HOW MUCH GRACE?

Luke 13: 6-9

Everything has a function. Think about it. Whether big or small, everything is built by man or by nature to do something. If you’re a boat, you provide transportation or carry things down a river or across an ocean. If you’re a building, you house businesses or people to do their work or raise their families. If you’re a bomb, you blow things up. Everything man-made has a reason to be built and God is no different in his craftsmanship of the world. Everything happens for a reason and everyone is put here for a purpose.

So if you’re a fig tree in ancient Israel, you bear figs. That’s the reason you exist. In a land of poor soil, arid conditions and harsh climate, food bearing soil is at a premium and there is just no room for fig trees that do not produce figs.

Sandwiched in between Jesus’ ‘repent or perish’ comments beginning chapter thirteen of Luke’s gospel and later the parable of the mustard seed, is a short and rather obscure parable about a barren fig tree. A fig tree has not yielded any fruit in three years. The owner is ready to cut it down. The vinedresser asks for more time…time to nurse it along. He promises that if it doesn’t work, he will indeed cut it down.

Well, that’s nice, but what in the world does it have to do with me and you? What does it mean and why is it there? What is the lesson of the barren fig tree? I can understand that if I don’t repent, I will perish, as Jesus says in the beginning of the chapter. I can understand that a little faith goes a long way in the same manner that a small mustard seed can grow a bush big enough to be called a tree. But a barren fig tree? What is Jesus telling us?

Is the story about allowing us more time? Yes, I think it is. Is the story about running out of time? Yes, I think it is that, too. William Barclay calls this story “The gospel of the Other Chance and the Threat of the Last Chance.”

Ancient Israel was hardly the breadbasket of the world. The soil was shallow and poor. Crops and trees were grown on every inch of soil worth planting. There was no room for things that did not produce. It was the custom to give a fig tree, whose fruit was used for many purposes, three years to bear fruit. If it did not do so in the allotted time, it was cut down to make room for something which would produce. Such is our story today. The owner says “for three years, I have come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and I find none. Cut it down. Why should it use up the ground?”

In the sixth chapter of John’s gospel, Jesus has been talking to a crowd gathered to hear him. They are hungry and they want to be fed. Jesus tells them that he is the bread of life. They cannot comprehend how he can feed their souls. For three years, he brought the message of grace, first to his disciples, then to religious leaders, and finally to the people all around him. He planted the seeds of grace but many times they fell on the hard ground of legalism and unbelief.

The vinedresser’s answer was to give the stubborn tree another year. He wanted to give it more attention, He promised to feed it, water it, fertilize it. He wanted to go another mile to give it a chance to bear fruit.

Doesn’t that remind you of what our Savior did for us? When he couldn’t get us to understand, he provided the example. When he couldn’t get us to commit, he committed himself. When our faith remained weak and barren, he went to a cross to pay our debt of sin. The parable of the barren fig tree is another chance at grace, just like the chance that Jesus gave us.

We have been given so many opportunities to know God. We are like the fig tree in the vineyard. It occupied a special place. Good soil came at a premium and the little fig tree was privileged to occupy some of that favored soil. And yet, the parable shows us that it had failed to produce even though it had ample time to do so. Because it failed to respond to the opportunity given it, it was in jeopardy of losing not only the opportunity, but its very life. Jesus uses the parable to tell us that we must do something with the opportunities we are given. We must claim the promises made to us by Jesus. If we do not do so, there will come a time when our uselessness closes off our opportunity.

For three years I have come seeking fruit and I find none, says the owner. How many times have you been offered the chance to do something and failed to act on it? How many ways have you looked in the eyes of your Savior and ignored him just because he was dressed in a different way or spoke in a different tongue? The people of Israel had had a whole lot longer than that poor little fig tree. How long have you had?

The vinedresser begs for another year. He bargains with the owner. Give it a little more time. It’ll come around. I’ll tend to it. I’ll irrigate it and feed it. Even though the time for bearing fruit has passed, he coaxes another year out of the owner.

