

And it shattered Moab’s forehead and destroyed all the sons of Sheth. And Edom shall be a possession; and a possession shall be Seir, his enemies; and Israel, exercising strength. And (one) from Jacob shall have dominion, and destroy the remnant of the city.

Bet Balak was pleased with that. But it remains UNFULFILLED. Jesus did not, at his first coming, defeat Israel’s human enemies, dispossess them of their land, exercise dominion, or destroy any remnant of a city. So we can anticipate that he’ll do that stuff at his second coming.

Case-study 2: Isaiah 9

We’ll start from verse 1 this time:

For (there is) no gloom for the one in distress. In the former time, he dishonoured the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the latter, he has glorified the way of the sea, the far side of the Jordan, Galilee of the nations. The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; the dwellers in a land of shadow, light has shone on them.

This bit is FULFILLED, because Jesus is the light of the world and he began his earthly ministry in Galilee of the nations; the incident in the synagogue at Nazareth that I discussed last week was just one stop on that initial Galilean tour.

You have multiplied the nation; you have not increased the joy; they rejoice before you like joy in the harvest, as they exult in the division of spoil. For the yoke of his burden and the rod of his shoulder, the sceptre of the one who oppresses him, you have shattered like the day of Midian. For every boot of a tramping (soldier) in shaking, and garment rolled in blood – and it shall be for burning, fuel of the fire.

Some tricky bits to translate here, but I think the gist is clear. The ‘day of Midian’ refers to the incident in the time of the judges when the LORD raised up Gideon to defeat Israel’s Midianite oppressors, which he did with just three hundred men, some trumpets, and some ceramic jars, because God does what he wants and won’t have his glory siphoned off by human commanders. Again, this defeat of Israel’s human enemies didn’t happen at Jesus’ first coming; nor was the nation as a whole increased or exultant; and we certainly haven’t yet seen every bloodstained battle garment made fuel for the fire – so these verses are UNFULFILLED, and we can anticipate that when Jesus comes again, he’ll defeat Israel’s oppressors, bringing great joy to the nation, and establish a totally concrete peace.

For a child is born to us, a son is given to us, and the government shall be on his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Father of Forever, Chief of Peace.

And now we jump back to FULFILLED, because Jesus was, obviously, born. But the following bit isn’t entirely fulfilled, because much as he does rule all creation, and those of us who are saved by his blood know him by these titles, his government and divine identity aren’t currently recognised by most humans. (Which sucks, doesn’t it? Preach the gospel, y’all.)

Of the abundance of his government and of peace, there shall be no end, on David’s throne and over his kingdom, to establish it and to sustain it in justice and in righteousness, from now and forever. The zeal of the LORD of hosts shall do this.

More UNFULFILLED stuff: David’s kingdom was Israel, which Jesus isn’t currently ruling. So we can anticipate that at his second coming, he will, in peace and justice and righteousness, up to the very end of the present age. Also spot the emphasis that it’s God that achieves all this, not humans, just like in the day of Midian.

Case-study 3: Isaiah 11

And a shoot shall come out from the trunk of Jesse, and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit.

 

Best picture I could find of a shoot from a trunk.

Once again, this is FULFILLED, because Jesus was born a descendant of Jesse (David’s dad, in case you forgot), and went on to live the most fruitful – that is to say, God-obedient – life any human ever has.

And the Spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him, the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the Spirit of knowledge and fear of the LORD; and he shall delight in fear of the LORD, and not by the sight of his eyes shall he judge, nor by the hearing of his ears shall he decide (cases).

This is what I’d call FULFILLED BUT ONGOING, because it’s just a description of what Jesus is like. He was and remains filled with the Holy Spirit and power; he was and remains God who looks on the heart not the outward appearance, and judges every person entirely fairly.

And he shall judge poor people in righteousness, and he shall decide (cases) in equity for (the) humble people of (the) land, and he shall strike (the) land with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill (the) wicked person.

This bit is UNFULFILLED: at his first coming, Jesus wasn’t put in charge of deciding legal cases for poor people, nor did he kill any wicked people (by any means, breath of his lips or otherwise). That jazz belongs to the day of our God’s vengeance, not the year of the LORD’s favour.

And righteousness shall be the belt of his hips, and faithfulness the belt of his loins.

More FULFILLED BUT ONGOING stuff here about what Jesus is like.

And a wolf shall dwell with a lamb, and a leopard shall lie down with a kid, and a calf and a lion and a fatling together; and a young lad shall be leading them. And a cow and a bear shall be friends; together shall their young lie down. And a lion shall eat straw like an ox. And a nursing child shall play upon a cobra’s hole, and upon a viper’s den a weaned child shall stretch out his hand. They shall not do evil nor destroy in all the mountain of my holiness, for the land shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea.

And this bit is very obviously UNFULFILLED. The peace Jesus brings at his second coming isn’t just for humans: animals will stop hurting one another, and humans, as well, because they too shall know the LORD. That’s pretty wow, isn’t it? The reference to the mountain of God’s holiness, I should mention, tells us that this is a peace geographically based in the Land of Israel.

