The Born Ultimatum

 

Luke 1.26-38

　

Many moons ago I was a huge fan of the TV show Mission: Impossible, starring Peter Graves. I know the younger generation is more familiar with a couple of Mission: Impossible movies starring Tom Cruise, but I’ve never seen the movies. To me, the TV show was one of the best.

 

The premise of the show was that a spy, Mr. Phelps, was given an assignment that was so difficult it was considered nearly impossible. Of course, every week Mr. Phelps and his team managed to complete their impossible assignment. We, the TV viewers, never doubted for a moment that the Mission: Impossible team would save the day.

 

Real life, however, is different. In real life we have great difficulty in believing that the impossible can be achieved. Mary, the mother of Jesus, may have been the “favored one” of God, but she wasn’t much different from the rest of us when it came to imagining that the impossible could actually happen. When the angel said, “And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son,” Mary had enough sense to ask, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?”

 

And the angel answered, “Nothing will be impossible with God.” Nothing will be impossible with God.

 

The controversy over the Virgin Birth is almost as old as Christianity itself. The historic creeds of the Church — the Nicene Creed, the Apostles’ Creed, and others — these creeds are very careful to point out that Jesus “was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary,” or was “born of the Virgin Mary.” These creeds were written in order to establish the official stance of the Church, against other beliefs, including the belief — which was prevalent at the time the creeds were written — that there was no such thing as the Virgin Birth.

 

In Ecclesiastes it says that “there is nothing new under the sun,” and that is so true. Today a number of Christians are up in arms because of what they see as an attempt to “take Christ out of Christmas.” They act as though this is something new, as if for 2,000 years we’ve celebrated Christmas smoothly, with no controversy whatsoever, and now all of a sudden a bunch of secularists are trying to take Christmas away from us.

 

The fact is, in the early Church, Epiphany was celebrated long before Christmas. It was several hundred years before the Church got around to deciding to celebrate the birth of Jesus — and even then, a lot of Christians didn’t think it was worth celebrating. For example, in early America the Puritans considered Christmas “unChristian,” and they tried their best to keep it out of the new world.

 

Part of the Puritans’ reasoning was that they couldn’t find December 25 mentioned anywhere in the Bible. And, of course, they were right. The December 25 date has more to do with the pagan Roman celebration of the Winter Solstice than it does with shepherds and angels and Jesus. Even after Puritanism pretty much disappeared, there was still a lot of concern that the celebration of Christmas detracted from Christian piety. When the Civil War broke out, Christmas was a recognized holiday in only 18 states.

 

Back to today, some Christians are horrified if a school calls its holiday a “Winter Break,” instead of “Christmas Break.” They threaten to boycott stores that use the words “Happy Holidays” in their advertising, instead of “Merry Christmas.” I haven’t heard anything this year, but I remember a few years ago when a bunch of people got mad because President and Mrs. Bush sent out greeting cards to a couple of million of their closest friends (and campaign contributors) and the cards said “Happy Holidays,” not “Merry Christmas.”

 

Again, people act as though this has never happened before. Throughout history, non-Christians have often objected to having Christmas rammed down their throats. In 1906 the Committee on Elementary Schools in New York City decided to put an end to the singing of Christmas hymns in the classroom after a boycott by some 20,000 Jewish students. Companies have been calling their office parties “Holiday Parties” instead of “Christmas parties” for decades, out of respect for the religious diversity of their workers. The same with schools. This is not a new phenomenon.

 

Another complaint these days is the over-commercialization of Christmas. Once again, a lot of people act like this just happened overnight. Actually, as with most everything else, he commercialization of Christmas coincided with the popularity of Christmas.

 

In 1822 Clement Moore wrote “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” popularly known as “The Night Before Christmas.” This poem, along with drawings by Thomas Nast in the magazine Harper’s Weekly, created the image of a white-bearded Santa Claus who gives presents to children. After the Civil War, Christmas became more and more popular, and more widely celebrated. By the 1920s the retail industry had adopted Christmas as its own, sponsoring annual ceremonies to kick off the Christmas season — you’ve probably all watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV.

 

Christian leaders objected strongly way back then. In 1953 The Methodist Church lamented that Christmas had become a “profit-seeking period.” Christians have been objecting ever since. Meanwhile, the shopping season that once began on the day after Thanksgiving now seems to begin the day after Labor Day.

 

On a side note, I find it rather amusing that a number of Christian organizations bemoan the commercialization of Christmas on one hand, while at the same time blasting Wal-Mart and Target and other retailers for not using “Merry Christmas” in their advertising — but that’s probably just me; I’m easily amused.

 

The point is, we seem to have two Christmases today: the Church Christmas, celebrating the birth of the Son of God, and the secular Christmas, celebrating commercialism. The question is: Is there anything we in the Church can do about this? At first glance, it would seem as if it’s an impossible mission. Which brings us back to this notion of the Virgin Birth.

 

Throughout the years, skeptics have continued to express doubts about the Virgin Birth. Whereas Isaiah seems to give a Messianic prophecy about a “Virgin … with child,” scholars point out, and rightly so, that the Hebrew word used in Isaiah can mean “virgin,” or it can simply mean “young woman.” Luke, however, is unequivocal. Where Luke says “virgin,” Luke means “virgin.” As C. S. Lewis said, the people of Bible times may not have known much about reproductive science, but they knew how babies were made!

 

The real objection to the idea of the Virgin Birth is the same Mission: Impossible view of miracles that Mary had. Miracles are not rational, they don’t make sense. The Virgin Birth was impossible. “How can this be?” we ask. And we get the same answer that Mary got: “Nothing will be impossible with God.”

 

And that’s the key, right there. God brought forth a miracle in Jesus. God brought the impossible into reality, which is the very definition of “miracle,” and which is at the core of Christian faith. True faith is not just about words and doctrines and liturgies, although these things are important. True faith is about the supernatural, the miraculous, the intersection of the Divine Spirit with human life.

 

The teachings of Jesus are a fine moral guide, even for people who are not Christians. Jews and Muslims revere Jesus as a wonderful prophet. But what makes Jesus special is the miraculous. Luke tells us that “the angel Gabriel was sent by God,” and that the Christ Child “will be holy; he will be called Son of God.”

 

God sent the “Son of the Most High” to the world in a particular time and a particular place, and to a special woman — a virgin named Mary. This may seem far-fetched, this idea that God became incarnate in a little baby, the son of a peasant woman. It may seem, in fact, to be impossible. But, as we experience God’s expression of love toward us, we discover that the angel’s words ring true: “Nothing will be impossible with God.”

 

So, what can we do about the secularization of Christmas? It’s been going on a long, long time. Is it a Mission: Impossible? I don’t think so.

 

I believe that what we in the Church can do about it is simply to continue to celebrate the birth of Jesus. I’m not sure that ranting and raving and boycotting are going to do any good. In fact, I agree that non-Christians have the right to not have Christmas forced upon them. We don’t need to issue an ultimatum: Put Christ back in Christmas, or else.

 

All we need to do is keep Christ in our own celebration of Christmas. That is the best witness we can offer of the true meaning of Christmas. There’s nothing wrong with Santa Claus and Christmas trees and all of that, and there’s no reason we should toss them aside, like the Puritans. But we need to make sure that our friends and family know that our primary reason for celebrating Christmas is not to bolster the economy, but to worship Christ, the new-born King.

 

We don’t have to force Christmas down people’s throats. We don’t have to get all in a tizzy if the greeter at Wal-Mart says “Happy Holidays!” Just smile at the greeter and wish him or her a “Merry Christmas!”, and go on with your shopping.

 

And most of all, I think we need to remember the miracle of Christmas. The Son of God was born to a virgin. It doesn’t get any more “impossible” than that. And if God can pull that off, then I have no doubt that God can keep Christ in Christmas, “for nothing will be impossible with God.”

The Born Supremacy

Mark 1.1-8

　

Today we have the second sermon in the “Born” trilogy: The Born Supremacy. As I said last week, the sermon titles are based on the Jason Bourne — B-o-u-r-n-e — movies starring Matt Damon.

 

The other night Melissa and I were watching the TV show “Bones.” One of the characters on the show stated, several times, that she didn’t celebrate Christmas on December 25, because Jesus was born in March. She based this, presumably, on the fact that March would be the time of year when shepherds would be watching their flocks by night.

 

This is a prime example of a problem with the Christmas story as found in Luke and Matthew. Far too many people get caught up in the peripheral aspects of the story. What time of year was Jesus actually born? How many magi were there, and where exactly did they come from? The Bible doesn’t give us answers to these questions, and that leads to a lot of speculation and theories — a lot of time and effort wasted on things that really don’t matter.

 

There’s also a lot of speculation about the childhood and early life of Jesus. Somewhere around the second or third centuries a number of stories sprang up about Jesus as a young boy. There are even a handful of “infancy gospels” that have survived through the years. The best known are called the Infancy Gospel of James and the Infancy Gospel of Thomas. These were obviously never accepted as part of the Bible, but they were popular among Christians in their day — I suppose something like the way the fictional “Left Behind” books are popular today.

