1 Peter 5: 10 and 11, page 859
And the God of all grace, who called you to eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To God be the power for ever and ever. Amen.
Jimmy Frank Hodges, by his own description grew up in a very, very rich family… who didn’t have any money.
You might say he was a surprise to his middle age parents – the only child of Edna Mae and Benjamin Franklin Hodges, both who had children in previous marriages.
Jimmy Frank, or Jim, was his mother’s treasure, and Edna Mae Hodges was not the treasuring type necessarily. In fact, according to Jim, she was the shoot a shot-gun from the hip type. Even the shoot a shot-gun from the hip killing a dog if it meant protecting her son type.
And she had to learn to shoot, as Jim’s father, Benjamin Franklin Hodges, only had one hand, having lost his left to a circular saw as a boy shoveling saw-dust in a mill.
Jim told stories about this hand, stories, that according to Carol Hodges, Jim’s beautiful wife and friend since the 3rd grade are not exaggerations or made up stories, but are, as they say in Texas, so-tales.
One tale goes that not long after the accident, Jim’s father got a horrible itch in the place his left hand would have been. We non-Texans call these things phantom pains, but back home a wise woman in the general store told Jim’s father that to get the itching to stop he would have to dig up that hand where he buried it, and put it some where safe.
Benjamin Franklin Hodges dug up that hand where he had buried it, to find it covered in ants. He swatted the ants away, brushed it off, and put it in a mason jar of preservatives for safe keeping.
He then took the hand back to that wise woman of the general store who put it up on a shelf for the whole town to see it.
I love this story. Not only because someone I love told it, apparently over and over again, but it hints at a temptation Jim’s father surely fought, but triumphed over, as not only did this young man lose his hand, but he then had to see it over and over again. He was continually reminded of what he lost not only by the stub at the end of his wrist, but by a perfectly preserved left hand. I think I would have been tempted to spend days looking into that Mason jar, thinking of how it appeared as though it could just be attached right back on, but instead it was left to do nothing but sit there on the shelf of the general store.
At the very least it must have been a constant sign, making Benjamin Franklin Hodges one who looked forward to the time our scripture passage alludes to – a day when Christ himself will restore you, make you whole again once the hardship is over.
But there’s no reason to believe Jim ever suffered because of his father’s missing hand. In fact, it sounds as though what he lost made him all the more thankful for what life had given. So no appendage was ever taken from Jim in an accident – though I think everyone who he loved knew that he willingly gave of some part of himself every single day of his life.
He never lost a hand, but to his friends he dedicated himself, gave his time, his thoughts, and his prayers.
He never lost a hand, but to his God he gave his faith, put his trust, so much so that when I asked on his hospital bed not two weeks ago what worries he still had he only told me that he wasn’t sure whether or not Carol quite understood the car maintenance schedule. Thank goodness he has a mechanic son in-law, he said. He never lost a hand, but to his God he put his trust, and he looked forward to the day he would see Jesus face to face and his body would be whole again.
He never lost a hand, but to his family he gave his whole heart—dedicated himself, invested his time, and coordinated his life around them. He never lost a hand to preserve in a jar and put up on a shelf, but Jim Hodges gave his heart to his wife, never stopped thinking of his daughters or the men they married, and always lived with sunshine in his soul and a smile on his face because of his grandchildren.
He never lost a hand, but don’t we look to the space he used to fill and know that today we not only celebrate the life of an important man, but that today we mourn the passing of a man who gave us so much of himself that we will always be reminded of what we have lost.
And when will we be restored?
When will the missing pieces be put back in place?
We have some heavenly promise in our scripture lesson, ensuring us that Jim’s suffering is now over, but what about the suffering that we face in the wake of his death?
There are parts that will just never be the same again, always different, never quite right.
But to spend our days dwelling on what we’ve lost…that just wouldn’t be how Jim would have wanted it. No, Jim, was raised by a father who didn’t spend his time lamenting what he’d lost, he didn’t spend his days staring into a mason jar, wishing for some day before the accident or hoping to jump forward to heavenly restoration, but for whatever reason, was able to rejoice in what he’d been given.
We have lost something precious. Though some have lost more than others, we have all lost something in Jim Hodges.
What he would have us do, is not spend our time looking into a mason jar of loss, thinking only of how we wish it were, but Jim today would urge us to celebrate what we’ve gained by getting to the business of living according to this example.
Cameron Jones, Jim’s grand-daughter Britt’s husband, in letting friends and family know about Jim’s passing in an email ended his message with the words, “More than letting you know what’s going on in our family I hoped to inspire you the way Pappy (Jim) would like you to be – namely, to live life to its fullest.. and then some.”
I tell you that my personal temptation is simply to cry over the loss of the man who believed in me more than I believed in myself on more than one occasion - but focusing on what we’ve lost is simply not what he would have wanted. His example demands that we live, giving of ourselves, our very hearts, to the ones who we love, living life to its fullest… and then some.
The day of suffering has ended for our Jim, as it will for us all. But until that day, that day when restoration comes by the hand of Christ himself, I urge you to live as the one who we mourn lived – giving of yourself, living life to its fullest, and loving as though you were giving away your own heart.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
The Invitation
Song of Songs 2: 8-13, page 480
Listen! My lover!
Look! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills.
My love is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look! There he stands behind our wall, gazing through the windows, peering through the lattice.
My lover spoke and said to me, “Arise my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land.
The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.”
Sermon
Every fall feels like something new is starting, and I think that’s because as a student, in high school, and then in college, the fall meant football games, which then meant Homecoming.
And Homecoming made me nervous because it always meant I had to ask someone on a date.
Now when women think of being asked on dates, they experience something totally different from what men feel. I don’t think that women quite understand what it’s like for us. One afternoon in High School my Mom was cooking in the kitchen and I was looking in the refrigerator and she casually said, “So who are you asking to the Homecoming dance Joe?”
“I don’t know Mom. It’s like two weeks away.”
“Well you better ask soon. Those girls have to buy dresses, corsages, shoes, get their hair done… Do you have anyone in mind?”
“I might Mom.”
“All you have to do is ask Joe.”
“I know Mom.”
“You know Joe, if I had any idea how afraid 14 year old boys were of girls I would have been a much more confident 14 year old girl.”
Even now I look back on asking Sara out on our first date and I know that what I was experiencing was not joy; I was no gazelle leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills. In fact, rather than leaping or bounding , my legs were jelly, my teeth were clenching, and my stomach was tightening with the true pain of being in love with someone knowing the risk involved in letting that person know how you feel.
So at some point we summon all the courage – we walk up or pick up the phone to offer the invitation.
Thank goodness you women don’t remember it this way – no – from your perspective the whole thing happens quite differently. There’s excitement, there’s confidence, and there’s that true joy of knowing that you are wanted and that you are in control.
“My lover spoke and said to me, arise my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me.”
But I want you to know that’s not how it really happened. It was much more like, “Uh, Sara, I don’t know if you’re doing anything this Friday, but, I mean, if you don’t have anything going on, I understand if you do, but if you don’t, I would really like to take you to dinner and a movie this Friday night.”
Love looks like that; it’s only poetry in retrospect, because in the moment inviting someone into your heart isn’t pretty.
It’s risky, but you do it any way because you don’t have a choice, so you offer the invitation in the hope that your heart might be something desirable, that your companionship might be better than being alone, you take your feelings and you put them out there, and then you wait to see if those feelings will be returned.
And maybe you wait behind the wall, gazing through the windows and “peering through the lattice.” Too afraid to knock on the door, but you can’t go very far because once you’ve offered someone your heart even if you want to run away you can’t get very far without your heart.
Now waiting this way, trying to steal a peak at this person who you love in the hope that seeing them might reveal something about the way the feel about you is very different from what is described in today’s first scripture lesson. David rose from his bed and walked around on the roof of the palace, and from the roof he looked down to see a woman bathing.
The difference between the two young men, the one described by the Song of Songs and on the other hand, King David, is this: the young man who hides behind the lattice wants to give this young woman something – something very special, but very fragile. He wants to give this young woman his heart. David on the other hand looked down from his roof top and his eyes met something he wanted, and he used his power to take it.
On the one hand you have the beginnings of love, and on the other hand is something much less.
Love is initiated by an invitation, an offer that in the hands of the invitee is a choice – you say yes or you say no, you feel the same way or you don’t. There is a great risk taken in this situation, as if the answer is no then the young man walks away with a broken heart.
On the other hand, King David’s heart would not have been broken if Bathsheba had not been brought to him. For him there was no risk at all – he didn’t even have to talk to her. There was no invitation, there was no risk, and the power to initiate or end the relationship never left David’s hands.
That is not what love looks like, and so God’s love for us is not represented by King David, but by the young man who has offered this young woman his heart, invited her in the hopes that he has something to offer her, and she has the power to say yes or say no.
Just as Christ is referred to as the Bridegroom to the church in the book of Revelation, so here, God’s love is like that of a young boy in love – fragile and sacred.
The young man has something to offer us. Like a young man with a heart full of love God does not look down on us seeing something that God wants or needs, but seeing us and knowing that God might just be able to make us happy, God offers us God’s heart in the hopes that God’s love for us will be received and returned in kind.
While the invitation is something that can change our lives for the better it would not be love if we were required to accept the invitation.
Those of us who have offered our hearts to someone can feel some kinship with God, and can then look to the cross to see a love poured out for a people, and the savage marks of rejection.
But don’t be so bold as to pity God.
God doesn’t want your pity.
Just know this – that when your heart has been broken, God knows the temptation that you face. To hid your heart away and never love again.
God knows what that feels like. But three days later he came back and offered us his heart again.
The temptation is to hide our hearts away after the love we offer is rejected.
But this isn’t an alter call – it’s a call to action. To boldly offer the same invitation that God offers you.
We offer our children our hearts, and then one day that child lies to your face and breaks your heart. But a parent cannot be a parent by hiding a broken heart away, but only by putting your heart out there to be broken again and again can parents exhibit the love that parenthood requires.