And in that day the root of Jesse shall be standing as a banner for (the) peoples, and (the) nations shall seek him, and his resting-place shall be glory.

Now we’ve moved from talking about Jesus as a shoot from Jesse to talking about him as Jesse’s root – but that works fine, because Jesus is both descended from David’s family line and the creator of all things including that family line. Blimey, his humility in stooping to become part of what he had made. Anyway, I think it’s fair to call this bit UNFULFILLED: we’re still getting that picture of people going to Jesus to have legal cases decided (‘seek’ here could have the force of ‘inquire of’ or ‘consult’), only now that definitely includes Gentiles as well.

And in that day the Lord shall (extend) his hand again a second time to get the remnant of his people that remains from Assyria and from Egypt and from Pathros and from Cush and from Elam and from Shinar and from Hamath and from the shores of the sea. And he shall raise a banner for the nations, and gather the driven-out men of Israel, and the scattered women of Judah he shall assemble, from the four corners of the earth. And the jealousy of Ephraim shall depart, and the enemies of Judah shall be cut off; Ephraim shall not be jealous of Judah, and Judah shall not behave like an enemy towards Ephraim.

This stuff belongs to a category I’ll call UNFULFILLED BUT IN PROGRESS. The first time God extended his hand to regather the remnant of his people was at the end of the Babylonian exile, but we’re dealing with a second regathering here, and on a much bigger scale, with children of Israel coming back from all over the place. Plus, it’s a united Israel: no longer Ephraim and Judah, the northern and the southern kingdom, tussling with one another, as it was in Isaiah’s day. Now in our day, that process has begun – Jews have been returning to the Land of Israel in significant numbers for well over a hundred years now, all the more after the founding of the (undivided) state of Israel in 1948 – but it’s clear from this passage that it won’t be completed until the banner is raised, that is, Jesus takes his place as judge over all the nations, which, again, you’ll have noticed he didn’t do at his first coming, so must be reserved for his second.

And they shall light upon (the) shoulder of (the) Philistines to the west; together they shall plunder the sons of the east. (Against) Edom and Moab (there shall be) a sending forth of their hand, and the Ammonites (shall be) their subjects. And the LORD shall devote to destruction the tongue of the sea of Egypt, and he shall wave his hand over the River (Euphrates) with the heat of his breath, and they shall strike (it) into seven channels, and he shall tread (across) in sandals.

More UNFULFILLED stuff here – a united Israel conquering its human enemies, and some quite specific details about changes to fluvial geography, both of which we can therefore expect to happen at Jesus’ second coming.

Case-study 4: Micah 5

And you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, (too) little to be among the thousands of Judah, from you, for me, (one) shall come forth to be ruler in Israel, and his comings forth (are) from of old, from the days of forever ago.

 

A vintage illustration of Bethlehem. I have no idea how accurate it is.

Here’s a nice bit of FULFILLED stuff, seeing as Jesus was born in Bethlehem, in accordance with God’s salvation plan established since before the foundation of the world. And his destiny has always been to be ruler in Israel – but he isn’t exercising that role yet.

Therefore he shall give them up until the time when she who is bearing has borne, and the rest of his brothers shall return unto the children of Israel.

You might think, given the context of the previous verse, that ‘she’ in this one refers to Mary – but that doesn’t work, because it wasn’t the case that when Jesus was born, the rest of his brothers (i.e. his brothers according to physical descent, his fellow Jews) were reunited into the nation of Israel. So this must be UNFULFILLED. I’m currently thinking that ‘she’ is best understood as a personification of the nation of Israel; compare Isaiah 66, for instance.

And he shall stand and he shall shepherd in the strength of the LORD, in the majesty of the name of the LORD his God, and they shall dwell, for now he shall become great, as far as the ends of the earth. And this man shall be peace.

Who’s ‘they’? Well, the most obvious antecedent is the rest of his brothers/the children of Israel in the previous verse. So again this is UNFULFILLED: one day Jesus shall rule over Israel, and his greatness be recognised throughout the world, and he’ll establish utter peace.

When the Assyrian comes into our land and treads in our citadels, we will raise against him seven shepherds and eight princes of humanity, and they shall shepherd the land of Assyria with the sword, and the land of Nimrod in its entrances, and he shall deliver us from the Assyrian when he comes into our land and when he treads within our border.

‘He’ shall deliver us from the Assyrian, indicates that we’re still talking about Jesus, so this is more UNFULFILLED stuff about Jesus giving Israel deliverance and victory over its human enemies, including here some suggestion that chosen humans will be given roles as instruments in his exercising of his rule. The mention of Nimrod is exceptional and very interesting, but don’t let me get distracted.

And the remnant of Jacob shall be in the midst of many peoples like dew from the LORD, like showers on grass, which don’t delay for a man nor wait for the children of humanity. And the remnant of Jacob shall be among the nations, in the midst of many peoples, like a lion among beasts of (the) forest, like a young lion among flocks of sheep, which, if it passes through, tears and tramples, and there is no rescuer. Your hand shall be lifted up over your foes, and your enemies shall be cut off.