 

There are also stories about Jesus’ life as a young man, prior to the beginning of his ministry. You can find books based on this kind of speculation even today. Some claim that Jesus belonged to a Jewish sect called the Essenes. Others speculate that Jesus traveled to India, or some other part of the world. Again, there is no Biblical evidence for any of this, but that doesn’t stop people from theorizing.

 

Dr. Pheme Perkins, New Testament professor at Boston College, says that there is a real danger that “speculations about the childhood of Jesus … may take over from the real story of salvation.” Speculations about Jesus’ childhood, or whether he spent time with the Essenes or in some other part of the world, have no bearing on God’s plan of salvation. If it were truly essential that we know exactly when Jesus was born, or where the magi came from, the Bible would make it clear to us.

 

Mark avoids some of this unnecessary speculation on the birth of Jesus by the very abruptness with which he begins his Gospel. There’s no birth story, such as we have in Matthew and Luke. There’s no poetic proclamation about Jesus’ pre-existence with God, as in John. We have simply this:

 

“The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”

 

This one sentence packs a lot of punch. The beginning of the good news. In Greek the word is “gospel,” which means “good news,” or “proclamation.” It’s sometimes difficult for us to remember that Christianity didn’t begin with a new book. The Scripture for the earliest Christians was the Jewish scripture — what we call the Old Testament. For the early Church, the New Testament didn’t exist.

 

The first letters of Paul began to circulate some 15 to 20 years after Jesus’ resurrection, give or take. The first Gospel — Mark’s — was probably written down some 20 to 25 years after the resurrection of Jesus, with Luke and Matthew coming along several years later, and John’s Gospel first appearing near the end of the first century. The sayings of Jesus, and the stories about Jesus, had been passed along by word of mouth for years before Mark was written.

 

So Christianity didn’t start off with a new book, a new Testament. It began, rather, with a new message about what the God of the Old Testament had done in Jesus Christ. And because this new message was passed on orally, it was simple enough to be remembered without anyone having to write it down. The good news of Jesus Christ is a simple message of salvation. The public ministry of Jesus, the death on the cross, and the resurrection of Jesus are the events through which God’s love is made known to humanity. This is indeed gospel, or good news.

 

“The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”

 

Jesus Christ, the Son of God. These titles are so familiar to us that, again, it’s hard for us to imagine what it must have been like to hear them for the first time. In fact, we say Jesus Christ so often that we may tend to forget that Christ is a title, and not Jesus’ last name. If we stop to think about it, we probably all know that Christ is the Greek equivalent of the Aramaic word Messiah, and that both Christ and Messiah mean “God’s Anointed.”

 

The Jewish people had been eagerly awaiting the Messiah for a long, long time. The Messiah would be the One through whom God would redeem humanity from the powers of suffering, evil, and injustice. Unfortunately, the Jewish people were looking for the Messiah to be a warrior-king, someone like David, who would restore Israel to national greatness.

 

Today we still find Christians who want Christ to be a warrior-lion, rather than a peaceful lamb. Pheme Perkins flatly states that these people are “false prophets,” who are isolating themselves from the very world that God sent Christ to redeem. The Son of God is not isolated from human experience. The Son of God came to earth specifically in order to experience the real world from a human point of view.

 

Although he does possess divine powers, Jesus Christ, the Son of God, cannot overcome the hostility of his enemies, nor can he easily straighten out the misunderstandings of his own disciples. Thus the Son of God undergoes very real human suffering, and even death. For all his miracles, the true power — the true good news — of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, lies in his obedience to the will of God, and his accomplishment of God’s redeeming love on the cross.

 

John the Baptizer proclaimed that “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals.” John knew then what we have come to know: Jesus of Nazareth is the Christ, the Anointed One of God, the Son of God. As we celebrate his birth on December 25 — accurately or not — we celebrate and praise God for the fact that this is indeed only the beginning of the good news that Jesus Christ brings for all of us.

The Born Identity

 

Matthew 1.1-17

　

Before I begin today, some explanations are in order. Many of you may be familiar with the recent film trilogy starring Matt Damon as ex-CIA agent Jason Bourne, B-o-u-r-n-e. These films are based on books by Robert Ludlum, and are called “The Bourne Identity,” “The Bourne Supremacy,” and “The Bourne Ultimatum.” One day not long ago, I was sitting in my office humming to myself the Christmas hymn, “He is Born.” Somehow or another, my mind made the leap from b-o-r-n born to Jason Bourne, and here we are today.

 

This seems to be a strange way to start the New Testament. If you’ve read older translations of the Bible, you know that this is a passage of “begats:” Abraham begat Isaac, and Isaac begat Jacob, and so on through the entire list. But Matthew had his reasons. The Jewish people were extremely interested in genealogy. Since the earliest Christians were all Jews, they would have found this passage of Matthew’s gospel fascinating, especially as it traces Jesus’ ancestors all the way back to Abraham.

 

Dr. M. Eugene Boring, of Brite Divinity School at Texas Christian University, says that Matthew began his gospel with this list in order to make a theological claim about Jesus. William Barclay, the late New Testament scholar from Glasgow University in Scotland, finds the arrangement of this genealogy to be symbolic of the whole of human spirituality.

 

First, we see that the list is arranged into three sections, with each section showing one of the three great stages in Jewish history. The first section ends with David, Israel’s greatest king, the man who made Israel a great and powerful nation. The second section takes the story to the exile in Babylon, Israel’s greatest tragedy. The third section brings the story to Jesus, the Messiah, the One who liberated men and women from their bondage to sin, the One who turned tragedy into triumph.

 

Barclay relates these three sections to what he calls the “three stages in the spiritual history of the world.”

 

First, human beings were born for greatness. God created us in his own image, and God’s dream for us was a dream of greatness. We were designed for fellowship with God; we were created in order that we might be nothing less than companions of God. God’s wanted us to be great.

 

However, human beings lost their greatness. This is the second stage of spiritual history, according to Barclay. Instead of being companions of God, we became slaves to sin. As G. K. Chesterton once wrote, “Whatever else is true of man, man is not what he was meant to be.” Instead of entering into friendship and fellowship with God, we used our free will to defy God, to disobey God. We human beings, on our own, frustrated the design and plan of God’s creation.

 

Which brings us to stage three: Human beings can regain their greatness. Despite our disobedience and defiance, God did not abandon us to our own devices. God did not allow us to be destroyed by our own folly. The end of the story is not left to tragedy.

 

Into this story, into this world, God sent his Son, Jesus Christ, in order that Christ might rescue us from the mess we have lost ourselves in, in order that Christ might free us from the chains of sin with which we have bound ourselves. God sent his Son, Jesus Christ, so that through Christ we might regain the fellowship with God which we had lost.

In this genealogy, Matthew shows us the royalty of David’s kingship, the tragedy of lost freedom, and the glory of liberty and greatness restored.

 

But Matthew shows us something else, as well. By far the most interesting thing about this list is the names of the women who appear in it. As I said, the Jewish people were fascinated by genealogies; however, they normally did not include women in their lists. In that place and time, women had no legal rights. A woman was not even regarded as a person in her own right; she was the property of her father or her husband. In fact, as part of the regular morning prayer, a Jewish man would thank God that he was not a Gentile, a slave, or a woman. So the fact that any women’s names appeared in this list is surprising, to say the least.

 

And when we look at the women who were included, the surprise turns into shock. Rahab was a prostitute in Jericho. Ruth, as we talked about not too long ago, was a Moabite, a people who were hated and feared by the Jews. Tamar pretended to be a prostitute in order to seduce her father-in-law. The “wife of Uriah” was Bathsheba, who had an adulterous affair with David, and whose husband David later had killed.

 

If we spent a month looking through the pages of the Old Testament, we wouldn’t find four more unlikely ancestors for the Son of God. And then there’s Mary, Jesus’ own mother, who was thought to have been unfaithful to Joseph, until an angel told Joseph the truth, that Mary’s child was from God.

 

What a strange way for Matthew to begin his gospel. And yet, here, at the very beginning of the New Testament, we see the very essence of the entire Gospel story, the story of God in Christ Jesus. We see the barriers which divide us beginning to fall.

 

Rahab, of Jericho, and Ruth, from Moab, find their place in the genealogy of Christ. Already, in the first chapter of the New Testament, we see the truth that Christ is neither Jew nor Greek; we see the barriers between people of different nationalities and different races going down. We see the universalism of the love of God. We also see the barrier between male and female going down. The fact that any women at all were included in Jesus’ genealogy tells us that men and women are of equal importance to God, and stand equal in his love.