To grow up means to weather relationships, some good, and some that make you stronger. But to think that you can avoid the risk by holding a part of your heart back behind a wall makes any thing real impossible. To love and to be loved demands risk, demands the kind of risk that our God is willing to take.
We are called to love each other as God has loved us, and so you must offer your heart – the risk is huge, but it is the risk you must take to inherit the joy true love offers.
See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Here this invitation, and if you have forgotten what it means to be desired know that you are desired. Here this invitation, and if you have forgotten what it means to be loved then know that you are loved. Here this invitation and know that the one who loves you, whose heart is on the line for you, offers a new life with this invitation and this call to go and do likewise: “Arise come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.”
Listen! My lover!
Look! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills.
My love is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look! There he stands behind our wall, gazing through the windows, peering through the lattice.
My lover spoke and said to me, “Arise my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land.
The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.”
Sermon
Every fall feels like something new is starting, and I think that’s because as a student, in high school, and then in college, the fall meant football games, which then meant Homecoming.
And Homecoming made me nervous because it always meant I had to ask someone on a date.
Now when women think of being asked on dates, they experience something totally different from what men feel. I don’t think that women quite understand what it’s like for us. One afternoon in High School my Mom was cooking in the kitchen and I was looking in the refrigerator and she casually said, “So who are you asking to the Homecoming dance Joe?”
“I don’t know Mom. It’s like two weeks away.”
“Well you better ask soon. Those girls have to buy dresses, corsages, shoes, get their hair done… Do you have anyone in mind?”
“I might Mom.”
“All you have to do is ask Joe.”
“I know Mom.”
“You know Joe, if I had any idea how afraid 14 year old boys were of girls I would have been a much more confident 14 year old girl.”
Even now I look back on asking Sara out on our first date and I know that what I was experiencing was not joy; I was no gazelle leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills. In fact, rather than leaping or bounding , my legs were jelly, my teeth were clenching, and my stomach was tightening with the true pain of being in love with someone knowing the risk involved in letting that person know how you feel.
So at some point we summon all the courage – we walk up or pick up the phone to offer the invitation.
Thank goodness you women don’t remember it this way – no – from your perspective the whole thing happens quite differently. There’s excitement, there’s confidence, and there’s that true joy of knowing that you are wanted and that you are in control.
“My lover spoke and said to me, arise my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me.”
But I want you to know that’s not how it really happened. It was much more like, “Uh, Sara, I don’t know if you’re doing anything this Friday, but, I mean, if you don’t have anything going on, I understand if you do, but if you don’t, I would really like to take you to dinner and a movie this Friday night.”
Love looks like that; it’s only poetry in retrospect, because in the moment inviting someone into your heart isn’t pretty.
It’s risky, but you do it any way because you don’t have a choice, so you offer the invitation in the hope that your heart might be something desirable, that your companionship might be better than being alone, you take your feelings and you put them out there, and then you wait to see if those feelings will be returned.
And maybe you wait behind the wall, gazing through the windows and “peering through the lattice.” Too afraid to knock on the door, but you can’t go very far because once you’ve offered someone your heart even if you want to run away you can’t get very far without your heart.
Now waiting this way, trying to steal a peak at this person who you love in the hope that seeing them might reveal something about the way the feel about you is very different from what is described in today’s first scripture lesson. David rose from his bed and walked around on the roof of the palace, and from the roof he looked down to see a woman bathing.
The difference between the two young men, the one described by the Song of Songs and on the other hand, King David, is this: the young man who hides behind the lattice wants to give this young woman something – something very special, but very fragile. He wants to give this young woman his heart. David on the other hand looked down from his roof top and his eyes met something he wanted, and he used his power to take it.
On the one hand you have the beginnings of love, and on the other hand is something much less.
Love is initiated by an invitation, an offer that in the hands of the invitee is a choice – you say yes or you say no, you feel the same way or you don’t. There is a great risk taken in this situation, as if the answer is no then the young man walks away with a broken heart.
On the other hand, King David’s heart would not have been broken if Bathsheba had not been brought to him. For him there was no risk at all – he didn’t even have to talk to her. There was no invitation, there was no risk, and the power to initiate or end the relationship never left David’s hands.
That is not what love looks like, and so God’s love for us is not represented by King David, but by the young man who has offered this young woman his heart, invited her in the hopes that he has something to offer her, and she has the power to say yes or say no.
Just as Christ is referred to as the Bridegroom to the church in the book of Revelation, so here, God’s love is like that of a young boy in love – fragile and sacred.
The young man has something to offer us. Like a young man with a heart full of love God does not look down on us seeing something that God wants or needs, but seeing us and knowing that God might just be able to make us happy, God offers us God’s heart in the hopes that God’s love for us will be received and returned in kind.
While the invitation is something that can change our lives for the better it would not be love if we were required to accept the invitation.
Those of us who have offered our hearts to someone can feel some kinship with God, and can then look to the cross to see a love poured out for a people, and the savage marks of rejection.
But don’t be so bold as to pity God.
God doesn’t want your pity.
Just know this – that when your heart has been broken, God knows the temptation that you face. To hid your heart away and never love again.
God knows what that feels like. But three days later he came back and offered us his heart again.
The temptation is to hide our hearts away after the love we offer is rejected.
But this isn’t an alter call – it’s a call to action. To boldly offer the same invitation that God offers you.
We offer our children our hearts, and then one day that child lies to your face and breaks your heart. But a parent cannot be a parent by hiding a broken heart away, but only by putting your heart out there to be broken again and again can parents exhibit the love that parenthood requires.
To grow up means to weather relationships, some good, and some that make you stronger. But to think that you can avoid the risk by holding a part of your heart back behind a wall makes any thing real impossible. To love and to be loved demands risk, demands the kind of risk that our God is willing to take.
We are called to love each other as God has loved us, and so you must offer your heart – the risk is huge, but it is the risk you must take to inherit the joy true love offers.
See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Here this invitation, and if you have forgotten what it means to be desired know that you are desired. Here this invitation, and if you have forgotten what it means to be loved then know that you are loved. Here this invitation and know that the one who loves you, whose heart is on the line for you, offers a new life with this invitation and this call to go and do likewise: “Arise come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.”
Sunday, July 26, 2009
What Are You Waiting For?
Genesis 47: 27-31
Now the Israelites settled in Egypt in the region of Goshen. They acquired property there and were fruitful and increased greatly in number.
Jacob lived in Egypt seventeen years, and the years of his life were a hundred and forty-seven. When the time drew near for Israel to die, he called for his son Joseph and said to him, “If I have found favor in your eyes, put your hand under my thigh and promise that you will show me kindness and faithfulness. Do not bury me in Egypt, but when I rest with my fathers, carry me out of Egypt and bury me where they are buried.”
“I will do as you say,” he said.
“Swear to me,” he said. Then Joseph swore to him, and Israel worshiped as he leaned on the top of his staff.
Sermon
I heard this story once about a class taught by the great poet, Maya Angelou. Apparently all kinds of people signed up for this class, if for nothing else, trusting that sitting before this wise woman would be enlightening in and of itself.
Many grew disappointed however, because the entire first class involved nothing more than learning everyone’s name. These students wanted to be learning something important – something only this wise woman, this poet laurite, could teach them and learning names of classmates seemed like a great waste of time. They stayed on however, knowing that the second class would be better, but the second class was identical to the first – once again spending the entire class learning names. I think at this point a few students quit coming, but most stayed on knowing that by the third class Maya Angelou would get to the business of teaching. The third class however, began as the first two – the only difference was that at the end of this third class Maya Angelou finally addressed them saying, “I know that it seems strange to have spent so much time learning each others names, but what is required for this class is that you listen to and respect each other. The first step then has to be taking the time to learn each others names.”
Names are important. I had a professor myself who said that there is no sweeter sound to any individual than the sound of their own name – it seems the first step in knowing someone as we know we matter to someone when they have learned our name – whether we are loved or hated isn’t nearly as important as knowing that we matter.
But to the reader of this passage, knowing one of the key characters is difficult, because you don’t know exactly what to call him – as Jacob and Israel is the same person.
Jacob – like Paul, Peter, Abraham, and Sarah is given a new name, Israel. But unlike Paul, Peter, Abraham, and Sarah, Jacob continues to be known as Jacob.
Back and forth then between Jacob and Israel, as though scripture wrestles between two names never sure how to really call this guy.
Or, we can know this Jacob-Israel if we know him by the conflict between two names.
Even in the womb this man defined himself by conflict, fighting with his twin brother Esau, pulling him back by the ankle to be the first out of the womb.
Dissatisfied with second place, Jacob took it upon himself to swindle his older brother out of his birthright, and then tricked their father Isaac into giving him the blessing.
Wrestling with his brother for primacy, wrestling with his father for his blessing and approval, and on the bank of the Jabbok Jacob even wrestles God.
“I will not let you go unless you bless me”.
His adversary replied with a question, “What is your name?”
I’m confident that God already knows his name, only that God knows not only his name but his heart and so knew that this man would rather speak for himself - so “Jacob” he responded.
“Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men and have overcome.”
But this wasn’t Jacob’s last struggle, he doesn’t stop fighting for many years, and we come to our passage for today – Joseph now a powerful man in Egypt, and Jacob puts his trust in Joseph, knowing that his favorite son will provide for his people, and that Joseph will return his father’s bones to rest with those of his ancestors.
In knowing that all his sons are settled in the land of Goshen in Egypt, far away from the famine that afflicted them in Canaan Jacob rests – his household and all his children acquired property and were fruitful and increased greatly in number.
And this is where Jacob’s wrestling with fate, wrestling and scheming to not only survive but to flourish is over, and “Israel worshiped as he leaned on the top of his staff.”
