Hearing, Listening and Idolatry

I have just begun reading another book entitled You Become What You Worship, by G. K. Beale. Beale's thesis is that you become what you worship, or in other words that you become like the idols to which you devote your worship -- assuming, of course, that you are not worshiping the true God. Beale argues that if you are worshiping an idol, you will become like them: you will be hardhearted; you will have eyes, but not be able to see; you will have ears, but will not be able to hear; you will be hardheaded and foolish as well.

In his opening remarks, Beale speaks of the call of God to Isaiah as recorded in Isaiah 6. Isaiah is told to make the ears of the people dull, and their eyes dim, and their hearts hard; lest they hear with their ears and see with their eyes, and understand with their hearts, and return to the Lord and be healed. Beale assesses that the reason for the pronouncement of judgment of God upon the people was their many years of idolatry, their refusal to worship the Lord God alone, their perpetual turning to the gods of the other nations, and their worship of wealth, influence and power.

I may be adding a bit to Beale in this assessment, as I have only complete a chapter or so  of his work. But I can see the direction in which he is going. Beale argues, I think, that the idol comes first, then the progressing conformation into its image. I have to wonder if it might be the other way around. Could it be that the idol is the projection of our own hearts? Could it be that the reason why our hearts are hard, our ears dull, our eyes closed, our head empty is because our idol is actually ourselves? After all, what meaning and what conception do we pour into our idol? Is it not the conception of the Ultimate that exists already in our own minds?

The average person does not hear very well. We do not listen. We hear, but we do not understand. We do not even try to understand; rather we judge. We have our rebuttal on our tongue long before the other person is finished. And we wait, anxiously, for our turn to come, so that we can spout off with the "wise-crack" of sardonic depreciation. We generally cannot see any farther than the end of our nose. We are great at looking down the nose, but we don't open our eyes and look up very often. Our brain is so often closed -- especially those who are would argue that they are open-minded; these are some of the most close-minded of all. Generally this means that they have closed their eyes to the truth, and they have their eyelids screwed shut.

Christians are no better than others. It is the result of our limited view, our short-sighted vision, our relative deafness to that which we cannot understand. Beale assesses it quite well as idolatry, the worship of ourselves, the worship of what we have formed and shaped with our own hands.

The Scripture scoffs at our humanity. We cut down the tree, we chop it up into pieces. With one piece we make a fire to stay warm. With another we build our houses. With the third piece we form out a god, overlay it with gold, place in its hand precious jewels; and then we bow down to it in worship, and say, "I thank you, O my father, that you made me as outstanding and wise as I am!"

This perhaps characterizes the rebellious better than anything else in the book. Hardhearted, just like the tree trunk itself. Or worse yet, rotten to the core, totally empty and entire devoid of life inside. Foolish, and yet ever so wise; seeing the "truth," and yet not perceiving reality. Listening to all the wrong voices, and filling their empty-headed minds with the vain philosophies of other warped humans.

The saddest thing is that so often this is a description of even myself. Wise in my own vain conceits. At least by the grace of God I can see it. At least by the grace of God I sense the deafness deep in my soul. Speak to me, Voice of God. Open my ears let me hear. Show  me, Lord God, the beautiful things in Your word. Soften my heart, Lord God; break up the hard, fallow ground. And help me to feel, and teach me to love. And, please, make my heart just a bit less rebellious.