 

And finally we see the barrier between saint and sinner going down. Somehow, in his infinite wisdom, God is able to use for his purposes, to fit into his great scheme of things, those who have sinned greatly. Not only these women listed, but most of the men as well, were flawed human beings who did their fair share of defiance and disobedience. Tamar may have pretended to be a prostitute, but it was Judah who sought out a prostitute to be with. It was David who made the first move on Bathsheba, and David who covered up his sin with another sin — murder.

 

And on through the list. But as Jesus tells us, “I have come to call not the righteous, but sinners.” Here, at the very beginning of the Gospel story, we are given a hint of the all-embracing love of God. Here, at the very beginning, we are shown the identity of Jesus, the descendant of Abraham, the descendant of David, and the Son of God.

God’s Renewed Creation: A Call to Hope and Action

In lieu of a sermon this Sunday, I will be reading “God’s Renewed Creation:  A Call to Hope and Action,” a Pastoral Letter from the Council of Bishops of The United Methodist Church.  The letter can be found here …

http://www.arumc.org/pastoral_letter_from_the_council_of_bishops.php

King of the Jungle

 

Hebrews 11.1-3, 8-16

　

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”

 

A preacher I know has a sign in his office that says, “Faith isn’t believing that God can; faith is knowing that God will.”

 

To the writer of Hebrews, to have faith is to be absolutely certain that what you believe is true, and that what you expect will come. Someone once said that “faith isn’t the hope that looks forward with wistful longing; it’s the hope which looks forward with utter conviction.”

 

There’s a story about a very poor man who was a Christian during the days of some of the harshest persecutions. This poor Christian was brought before the judges. He told the judges that nothing they could do would shake him because he believed that if he was true to God, God would be true to him. “Do you really think,” asked one of the judges, “that the likes of you will go to God and his glory?” “I do not think,” replied the man. “I know.”

 

When John Wesley had his heart-warming experience in Aldersgate Street, he said that he suddenly felt absolutely certain that “Christ died for my sins, even mine.” John Wesley had been a minister in the church for years, but it wasn’t until that moment that he truly had faith.

 

True faith is hard to come by — possibly because there seems to be so little we can truly have faith in. Many of us spend our Saturdays in the fall hoping, wishing, maybe even praying, that the Arkansas Razorback football team will win. We might even say that we have “faith” in Coach Bobby Petrino and his players. But the truth is, no matter who they’re playing, none of us ever feels absolutely, positively, without a doubt certain that the Razorbacks won’t find a way to lose.

 

Melissa and I enjoy watching “Dancing With the Stars” on television. Every year we each pick out a favorite celebrity, the one that we hope will win. And every week when they announce which celebrity has been eliminated from the competition — well, I can’t speak for Melissa, but I’m often on the edge of my seat (if you can be on the edge of a recliner) hoping that my favorite celebrity will survive. Often, I am disappointed.

 

And right here, before we go any further, I do want to make a distinction about the kind of faith we’re talking about this morning. We’re not talking about faith in a football team, or a dancer, or any other person. We’re talking about faith in God. But even there, we’re talking more specifically about having faith that God will do what God feels is best, not about having faith that God will do what we wish God would do.

 

When Holly was diagnosed with I.T.P., some people told Holly’s mother and me that the next time we went to the doctor we would find that Holly had been cured, because they had prayed about Holly, and they had faith that God would cure her. Of course, Holly wasn’t cured, and she eventually had to have her spleen removed. But Holly’s mother and I also had faith. Not faith that Holly would be cured, but faith that God was looking out for Holly, regardless of what happened. Just as Abraham did with Isaac, we placed Holly in God’s hands, and said, “Lord, Holly belongs to you.”

 

The “assurance of things hoped for” applies to our hope in God, our hope in our salvation, not in our hope that someone will be cured of a disease, or change their evil ways, or our hope that we will win the lottery. We can, and often do, hope for these kinds of things, but we cannot have “faith” in them. We can have faith in the big picture, faith that God’s overall plan will work out. But in the details of our day-to-day lives, we cannot — and should not try — to force God to do what we wish God would do. It’s not right to say, “I asked God for this, and I have faith that God will do what I ask.”

 

We talk a lot about faith in the church, but sometimes it’s hard to find true faith even here. A lot of people who claim to have faith seem to need answers to their questions before they will truly believe. These are the people who need to hear what the “Left Behind” books tell them about the end of the world. They need to hear that someone has found a piece of wood that came from Noah’s Ark. These people won’t really believe unless they are provided with some kind of evidence; they won’t really believe unless they can decipher the “hidden code” of the Bible.

 

And that’s not faith. “Faith is … the conviction of things not seen.” Faith is believing even though there is no concrete evidence to support our belief. Thomas said he couldn’t believe that Jesus had risen from the grave until he had some physical proof. Thomas lacked faith. Fortunately, Thomas came to have faith, so there’s still hope for these people. They just need to place their faith in God, not in figuring out some hidden code.

 

True faith is a faith that dictates all of our conduct. When we have true faith, then we live for our faith, and we die for our faith. It’s our faith that makes us act the way we act. True faith causes us to believe in God against the world. Indeed, true faith sometimes causes us to believe in God against the rest of the church.

 

If we follow the world’s standards of conduct, we may well live a life of ease and comfort and prosperity; if we follow God’s standards we may have pain and loss and unpopularity. But true faith gives us the conviction that it’s better to suffer with God than to prosper with the world.

 

In the book of Daniel we read about three friends: Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego — known to fans of VeggieTales as Rack, Shack, and Benny. These three young men were confronted with the choice of obeying the king and worshiping a false idol, or obeying God and being tossed into a fiery furnace. Without a moment’s hesitation, Rack, Shack, and Benny chose God. They had faith. They knew without a doubt that it was better to stake everything on God than to trust in the rewards of the world.

 

Now, did they know for certain that they would survive the fiery furnace? Probably not. But even then, their faith was strong enough that they chose death with God over life without God. That’s true faith. Not saying, “If I choose God, God will spare me,” but saying, “I will choose God, regardless of the consequences.”

 

True faith causes us to believe in the Spirit instead of the senses. Our senses may say to us, “Take what you can touch and taste and handle, and enjoy it while you can.” Our senses tell us to grab the pleasures of the moment. The Spirit tells us that there is something far more important.

 

In Genesis 39, Joseph is tempted by the wife of a high Egyptian official. Joseph could have given in to the pleasure of the moment, but instead Joseph chose to honor God. Joseph had faith. He knew that it was better to trust in God than to trust his senses.

 

True faith causes us to believe in the future instead of the present. “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you may die,” sounds good, but God calls us to take the longer view. Things that are pleasant today may bring pain in the long run: alcohol, tobacco, and other drugs; an adulterous affair; overeating. Things that hurt right now may bring joy and comfort in the long run: a trip to the dentist; exercise; saying “No” to friends who don’t really have your best interests at heart.

 

At one point in time, the Roman Empire held the upper hand, and it looked as though they would hold it forever. But, as Harry Emerson Fosdick said, “Nero once condemned Paul, but the years have passed on and the time has come when men call their sons ‘Paul,” and their dogs ‘Nero.’” Alexander the Great conquered much of the world; where is his empire today? “The sun never sets on the British Empire.” There is no British Empire today.

 

Some people will argue, “Why should I refuse the pleasure of the moment for an uncertain future?” The answer is that the future is not uncertain because the future belongs to God. We don’t know what the future holds, but we can have faith that God will be there, and we can have faith in what God has promised.

 

“By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called.” Abraham and the other great heroes of the faith lived on the principle that God is in command, and because of their faith they received God’s approval. Abraham, Moses, Noah, Rahab, Samson, and others, all refused what the world calls greatness, and staked everything on God. History has proven them to be wise.

 

The future is not uncertain because the future belongs to God. When we have true faith, then our future belongs to God, as well. We have hope for the future because we know, without a doubt, that God’s overall plan will come to pass. Even though they “died in faith without having received the promises,” these heroes of the faith knew that, in the great scheme of things, God’s will was being done. Abraham died without seeing the fulfillment of God’s promise that Abraham would be the father of a great nation. Moses died having received only a glimpse of the Promised Land. Yet they both “died in faith” — died with their faith intact, knowing that God keeps his promises.

 

“Faith is the … conviction of things not seen … By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible.” It is an act of faith to believe that God made this world, to believe that the things which are seen emerged from the things which are not seen.

 

Over the years we have learned a lot, scientifically, about how the world came into being. The writer of Hebrews wasn’t much interested in the scientific side of the matter. What the writer of Hebrews wanted to stress was the fact that this is God’s world. It really doesn’t matter if God created the world in six days, or if God used a big bang. It really doesn’t matter if God created Adam and Eve, or if God set the forces of evolution in motion.

 

True faith doesn’t need answers to these questions. True faith tells us that this is God’s world. God created it, one way or another. True faith won’t let us get sidetracked by these kinds of peripheral issues. The main thing is to grasp this one essential fact: the world we live in belongs to God.