It’s no tragedy that Israel made it to the point where he could worship – as it’s a point we all strive for – to rest, finally, knowing that our children are taken care of, that our people will be provided for. To finally reach the finish line. To have sized life with both hands and made something of himself, something that would last, something that ensured the safety and wellbeing of the people he loved – yes Jacob’s wrestling is over, and he “worshiped as he leaned on the top of his staff.”
But the words that describe the people’s prosperity in Egypt, “They acquired property there and were fruitful and increased greatly in number” are haunting words, because these words are used by the Pharaoh generations down the road, “Look he said to his people, the Israelites have become too numerous for us. Come, we must deal shrewdly with them or they will become even more numerous and if war breaks out, will join our enemies, fight against us and leave our country.
So they put slave masters over them to oppress them with forced labor.”
And when this oppression doesn’t work to stifle the growth of Jacob’s decedents, Pharaoh gave “this order to all his people: “Every boy that is born you must throw into the Nile.”
The death of a son is something that Jacob knew only too well. When he was lead to believe that his favorite son Joseph was killed by wild animals he refused to be comforted. “No,” he said, “in mourning will I go down to the grave to my son.”
If he knew that this same pain would be felt by so many of his descendents.
If he knew that just when he rested and worshiped, leaned on the top of his staff his family wasn’t safe and poised to prosper, but by leading them into Egypt he had set the stage for the horror of slavery and the slaughter of the innocents.
In wrestling, it was as though fate rested in his hands, and just as he thought all was well, that he had wrestled life into submission, we readers know that Jacob’s people will soon be at the mercy of powers bigger and stronger than they.
For so long he trusted in his own strength, his own wisdom, and he thought he had finally gotten where he needed to be.
But only God would get him out of Egypt again.
I don’t know of a hero of the Bible with a stronger will – more determined to make it by his own means, wrestling with this God whose will works beyond his own. But here he worships God, and it almost seems sad to see the fight end, seemingly too soon.
Maybe he is just too old to do anything else besides trust – to lean on his maker as he leans on his staff – unable to stand any longer on his own two feet.
Or maybe in this moment he reflects on the providence of God – the invisible hand at work taking the evil deed of his older sons – throwing Joseph into a cistern and then selling him into slavery – and through this deed making a way for his people to prosper on the banks of the Nile rather than starve in the famine of Canaan.
But more likely, and more consistent with his character, Jacob had waited until his work was over and his wrestling done, waited until he had ensured the prosperity of his people – but we know from the perspective of the Exodus, that this belief of ensured prosperity is built on false pretenses, and that further down the road their prosperity leads directly towards their oppression.
Like those who trusted their retirement to Bernie Madoff, the security Jacob rested in wouldn’t last.
Is it a tragedy then, that the patriarch Israel isn’t able to ensure the prosperity of his people? That he rests and worships before his work is done?
It would only be a tragedy if we waited to rest in the Lord until we thought everything were in it’s place, all our ducks in a row, because we know from this story of the end of Jacob’s wrestling that all our ducks will never be in a row.
We know, not that Jacob worships in vain, but that he didn’t need to wait to worship the God who not only got the people out of famine and into Egypt, but who will get them out from under Egypt’s slavery and into the promised land.
We are here to worship the one who controls what is beyond our control – who takes what we intended for harm, and intends it for good to accomplish what is now being done – we worship God, today because there has to come a time where wrestling ends and worship begins.
So what are you waiting for?
Are you waiting for conflict to end so that worship can begin?
Are you waiting for security, guaranteed stability before you can look out on the future with hope?
Are you waiting for peace on earth when peace in your heart is possible now?
There must be a time when wrestling gives way to worship, when worry gives way to hope, when faith in ourselves gives way to faith in God.
We don’t need to wait to worship God – because what we know from scripture is that our God will make a way, our God will provide, and our God will prevail.
Here we are, to worship the God whose will prevails when we can wrestle no longer.
-Amen.
Now the Israelites settled in Egypt in the region of Goshen. They acquired property there and were fruitful and increased greatly in number.
Jacob lived in Egypt seventeen years, and the years of his life were a hundred and forty-seven. When the time drew near for Israel to die, he called for his son Joseph and said to him, “If I have found favor in your eyes, put your hand under my thigh and promise that you will show me kindness and faithfulness. Do not bury me in Egypt, but when I rest with my fathers, carry me out of Egypt and bury me where they are buried.”
“I will do as you say,” he said.
“Swear to me,” he said. Then Joseph swore to him, and Israel worshiped as he leaned on the top of his staff.
Sermon
I heard this story once about a class taught by the great poet, Maya Angelou. Apparently all kinds of people signed up for this class, if for nothing else, trusting that sitting before this wise woman would be enlightening in and of itself.
Many grew disappointed however, because the entire first class involved nothing more than learning everyone’s name. These students wanted to be learning something important – something only this wise woman, this poet laurite, could teach them and learning names of classmates seemed like a great waste of time. They stayed on however, knowing that the second class would be better, but the second class was identical to the first – once again spending the entire class learning names. I think at this point a few students quit coming, but most stayed on knowing that by the third class Maya Angelou would get to the business of teaching. The third class however, began as the first two – the only difference was that at the end of this third class Maya Angelou finally addressed them saying, “I know that it seems strange to have spent so much time learning each others names, but what is required for this class is that you listen to and respect each other. The first step then has to be taking the time to learn each others names.”
Names are important. I had a professor myself who said that there is no sweeter sound to any individual than the sound of their own name – it seems the first step in knowing someone as we know we matter to someone when they have learned our name – whether we are loved or hated isn’t nearly as important as knowing that we matter.
But to the reader of this passage, knowing one of the key characters is difficult, because you don’t know exactly what to call him – as Jacob and Israel is the same person.
Jacob – like Paul, Peter, Abraham, and Sarah is given a new name, Israel. But unlike Paul, Peter, Abraham, and Sarah, Jacob continues to be known as Jacob.
Back and forth then between Jacob and Israel, as though scripture wrestles between two names never sure how to really call this guy.
Or, we can know this Jacob-Israel if we know him by the conflict between two names.
Even in the womb this man defined himself by conflict, fighting with his twin brother Esau, pulling him back by the ankle to be the first out of the womb.
Dissatisfied with second place, Jacob took it upon himself to swindle his older brother out of his birthright, and then tricked their father Isaac into giving him the blessing.
Wrestling with his brother for primacy, wrestling with his father for his blessing and approval, and on the bank of the Jabbok Jacob even wrestles God.
“I will not let you go unless you bless me”.
His adversary replied with a question, “What is your name?”
I’m confident that God already knows his name, only that God knows not only his name but his heart and so knew that this man would rather speak for himself - so “Jacob” he responded.
“Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men and have overcome.”
But this wasn’t Jacob’s last struggle, he doesn’t stop fighting for many years, and we come to our passage for today – Joseph now a powerful man in Egypt, and Jacob puts his trust in Joseph, knowing that his favorite son will provide for his people, and that Joseph will return his father’s bones to rest with those of his ancestors.
In knowing that all his sons are settled in the land of Goshen in Egypt, far away from the famine that afflicted them in Canaan Jacob rests – his household and all his children acquired property and were fruitful and increased greatly in number.
And this is where Jacob’s wrestling with fate, wrestling and scheming to not only survive but to flourish is over, and “Israel worshiped as he leaned on the top of his staff.”
It’s no tragedy that Israel made it to the point where he could worship – as it’s a point we all strive for – to rest, finally, knowing that our children are taken care of, that our people will be provided for. To finally reach the finish line. To have sized life with both hands and made something of himself, something that would last, something that ensured the safety and wellbeing of the people he loved – yes Jacob’s wrestling is over, and he “worshiped as he leaned on the top of his staff.”
But the words that describe the people’s prosperity in Egypt, “They acquired property there and were fruitful and increased greatly in number” are haunting words, because these words are used by the Pharaoh generations down the road, “Look he said to his people, the Israelites have become too numerous for us. Come, we must deal shrewdly with them or they will become even more numerous and if war breaks out, will join our enemies, fight against us and leave our country.
So they put slave masters over them to oppress them with forced labor.”
And when this oppression doesn’t work to stifle the growth of Jacob’s decedents, Pharaoh gave “this order to all his people: “Every boy that is born you must throw into the Nile.”
The death of a son is something that Jacob knew only too well. When he was lead to believe that his favorite son Joseph was killed by wild animals he refused to be comforted. “No,” he said, “in mourning will I go down to the grave to my son.”
If he knew that this same pain would be felt by so many of his descendents.
If he knew that just when he rested and worshiped, leaned on the top of his staff his family wasn’t safe and poised to prosper, but by leading them into Egypt he had set the stage for the horror of slavery and the slaughter of the innocents.
In wrestling, it was as though fate rested in his hands, and just as he thought all was well, that he had wrestled life into submission, we readers know that Jacob’s people will soon be at the mercy of powers bigger and stronger than they.
For so long he trusted in his own strength, his own wisdom, and he thought he had finally gotten where he needed to be.
But only God would get him out of Egypt again.
I don’t know of a hero of the Bible with a stronger will – more determined to make it by his own means, wrestling with this God whose will works beyond his own. But here he worships God, and it almost seems sad to see the fight end, seemingly too soon.
Maybe he is just too old to do anything else besides trust – to lean on his maker as he leans on his staff – unable to stand any longer on his own two feet.
Or maybe in this moment he reflects on the providence of God – the invisible hand at work taking the evil deed of his older sons – throwing Joseph into a cistern and then selling him into slavery – and through this deed making a way for his people to prosper on the banks of the Nile rather than starve in the famine of Canaan.
But more likely, and more consistent with his character, Jacob had waited until his work was over and his wrestling done, waited until he had ensured the prosperity of his people – but we know from the perspective of the Exodus, that this belief of ensured prosperity is built on false pretenses, and that further down the road their prosperity leads directly towards their oppression.
Like those who trusted their retirement to Bernie Madoff, the security Jacob rested in wouldn’t last.
