Repents of evil

Several days ago I began my morning reading from the Lenten Devotionals. I came across part of a verse from the book of Joel: “[God] repents of evil” (2:13, RSV). My first tendency with a verse like that is to read over it quickly, more or less dismissing it; or, giving it a bit more attention, to explain it away, sort of trivially. That morning I did not do either; it grabbed my attention—what a strange phrase—God repents—and then–of evil. Why does it say it that way?

Can God do evil? Aren’t those mutually exclusive? God—evil . . . So I wanted to read Joel, get the context, & see how other translations put it. I was hooked. This little three-chapter book, buried in the so-called “minor prophets” (I’m sure I’ve read it before several times, but not anytime recently), has captured me as a good place to “hang out” during Lent.

Oh, but it is a bitter story at its beginning. Joel starts out with terrible disaster, despair, sorrow, loss; stunning loss, stopped dead from the routine, unable to worship. . . . Locusts have devastated the land and invaded everywhere, an overwhelming powerful invincible army into every nook and cranny. In my mind’s eye I envision opening closets, cabinets, apparently closed jars and discovering the pulsating insects, chewing up everything. Clothes are taken out of drawers or closets to wear and the locusts are there crawling and devouring. Nevermind that they don’t eat some of those things . . . they are inescapable.

Joel calls his people to face and acknowledge the horrible loss—can you feel it? Weep, lament, stop, despair, all priests and lay-folks at a loss, dress in sackcloth, be silent. Call for a fast, round up everyone to pray–cry out to God–for help, for mercy–that devastation would not continue, that they would be saved.

Can God do evil? Most of us would quickly respond NO! I think that would depend on how you define evil, and, where you are at this moment. Perhaps the places I most easily charge Him with “evil” are the little disruptions that seem to undermine my safe routine. Like when the car suddenly isn’t working right, and there is not a simple obvious solution and I’m expecting to be somewhere else soon. Inside part of me is saying “why are you doing this to me, why now?” How petty, how small . . . What happens when the real locusts come, the whole army?

Does God do evil? I don’t think so. But He will let and even bring consuming locusts to “eat up” what I rely on for life–comfort, safety, pleasure, sense of well-being; what I define as must-have blessing . . .

What do You, O Lord, want to devour & destroy in me, in order to release something better?