 

If we can have faith in that one fact, then two things will follow. First, we’ll use the world a lot differently. We’ll remember that everything in the world is God’s, and we’ll try to use it as God would have us use it. If we believe — if we have faith — that this is God’s world, then we’ll feel a sense of responsibility for all of God’s creation: nature, the environment, the creatures of the land, sky, and water, and our fellow human beings. Everything on earth belongs to God, and God calls us to be good stewards of God’s creation.

 

And second, we’ll remember that, even though it may not seem that way all the time, God is in control. Steven Curtis Chapman sings:

 

“Well, the day has just begun and I’m already running late, with too many irons in the fire, and too much on my plate. I’d be pulling out my hair if I could just get one hand free, and I’d stop this world if I could find the key.

 

“What I feel is telling me the world’s gone crazy, but what is real says God’s still on his throne. What I need is to remember one thing: that the Lord of the gentle breeze is Lord of the rough and tumble, and He is the King of the jungle.”

 

If we have faith that God is in control, that God really is the King of the jungle, then we’ll feel that assurance of things hoped for, because we’ll know that the future is in God’s hands.

 

In a couple of minutes we’ll be singing these words: “My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness … On Christ the solid rock I stand.”

 

When we have faith, then we know, without a doubt, that our hope is firmly planted on the solid rock of Jesus. The hope that Christ gives us becomes a certainty — an assurance and conviction of a future spent in divine glory.

 

It’s true, there isn’t much in this old world that we can have faith in. Thank God we can have faith in Jesus.

The Sacrifice

Hebrews 10.11-25

　

You might recall that some weeks back we talked about the author of the book of Hebrews. Scholars have pretty much unanimously decided that Paul definitely did not write the book of Hebrews. In fact, William Barclay goes so far as to say that “at no time in the history of the Church did [anyone] ever really think that Paul wrote Hebrews.”

Some people think that Barnabas was the author of Hebrews. Others lean toward Apollos. As we talked about before, there’s a school of thought that a woman, Priscilla, was the writer of Hebrews. The fact is, we’re at the same place as Origen was some 1700 years ago, when he said, “Only God knows for certain” who wrote the book of Hebrews.

Regardless of who wrote it, the book of Hebrews is a wonderful piece of theology — a wonderful analysis of what it means to be a Christian and of the relationship between God and humankind. The author continues his, or her, theology in this passage we’re looking at today, with this comparison of the Jewish High Priests with Jesus. Throughout Hebrews, the author has pointed out the differences between what the High Priests did and what Christ has done. The priests went to work, day after day, offering the same sacrifices over and over again — sacrifices which really weren’t at all effective.

Number 28.3-8 spells out the sacrifices that had to be made on a daily basis. Every morning and every evening a one-year-old male lamb, without spot or blemish, was offered as a burnt offering. Along with the burnt offering was a meat offering, which consisted of some fine flour mixed with pure oil. Then there was the drink offering: a little wine. Also the daily meat offering of the High Priest, the same as the regular meat offering except that it was baked in a flat pan; half was offered in the morning and half in the evening. Then there was the offering of incense, both before these other offerings in the morning and after them in the evening.

All of this went on every single day. There was no end to the process; it was a kind of priestly treadmill of sacrifice, an assembly line of sacrifice. And in the end it still left people conscious of their sins and alienated from God.

The sacrifice of Jesus, on the other hand, was made once and is effective forever. “For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are sanctified.” In other words, Christ makes a lasting difference in our lives. Christ made a sacrifice that need never be repeated — which is good, because it never can be repeated.

The sacrifice of Christ cannot be repeated because Jesus Christ alone was the Son of God — God in the flesh. Like Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony or the Mona Lisa, like Eric Clapton playing guitar or Tiger Woods swinging a golf club, the sacrifice of Christ is a pure masterpiece, something that can never be duplicated. And the sacrifice of Christ need not be repeated because the sacrifice of Christ perfectly shows the love of God. In looking at Jesus, we can say, “This is what God is like.”

The life and death of Jesus was an act of perfect obedience, and therefore it was the only perfect sacrifice. The entire Bible, all scripture, at its most basic, declares that the only sacrifice God truly desires is obedience. Old Testament or New, from Genesis through Revelation, the underlying theme of all scripture is that God wants us to be obedient, to sacrifice our will to God’s. In the life and death of Jesus, that is precisely the sacrifice that God received: obedience.

In Jesus, and Jesus alone, there is both the perfect revelation of God and the perfect offering of obedience to God. The priests must go on with their weary routine of animal sacrifice, but the sacrifice of Christ was made once and for all. This is the theology of the writer of the book of Hebrews. But the best theology in the world is useless without some practical application for our lives, and here is where the author of Hebrews gets down to what you and I, as disciples of Jesus Christ, need to be doing.

“Let us approach [God] with a true heart in full assurance of faith.” We are called to come to God, to approach the presence of God. God doesn’t force himself on us, but when we approach God, when we give our hearts to God, and put our faith in God, then God welcomes us with open arms. We are able to approach God with confidence because of the sacrifice of Jesus. “Since we have confidence to enter the sanctuary by the blood of Jesus.” Jesus is the living way into the presence of God.

In the Jewish Tabernacle, in front of the innermost chamber — the Holy of Holies — there hung a curtain, or veil, to screen off the presence of God. In order to enter into the presence of God, that veil had to be moved aside, or torn apart. The writer of Hebrews is comparing Jesus’ flesh, his earthly body, to that veil. Jesus’ flesh “veiled” the fact that Jesus was the Son of God. As Christmas draws nearer, you’ll likely be singing these words written by Charles Wesley: “Veiled in flesh the Godhead see.” Now you’ll know what you’re singing about!

It was when the flesh of Christ was torn apart, on the cross, that we were able to really and truly see God. All of Jesus’ life showed God, but it was in Christ’s death — the sacrifice — that God’s love really was fully revealed. And you might recall that, at the very moment of Jesus’ death, the veil in the temple in Jerusalem was torn. Just as that tabernacle veil had to be removed in order to open the way to the presence of God, the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross revealed the full greatness of God’s love and open up the way for us — all of us — to approach God.

Jesus does more than just point the way to God, however. Jesus is also the bridge between us — you and me — and God. I could stand here and give you directions to Washington, D.C.; I could open up a map and show you how to get right to the White House. But I couldn’t take you inside and introduce you to the president. You see, I don’t have the authority to just waltz inside the White House and see the president. If you want to meet President Obama, you have to go through the person who has the authority to get you inside the Oval Office.

By the same token, I can stand here this morning and give you directions on how to approach God. I can open up the Bible and show you exactly what you need to do. But I cannot take you directly into God’s presence. Jesus can. Jesus not only shows us the way to God, Jesus is the way to God. Jesus is the one — the only one — who can take us right into God’s very presence, and introduce us. Therefore we can approach God, with confidence, through Jesus.

“Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope.” We must never lose our grip on what we believe. The temptations and desires of the world may try to take our faith away; the events and circumstances of life may try to shatter our faith, but we cannot let them.

Over time, some of our beliefs will surely change. As we grow and mature as Christians we will find our view of God and God’s teachings evolving, if you will. I’ve always said that if you believe exactly the same things today that you believed five years ago, you’re not growing in your faith.

But our core beliefs, the bedrock of our faith — that God is the Creator of all things, the giver of life; that Jesus is the living Son of God, who died for our sins and rose again so that we might live eternally; that the Holy Spirit is God’s presence in our lives today, guiding us in finding and following God’s will — those beliefs must never change. Our hope is in Christ Jesus, and it is our confession in that hope — our faith — that keeps us grounded in the presence of God.

“Let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds.” Now, to our modern ears, the word “provoke” is a little harsh. When we hear the word “provoke,” the first definition that comes to mind is to annoy, to irritate, to exasperate. And I’m sure that we do that to one another from time to time! But that’s not what the writer of Hebrews had in mind.

If you look in a dictionary, you’ll find that another definition of provoke is “to stimulate.” That fits much better. Let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds. William Barclay translates this sentence this way: “Let us put our minds to the task of spurring each other on in love and fine deeds.”

We need to remember that we are disciples of Jesus Christ not only for our own sakes but also for the sake of others. Barclay says that “no man ever saved his soul who devoted his whole time to saving it; but many a man has saved [his soul] by being so concerned for others that he forgot that he himself had a soul to save.” There can be no such thing as a selfish Christian. If you’re a Christian, a follower of Jesus Christ, then by definition you cannot be selfish. If you are selfish, well … you can see what follows.

So, as disciples of Jesus Christ, we need to provoke, to stimulate each other, to spur each other on. We need to set an example that others can follow. We need to remind each other of the joys and the responsibilities of discipleship. Above all, we need to live so that others might see Christ in us.

“Not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some.” One of our primary duties, as disciples of Jesus Christ, is to gather together regularly, in Jesus’ name, in order to worship God. And yet there are people who are convinced that they can be Christians all by themselves. Writer Jim Moffatt calls these people “pious particles,” or “Christians in isolation.” But the fact is, they are not true Christians at all. A true Christian desires the fellowship of other believers; a true Christian, in point of fact, needs the fellowship of other believers.