Is it a tragedy then, that the patriarch Israel isn’t able to ensure the prosperity of his people? That he rests and worships before his work is done?
It would only be a tragedy if we waited to rest in the Lord until we thought everything were in it’s place, all our ducks in a row, because we know from this story of the end of Jacob’s wrestling that all our ducks will never be in a row.
We know, not that Jacob worships in vain, but that he didn’t need to wait to worship the God who not only got the people out of famine and into Egypt, but who will get them out from under Egypt’s slavery and into the promised land.
We are here to worship the one who controls what is beyond our control – who takes what we intended for harm, and intends it for good to accomplish what is now being done – we worship God, today because there has to come a time where wrestling ends and worship begins.
So what are you waiting for?
Are you waiting for conflict to end so that worship can begin?
Are you waiting for security, guaranteed stability before you can look out on the future with hope?
Are you waiting for peace on earth when peace in your heart is possible now?
There must be a time when wrestling gives way to worship, when worry gives way to hope, when faith in ourselves gives way to faith in God.
We don’t need to wait to worship God – because what we know from scripture is that our God will make a way, our God will provide, and our God will prevail.
Here we are, to worship the God whose will prevails when we can wrestle no longer.
-Amen.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Open to Not Having All the Answers
Genesis 39: 13-23, page 30
When she saw that he had left his cloak in her hand and had run out of the house, she called her household servants. “Look,” she said to them, “this Hebrew has been brought to us to make sport of us! He came in here to sleep with me, but I screamed. When he heard me scream for help, he left his cloak beside me and ran out of the house.”
She kept his cloak beside her until his master came home. Then she told him this story: “That Hebrew slave you brought us came to me to make sport of me. But as soon as I screamed for help, he left his cloak beside me and ran out of the house.”
When his master heard the story his wife told him, saying, “This is how your slave treated me,” he burned with anger. Joseph’s master took him and put him in prison, the place where the king’s prisoners were confined.
But while Joseph was there in the prison, the Lord was with him; he showed him kindness and granted him favor in the eyes of the prison warden. So the warden put Joseph in charge of all those held in the prison, and he was made responsible for all that was done there. The warden paid no attention to anything under Joseph’s care, because the Lord was with Joseph and gave him success in whatever he did.
Sermon
Beautiful women can get you into trouble – Just the other day I was reading the paper, and my eyes found a picture of actress Katie Heigl.
Actress Heigl shares Keys to success the headline read.
I thought to myself, what would these keys to success need to be other than to have blond hair and the perfect body?
“You have to be open to not having all the answers,” says star of Grey’s Anatomy.
On that same front page there was also an article on Gov. Mark Sanford – describing once again how his indiscretions with another beautiful woman had de-railed his hopes for a Presidential run.
And then we have Joseph – his life also seemingly de-railed because of a beautiful woman, but unlike Mark Sanford, Joseph didn’t do anything wrong.
In our passage from Genesis, he is not a guilty man claiming innocence, but an innocent man made a victim because of a likely story from a manipulating woman.
So, while it is often the case, this morning’s scripture lesson is not a moral lesson on how men must be strong in the face of beautiful women, but something else.
While there are plenty of times when Joseph deserved the punishment he got – thrown in the cistern by his brothers we say that bragging kid had it coming – here, the victim of unfair circumstances, Joseph gets a taste, not of his own just desserts, but of bitter unfairness.
How chaotic the world seems from this perspective of unfairness.
How out of wack the world seems when it is so unjust that everyone stands against you making you pay for a crime that you didn’t commit.
How horrible it is to pay for another person’s wrong doing.
It is a shame to admit that there are men who have been freed from death row after serving sentences, years of solitary confinement, for crimes they didn’t commit. In these instances we so often see the cruel realities of racism, where black men are judged guilty, not according to evidence but according to skin color.
It’s a reality we don’t pay much attention to because it’s just too hard to face – but in this story about Joseph’s unfair conviction what can’t be denied is that it is a passage describing injustice and unfairness, causing the reader to wonder, how once the victim of such unfairness could Joseph not grow cold to the world, give up, waste away in his cell.
How many nights do you think he lay awake asking, “why God why. I thought you had a plan for me, and this cannot have been that plan.”
“You have to be open to not having all the answers,” Katie Higel says.[1]
And I believe that she is exactly right.
All God gave Joseph was a destination – a dream that showed him something amazing, his 11 brothers bowing down to him in the form of sheaves of grain – but God gave Joseph the destination, not a road map of how he would get there.
And here lies our temptation – as having a destination doesn’t stop me from planning out in my head my life story – how God will get me from point A to point B.
I see certain things unfold in certain ways: standing on the stage at graduation who doesn’t look out seeing a clear path towards success, wealth, and happiness.
Standing and looking out at friends and family on your wedding day, who doesn’t expect to walk down an aisle of rose petals and out into years of happiness, growing old together?
Standing in the Dr’s office with a pregnant belly who doesn’t imagine a perfect birth, a healthy baby, and years of laughter and joy, years of growing into a family together? Standing there tending the flocks with his brothers in the land of Canaan and dreaming dreams. Joseph must have imagined, if not a smooth path, at least a direct path to making his dream a reality.
While looking out from these high places the path seems easy – the path meets a dead-end from the perspective of a prison cell – and left alone in that prison cell I don’t think anyone would ever blame him if he started to give up on that dream.
Who could possible blame him if he looked out from his prison cell and no longer believed he would make it?
No one would blame him; no, no one would blame him because we have all been in his shoes.
Steadily on the path towards our career we are rejected from graduate school and suddenly, with the wind taken out of our sails, loose direction and start dreaming smaller dreams.
Settling down into a happy retirement, health fails, savings crumble and the secure future of growing old together seems so far away. The dream put in the works so many years ago seems like it will remain nothing more than a dream.
On track for the perfect family, a pregnancy ends in miscarriage or infertility strikes, and we’re suddenly unable to do the thing we never even questioned we’d be able to do. A pit replaces dreams of a full belly.
Having found the perfect partner, fulfilled by another person, out of no where we find out that everything is not what we though it was, that we were living a lie, that counseling, separation, or even divorce, are now real and possibly necessary options.
To save ourselves from the pain of it – little by little we give up on reaching the destination by saying things like, “I never really wanted it to work out any way.”
Or, “That dream wasn’t really a dream, more the effect of indigestion then divine intervention. God doesn’t really have great things in store, I’m just Joe, and I’ll learn to be satisfied with something less than happiness.”
So it is the unfairness of life that works to dissuade us of our dreams.
Looking out on the world from the jail cell, looking out on the future from disappointment, just laid-off, just broken-up, just rejected, looking at life from the perspective of miscarriage, death, unemployment, debt, disease, adultery, divorce, or depression. But Joseph, the victim of unfair circumstance, still had the power to choose between two options – the option to give up, to give up on God, to give up on faith, to give up on justice, to give up on hope – or to believe according to the words of the prophet: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
You see, Joseph, even at the mercy of powers bigger and stronger then he still had two options – to curse God and rot away in his prison cell, or to have faith in the God who promised a destination but left the road to that destination unclear.
We were never promised a road map, but we have our destination.
To get to this Promised Land we must keep the faith that we will get there, ready to serve where ever we find ourselves, always open to not having all the answers.
[1] The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, Thursday, July 02, 2009
When she saw that he had left his cloak in her hand and had run out of the house, she called her household servants. “Look,” she said to them, “this Hebrew has been brought to us to make sport of us! He came in here to sleep with me, but I screamed. When he heard me scream for help, he left his cloak beside me and ran out of the house.”
She kept his cloak beside her until his master came home. Then she told him this story: “That Hebrew slave you brought us came to me to make sport of me. But as soon as I screamed for help, he left his cloak beside me and ran out of the house.”
When his master heard the story his wife told him, saying, “This is how your slave treated me,” he burned with anger. Joseph’s master took him and put him in prison, the place where the king’s prisoners were confined.
But while Joseph was there in the prison, the Lord was with him; he showed him kindness and granted him favor in the eyes of the prison warden. So the warden put Joseph in charge of all those held in the prison, and he was made responsible for all that was done there. The warden paid no attention to anything under Joseph’s care, because the Lord was with Joseph and gave him success in whatever he did.
Sermon
Beautiful women can get you into trouble – Just the other day I was reading the paper, and my eyes found a picture of actress Katie Heigl.
Actress Heigl shares Keys to success the headline read.
I thought to myself, what would these keys to success need to be other than to have blond hair and the perfect body?
“You have to be open to not having all the answers,” says star of Grey’s Anatomy.
On that same front page there was also an article on Gov. Mark Sanford – describing once again how his indiscretions with another beautiful woman had de-railed his hopes for a Presidential run.
And then we have Joseph – his life also seemingly de-railed because of a beautiful woman, but unlike Mark Sanford, Joseph didn’t do anything wrong.
In our passage from Genesis, he is not a guilty man claiming innocence, but an innocent man made a victim because of a likely story from a manipulating woman.
So, while it is often the case, this morning’s scripture lesson is not a moral lesson on how men must be strong in the face of beautiful women, but something else.
While there are plenty of times when Joseph deserved the punishment he got – thrown in the cistern by his brothers we say that bragging kid had it coming – here, the victim of unfair circumstances, Joseph gets a taste, not of his own just desserts, but of bitter unfairness.
How chaotic the world seems from this perspective of unfairness.
How out of wack the world seems when it is so unjust that everyone stands against you making you pay for a crime that you didn’t commit.
How horrible it is to pay for another person’s wrong doing.
It is a shame to admit that there are men who have been freed from death row after serving sentences, years of solitary confinement, for crimes they didn’t commit. In these instances we so often see the cruel realities of racism, where black men are judged guilty, not according to evidence but according to skin color.
It’s a reality we don’t pay much attention to because it’s just too hard to face – but in this story about Joseph’s unfair conviction what can’t be denied is that it is a passage describing injustice and unfairness, causing the reader to wonder, how once the victim of such unfairness could Joseph not grow cold to the world, give up, waste away in his cell.
