I've got a couple of widely ranging thoughts from my reading recently. The first is an excerpt from a book that appeared in Christianity Today:

“We’ve forgotten how big God is,
    I remember having this point presented in dramatic fashion when I visited Israel. Our Jewish guide, Amir, had been leading trips through the Holy Land for 30 years and had a profound grasp of Scripture. I remember one talk in particular: With the Mount of Olives shimmering in the background, Amir described what he saw as the basic problem with the universe.
    ‘God longs to come down to earth to redeem the righteous and judge the wicked,’ he said. ‘But there’s a problem. His presence is like radiation, more dangerous than plutonium. Nothing can live when God comes near. If God came to earth, both the righteous and unrighteous would perish. It would be like a thousand nuclear bombs exploding all at once. We would all die!’
    …As I recounted God’s interactions with the ancient Israelites, I wondered if Amir was on to something.
    I thought of all the stories surrounding the ark of the covenant, where people were struck dead or sickened from coming in contact with God’s immediate presence. …Or the times when God warned Moses to keep the people back from his glory lest God ‘break out against them.’ …You get the unmistakable idea that his holiness is dangerous, even deadly.
    We tend to avoid these passages or try to explain them away. Each time a popular atheist writes a book accusing God of being mean (and somehow simultaneously non-existent), we spill gallons of ink trying to defend God’s actions. While I appreciate the works of apologists, this sort of enterprise often becomes a subtle way of domesticating God. After we get through explaining him, he comes off as misunderstood or hapless. I’d prefer to just say: ‘Yes, God is dangerous. He’s not a house cat; he’s a lion. You’re free to deny his existence or pretend he’s harmless. Go ahead and pet him if you’d like; just don’t expect to get your arm back [italics mine]’”
(Our Radioactive God, an excerpt from Yawning At Tigers: You Can’t Tame God, So Stop Trying, in Christianity Today).

Of course, God is good. I resonate with the promise that "His love endures forever; his faithfulness to all generations." But as CS Lewis reminds his, his goodness doesn't make him safe, at least not in the conventional sense. He remains high and holy and we are not. If not for the amazing grace of Jesus, we would all come away from encounters from God armless and irradiated.

Which made this from my reading from Judges this morning stand out. The story is about an Ephramite who stole a bunch of money from his mother. When he eventually confessed, his mother used some of the silver to make an idol. She said: "I solemnly consecrate my silver to the LORD for my son to make an image overlaid with silver" (Judges 17:3).

(This is already inconceivable.)

Micah takes the idol, makes an ephod (in this case an artifact used in idolatry), and, along with other household gods, creates a shrine in his house. Then he hires a passing Levite to be his own personal family priest.

It gets stranger. A troop from the tribe of Dan passes by on their way to raid an unsuspecting region. As they go by the house, they convince the Levite to steal the ephod and the idols, go with them, and be a priest to their whole tribe. So he does.

When Micah confronts them, he says: "You took the gods I made, and my priest, and went away. What else do I have? How can you ask, 'What's the matter with you'" (Judges 18:24)?

John Calvin said: "The human heart is an idol factory... Every one of us from our mothers womb is an expert in inventing idols" 

But what idol is capable of ripping your arm off? Micah was distraught that they had made off with the gods he made and asks: "What else do I have?"

That's what happens when our self-conceived gods disappoint us. We feel abandoned, helpless, hopeless.

And one other verse from my New Testament reading. I was in Acts 15 and came across this curious phrase: "God, who knows the heart…" (Act 15:8). That's how we have to read it in English. Peter was speaking to the council in Jerusalem. He actually identified God with an adjective: kardiognostes, literally, the heart-knowing God. For some reason, reading that as a pure adjective landed differently.

This Lion of a God knows our hearts. If he were to show up in the full majesty of his holiness and power, we would all be in the deep weeds, and we would all know precisely why—no excuses. But he has shown up in the person of Jesus who lived among us as the God-man, the enfleshed God. Jesus made the heart-knowing God known. In his own body on the cross, Jesus stood between the Lion and his prey. Jesus absorbed the deadly radiation of God's holiness and absolute justice in my place. And by faith in him and in his Holy Spirit who lives in me, I can come into God's holy presence and cry out, "Abba. Father." The Lion is now my Dad.

How do I hold all these thoughts together?  I'm not sure I do. But it drives me to humble adoration. "Come, let us sing for joy to the LORD; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation"
(Psalm 95:1).

"I rejoiced with those who said to me, "Let us go to the house of the LORD." (Psalm 122:1). Imagine: tomorrow we get to do that together!