I like to cook outdoors on a grill. When you’re cooking on a charcoal grill, you pile all the charcoal briquets together and light your fire. The flame spreads from that one briquet to the next, and on and on until they’re all heated up, and you’re ready to cook. If you take one of those hot charcoal briquets, and set it apart from the others, in a very short time that one briquet will turn cold. All the other briquets, still bunched together, will remain hot for a good, long time.

Some people think that they don’t need the church. They’re convinced that they can learn all they need to learn from their own personal Bible study. They don’t believe that they need to hear someone else’s thoughts, whether those thoughts come from a preacher in the pulpit, or someone in a Sunday School class. But one thing these people fail to consider is that we come to church not only to receive but also to give. Our presence in church may be an inspiration to others. We may be able to teach someone else some of what we have learned. And, of course, hearing what others think may well provoke us, stimulate us, spur us on. It may give us a new insight into some passage of scripture.

Other people avoid church because the church has too many faults. I won’t argue that point! The church does have its faults, both the Church in general, and, to be honest, each and every local church. But then again, as followers of Jesus Christ, we have a duty, a responsibility — all of us, not just the preacher — we have a responsibility to help the church correct its faults. It’s far easier to correct a problem from the inside than from the outside.

“And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another.” Encouraging one another. That’s what it really all comes down to. We need to encourage one another. No one can survive very long without the support and encouragement of others. Sometimes it’s easy to laugh at someone else’s ideals, to pour cold water on their enthusiasm. The world is full of “aginers” — I’m against this, I’m against that. What we need are fewer aginers, and more encouragers. We all need to do our utmost to encourage one another.

And that’s another reason why we need to meet together regularly: for encouragement. Some Sundays you might need some encouragement from others; other Sundays you’ll be the one providing the encouragement. Either way, encouragement will not — cannot — happen unless we meet together.

I’ll even go so far as to say that I believe that no one can live a Christian life and neglect the fellowship of the church. It is in this community of believers that we are encouraged to hold fast to the confession of our hope. It is in this community of believers that we are encouraged to spur each other on to love and fine deeds. It is in this community of believers that we are encouraged to approach, in full assurance of faith, the very presence of God. All of this is the work of the church — the work of the people of God.

We all need the church, and the church needs all of us. Because that’s really what the church is — all of us, meeting together, provoking one another to love and good deeds, and encouraging one another. And because it is through the church that the practical application of our theology, the practical application of the sacrifice of Christ is put to work.

Christ uses the church to spread the good news that the sacrifice has been made. All we have to do is hold fast to the confession of our hope, accept the gift of God’s grace, and, together, offer our obedience to God, and do the work of the church.

The Outsider

Ruth 3.1-5; 4.13-17

　

If you ever play Bible Trivial Pursuit, there are two things you need to know about Ruth. One: Ruth is one of only two women in the Bible with a book bearing her name — Esther is the other. And two: Ruth is an ancestor of both David and Jesus.

The truly interesting and amazing thing about these two facts is that Ruth was not an Israelite. Ruth was a Moabite, part of a people who were considered to be outsiders to God’s promises. Yet, by her faith and her own initiative, Ruth was given a full measure of God’s grace. Ruth stands as a model of faith for both insiders and outsiders.

The story of Ruth begins with two Israelites, Elimelech and Naomi, and their two sons, Mahlon and Chilion, traveling to the foreign country of Moab because their hometown of Bethlehem was stricken by a famine. The family lived in Moab for 10 years; during that time, both sons married Moabite women. Chilion’s wife was named Orpah; she is an ancestor to Dr. Phil — well, kind of. Exactly five years to the day before I was born, a young mother in Mississippi decided to name her daughter after Orpah, but the name was misspelled on the birth certificate, and thus Oprah Winfrey came into the world. Back to the point: Mahlon married a Moabite woman named Ruth.

Sadly, in a short period of time Elimelech and both sons died, leaving Naomi, Orpah, and Ruth as widows. Hearing that the famine in Judah had ended, Naomi decided to return home. She urged Orpah and Ruth to return to their homes, as well. Orpah eventually decided to do so, but not Ruth. No, instead Ruth speaks the words that have been repeated at countless weddings throughout the years, without regard for the fact — and in many cases, without even knowing — that these words were spoken by a woman to her mother-in-law: “Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God.”

So Naomi and Ruth traveled to Bethlehem. Now, we have to understand the situation these two women are in, in light of the times they lived in. Both these women have lost their husbands, and both are now childless. That meant, in that day and time, that both Naomi and Ruth were powerless. They were on the edge of poverty, and they had no men to provide protection for them. Ruth, of course, had the additional burden of being a Moabite. The Israelis normally tended to not mingle with foreigners, because foreigners generally worshiped other gods. Certainly, Ruth’s prospects for marriage and children would have been better had she stayed in Moab.

In Judah, as an outsider, Ruth had no security, no prospects for the future. Nevertheless, Ruth had bound herself to Naomi, another hopeless and helpless woman with no future. Ruth risked her own future prospects out of compassion and love for Naomi. So the two widows arrive in Bethlehem, empty-handed. By a stroke of luck — or grace? — they arrive at the beginning of the barley harvest. Ruth, being the younger and more able of the two, gains permission to glean. That means that, as a widow, Ruth is allowed to follow the harvesters and gather the sheaves that are left behind.

Now, it just so happens — grace, again? — that the field where Ruth is gleaning belongs to Boaz, a wealthy man who also just happens to be a relative of Naomi’s and Ruth’s late husbands. It turns out that Boaz is well aware of the kindness and compassion which Ruth has shown to Naomi, and therefore Boaz shows kindness to Ruth, not only letting her glean but arranging for her to gather more than would be usual for a gleaner. Boaz even prays for Ruth, praying that she may find a full reward from the God of Israel.

So Ruth returns to Naomi with a full load of barley. When Naomi learns that the man who showed kindness to Ruth is a relative, she gives thanks to God. You see, Naomi realizes that Boaz, as a kinsman, is a potential redeemer for both Naomi and Ruth. Now, legally, Boaz is under no obligation to care for Naomi or Ruth. If Boaz had been Elimelech’s brother, he would have been required to marry Naomi, but apparently Boaz and Elimelech were cousins of some sort, or maybe uncle and nephew.

Nonetheless, Naomi sees the possibilities in the kindness Boaz has shown to Ruth, who is younger and more marriageable than Naomi, anyway. So, in good “Days of Our Lives” fashion, Naomi devises a plan for Ruth to present herself to Boaz, asking him to honor the role of family redeemer, even though he isn’t required to do so. Ruth accepts the plan and follows through with it, approaching Boaz under the cover of darkness and asking him to spread his cloak over her, signifying a proposal of marriage.

Can you imagine the risk Ruth took? Boaz could have thrown her out. He could have even denounced her as a prostitute! But, showing a gutsy kind of faith, Ruth takes the chance, and asks Boaz to give her a future. Boaz accepts his role as redeemer, and, by the way, fulfills his own prayer for Ruth, by marrying her. Ruth soon gives birth to a son, Obed, who later had a son named Jesse, who later had a son named David.

Naomi, who had at one point been so sad and hopeless that she asked people to call her “Mara” — which means “bitter” — Naomi is given the position of Obed’s nurse. Ruth — a young widow who left everything she knew behind out of compassion for Naomi — Ruth becomes the great-grandmother of a king.

Imagine how improbable this all was. The line of the Israelites that eventually produced not only kings but the Messiah was dependent upon the marriage of Boaz and this Moabite woman. This is incredibly amazing because the Israelites were very protective of the “purity” of their religion.

The story of Ruth shows us that the Israelites had lost their sense of mission. God chose the Israelites to be his people, way back in Abraham’s day, not in order for them to remain “pure,” not for them to keep God to themselves. God chose the Israelites in order for them to take God’s love to all of God’s creation. God said to Abraham, “In you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” Not just the Israelites — all the families of the earth. The story of Ruth is a reminder of the mission of God’s chosen people.

As disciples of Jesus Christ, we have a duty to respect and appreciate our Jewish heritage. However, we have to value even more the good news of Jesus, the Messiah, who came in order to offer salvation to the entire world — and who came from the line of Ruth and Boaz. We, too, are called to spread God’s love to all of God’s creation. We are not supposed to act as “insiders,” protecting our faith against the “outsiders.” Rather, we are called to bring the outsiders home with us, to turn the outsiders into family.

When we consider all the tragedy and loss that Naomi and Ruth suffered, we can see the wonder of the God of Second Chances. From famine at home, to travel in faraway places; from her sons’ weddings in a foreign land to one funeral after another, Naomi tried to make the most of a very difficult life. From the death of her young husband, to moving to a hostile land, to risking everything for a chance at a future, Ruth showed compassion, loyalty, and faith.