Barrenness is an often used theme in the Bible. From Sarah to Elizabeth, barrenness indicates a condition of being without. Then God comes and solves the problem. Barrenness turns to fertility and the fruit comes forth, whether it is the fruit of the vine or the fruit of the fig tree or the birth of a newborn child. Hand in hand with the theme of barrenness is that of hard-heartedness. As the fig tree yields no fruit, neither do the people of Israel come to see our Savior standing in front of them. They have hardened their hearts and the fruit of the Spirit escapes them. How much are we like the people of Jesus’ time!

In this parable lies a warning of judgment. While the fig tree may have been ransomed for another year, the promise, even of the vinedresser, is that if it does not bear fruit within that year, then the owner can cut it down. In this little story of a fig tree, Jesus himself warns us that our rejection of God’s grace is not without a time limit. There will come a day of reckoning. “If it should bear fruit next year, well and good, but if not, you can cut it down.” The little fig tree has been allowed ample time to get its act together. It has been allowed to take and take and take. Jesus warns that if we do not begin to bear fruit, to give back, our days are numbered. 

It is a dire lesson that our little barren fig tree teaches us. The threat of the last chance is a hard pill to swallow. So often we think of Jesus as Savior, a wonderful, understanding, brother figure who stands in the gap reaching out for us and promising us eternal life. It’s all true, too. But that’s only part of the truth that Jesus promises us. He also promises judgment for every one of us. He is the door through whom we must pass and like our fig tree, we will have to account for what use we were in this world.

And yet, there is that other part of the parable…that wonderful, amazing part where, even when it is past our allotted time, our heavenly vinedresser pleads our case. Let me work with him a little more. Let me feed her the fruit of my Spirit. Give me just a little more time. Let me use just a little more grace. Then we will see fruit.

How much grace? I don’t know. I do know it’s more than I deserve. As surely as I know that there is an end to God’s grace, I am equally persuaded that his grace is both sufficient for me and available to me. How much grace? Enough to overcome my barrenness. Enough to overcome my hard-heartedness. God gives us every chance we need. Just don’t wait for next year. You never know when the owner will say: it’s time.

Let us pray.

8/25/13

The Crucible of Crisis (Luke 12: 49-56) 8/18/13

 

Jesus is speaking to his disciples and the crowds that follow him. Luke tells us that Jesus has stopped on the way to Jerusalem to talk with his disciples and to the very large crowd that has gathered. Jesus talks about the division that will result from his ministry and message, warning that families and friends will suffer and split from his teachings, as some will follow him and many will not. He goes on to exclaim how blind we can be to revelation right in front of our eyes, He talks about how a south wind means hot weather approaching, while clouds rising in the west mean a shower is on its way. We can interpret the earth and sky by how they present and yet we seem to have little idea how to interpret what is going on all around us.

This passage contains several lessons, but I keep being drawn to verse 50: “But I have a baptism to undergo, and how distressed I am until it is completed.”  Jesus is looking toward the cross. He knows what is coming. He has to die to light the fire. He is not only the solution. He is the kindling for the fire to come.

Baptism. It is a sacrament in every Christian church. Along with the Lord’s Supper, it is one of two sacraments recognized by most Protestant churches, including ours. In the Reformed tradition, of which we are a part, baptism is recognized for both infants and adults, although we most often see it observed with infants. In that setting, it is an acknowledgment by both parents and church to raise a child in the church until he or she obtains the age of consent. But the word has a much richer meaning and history. Webster’s Dictionary tells us that, in addition to the Christian definitions, baptism means to purify, cleanse or initiate. In the New Testament, the term comes from two Greek roots. One is baptizo, which means to make fully wet. The second is baptizen, meaning “to dip.” It is used of someone submerged in some grim and terrible experience. We might paraphrase Jesus’ words this way: “I have to pass through a terrible experience, and my life is full of tension until I pass through it and emerge triumphantly from it.” 

Jesus was letting us “in,” so to speak, on where he was and what he was going through. Most of the time, we look upon Jesus as our Savior, someone so much higher above us that we stand in awe. We admire him, we worship him, but we do not relate to him. It’s certainly right to see Jesus in this light, but it’s not the only way we should see him. We know that Jesus was fully God. From that vantage point he knew exactly why he was here and what he was ultimately going to do to redeem us. But we know also that Jesus was fully human and I think this verse gives us a glimpse into that very human part of Jesus the man. This is a part of Jesus that we can relate to.