How many nights do you think he lay awake asking, “why God why. I thought you had a plan for me, and this cannot have been that plan.”
“You have to be open to not having all the answers,” Katie Higel says.[1]
And I believe that she is exactly right.
All God gave Joseph was a destination – a dream that showed him something amazing, his 11 brothers bowing down to him in the form of sheaves of grain – but God gave Joseph the destination, not a road map of how he would get there.
And here lies our temptation – as having a destination doesn’t stop me from planning out in my head my life story – how God will get me from point A to point B.
I see certain things unfold in certain ways: standing on the stage at graduation who doesn’t look out seeing a clear path towards success, wealth, and happiness.
Standing and looking out at friends and family on your wedding day, who doesn’t expect to walk down an aisle of rose petals and out into years of happiness, growing old together?
Standing in the Dr’s office with a pregnant belly who doesn’t imagine a perfect birth, a healthy baby, and years of laughter and joy, years of growing into a family together? Standing there tending the flocks with his brothers in the land of Canaan and dreaming dreams. Joseph must have imagined, if not a smooth path, at least a direct path to making his dream a reality.
While looking out from these high places the path seems easy – the path meets a dead-end from the perspective of a prison cell – and left alone in that prison cell I don’t think anyone would ever blame him if he started to give up on that dream.
Who could possible blame him if he looked out from his prison cell and no longer believed he would make it?
No one would blame him; no, no one would blame him because we have all been in his shoes.
Steadily on the path towards our career we are rejected from graduate school and suddenly, with the wind taken out of our sails, loose direction and start dreaming smaller dreams.
Settling down into a happy retirement, health fails, savings crumble and the secure future of growing old together seems so far away. The dream put in the works so many years ago seems like it will remain nothing more than a dream.
On track for the perfect family, a pregnancy ends in miscarriage or infertility strikes, and we’re suddenly unable to do the thing we never even questioned we’d be able to do. A pit replaces dreams of a full belly.
Having found the perfect partner, fulfilled by another person, out of no where we find out that everything is not what we though it was, that we were living a lie, that counseling, separation, or even divorce, are now real and possibly necessary options.
To save ourselves from the pain of it – little by little we give up on reaching the destination by saying things like, “I never really wanted it to work out any way.”
Or, “That dream wasn’t really a dream, more the effect of indigestion then divine intervention. God doesn’t really have great things in store, I’m just Joe, and I’ll learn to be satisfied with something less than happiness.”
So it is the unfairness of life that works to dissuade us of our dreams.
Looking out on the world from the jail cell, looking out on the future from disappointment, just laid-off, just broken-up, just rejected, looking at life from the perspective of miscarriage, death, unemployment, debt, disease, adultery, divorce, or depression. But Joseph, the victim of unfair circumstance, still had the power to choose between two options – the option to give up, to give up on God, to give up on faith, to give up on justice, to give up on hope – or to believe according to the words of the prophet: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
You see, Joseph, even at the mercy of powers bigger and stronger then he still had two options – to curse God and rot away in his prison cell, or to have faith in the God who promised a destination but left the road to that destination unclear.
We were never promised a road map, but we have our destination.
To get to this Promised Land we must keep the faith that we will get there, ready to serve where ever we find ourselves, always open to not having all the answers.
[1] The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, Thursday, July 02, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
A Father's Fear for the Future
1 Samuel 15: 34- 16: 13; page 202
Then Samuel left for Ramah, but Saul went up to his home in Gibeah of Saul. Until the day Samuel died, he did not go to see Saul again, though Samuel mourned for him. And the Lord was grieved that he had made Saul king over Israel.
The Lord said to Samuel, “How long will you mourn for Saul, since I have rejected him as king over Israel? Fill your horn with oil and be on your way; I am sending you to Jesse of Bethlehem. I have chosen one of his sons to be king.”
But Samuel said, “How can I go? Saul will hear about it and kill me.”
The Lord said, “Take a heifer with you and say, ‘I have come to sacrifice to the Lord.’ Invite Jesse to the sacrifice, and I will show you what to do. You are to anoint for me the one I indicate.”
Samuel did what the Lord said. When he arrived at Bethlehem, the elders of the town trembled when they met him. They asked, “Do you come in peace?”
Samuel replied, “Yes, in peace; I have come to sacrifice to the Lord. Consecrate yourselves and come to the sacrifice with me.” Then he consecrated Jesse and his sons and invited them to the sacrifice.
When they arrived, Samuel saw Eliab and thought, “Surely the Lord’s anointed stands here before the Lord.”
But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”
Then Jesse called Abinadab and had him pass in front of Samuel. But Samuel said, “The Lord has not chosen this one either.”
Jesse then had Shammah pass by, but Samuel said, “Nor has the Lord chosen this one.”
Jesse had seven of his sons pass before Samuel, but Samuel said to him, “The Lord has not chosen these,” So he asked Jesse, “Are these all the sons you have?”
“There is still the youngest,” Jesse answered, “but he is tending the sheep.”
Samuel said, “Send for him; we will not sit down until he arrives.”
So he sent and had him brought in. He was ruddy, with a fine appearance and handsome features.
Then the Lord said, “Rise and anoint him; he is the one.”
So Samuel took the horn of oil and anointed him in the presence o f his brothers, and from that day on the Spirit of the Lord came upon David in power. Samuel then went to Ramah.
Sermon
The Apostle Paul wrote, “When I was a child, I talked like a child; I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man I put childish ways behind me.”
I have put a lot of childish ways behind me in the past seven weeks of fatherhood – like all you fathers, I guess I had to put something behind to make room for the worry that I now carry.
I can pinpoint an exact moment when I realized that this change had occurred – that I was no longer a 28 year-old worried primarily with my own well being – that I was now a 28 year old primarily concerned with a little girl, who, I proudly add is in the 95th percentile for height and weight.
You see – I had a premonition that helped me realize just how worrisome Fatherhood can be. I was ridding down 5 Forks towards Stone Mountain, and a little girl, 7 or 8 years old, was riding her bike down the side walk. In my imagination it were as though Lily was riding her bike, and I was watching as she rode all by herself, just one bad move away from the on-coming traffic. I could feel my palms sweat and my stomach clinch. But it got worse, because on the next block is that great Sunflower field – the one with the scarecrow always dressed-up in seasonally appropriate outfits – and back a few weeks ago when I was having this experience he happened to be dressed in a graduation gown.
I almost had to pull over.
So when one of our congregations finest Bible scholars, Marilyn Eckman, asked me in our Monday afternoon Bible study where we had just read our passage from 1st Samuel – the passage where young David, too small for Jesse to consider that he might be the one God was choosing to be the next King – how I would feel if the prophet Samuel came into our house to anoint Lily to be the Queen. I couldn’t reply any other way than to say, “Marilyn, I can’t physically handle the idea of my little girl riding a bike, much less becoming a monarch.”
So I can understand why Jesse left little David out there with the sheep. Why put the young, precious, children we father’s and mother’s are entrusted with in harms way, asking them to take on responsibilities, face danger, and temptation before they absolutely have to.
I can tell you that I am most comfortable knowing that Lily is safe, and I can only assume that Jesse, David’s father, felt the same way.
Proud at the idea that his oldest son Eliab – tall and experienced – would be considered to take Saul’s place as King of Israel. Even Abinadab or Shammah should surely be considered. They would be jealous of their oldest brother if they weren’t, and even the four other brothers should tag along – who knows what this great prophet might see in them.
But David – not David.
I wonder if Jesse had premonitions as well. Surely he could handle the idea of David riding a bike, after all his youngest son was out defending the sheep from wild animals and thieves, but might Jesse have dreamed of his young son going up against the Philistine Goliath armed only with his sling. Just the idea would have been enough to scare Jesse into leaving his youngest son at home. If that’s what God wants from me, then forget it. You ask too much Lord.
It certainly feels like too much to ask. So we wonder why God can’t just be satisfied with what we are comfortable giving.
But, you see, God seems to have this awful habit of needing that thing just beyond that comfort level of yours.
In my very short time as a parent that is one thing I am already struggling with. That what is demanded, what Lily’s development demands, is that I do not fence her in with my fear. That while I would prefer for her to never fall down, without doing so she will never learn to walk. That while I cannot stomach the thought of her teetering on a bike, I cannot dare deny her that feeling of the wind in her hair and her neighborhood at her disposal. That while today she needs me, I must willingly teach her to be independent, because she cannot be my little girl forever. The world needs her, God needs her, and she needs to be needed.
So like Jesse I’ll have to be ready to call her away from her flocks, to come down to the sacrifice that prophet Samuel arranged – though what is really being sacrificed is not that heifer that Samuel brought, it’s a part of me.
In Jesse there you parents are – there we all are. Living with the reality that what is demanded is not what we are comfortable giving, but beyond.
In my life then there are only a few things I’m willing to make that kind of sacrifice for. I am proud to sacrifice for my daughter, I’d be a fool not to sacrifice for my wife Sara, but more than once I have felt led to sacrifice for this church.
Certainly today this church today gives me a reason to swell my chest when I tell someone I am your associate pastor. But I know that this church holds potential that does not immediately meet the eye.
So I want you to be brave, and look down 5 Forks with me. Just as I could see my little girl ridding a bike, my little girl graduating high school, can you see your church reaching out farther into the community, music filling the sanctuary in ways that reach beyond the quality we already know, our mission, our ministries, growing. Our influence, our charge to preach the good news of the Gospel spreading beyond.
And can you imagine, that it will happen, if we are willing to step out beyond what we are comfortable giving, to step right over our fear, letting go out of faith.
Today some of us are stewards of children, but we are all stewards of this church – and this Stewardship Sunday I know that it is more comfortable keeping money in your pocket and keeping your time and talents to yourself – but imagine if Jesse had kept David just where he was comfortable keeping him. The greatest King of Israel would have never left his flocks of sheep, never would have become the great shepherd of Israel.