In the tragedies that we face in our own lives, we are called to be like Naomi and Ruth. We are called to make the most of our lives, to do the best we can with what life hands us. We are called to live with compassion, loyalty, and faith. When we do these things, the God of Second Chances will provide for us.

Ruth, the outsider, acted as a redeemer and became the redeemed. She took action by having faith in a God she claimed as her own, showing compassion for the helpless in the way she stayed by Naomi’s side. In doing so, Ruth was able to claim her place and her future with the people of God. We are called to model our own faith after Ruth, acting boldly to help the hopeless. We are called to put our trust in God, so that we might claim a full reward from God.

Ruth and Naomi put their faith in God, and God stepped in and blessed them and provided for them. If we put our faith in God, God will bless us and provide for us, as well. That doesn’t mean we’re all going to be millionaires, or that nothing bad is ever going to happen in our lives. It means that when bad things do happen, God will be there for us to lean on. It means that, when we’ve hit rock bottom, God will send someone to offer us a helping hand — someone like Boaz.

And let’s not forget Boaz. Boaz, who was willing to bring an outsider into the family of God’s chosen people. Boaz could have balked, but he didn’t, and because he didn’t, Boaz’s family tree would extend to the greatest of Israel’s kings, and on to the Messiah, the very Son of God.

So, regardless of how difficult our lives might be, regardless of whether we are insiders or outsiders in society, we need to remember that God is always with us, and we need to put our faith, our trust, in God.

Get Your Game Face On

Mark 10.46-52 　 For Jesus, the end is in sight. Jericho is only about 15 miles from Jerusalem. The healing of Bartimaeus is the final miracle recorded in Mark’s Gospel, and it occurs just as Jesus is beginning his journey to Jerusalem, to the Passover … to the cross.   The late Scottish New Testament scholar William Barclay sets the scene for us: Jesus was on his way to the Passover in Jerusalem. When a distinguished Rabbi or teacher was on such a journey he was invariably surrounded by a crowd of people — as Mark says, “He and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho.” The crowd would listen to the Rabbi’s teachings as they walked along. This was one of the most common ways of teaching in Jesus’ day.   Besides Jesus’ group, other pilgrims would have been on the road that day, chanting and celebrating on their way to Jerusalem and the Passover. Others — those too poor, too sinful, too unhealthy to make the journey — would have lined the roadway to watch the procession. Perhaps there would have been even more curiosity seekers than usual; some would have gathered solely to catch a glimpse of Jesus, this audacious young Galilean who has tweaked the noses of the scribes and the Pharisees, and whose reputation as a healer and miracle worker was well known.   Jesus’ eyes were fixed on Jerusalem. He was beginning the final stage of his mission and ministry. We might say that Jesus was getting his game face on. From this point on, nothing would get in the way of Jesus’ mission.   I’ve probably told this story before, but it makes a good point. John Madden and Ken Stabler had won a Super Bowl together as coach and quarterback of the Oakland Raiders. A few years later, Madden was announcing an NFL game involving Stabler, then the quarterback of the New Orleans Saints. At halftime Stabler’s Saints were down 28 – 0. In truth, the Saints weren’t very good, and Stabler was well past his prime as an NFL quarterback. In the first half nothing had gone their way, and now they opened the second half with a defensive lineman crashing through on third down and delivering a vicious hit on Stabler.   Perhaps a little too vicious. The camera zoomed in on Stabler’s face, and Madden recognized the look he saw there. During the next commercial break, Madden turned to his announcing partner, Pat Summerall, and said, “This game is over.”   Summerall agreed, saying that the Saints just didn’t have the ability to come from so far behind. “Oh, no,” said Madden, “You don’t understand. New Orleans is going to win this game. I saw the look in Stabler’s eyes, and nothing is going to stop him now.” Sure enough, Stabler led a furious Saints comeback, and New Orleans won the game, 35- 28.   I imagine that there was a similar look in Jesus’ eyes, at this point. Jesus knew what he had to do. Jesus knew what was waiting for him in Jerusalem. With his mind firmly set on his mission, Jesus started out from Jericho, on the last leg of his journey to Jerusalem, to his passion, to his destiny, to his cross.   And then, above the shouts and cheers of the crowd, Jesus heard a desperate cry. A beggar named Bartimaeus had been sitting by the roadside when he heard some of the onlookers saying that Jesus of Nazareth was passing by. And Ol’ Bartimaeus set about causing an uproar, shouting to get Jesus’ attention. Many in the crowd, particularly those who were trying to listen to Jesus’ teachings, tried to silence Bartimaeus. But Bartimaeus, too, had his game face on, and nothing was going to deprive Bartimaeus of his chance to meet this famous healer.   So Jesus stopped. The procession stopped. Everything ground to a halt, and Jesus said to the people in the crowd, “Call him here.”   This is a beautiful story, a touching story — but why is this a relevant story? What does this story have to say to us, today? Why should we care about the healing of a blind man some 2,000 years ago?   Well, first of all, there’s the sheer persistence of Bartimaeus. As I said, he had his game face on. Nothing could stop his clamoring, nothing could keep him from doing his best to come face to face with Jesus. Bartimaeus was utterly and completely determined to meet the one person whom he felt could help him with his troubles. In Bartimaeus’ mind, there was not just a hopeful wish to see Jesus, there was a deep, burning, desperate desire to see Jesus, to get up close and personal with Jesus. And, as is often the case, the more desperate one is, the more things get done.   Then there’s Bartimaeus’ response to the call of Jesus. “So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus.” Nothing wrong with Bartimaeus’ legs. Bartimaeus was eager to come to Jesus. His response was immediate. How many times have we heard the call of Jesus, and said, basically, “I’ll be there in a few minutes … wait until I finish what I’m doing … I’ll come as soon as I can get away.” Not Bartimaeus. Bartimaeus came like a shot when Jesus called.   Sometimes we get second chances, but quite often in life there are opportunities that come along only once. We may hear the call of Jesus, we may feel a longing to right some wrong, to abandon some habit, to give ourselves more completely to Jesus — but we fail to act right away, and the moment is gone, the opportunity lost, perhaps never to return again, at least not in that form. Time is lost, maybe a person is lost, because we failed to act when Jesus called.   Another lesson I think we can take from this story is the fact that Bartimaeus had a very inadequate conception of who Jesus was. That is to say, Bartimaeus’ theology was lousy. “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me!” Now, it’s true that “son of David” was a title often used when speaking of the Messiah, but it was a title that had to do with a conquering Messiah, a great king of David’s lineage who would lead Israel to national greatness. This was an idea a lot of people had about the Messiah, but it was a very poor, very inadequate idea of Jesus.   Why is Bartimaeus’ lousy theology good news for us? Because Bartimaeus had faith, and this story shows that faith more than makes up for any bad theology. We aren’t expected to “understand” Jesus. In fact, as humans, we never will understand Jesus, not entirely. All Jesus asks of us is that we have faith. It’s not, “Everyone who understands me perfectly may not perish but may have eternal life.” It’s “Everyone who believes in me …” Ephesians 2.8 doesn’t say, “For by grace you have been saved, through understanding.” No, the writer of Ephesians said, “For by grace you have been saved, through faith.”   Now, don’t get me wrong, understanding is important. It’s just that understanding comes later, as we grow and mature in our faith. William Barclay wrote, “We must ask people to think, but we should not expect them to become theologians before they are Christians.” It’s faith that makes us Christians, not theology. Because the truth is, as humans, we will never be able to fully understand Jesus. It’s beyond our capacity. We need to increase our understanding, but we shouldn’t expect to ever come to a complete understanding.   That’s why United Methodists don’t insist that our theology is the only theology. That’s why we believe that those who disagree with us theologically — Baptists, Pentecostals, Roman Catholics, whoever — we believe that they are Christians and that they will have eternal life, because they have faith.   Christianity begins with a personal relationship with Jesus, a relationship of love, a relationship of faith. Even if we are never able to think things out theologically, the response of the human heart is enough for our salvation.   Another lesson from this story: Bartimaeus’ gratitude. “Immediately he regained his sight and followed [Jesus] on the way.”   There are hints in this story that Bartimaeus has not always been blind. He asked Jesus to let him see “again.” He “regained” his sight. Author Victoria Atkinson White speculates that Bartimaeus may have seen Jesus before — may in fact have witnessed Jesus’ healing power at some point before his sight was taken.   Whether this is true or not, Bartimaeus — unlike someone blind from birth — Bartimaeus seems familiar with the world around him. Perhaps he had a profession, a job that he could return to. But instead of returning to his job when he could see again, Bartimaeus followed Jesus.   So many times, once our needs are met, we turn and go our own way. Oh, it’s not that we aren’t grateful: “Thank you, Jesus, good job taking care of that problem for me.” It’s just that we have other things that need doing, other priorities. How selfish we can be, sometimes. But not Bartimaeus. No false gratitude here. Bartimaeus was so grateful that his sight was restored that he immediately became a disciple of Jesus, and followed Jesus to Jerusalem.   In fact, if we look at this story closely, we see that Bartimaeus demonstrates for us the stages of discipleship: Bartimaeus began with need, went on to gratitude, and finished with loyalty — and each stage was supported by a foundation of faith.   Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could all look at our lives and see the same stages of discipleship so clearly? If you’re not sure that your life reflects these stages of discipleship, perhaps you should check your foundation. Jesus is calling you to be a disciple — of that there is no doubt. You need to make sure that you respond to that call with faith.   And finally, a lesson learned, not from Bartimaeus, but from the crowd. Did you notice what Jesus said when he heard Bartimaeus calling for him? Jesus said, “Call him here.” Did you catch that? Let me say it again: “Call him here.” You … “call him here.” Jesus didn’t call directly to Bartimaeus. Jesus called Bartimaeus … through others. “And they called to the blind man, saying to him, ‘Take heart, get up, he is calling to you.’”   Jesus is calling someone — maybe more than one someone — through you. Oh, yes, he is. No doubt about it. The question is: Are you passing the call along? Are you telling people to take heart, to get up and come to worship, because Jesus loves them and wants them to come to him?   Look around at all these empty pews. Two months from now the Ben Lomond church will hold their last worship service. If you don’t pass along the call of Jesus to people you know and care about, your opportunity may be lost. It’s time to get desperate.   Look again at those stages of discipleship: need, gratitude, and loyalty, undergirded by faith. We have a need in this church, and there are people out there in our community, right now, who need this church. If by God’s grace you have been saved, through faith, then you need to be thankful to Jesus. And if you’re thankful to Jesus, you need to show your gratitude by being loyal to Jesus. And if you’re loyal to Jesus, then you need to be passing along the call of Jesus — the call to those out there who are lost.   It’s time to get your game face on. Don’t let anyone or anything stop you from passing along the call of Jesus. Don’t lose an opportunity, don’t cost this church an opportunity — and more importantly, don’t cost someone who is lost an opportunity — to respond to Jesus’ call. Take heart, get up, and come to Jesus — and bring those who are lost with you.

