Sunday, January 11, 2015

A voice

Mark 1: 4-11, NT pages 34-35 John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens town apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Sermon Words matter. There’s a story in the Bible about 10 lepers. It’s in the Gospel of Luke, and they saw Jesus, yelled to him for help, with a word he healed them, but one of them, only one of them, bent down to Jesus’ feet and said, “thank you”. Two words. Parents teach their children to say the same two words, and sometimes, maybe too often, I fail, but most of the time I do say thank you because I know how it feels to do something nice for someone, but then to never hear those words. You do too I’m sure. Words make a difference. When they are said something new is created and when they aren’t there’s an emptiness. Some notes do go unwritten and some words go unsaid. In there place remains a nothingness that can hurt. There are plenty of people in this word waiting on an apology, and that silence does damage. Plenty of employees wonder when someone is going to notice the work they’ve been doing and the hours they’ve been spending, but everyone seems happy to just keep letting them do all that extra without a word of appreciation, so resentment builds up simply because of unsaid words. Then there are children, sons and daughters, some stand at the grave of their father still waiting to hear some word of love or acceptance. The grave is silent however, the words go unspoken, and the tears prove that the essence of a human, the soul and spirit, it’s not made up of neutrons or matter but words. “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep… Then God said, “Let there be light.”” A story that science tells is often taken more seriously than the creation account told in the book of Genesis. Science tells a story about a big bang and an ever expanding universe, survival of the fittest, natural selection – but all people are wise not to underestimate the creating power of words, because there is an emptiness that only words can fill. When it comes to filling emptiness people will use all kinds of things. If you’re still trying to get rid of your Christmas tree, Tony Sowell, over at Oaks and Nichols Funeral Home uses them to fills up the ditches and sink holes on his farm. Bob Duncan told me once that his brother has a canyon behind his place that he keeps pushing scrap metal down into – but there are other ditches, emotional canyons, that can only be filled with words. You can try to fill it with other things: Feeling good does something for the hungry heart, but being distracted and being satisfied are two different things. Pats on the back can prop you up and keep you going, but the hunger for them only grows. There is a void that only words, particular words, can fill. And Jesus heard those words exactly. It was just as he was coming up out of the water, when a voice came from heaven saying, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Now these aren’t magic words. As a matter of fact, they’re not even that uncommon, but you have to let these words in and that’s the trick, because we all have a way of brushing these words off. It’s easy to explain them away, to say that these words aren’t for us, but the Gospel of Mark is unique in not giving us a reason to do so. The Gospel of Mark fails to mention the virgin birth, there are no visits from angels, shepherds, or kings. Here in the gospel of Mark Jesus hears the same words that were said at your baptism, and by beginning his account of Christ’s life right here as he does, there’s no reason for you to believe that the words this voice spoke from heaven aren’t your words too, but we’ll dismiss them. There are other reasons that we can all give to brush such good words away. The 17th Century poet George Herbert, in his third poem titled Love, wrote: “Love bade me welcome, but my soul drew back.” That seems to be the natural reaction. Our public library is featuring Valentine’s Day books now in the children’s section and the theme is almost the same – a little girl sends a valentine card to a little boy, then on the playground or somewhere she sneaks up behind him and plants a kiss on his cheek. 100% of the time the little boy runs away. Little boys are funny about love. It was when I was in second grade that my teacher asked our class to go home and ask our parents about what is essential for life. I went home, my parents and I decided on water. “Water is essential for life,” I reported to my class, and was proud to find that this was a good and acceptable answer. “Yes, water is essential for life,” our teacher responded. Then a girl in the class answered oxygen, which was also a good answer. Then another said food; also essential for life. A boy in the row behind me reported that love was essential for life. I couldn’t get my head around that, so I went home and asked my Mom. She agreed with the boy and told me that no one could live without love which didn’t make any sense to me at the time, so I went to my father and he told me that the boy’s parents must be hippies. Experience has taught me that both my parents were right. All people long to be loved, and all people, maybe men especially, are uncomfortable coming to terms with that or accepting the love that God pours out freely, so the poem from George Herbert continues: “Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back… But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack… Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning If I lacked anything.” The poet answers: I lack what would make me worthy. There’s the real challenge. Surely I’m not worthy of love – so I should have to pay for it, work for it, aspire to one day deserve it – but what if it’s just like the Gospel of Mark says it is – all you do is come up from the water and receive it. Words. They have to be said, but they also have to be heard. Maybe these words were never said to you. It’s hard to move on from that, because in the space that only these words can fill is a void that nothing else can ever fill. If your earthly father never said them, or never said them enough, than hear them said to you by your Heavenly Father. If you’ve struggled to believe them, because love showed up and then walked away, know that the God who came to earth to say them through his life isn’t going anywhere, least of all away from you. He came to earth, and when he came up out of the water he heard these words, he let them in, and for the rest of his life he poured these words out – saying to his disciples – take and eat – this is my body broken for you – drink – here is my love poured out for you to take in. The evil one will tell you that they’re just words, the world is full of them – and they are words – but they’re the kind of words that can satisfy the hungry heart, so hear them: “You are mind, my beloved, and with you I am well pleased.” May these words free you to stop working so hard to deserve them, because you can’t. May these words free you to be yourself, for until you can you’ll never be satisfied. May these words create in you eternal life. Amen.

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