“Who believes God performs miracles?”

The group of baseball players, attendees at the weekly Chapel service, all raised their hands.

“Who believes God can do a miracle in your life?”

Same response.

“Who believes God will do one right now?”

The athletes looked at one another, unsure of what to do. If they didn’t raise their hands, were they denying that this speaker had a special connection with God? If they did raise their hands, was the
miracle dependent upon their faith being powerful enough to make it happen?

The guest evangelist, sensing their confusion, removed a banana from a plastic bag and asked the crowd, “How many of you believe that God can split the fruit of this banana into thirds without
altering the peel in any way?”

The ballplayers were dumbfounded. After all, God could do anything He wanted, so He certainly “could” perform such a miracle. Slowly, the men raised their hands.

“Good,” the speaker continued. “I’m going to pray that God does just that. I’m going to ask Him to slice the meat of this banana into thirds without making a mark on the skin. How many of you are confident God will answer my prayer?”

Surely it was a trick. Or was it? No one moved.

The speaker spoke to their doubts. “You probably think I’m messing with you, right? To prove I’m not, I’m going to pass this banana around the room. Check it carefully. See if there are any external marks on its skin.”

Each ballplayer took his time studying the banana. No one could find any puncture or marking. While the players sat on the edge of their seats, the preacher took the banana, raised it high, and prayed for it to be cut into thirds when peeled. As he broke the top portion of the banana’s skin and pulled it back, one piece—approximately a third—fell onto the table. The same scene replayed itself as the skin was peeled further. Three pieces. Just like the miracle worker said.

My son Adam, a player in that room, phoned me from the clubhouse.

“Mom, I just saw a miracle.” He proceeded to tell me what had happened. Although skeptical—only because I wasn’t sure why God cared about a banana dividing itself into thirds—I was thrilled for my normally unexcitable son to be so pumped about what he had witnessed.

A few days later I relayed Adam’s story to my girlfriend. “Patty, that’s an old trick,” she said. “A threaded needle is pushed through the banana by working in a circular motion. With enough punctures, it creates a cut, and the skin heals itself so the pin marks can’t be detected.” I couldn’t believe it. The ballplayers had been deceived. My friend was as bothered by this evangelist’s tactic as was I.

I shared my findings with Adam so he could discuss what had happened with the chapel leader who organized the visiting speakers. I told him what bothered me most was that God doesn’t need any help in the miracle department. No tricks. No manipulation. Jeremiah 10:12 speaks to His authority: But God made earth by his power; He founded the world by His wisdom and stretched out the heavens by His understanding. His abilities are endless. For goodness sakes, He produced ten plagues to force Pharoah’s hand, provided manna for millions of Israelites wandering in the desert, saved Daniel and his friends from a fiery furnace, and made Himself man to redeem a lost humanity.

In retrospect, I hope the intention of the pastor was to excite his audience about God’s power and not draw attention to his own ability to be used by God. I feel bad that he was so desperate to prove God is still in the miracle business. On the other hand, I would like to think my girlfriend was wrong; there was no needle and thread and this man’s prayer was answered.

Yeah. I would like to think that.

I just don’t.

Sometimes the only exercise I get is jumping to the wrong conclusion. Read last week’s article if you doubt me. This week we will look at a scriptural passage with repercussions far worse than mine.

First, some background. God’s chosen people, the Israelites, don’t act chosen. For 40 years Moses leads these slow-learning twelve tribes as they wander in the desert, sin, repent, sin, repent, etc. And now it’s time to enter the Promised Land. The leaders of Gad, Rueben and half of the tribe of Manassah ask to stay behind on the East side of the Jordan River. The land is rich with valleys for grazing their flocks and seems ideal. Moses agrees on the condition they first cross the Jordan with the other 9 ½ tribes to help conquer the land of Canaan. Five years later the war ends and the 2 ½ tribes return to their homes and families.

All is well.

Well, sort of.

Before even dipping their toes in the Jordan River, the Easterners build a massive altar, perceived by their Western brothers as a clear violation of the Law which mandates only one altar for sacrifices, thereby insuring that each tribe doesn’t do its own thing in its worship of Jehovah. One altar (already built on the Western side). One faith. One death, if disobeyed.

I can hear the 9 ½ tribes now.

“Seriously? Talk about one-upmanship!”

“Yeah. So much for teamwork.”

“Well, they’ve done it this time. First we have to fight the Canaanites and now we have to go to war against our brothers. And I was soooo looking forward to a nap.”

But then, a voice of reason. “Maybe first we should tell them why we’re going to slaughter them. You know, give them a heads-up.”

A delegation is sent to confront the offenders. Made up of Phinehas, a priest and 10 high officials of Israel, they waste no time for their come-to-Jesus meeting (except, of course, it really is more of a come-to-Yahweh meeting because Jesus hasn’t been born).

Let’s pick up in Joshua 22:16. “The whole community of the Lord demands to know why you are betraying the God of Israel. How could you turn away from the Lord and build an altar in rebellion against him?” The tirade continues as the 2 ½ tribes are given a nonstop tongue-lashing for building a second altar to the Lord. Now it is time for the accused to speak.

“The Lord alone is God! The Lord alone is God! We have not built the altar in rebellion against the LORD. If we have done so, do not spare our lives this day… We have built this altar because we fear that in the future your descendants will say to ours, ‘What right do you have to worship the Lord, the God of Israel? The Lord has placed the Jordan River as a barrier between our people and your people. You have no claim to the Lord.’ And your descendants may make our descendants stop worshiping the Lord.

“So we decided to build the altar, not for burnt sacrifices, but as a memorial…”

In other words, their motive is to unify, not divide, which always should be our goal when we don’t see eye-to-eye. So, what’s to learn from this story? First, even though it was far too accusatory, the opposition is given a chance to explain before the war trumpets are blown. Second, the response of the 2 ½ tribes, instead of igniting the fire (“How dare you talk to us like that!”), extinguishes it. We would do well to do likewise.

Phinehas and his now-happy-camper friends depart to tell the rest of the Israelites that there will be peace in the valley. (Someone should write a song with that title.)

All is well.

Well, sort of.