You see – God has this awful habit of needing that thing just beyond what we are comfortable giving – but our God also has the incredible potential to take that thing and to use it in a way that will defy our expectations completely.
I know it is easy to be satisfied with what we have today – but as you consider your pledge and your time and talents form one last time, imagine what this church could be, what you could be, if you are willing to step out in faith.
-Amen.
Then Samuel left for Ramah, but Saul went up to his home in Gibeah of Saul. Until the day Samuel died, he did not go to see Saul again, though Samuel mourned for him. And the Lord was grieved that he had made Saul king over Israel.
The Lord said to Samuel, “How long will you mourn for Saul, since I have rejected him as king over Israel? Fill your horn with oil and be on your way; I am sending you to Jesse of Bethlehem. I have chosen one of his sons to be king.”
But Samuel said, “How can I go? Saul will hear about it and kill me.”
The Lord said, “Take a heifer with you and say, ‘I have come to sacrifice to the Lord.’ Invite Jesse to the sacrifice, and I will show you what to do. You are to anoint for me the one I indicate.”
Samuel did what the Lord said. When he arrived at Bethlehem, the elders of the town trembled when they met him. They asked, “Do you come in peace?”
Samuel replied, “Yes, in peace; I have come to sacrifice to the Lord. Consecrate yourselves and come to the sacrifice with me.” Then he consecrated Jesse and his sons and invited them to the sacrifice.
When they arrived, Samuel saw Eliab and thought, “Surely the Lord’s anointed stands here before the Lord.”
But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”
Then Jesse called Abinadab and had him pass in front of Samuel. But Samuel said, “The Lord has not chosen this one either.”
Jesse then had Shammah pass by, but Samuel said, “Nor has the Lord chosen this one.”
Jesse had seven of his sons pass before Samuel, but Samuel said to him, “The Lord has not chosen these,” So he asked Jesse, “Are these all the sons you have?”
“There is still the youngest,” Jesse answered, “but he is tending the sheep.”
Samuel said, “Send for him; we will not sit down until he arrives.”
So he sent and had him brought in. He was ruddy, with a fine appearance and handsome features.
Then the Lord said, “Rise and anoint him; he is the one.”
So Samuel took the horn of oil and anointed him in the presence o f his brothers, and from that day on the Spirit of the Lord came upon David in power. Samuel then went to Ramah.
Sermon
The Apostle Paul wrote, “When I was a child, I talked like a child; I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man I put childish ways behind me.”
I have put a lot of childish ways behind me in the past seven weeks of fatherhood – like all you fathers, I guess I had to put something behind to make room for the worry that I now carry.
I can pinpoint an exact moment when I realized that this change had occurred – that I was no longer a 28 year-old worried primarily with my own well being – that I was now a 28 year old primarily concerned with a little girl, who, I proudly add is in the 95th percentile for height and weight.
You see – I had a premonition that helped me realize just how worrisome Fatherhood can be. I was ridding down 5 Forks towards Stone Mountain, and a little girl, 7 or 8 years old, was riding her bike down the side walk. In my imagination it were as though Lily was riding her bike, and I was watching as she rode all by herself, just one bad move away from the on-coming traffic. I could feel my palms sweat and my stomach clinch. But it got worse, because on the next block is that great Sunflower field – the one with the scarecrow always dressed-up in seasonally appropriate outfits – and back a few weeks ago when I was having this experience he happened to be dressed in a graduation gown.
I almost had to pull over.
So when one of our congregations finest Bible scholars, Marilyn Eckman, asked me in our Monday afternoon Bible study where we had just read our passage from 1st Samuel – the passage where young David, too small for Jesse to consider that he might be the one God was choosing to be the next King – how I would feel if the prophet Samuel came into our house to anoint Lily to be the Queen. I couldn’t reply any other way than to say, “Marilyn, I can’t physically handle the idea of my little girl riding a bike, much less becoming a monarch.”
So I can understand why Jesse left little David out there with the sheep. Why put the young, precious, children we father’s and mother’s are entrusted with in harms way, asking them to take on responsibilities, face danger, and temptation before they absolutely have to.
I can tell you that I am most comfortable knowing that Lily is safe, and I can only assume that Jesse, David’s father, felt the same way.
Proud at the idea that his oldest son Eliab – tall and experienced – would be considered to take Saul’s place as King of Israel. Even Abinadab or Shammah should surely be considered. They would be jealous of their oldest brother if they weren’t, and even the four other brothers should tag along – who knows what this great prophet might see in them.
But David – not David.
I wonder if Jesse had premonitions as well. Surely he could handle the idea of David riding a bike, after all his youngest son was out defending the sheep from wild animals and thieves, but might Jesse have dreamed of his young son going up against the Philistine Goliath armed only with his sling. Just the idea would have been enough to scare Jesse into leaving his youngest son at home. If that’s what God wants from me, then forget it. You ask too much Lord.
It certainly feels like too much to ask. So we wonder why God can’t just be satisfied with what we are comfortable giving.
But, you see, God seems to have this awful habit of needing that thing just beyond that comfort level of yours.
In my very short time as a parent that is one thing I am already struggling with. That what is demanded, what Lily’s development demands, is that I do not fence her in with my fear. That while I would prefer for her to never fall down, without doing so she will never learn to walk. That while I cannot stomach the thought of her teetering on a bike, I cannot dare deny her that feeling of the wind in her hair and her neighborhood at her disposal. That while today she needs me, I must willingly teach her to be independent, because she cannot be my little girl forever. The world needs her, God needs her, and she needs to be needed.
So like Jesse I’ll have to be ready to call her away from her flocks, to come down to the sacrifice that prophet Samuel arranged – though what is really being sacrificed is not that heifer that Samuel brought, it’s a part of me.
In Jesse there you parents are – there we all are. Living with the reality that what is demanded is not what we are comfortable giving, but beyond.
In my life then there are only a few things I’m willing to make that kind of sacrifice for. I am proud to sacrifice for my daughter, I’d be a fool not to sacrifice for my wife Sara, but more than once I have felt led to sacrifice for this church.
Certainly today this church today gives me a reason to swell my chest when I tell someone I am your associate pastor. But I know that this church holds potential that does not immediately meet the eye.
So I want you to be brave, and look down 5 Forks with me. Just as I could see my little girl ridding a bike, my little girl graduating high school, can you see your church reaching out farther into the community, music filling the sanctuary in ways that reach beyond the quality we already know, our mission, our ministries, growing. Our influence, our charge to preach the good news of the Gospel spreading beyond.
And can you imagine, that it will happen, if we are willing to step out beyond what we are comfortable giving, to step right over our fear, letting go out of faith.
Today some of us are stewards of children, but we are all stewards of this church – and this Stewardship Sunday I know that it is more comfortable keeping money in your pocket and keeping your time and talents to yourself – but imagine if Jesse had kept David just where he was comfortable keeping him. The greatest King of Israel would have never left his flocks of sheep, never would have become the great shepherd of Israel.
You see – God has this awful habit of needing that thing just beyond what we are comfortable giving – but our God also has the incredible potential to take that thing and to use it in a way that will defy our expectations completely.
I know it is easy to be satisfied with what we have today – but as you consider your pledge and your time and talents form one last time, imagine what this church could be, what you could be, if you are willing to step out in faith.
-Amen.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Psalm Sunday 2009: Where were you?
Mark 15: 1-15, page 721
Very early in the morning, the chief priests, with the elders, the teachers of the law and the whole Sanhedrin, reached a decision. They bound Jesus, led him away and handed him over to Pilate.
“Are you the king of the Jews?” asked Pilate.
“Yes, it is as you say,” Jesus replied.
The chief priests accused him of many things. So again Pilate asked him, “Aren’t you going to answer? See how many things they are accusing you of.”
But Jesus still made no reply, and Pilate was amazed.
Now it was the custom at the Feast to release a prisoner whom the people requested. A man called Barabbas was in prison with the insurrectionists who had committed murder in the uprising. The crowd came up and asked Pilate to do for them what he usually did.
“Do you want me to release to you the king of the Jews?” asked Pilate, knowing it was out of envy that the chief priests had handed Jesus over to him. But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have Pilate release Barabbas instead.
“What shall I do, then, with the one you call the king of the Jews?” Pilate asked them.
“Crucify him!” they shouted.
“Why? What crime has he committed?” asked Pilate.
But they shouted all the louder, “Crucify him!”
Wanting to satisfy the crowd, Pilate released Barabbas to them. He had Jesus flogged, and handed him over to be crucified.
Sermon
Where were you on September 11, 2001?
I remember where I was, and this week I was reminded where John Walker Lindh was by a magazine article.[1]
John Walker Lindh was captured just months after the September 11th attacks fighting alongside Taliban forces in Afghanistan. While the nation united against the Taliban, this young white man from California was on the other side, a bearded convert to a fundamentalist version of Islam, and so became one of the most despised men in America. For siding with our nation’s enemy, for fighting for, and not against the people known to be responsible for attacking the United States on 9/11, he was beaten, vilified, and sentenced to twenty years in a Federal Prison.
How his mother felt when he took his first steps, how his father’s face lit up the first time his son smiled, his grades in school, his devotion to a foreign culture, and his quest for religious fulfillment are all wiped away, replaced by the words of Hilary Clinton who called him a traitor, or Ann Coulter, who called for his execution.
For any person tied to the United States, it is natural to think of smoke rising from the Twin Towers, airplanes flying where they shouldn’t, fear, death, and worry whenever John Walker Lindh is mentioned.
Like Pontius Pilate his identity is inextricably tied to one event – nothing else in his life could ever define him so completely.
Those buildings that he built, all other criminals who he attempted to try fairly, the justice that he sought, and the fairness that he asked of an unruly crowd are all forgotten – only the words: “Suffered under Pontius Pilate, he was crucified, dead, and buried” remain.
That was his defining moment.
