If you were to ask me, “Who is God?”, I think I could give you a pretty good answer.
My answer would be carefully footnoted with adequate biblical references from a wide selection of books covering both Testaments. I would probably ensure that I had at least one, if not two, obscure verses included to help demonstrate that I’m widely read and biblically literate.
Following this carefully laid biblical foundation, I would move on to include some choice quotes from Packer, then Spurgeon, and leaving the big guns till last, I’d pull out Owen, Edwards, Luther, Calvin, possibly even one one of the early church fathers.
Then as you rock back on your heels, I’d follow up with a quick Piper, Carson, Keller combo.
The problem is, no matter how well I formulate my answer, my life preaches a vastly different message.
I know my Bible. But so does Satan.
Knowing the answers doesn’t make it so.
Too often, our ancient enemy and I stand in mutual agreement.
“I will rise to the Throne.”
That’s right, more often than not, I am my own functional Deity.
So reading through Job on a regular basis is a must for me. I must hear Job’s cry to God. I must hear his accusers.
I must hear God speak out of the whirlwind. “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Dress for action like a man; I will question you, and you make it known to me.”
Thus pours out chapter upon chapter of painful tearing and deep but gentle cuts. Like Lewis’ Eustace who stands trembling before Aslan, I find myself naked before the King of kings and Lord of lords, stripped of all vestiges of self made power.
God did not ‘have’ to answer Job. He does not ‘have’ to answer me.
But if He does, hear His solemn but gracious voice say, “I am God.”
Because that should be enough.