More UNFULFILLED stuff about Israel defeating its enemies and exercising power over the nations, and not being able to be stopped by humans any more easily than dew and rain. Dew and rain also tend to signify blessing, so we can read a positive side to the relationship there.

And it shall be in that day – the declaration of the LORD – that I will cut off your horses from among you, and destroy your chariots. And I will cut off the cities of the land, and I will overthrow all your fortresses. And I will cut off sorcery from your hand, and you shan’t have soothsayers. And I will cut off your carved images and your pillars from among you, and you shan’t bow down to the work of your hands any longer. And I will uproot your Asherim from among you and annihilate your cities.

More UNFULFILLED stuff here; military equipment is being destroyed, which we also saw above in Case-study 2, so that, again, indicates the establishment of a concrete peace – but so this time are idols and magical practices. In other words, everything other than God that Israel was ever tempted to trust with its security is being cut off and annihilated. We can anticipate, then, that Jesus will achieve this at his second coming.

And in anger and in wrath I will execute vengeance on the nations that did not obey.

Again, Jesus did not execute vengeance on the disobedient nations at his first coming, but rather extended to them an opportunity to obtain grace: this verse is clearly UNFULFILLED, belonging to the day of our God’s vengeance.

Case-study 5: Malachi 4

For behold, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all arrogant people and all doers of evil shall be chaff, and the coming day shall set them ablaze, the LORD of hosts has said, which will leave them neither root nor branch.

Are there still arrogant people and doers of evil in the world? Why, yes. So this verse is UNFULFILLED, but we can anticipate that the Lord will one day destroy all evildoers completely.

But there shall rise for you who fear my name the sun of righteousness, and healing in its wings, and you shall go out leaping like calves from the stall, and you shall tread down wicked people, for they shall be ashes under the soles of your feet, on the day which I make, the LORD of hosts has said.

Jesus is the sun of righteousness (as we all know from the masterpiece that is ‘Hark! the herald angels sing’), but this situation where those who fear God are healed and go out leaping and trample the wicked underfoot very obviously remains UNFULFILLED.

Remember the law of my servant Moses, which I commanded him at Horeb on behalf of all Israel, the statutes and the rules.

Well, there’s a little interjection consisting of instruction rather than prediction, so we can’t call that either fulfilled or unfulfilled except in the sense that Jesus perfectly fulfils the law.

Behold, I am sending you Elijah the prophet before the great and fearful day of the LORD comes. And he shall turn the heart of fathers unto children and the heart of children unto their fathers, so that I do not come and strike the land as a thing devoted to destruction.

And for the very last verses of the book, we get a bit of FULFILLED stuff: we know that ‘Elijah’ was John the Baptist, who preached repentance – the turning of hearts – to significant effect among the people. His big point was, of course, the need to prepare for the coming of the Messiah. Little did he know, I suspect, that there would be such a long gap between that coming and the great and fearful day of the LORD.

Some Observations/Preliminary Conclusions

The proportion of these prophecies that remains unfulfilled is pretty hefty. Jesus still has lots and lots left to do.

There is a massive emphasis on the Messiah bringing Israel victory over its human enemies and establishing a firm and unshakeable peace in the world. I know I made this point last week, but you really can’t blame the Jews of Jesus’ time for expecting him to overthrow their Gentile oppressors and be their king and judge. That’s exactly what the scriptures say he’s going to do, after all; he just didn’t do it then.

It’s also clear that Israel will be regathered into its land as one united people. Jesus will rule the world from there, and the nations will come to him to have their disputes settled; he will judge justly, and grant others to also exercise government over the nations on his behalf. The peace established once Israel’s enemies are defeated will be so absolute that all military equipment will be destroyed, and even animals will stop hurting one another. All idolatrous practices will be eliminated, and so too will wicked people who follow such practices instead of obeying God.

The passages I chose as my case-studies weren’t, of course, the only ones I could have chosen. I picked them because they’re ones where I think we’re mostly pretty familiar with the FULFILLED bits (particularly at this time of year), but the other, UNFULFILLED bits tend to get skipped out of the specified reading or glossed over in the explanation of it. I hope I’ve shown you that this jazz isn’t actually that difficult to understand overall: the picture that emerges is very consistent. Once you pull apart the prophecies to divide Jesus’ first coming from his second, it becomes very clear how neatly these events fall into the categories of ‘the year of the LORD’s favour’ and ‘the day of our God’s vengeance’. Jesus the star out of Jacob has come, and he has brought light on those in darkness, and he has borne the fruit of the Spirit, and he has been destined to rule from before creation, and he has been preceded by Elijah preaching the turning of hearts – but he has not yet taken his seat on David’s throne, to defeat Israel’s enemies and destroy all wickedness in the world, to establish perfect peace and judge humanity in perfect righteousness. And if we’re not to call scripture untrue, then we must anticipate that one day he will do all of these latter things, just as surely as he did the former.