Just as there are defining moments in all of our lives, those moments that change everything – categorize our lives into before and after - Pilate stood before the roaring crowd, Jesus, a huddled mass, silent and seemingly indifferent behind him, was living the moment that would define him forever; forever associating him with Christ’s crucifixion.
But the great theologian, Tertullian, gave verse two of our scripture passage an interesting reading – he saw something substantial in the conversation between Pilate and Jesus: “Are you the king of the Jews?’ asked Pilate. ‘Yes, it is as you say,’ Jesus replied.”
Tertullian saw a confession of faith in this verse – as though Jesus were saying to Pilate – you have already said it, you know who I am and have confessed that truth so why are you asking? Tertullian saw a “quiet faith that lived in [Pilate’s] heart.” Unfortunately, we modern readers say, that quiet faith never turned into loud words or strong actions – instead his faith was small, insubstantial, and quiet compared to the shouts of the crowd.
He won’t be remembered for this quiet faith – it’s his lack of action that matters – it’s his lack of action that makes his legacy the suffering represented by this symbol.
We look to the cross and blame him. We say the words of the Apostle’s Creed and let Christ’s suffering rest on his shoulders.
But he only played his small part in this tragedy.
He is judged more harshly, maybe because of where he was, but what about Peter, James and John; Mary and Martha, where were they?
We focus our aggression on Pilate, but here in Mark we know that at least he tried to defend Christ before the Crowd while the disciples hid – we know of Pilate’s quiet faith, but isn’t the disciple’s silent, absent, non-existent faith all the more appalling.
The truth of the crucifixion is that Christ suffered, not only under Pontius Pilate, but also by the cowardice of the disciples who feared for their own life.
And the crowd who had celebrated his entry into Jerusalem only days before, now so persuadable that they call for this same man’s death – we remember Pilate’s role in Christ’s crucifixion, but Christ suffered under a crowd of men and women of loose convictions, too easily swayed by the whims of religious authority.
The truth is that Christ suffered, not only under Pontius Pilate, but also under the jealously of the religious men who could not comprehend how this untrained man could outsmart the most educated, doing the miracles they weren’t able to do, healing the people they weren’t able to heal – to them he was a sign of what they should be - so they called for his death.
We know where Pilate was when they crucified my Lord, but where were his friends who knew who he was, where was the crowd who celebrated his entrance into the city only days before, and where were the educated who should have recognized him for his fulfillment of the scripture.
It’s easier to gravitate towards one figure, to let him bear the guilt that we all carry – so, we humans point our fingers in judgment, speak harsh words to the obvious targets so we can evade the question that really matters.
We know where Pilate was, but the question that really counts has nothing to do with Pilate. The question that really matters is: “Where were you when they crucified my Lord?”
Where were you when the crowds called for one thing and the quiet faith of your heart demanded another – did the quiet faith of your heart turn into words from your mouth, actions, or were you too afraid?
Where were you when worry surrounded you, bills pilled up, but your children needed you at home – did you obey the quiet faith that called you to your family, or did you stay at work giving up on the faith that told you all is in God’s hands?
Where were you when vengeance boiled up, fear trumped justice, and the call to war drowned out everything but the quiet faith of your heart calling you to patience and peace?
Where were you?
Here is the sign that reminds us all of the result of our sin – like a scar to remind us – we look to the cross as the sign of our condition, it is the result of our actions – but; if we are not afraid to see it now, to die to our ways of sin and death – we will be raised to new life.
-Amen.
[1] John Rico, “Can John Walker Lindh Go Home Now?” (GQ April, 2009) 126.
Very early in the morning, the chief priests, with the elders, the teachers of the law and the whole Sanhedrin, reached a decision. They bound Jesus, led him away and handed him over to Pilate.
“Are you the king of the Jews?” asked Pilate.
“Yes, it is as you say,” Jesus replied.
The chief priests accused him of many things. So again Pilate asked him, “Aren’t you going to answer? See how many things they are accusing you of.”
But Jesus still made no reply, and Pilate was amazed.
Now it was the custom at the Feast to release a prisoner whom the people requested. A man called Barabbas was in prison with the insurrectionists who had committed murder in the uprising. The crowd came up and asked Pilate to do for them what he usually did.
“Do you want me to release to you the king of the Jews?” asked Pilate, knowing it was out of envy that the chief priests had handed Jesus over to him. But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have Pilate release Barabbas instead.
“What shall I do, then, with the one you call the king of the Jews?” Pilate asked them.
“Crucify him!” they shouted.
“Why? What crime has he committed?” asked Pilate.
But they shouted all the louder, “Crucify him!”
Wanting to satisfy the crowd, Pilate released Barabbas to them. He had Jesus flogged, and handed him over to be crucified.
Sermon
Where were you on September 11, 2001?
I remember where I was, and this week I was reminded where John Walker Lindh was by a magazine article.[1]
John Walker Lindh was captured just months after the September 11th attacks fighting alongside Taliban forces in Afghanistan. While the nation united against the Taliban, this young white man from California was on the other side, a bearded convert to a fundamentalist version of Islam, and so became one of the most despised men in America. For siding with our nation’s enemy, for fighting for, and not against the people known to be responsible for attacking the United States on 9/11, he was beaten, vilified, and sentenced to twenty years in a Federal Prison.
How his mother felt when he took his first steps, how his father’s face lit up the first time his son smiled, his grades in school, his devotion to a foreign culture, and his quest for religious fulfillment are all wiped away, replaced by the words of Hilary Clinton who called him a traitor, or Ann Coulter, who called for his execution.
For any person tied to the United States, it is natural to think of smoke rising from the Twin Towers, airplanes flying where they shouldn’t, fear, death, and worry whenever John Walker Lindh is mentioned.
Like Pontius Pilate his identity is inextricably tied to one event – nothing else in his life could ever define him so completely.
Those buildings that he built, all other criminals who he attempted to try fairly, the justice that he sought, and the fairness that he asked of an unruly crowd are all forgotten – only the words: “Suffered under Pontius Pilate, he was crucified, dead, and buried” remain.
That was his defining moment.
Just as there are defining moments in all of our lives, those moments that change everything – categorize our lives into before and after - Pilate stood before the roaring crowd, Jesus, a huddled mass, silent and seemingly indifferent behind him, was living the moment that would define him forever; forever associating him with Christ’s crucifixion.
But the great theologian, Tertullian, gave verse two of our scripture passage an interesting reading – he saw something substantial in the conversation between Pilate and Jesus: “Are you the king of the Jews?’ asked Pilate. ‘Yes, it is as you say,’ Jesus replied.”
Tertullian saw a confession of faith in this verse – as though Jesus were saying to Pilate – you have already said it, you know who I am and have confessed that truth so why are you asking? Tertullian saw a “quiet faith that lived in [Pilate’s] heart.” Unfortunately, we modern readers say, that quiet faith never turned into loud words or strong actions – instead his faith was small, insubstantial, and quiet compared to the shouts of the crowd.
He won’t be remembered for this quiet faith – it’s his lack of action that matters – it’s his lack of action that makes his legacy the suffering represented by this symbol.
We look to the cross and blame him. We say the words of the Apostle’s Creed and let Christ’s suffering rest on his shoulders.
But he only played his small part in this tragedy.
He is judged more harshly, maybe because of where he was, but what about Peter, James and John; Mary and Martha, where were they?
We focus our aggression on Pilate, but here in Mark we know that at least he tried to defend Christ before the Crowd while the disciples hid – we know of Pilate’s quiet faith, but isn’t the disciple’s silent, absent, non-existent faith all the more appalling.
The truth of the crucifixion is that Christ suffered, not only under Pontius Pilate, but also by the cowardice of the disciples who feared for their own life.
And the crowd who had celebrated his entry into Jerusalem only days before, now so persuadable that they call for this same man’s death – we remember Pilate’s role in Christ’s crucifixion, but Christ suffered under a crowd of men and women of loose convictions, too easily swayed by the whims of religious authority.
The truth is that Christ suffered, not only under Pontius Pilate, but also under the jealously of the religious men who could not comprehend how this untrained man could outsmart the most educated, doing the miracles they weren’t able to do, healing the people they weren’t able to heal – to them he was a sign of what they should be - so they called for his death.
We know where Pilate was when they crucified my Lord, but where were his friends who knew who he was, where was the crowd who celebrated his entrance into the city only days before, and where were the educated who should have recognized him for his fulfillment of the scripture.
It’s easier to gravitate towards one figure, to let him bear the guilt that we all carry – so, we humans point our fingers in judgment, speak harsh words to the obvious targets so we can evade the question that really matters.
We know where Pilate was, but the question that really counts has nothing to do with Pilate. The question that really matters is: “Where were you when they crucified my Lord?”
Where were you when the crowds called for one thing and the quiet faith of your heart demanded another – did the quiet faith of your heart turn into words from your mouth, actions, or were you too afraid?
Where were you when worry surrounded you, bills pilled up, but your children needed you at home – did you obey the quiet faith that called you to your family, or did you stay at work giving up on the faith that told you all is in God’s hands?
Where were you when vengeance boiled up, fear trumped justice, and the call to war drowned out everything but the quiet faith of your heart calling you to patience and peace?
Where were you?
Here is the sign that reminds us all of the result of our sin – like a scar to remind us – we look to the cross as the sign of our condition, it is the result of our actions – but; if we are not afraid to see it now, to die to our ways of sin and death – we will be raised to new life.
-Amen.
[1] John Rico, “Can John Walker Lindh Go Home Now?” (GQ April, 2009) 126.
For God so Loved the World
John 3: 14-21, page 752
Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.
For God so loved the world that he gave the one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because he or she has not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son.
This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his or her deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what has been done has been done through God.”
Sermon
John 3: 16 may be the most familiar verse of the Bible – and In a society of increasing Biblical illiteracy, I think it’s important to take notice of one verse that most people actually know.
