Help for the Hungry Soulಮಾದರಿ

The Privilege of Revelation

Have you ever wondered what it would be like if God had not spoken? I realize this question presents some immediate problems. (For example, there could not be a world without God speaking it into being [Gen. 1].) But set these problems aside for a moment and envision how our world might be different if God had never communicated with us.

A Famine of Words

Let’s start by considering Israel’s history. One of its darkest periods was the four hundred years when God stopped speaking to his people. In Kevin DeYoung’s estimation, “There is no calamity like the silence of God.” To be without the gracious voice of our Creator is perhaps one of the greatest tragedies we could know. So when God’s people continued to rebel against him, after he had extended his mercy to them time and again, after he had performed miraculous wonders on their behalf, and after he had patiently provided for their every need, God spoke of an upcoming day of deep darkness—the turning away of his face and the silence of his mouth:

“Behold, the days are coming,” declares the Lord God, “when I will send a famine on the land— not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the Lord. They shall wander from sea to sea, and from north to east; they shall run to and fro, to seek the word of the Lord, but they shall not find it.” (Amos 8:11–12)

About three hundred years after Amos’s prophecy, God’s people would experience divine starvation. His word about his words would prove true: God ceased speaking to his people. No communication. No merciful warnings. No gracious instruction. No sense of his presence. Instead, silence, brought about by the people’s disdain for God’s words. Only exile, turmoil, confusion, and destruction. Only calamity.

So when God warns his people that a famine is on the horizon, a famine “of hearing the words of the Lord,” it’s hard to imagine being in their shoes. But for a moment, let’s try.

What might our world look like if God had not spoken, or if he stopped speaking? Think of the calamity. Evil would be multiplied, and wickedness rampant. The love of self and the inward quest for “truth” would speed along with flying colors, leaving neighbor-love and any sense of universal morality in the dust. We would be on our own—a frightening position to be in—and given up to the ramifications of our twisted human folly.

We would be left hungry for truth. Hungry for hope. Hungry for transcendence. We would be left searching for faith in something stronger than us, hoping against hope in something more lasting than us and pining for love from someone more trustworthy than us. And every quest would prove elusive, unearthing only disappointment and emptiness. Calamity.

We would be utterly without God in an aimless and hopeless world (Eph. 2:12).

The Giving of the Word

The good news? This is not our reality.

Our God, who isn’t obligated to speak to sinners, has spoken and is speaking to us. What a privilege! We live in a world saturated with the voice of God, in a testifying creation that declares his goodness and power whether we acknowledge this or not (Pss. 19:1–2; 29:3; Rom. 1:18–20). Despite the world’s darkness and chaos, the heavens shout his glory. Despite its many evils and sufferings, the skies sing of his praise.

And into this world, God himself came.

Jesus, the Son—the fullness of God, the image of God, and the Word of God—clothed himself in flesh to reveal God to us. The bread of life came to satisfy our hunger for truth, hope, and transcendence, to be the author and perfecter of our faith, the sure and steadfast anchor of our hopeful souls, and love incarnate, with arms spread wide on a cross to prove it. In the calamity of our starving hunger, God didn’t leave us to ourselves but met us with his perfect Word—his own Son.

Then, to tell us all there is to know about Jesus, he gives us the written word. God graciously breaks into the world of undeserving, hungry people like you and me—the divine and holy One reaching down to us and offering us himself—through the Bible. Revealing. Communicating. Speaking. Shining light into our hearts so we can see.

This encourages us and gives us perspective: the Bible is anything but boring.

So, the next time you are tempted to think low and mundane thoughts of your Bible (which all of us probably do at some point), consider that God never had to speak to you in the first place but has chosen to reveal his Son there, opening his holy mouth for your faith, hope, and joy in Jesus Christ. Consider the Israelites, gone before you, who sought God’s word but could not find it. Consider that the book for which you struggle to hunger is no ordinary book, but contains the mind of Almighty God whose powerful and divine utterance, which should obliterate us (Deut. 4:33; Heb. 12:18–19), has been graciously wrapped in accessible human words on paper pages, printed with ink.

Consider what a privilege it is to hold in your hands the very revelation of God, and worship the Word whom it reveals.