God Wonders Me

 

Job 38.1-7, 34-41

　

A wise man once said, “The two greatest thoughts that changed my life were: There is a God, and I’m not it!”

 

I must confess to you that I’ve never been a big fan of the book of Job. I mean, let’s face it, in the book of Job we see God acting in a way that I simply cannot understand — what with his dealings with Satan and allowing poor Job to be used as some kind of vile experiment. But I have learned through the years that you can’t pick and choose from the Bible. You have to take the parts that don’t make sense along with the parts that do; you have to take the parts that bring you pain along with the parts that bring you joy.

 

We have to look at Job as a story that teaches a lesson — a fable, if you will — not as an actual historical event. The events depicted in the book of Job did not actually take place. Seriously, based on every other book in the Bible, do you really think that God and Satan sat around and talked shop all day? No. Just as Jesus told parables to make some of his points, Job is a story that is included in our Bible in order to teach us a lesson or two. When we look at Job in that light, then we can find some really good lessons.

　

You know the basic outline of the story of Job. Job was a righteous man, but Satan convinced God that the only reason Job was righteous was because God was blessing Job all the time. Take away the blessings, Satan argued to God, and Job will turn away from you. So God allowed Satan to pretty much have his way with Job.

 

But through all the trials and hardships, Job remains faithful to God. Job’s wife urges him to just give up; Job’s friends all tell him that he must have done something dreadfully bad, because God only punishes those who are wicked — we all know that! Poor old Job endures an awful lot. The slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune have stung Job repeatedly — all the more so as his so-called friends have offered little consolation or comfort.

 

Finally, in anger, Job raises his fist to God, wondering if maybe his wife’s advice to “curse God and die!” is his best option. Job has bombarded heaven with words — words of confusion, pain, and abandonment. And now, God answers. Oh boy, does God answer! When God spoke to the prophet Elijah, God spoke — depending on your translation — in “a gentle whisper,” “a gentle blowing” of the wind, or in “the sound of sheer silence.”

 

But God answers Job “out of the whirlwind!” God speaks out of the whirlwind of Job’s storm-wrecked life. In tatters, with boils festering, with his head covered in ashes, Job hears the whirlwind voice of God. God fires questions at Job: “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? … Can you send forth lightnings? … Who has the wisdom to number the clouds?”

 

And Job — once so full of words he could only spit them out like bitter bile — Job is silent. He has nothing to say.

 

A few years ago there was a television show called “Joan of Arcadia.” It wasn’t really a very good show, and I only watched it a couple of times, but there was one scene in the very first episode that I really liked. God has appeared to Joan, in the form of a young man, and Joan is having more than a little trouble believing that she’s actually having a conversation with God. So Joan asks for proof: “Let’s see a miracle.” God looks around and points at a tall tree nearby. “How about that?” God asks. Joan looks a little disgusted, and snorts, “That’s a tree.” God replies, “Let’s see you make one.”

 

What God is saying to Job, basically, is, “There is a God, and you’re not it.” And that’s really all the answer God gives Job, for all of Job’s questions. God doesn’t offer any kind of final explanation for the mystery of suffering — to Job, or to us. God isn’t being cruel in his answer to Job; God’s just being honest. The mystery of suffering is beyond human understanding. God is simply saying that there are things that God understands, that we humans will never understand.

 

Often, today, God speaks to us out of the whirlwind of our lives. As we sit in the dust of our tragedies, life’s brokenness all around us, we ask the same questions of God that Job asked, often with the same degree of hurt and anger. We wonder sometimes if we would be better off dead. And God answers us, “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” Just as God summoned Job to brace himself, to “gird up [his] loins,” God tells us to “cowboy up,” to be tough, to hold fast to our faith.

 

God has a message for our storm-tossed lives. There are times when we accuse God, as Job did, of bringing life’s calamities upon us. We ask, “How can God let this happen?” We wonder if it’s God’s will when an accident claims the life of a teenager, if it’s God’s will when cancer claims a tiny victim, God’s will when a tornado passes over our neighbor’s house, and hits ours.

 

And, like Job, we may find that all of our questions of God lead us nowhere. “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” That’s the answer we receive, today, just as Job did. When the prophet Habakkuk question God in a similar manner, God answered Habakkuk by saying, “The righteous live by their faith.” That’s it. Habakkuk cried out to God, “How long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen?” And God said, “The righteous live by their faith.” It seems that whenever we question God about suffering, we get a strange answer.

 

“Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? … The righteous live by their faith.” Again, God is telling us that there are things going on that we simply cannot comprehend. And frankly, if we can’t understand the answers, then all our questions are for naught; they lead us nowhere.

 

However, God’s questions lead us somewhere. God’s questions lead us to a place called “trust.” “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” From out of the whirlwind of our lives, God invites us to trust that God’s ultimate purposes for life will come to pass, in God’s good time. This is God’s message for us, today, from the book of Job. The storms of life wreak havoc. God comes to us out of the storm, not as a relief effort, but as a calm assurance that God has been in charge since the very beginning of time, and God knows what he’s doing.

 

“Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” Obviously, we weren’t there. As God continues to enumerate all of God’s mighty acts, it’s clear that we can do none of the things that God has done. We might be clever in the world of science and technology, but God is in a class by himself. We can’t call forth lightnings; we can’t even make a tree from scratch.

 

There’s a story about a group of scientists who discovered how to create human beings. They were very proud of their accomplishment, and the head scientist called to God, and said, “God, we don’t need you any more. We can do everything you can do.” And God said, “That may well be, but before I go away, I challenge you to a human-making contest. If I make the best human, I stay; if yours is best, I’ll go.” The scientists smugly agreed.

 

“Oh, one more thing,” God said. “Let’s make this human the old-fashioned way, out of the dust of the earth.” And again, the scientists agreed to God’s terms. “I’ll go first,” the scientist said with a smile, “and show you how it’s done.” With that the scientist reached down and scooped up a handful of dirt. “No, no!” cried God. “Use your own dirt.”

 

No matter how smart we become, no matter how advanced, the truth is that without God we can do nothing. Without God, we are nothing. To paraphrase an old song from the 60s: In the year 2525, if man is still alive, all the artists from all of history — Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Monet, O’Keeffe, Michelangelo — all the artists who ever lived will not have created one-tenth of the beauty that God creates every single day.

 

God does things that are so great that we cannot comprehend them. God knows things that are so wonderful that we cannot come anywhere close to understanding them. God not only created life on this planet, God constantly sustains life. Throughout chapter 38, God talks about the cycles of nature, the mysteries of the human mind, the food chain.

 

And while sometimes there are floods, hurricanes, droughts, and famine, the fact is that this earth produces more than enough food for all of God’s creatures to eat. Food shortages are a creation of humans, not God. There is plenty of water to sustain life on earth. The earth’s atmosphere is safe. We talk about overpopulation, but there’s really plenty of room for everybody, if we could just get along better. And, again, that’s not God’s fault; it’s ours. God created a perfect earth; it’s human beings who have made such a mess of it.