In many ways that familiarity is a good thing – this is the verse that Martin Luther, the man who laid the foundation for the Protestant reformation, a movement of which our Presbyterian tradition is an important part, called John 3: 16 the gospel in miniature; and a few hundred years later, Soren Kierkegaard, the Danish thinker who has influenced the modern church as much as anyone else would write that this passage actually tells you everything you need to know, and that it would be to the church’s benefit to save money by printing only this. All you need to know he said is that – Christ is God – he came into the world to save you – but we put him on the cross – that’s something that had to happen, and after three days he rose again.
These great minds inspired many people to take John 3: 16 out into the street, the baseball field, the football stadium, showing some very big audiences that the key to salvation is actually here in one simple verse: “For God so loved the world.”
Hear these words, and be saved, they say.
But what if someone doesn’t only read John 3: 16, what if they decide to start reading in verse 14 – “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up.” Now here is a verse that I had to look up in a couple of books because I had no idea what it was talking about.
I think it’s amazing that the most familiar verse in the whole Bible, John 3: 16 comes right after a verse that virtually no one understands: Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up.”
Here the author of John’s gospel takes you back to the book of Numbers – one of those books we all know is there but we never take the time to read – the snake is not Moses’ staff that he turned into a snake to amaze the Pharaoh, that story is in the book of Exodus, this one is a bronze snake God told Moses to make and to lift up before the people to heal them from the venomous serpents that God sent on them after they complained about leaving Egypt for the hundredth time.
There is a way of thinking now – that we shouldn’t really get into the hard questions with people who are just getting into Christianity, that we should take it slow and stick to “For God so loved the world” before we get into, God sent venomous snakes on the Israelites, but that’s obviously not how the author of John’s mind worked because right before we read the most simplified version of our religion, we come face to face with one of the most challenging concepts of our religion.
The passage in Numbers is one of those passages where we don’t really understand this God who we worship – as we don’t really worship a God who sends venomous snakes do we? We worship the God who saves us – right?
Don’t we worship the God who brings salvation – who answers our prayers by sparing us hardship, by delivering us from oppression, by saving us from those venomous snakes of life – and not the force that puts that suffering into our lives?
It is a strange thing to realize that in Numbers our God is both in the same – the God who saves the Israelites from the snakes is also the God who sent the snakes there in the first place.
If we think about this Numbers passage for too long then the next thing you know you start to wonder if you really know what on earth John 3: 16 means, as in light of John 3: 14 it doesn’t quite mean what we thought it did – thinking about God from the perspective of Numbers makes God different – and next thing I know I start to wonder if salvation means what I think it does.
I think that is how my father-in-law must have felt walking down the street in Knoxville, TN back when he was in graduate school. He moved to Knoxville from Colombia, South America to study architecture at the University of Tennessee. He’s a brilliant guy really, so he hit the English books hard before he went, and certainly had a book knowledge of English; but a book knowledge of English is not the same thing as a street knowledge of English, especially in Knoxville, TN.
As he was walking down the street a couple of women walked up to him. They asked him, very plainly and right off the bat, “Have you been saved?” Like I said, he had a book knowledge of English and not a street knowledge of English, so after considering the word “saved” he responded, “Yes, I have a checking, and a savings account at the bank.”
This story is funny because we think of “being saved” as an issue completely different from our savings accounts, especially when our savings accounts may be having a particularly hard time. We separate our lives out, looking for God in church and in the miracles of life, but our eyes have to be open to the fullness of God, the fullness of salvation that is a work in progress encompassing our entire existence.
We see God in good things, but isn’t our God at work in all things?
Following John 3: 16 we read the words, “For God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.”
In light of the passage from Numbers we might well read, “For God did not send the snakes on the Israelites to kill them there in the desert, but to save them from turning around and going back to Egypt.”
And today, we might examine our own lives and hear the words, “For God did not send the United States into a financial melt-down to condemn the United States, but to save us all from a way of life that is unsustainable.”
We want to know how God could let it happen, or where God went: How could God have sent those snakes, where was God when the stock market fell – we ask these kinds of questions all the time – where was God on 9/11, where was God when Pearl Harbor was attacked – we ask these questions whenever tragedy strikes and the God who is supposed to watch out for us seems no where to be seen - but these questions also bring us right to the central symbol of our faith – where was God when Jesus was lifted up on the cross?
The ones who don’t believe see punishment, suffering, or condemnation. The ones who believe in a cosmic struggle between the god of good and the god of evil see one battle lost in the war for eternity, but those of us who believe hear familiar words and know that even in the worst of times their deliverer is working – for God so loved the world.
These are the words that make us different. These are the words that count, they say it all, and they make all the difference – John 3: 16, for God so loved the world, God took the greatest tragedy of human history and made it the sign of our salvation.
We are a the children of the God who works for good in all things – and whether we are rich or we are poor – you can take heart in the truth that God is at work in your life that you might be saved through him.
-Amen.
Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.
For God so loved the world that he gave the one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because he or she has not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son.
This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his or her deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what has been done has been done through God.”
Sermon
John 3: 16 may be the most familiar verse of the Bible – and In a society of increasing Biblical illiteracy, I think it’s important to take notice of one verse that most people actually know.
In many ways that familiarity is a good thing – this is the verse that Martin Luther, the man who laid the foundation for the Protestant reformation, a movement of which our Presbyterian tradition is an important part, called John 3: 16 the gospel in miniature; and a few hundred years later, Soren Kierkegaard, the Danish thinker who has influenced the modern church as much as anyone else would write that this passage actually tells you everything you need to know, and that it would be to the church’s benefit to save money by printing only this. All you need to know he said is that – Christ is God – he came into the world to save you – but we put him on the cross – that’s something that had to happen, and after three days he rose again.
These great minds inspired many people to take John 3: 16 out into the street, the baseball field, the football stadium, showing some very big audiences that the key to salvation is actually here in one simple verse: “For God so loved the world.”
Hear these words, and be saved, they say.
But what if someone doesn’t only read John 3: 16, what if they decide to start reading in verse 14 – “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up.” Now here is a verse that I had to look up in a couple of books because I had no idea what it was talking about.
I think it’s amazing that the most familiar verse in the whole Bible, John 3: 16 comes right after a verse that virtually no one understands: Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up.”
Here the author of John’s gospel takes you back to the book of Numbers – one of those books we all know is there but we never take the time to read – the snake is not Moses’ staff that he turned into a snake to amaze the Pharaoh, that story is in the book of Exodus, this one is a bronze snake God told Moses to make and to lift up before the people to heal them from the venomous serpents that God sent on them after they complained about leaving Egypt for the hundredth time.
There is a way of thinking now – that we shouldn’t really get into the hard questions with people who are just getting into Christianity, that we should take it slow and stick to “For God so loved the world” before we get into, God sent venomous snakes on the Israelites, but that’s obviously not how the author of John’s mind worked because right before we read the most simplified version of our religion, we come face to face with one of the most challenging concepts of our religion.
The passage in Numbers is one of those passages where we don’t really understand this God who we worship – as we don’t really worship a God who sends venomous snakes do we? We worship the God who saves us – right?
Don’t we worship the God who brings salvation – who answers our prayers by sparing us hardship, by delivering us from oppression, by saving us from those venomous snakes of life – and not the force that puts that suffering into our lives?
It is a strange thing to realize that in Numbers our God is both in the same – the God who saves the Israelites from the snakes is also the God who sent the snakes there in the first place.
If we think about this Numbers passage for too long then the next thing you know you start to wonder if you really know what on earth John 3: 16 means, as in light of John 3: 14 it doesn’t quite mean what we thought it did – thinking about God from the perspective of Numbers makes God different – and next thing I know I start to wonder if salvation means what I think it does.
I think that is how my father-in-law must have felt walking down the street in Knoxville, TN back when he was in graduate school. He moved to Knoxville from Colombia, South America to study architecture at the University of Tennessee. He’s a brilliant guy really, so he hit the English books hard before he went, and certainly had a book knowledge of English; but a book knowledge of English is not the same thing as a street knowledge of English, especially in Knoxville, TN.
As he was walking down the street a couple of women walked up to him. They asked him, very plainly and right off the bat, “Have you been saved?” Like I said, he had a book knowledge of English and not a street knowledge of English, so after considering the word “saved” he responded, “Yes, I have a checking, and a savings account at the bank.”
This story is funny because we think of “being saved” as an issue completely different from our savings accounts, especially when our savings accounts may be having a particularly hard time. We separate our lives out, looking for God in church and in the miracles of life, but our eyes have to be open to the fullness of God, the fullness of salvation that is a work in progress encompassing our entire existence.
We see God in good things, but isn’t our God at work in all things?
Following John 3: 16 we read the words, “For God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.”
In light of the passage from Numbers we might well read, “For God did not send the snakes on the Israelites to kill them there in the desert, but to save them from turning around and going back to Egypt.”
And today, we might examine our own lives and hear the words, “For God did not send the United States into a financial melt-down to condemn the United States, but to save us all from a way of life that is unsustainable.”
We want to know how God could let it happen, or where God went: How could God have sent those snakes, where was God when the stock market fell – we ask these kinds of questions all the time – where was God on 9/11, where was God when Pearl Harbor was attacked – we ask these questions whenever tragedy strikes and the God who is supposed to watch out for us seems no where to be seen - but these questions also bring us right to the central symbol of our faith – where was God when Jesus was lifted up on the cross?
The ones who don’t believe see punishment, suffering, or condemnation. The ones who believe in a cosmic struggle between the god of good and the god of evil see one battle lost in the war for eternity, but those of us who believe hear familiar words and know that even in the worst of times their deliverer is working – for God so loved the world.
These are the words that make us different. These are the words that count, they say it all, and they make all the difference – John 3: 16, for God so loved the world, God took the greatest tragedy of human history and made it the sign of our salvation.
We are a the children of the God who works for good in all things – and whether we are rich or we are poor – you can take heart in the truth that God is at work in your life that you might be saved through him.
-Amen.
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