 

A preacher once told about a Vacation Bible School picnic his church was having in a city park one gorgeous summer day. Out of the blue, a preschooler walked up to the preacher and said, “God wonders me.”

 

God wonders me. “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” God has a message for us. God wants us to know that, even when the storm comes, even when all that is lovely and beautiful is ripped from our hearts, we can trust in God. In the whirlwind of our lives, we can trust in God, believing that God has more wonder to give us than any storm can destroy.

 

God calls us to wonder again at God’s power. God calls us to trust God’s ultimate purposes. God calls us to live — through all the circumstances life brings our way — God calls us to live by faith, and to live with hope.

 

“This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forget that though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet. This is my Father’s world: Why should my heart be sad? The Lord is King; let the heavens ring! God reigns; let the earth be glad!”

 

God invites you, this morning, to look with wonder at God’s creation. God invites you to put your trust in God. The Lord is King, let the heavens ring! God reigns, let us all be glad!

You Lack One Thing

 

Mark 10.17-27

　

I think this is one of the most vivid stories in the Bible. I also think it’s one of the most misunderstood, and misused, stories in the Bible.

 

The story of the rich young ruler trying to inherit eternal life is traditionally used to admonish the wealthy. It seems only natural for us to paint an unflattering picture of this man. We imagine him in new, stylish, brightly colored Armani robes, with all the right accessories. He’s well-groomed, certainly, with good posture and bearing. He’s probably composed, and speaks eloquently, with proper grammar — the result of attending the finest schools. In short, this is a young man who stands out in a crowd.

 

We picture him, too, as having had an easy life, a lavish upbringing, probably spoiled by doting parents who gave him the best of everything, without his having to work for any of it. He got a brand-new Jaguar chariot for his 16^th birthday, and his mom and dad have paid numerous speeding tickets for him. In our minds we imagine that this young man has hoarded his wealth, and that he gives nothing to the poor, or to charities of any kind.

 

We often call him the “rich young ruler.” Matthew’s gospel says that he was a young man, but says nothing about him being a ruler. Luke calls him a ruler but says nothing about his age. Mark, as we can see this morning, doesn’t mention either one — he’s simply referred to as “a man.” So, based strictly on what we read this morning in Mark, this man could be young or old, and there’s no indication that he is a ruler of any kind. We do know he has “many possessions,” but that’s about it. Still, the image of the “rich young ruler” remains.

 

To sum it up, in our minds we picture this man as a rich, arrogant, young snob, who thinks he’s better than everyone else, and who wants to buy his way into heaven. In fact, to put it bluntly, we just don’t like this guy, and, truth be told, we’re secretly pleased when he turns away from Jesus.

 

But is this an accurate picture? What do we really know about this man? And more importantly, what does Jesus think about him?

 

“As Jesus was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him.” How about that? This man ran after Jesus, and when he caught up with Jesus, the man got down on his knees. This doesn’t quite jibe with our “rich, arrogant, snob,” who most likely would look down his nose at a penniless prophet — especially a penniless prophet from Nazareth, of all places! Yet this man tossed his dignity aside, chased Jesus down, and knelt before him. This “rich young ruler” showed respect for Jesus — a respect that, sadly, is all too often lacking, even among Christians, today.

 

The man calls Jesus “good teacher.” He knows who Jesus is, up to a point, and he understands what Jesus’ ministry is all about. This isn’t some Pharisee come to test Jesus. This is a man on a genuine search for spiritual truth, a man with high moral and religious values — remember: he has kept all the commandments since his youth.

 

So let’s rethink our entire notion of this “rich young ruler.” What we really have here is not some rich snob, but rather a knowledgeable, moral, thoughtful man with a sincere desire to spend eternity with God. What we really have here is not some elitist know-it-all, but rather a man who realizes that Jesus holds all the answers.

 

And Jesus recognizes this. Jesus offers one gentle admonition — “Why do you call me good?” The reason for this is that Jesus doesn’t want this man to focus on him as just an extraordinary teacher or prophet. Jesus wants this man to focus on God. But aside from that, Jesus treats this man with the same respect that the man has shown Jesus. Jesus says, “You know the commandments,” in effect acknowledging that this is an educated man.

 

And then, “Jesus, looking at him, loved him.” Jesus recognized the sincerity of this man’s search for eternal happiness, and Jesus loved him for it. Jesus never condemns the man for being wealthy. Jesus doesn’t even mention the man’s wealth until after he leaves. All Jesus did was love him, and tell him that he lacks one thing.

 

Of course, the one thing the man lacks is the one thing he could not bring himself to do. This man could not bear to part with his possessions. That was what he lacked. He knew it, and Jesus knew it. And so the man “went away grieving.” Jesus had pointed out his weakness, and he knew that Jesus was right. That made him sad.

 

And I think that Jesus was sad, too. Jesus recognized the genuineness of this man’s search, and Jesus was sad because the man turned away. Sad, and a little frustrated, Jesus then tells the disciples that it will be difficult “for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God.”

 

Jesus’ words puzzled the disciples. Perhaps because those words certainly didn’t apply to them, but more likely because in their society wealth was associated with God’s blessings. The general consensus was that the wealthier someone was, the more God was blessing that person. It was believed that a wealthy person must be a righteous person.

 

Truth be told, we’re not so different, today. We still look with favor upon people who are rich, while looking down our noses at those who are poor. We may not say it in so many words, but we still think that the rich have been blessed by God, while the poor have displeased God in some way. We think to ourselves, “The rich worked hard to earn what they have, and God helps those who help themselves.” I don’t know who first came up with that notion — God helps those who help themselves — but it’s totally contrary to everything the Bible teaches us. In truth, God helps those who are helpless.

 

But nevertheless, we are as perplexed as the disciples were. If those who are wealthy — blessed by God, we think — if those who are wealthy are going to have trouble getting into heaven, “then who can be saved?”

 

And here is where we get to the heart of the matter. You see, I don’t think it was the man’s wealth, per se, that was keeping him out of the Kingdom of God. I think it was simply because he was lacking something. Now, stay with me on this. In this particular case, what the man was lacking just happened to be a willingness to part with his possessions. That, however, obviously doesn’t apply to all of us.

 

Some of us have no possessions to begin with, or at least very few. Others — Mother Teresa, for example — others are willing to give up material goods. So giving up all their possessions isn’t what these people are lacking. Yet we are all lacking something. For the majority of rich people, the lack may well be an unwillingness to part with their wealth. But for other people, rich or poor, what they are lacking may be something completely different.

 

I think what it comes down to is this: When we love something — anything — more than we love God, that thing is what we are lacking. And I think that Jesus looks into our hearts, just as he did with this man, and Jesus knows just exactly what it is that we are lacking. And we know, too, don’t we? Just as this rich man knew that Jesus was right, we know our own weaknesses. We may be able to hide our weaknesses from others, but we know.

 

And the thing is, whatever our weakness is, whatever it is that we are lacking — that’s what God is going to require from us. Just as this man had to confront his weakness head on, at some point in our lives we’ll have to do the same thing. Do you love your family more than you love God? Be careful, because God may require you to give up your family, in some way. Do you love your job more than you love God? God will require your job. God won’t ask all of us to sell everything we have and give the money to the poor. God will only ask that of those who, like this man, love their possessions more than they love God.

 

That’s the scary part. But there is Good News, and that is that even though we are all lacking something, Jesus still loves us. And more Good News: “For God all things are possible.”

 

“For God all things are possible.” All things. All things means that God can fit a camel through the eye of a needle. All things means that God can get a wealthy person into heaven. All things means that, no matter what it is that we are lacking, God can get us into heaven, too.

 

God knows our weaknesses. And God also knows that, no matter how hard we try, we’re always going to be weak: “For mortals it is impossible” to be good enough, to be strong enough, to get into heaven. So God made a way, through Christ Jesus, for us to get into heaven, despite our weaknesses, despite all the things we lack. This rich man recognized it, somehow. This man knew that Jesus held the key to eternal life, and so he came to Jesus.

 

And, you know what? I like to think that, later on in his life, this man came to Jesus again. Some time after the crucifixion, I think this man came to believe in Jesus, not as a “good teacher,” but as the resurrected and living Son of God. After all, he was on the right track, and Jesus loved him for it. He was weak, just like we all are, but God made a way for this man to get into heaven, in spite of his weakness, in spite of the one thing he lacked.

 

All it took was for him to believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Not the “good teacher,” who would give him step by step instructions for getting into heaven, but the Messiah, the Savior, the one who loved him enough to die for his sins, to die for his “lack.”

 

And, that’s all it takes for you and me. It doesn’t matter whether we’re rich or poor. It doesn’t matter what it is that we lack. Jesus loves us enough to die for what we lack. All we have to do is believe in Jesus, the Son of God, and all our sins, all our weaknesses, will be washed away, and we will lack for nothing.