“But I have a baptism to undergo, and how distressed I am until it is fully completed.”  The part of Jesus that was God knew he would face the cross and complete his task, but the part of Jesus that was man was not so sure. The verse foreshadows Jesus on the Mount of Olives the night of his arrest. Remember? In the cool of the night, he is in anguish, “his sweat is like drops of blood falling to the ground,” (Luke 22: 44) as he asks the Father to let this cup (the cross) pass away from him (v.42). He is deathly afraid. His fear is not just of the pain of the cross, but of failure; failure of his mission for his heavenly father; failure of this opportunity to deliver God’s saving grace for mankind. He knows he has to come through. Too much is riding on it. So Jesus is in crisis. He is looking down the road of crucifixion and death. He is in the crucible.

          A crucible is a container that can resist great heat. It is the hollow at the bottom of a furnace where the molten metal collects. It’s where the heat is at its unbearable greatest. Ever been in the crucible of crisis? Ever been at the point where people you love are depending on you and the only way to come through for them is to do something you can’t do, go to a poiny where you might break? It’s hot there, and there’s no room to breathe, no margin to err, no wiggle room. It’s a dark place when you’re in the crucible.

Crisis came to Jesus. He had many temptations, but perhaps only one great crisis. Crisis and temptation come to us as well. They come in many forms. Though not as significant as the crisis faced by Jesus, they are very powerful and often seemingly overwhelming. Crisis has many names: poverty, illness, disease, divorce, addiction, to name a few. There are people here who have gone in to work only to be handed a pink slip at the end of the day. They know what I’m talking about. There are many here who have sat beside the hospital bed of a parent or child or friend fading from life. They know what I’m talking about. If you have been served with divorce papers, had to apply for disability, admitted an unwilling parent to a rest home, bailed a child out of jail, you know what I’m talking about. Even if you have led a charmed life to this point, the crisis of your life may be around the next corner.

There is ugliness and hardship in this world, and very few escape its clutches from cradle to grave. Yet for all their gravity, these sorts of crises do not rise to the level that Christ faced. Indeed, the book of James tells us to consider such things “joy.” James call these events “trials,” and tells us that “the testing of our faith develops perseverance, which must finish its work so that we may be mature and complete” in the eyes of God.

Jesus, the Son of Man, was in crisis. He was in the crucible. The King James Version translates verse 50 this way: “But I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how am I straitened till it be accomplished.”  “Straitened?”  In the Greek (sunecho), it means kept in, pressed. Jesus is in a vise, and there he will stay until he has met and conquered the cross and all that goes with it. Paul tells us in 2nd Corinthians 5:21 that “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us…” Matthew and Mark tell us that on the cross, Jesus cries out in a loud voice: My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” He makes this appeal in the ninth hour, right before he dies. All three Synoptic Gospels report that darkness had come over the land three hours earlier. I think that somewhere in this three hour period, perhaps right at the moment of the ninth hour, the sin of all mankind for all time physically entered into the heart and soul of Jesus and, as Paul tells us, Jesus became sin. At this point God, who cannot look upon sin, turned his back on Jesus. It is not that Jesus sinned. Jesus never sinned. But he became sin; he became the vessel for all our sin.

Jesus became the bridge to our righteousness. Had he failed to finish the task, had he appealed to the angels standing by, had he cried out for rescue, mankind would have lost the redemption that he bought with his life. But Jesus didn’t fail. He endured his time in the crucible. He faced the crisis of the cross.

There are other examples in the Bible that come to mind. Think of Joseph languishing away in an Egyptian prison; Jonah in the belly of the great fish; Daniel in the lions’ den; Abraham standing over his son Isaac with knife raised for sacrifice. These people were at turning points in their lives. They were in the crucible.

          Today we too face crises. We already talked about that briefly. Jesus paid the price and we are ransomed. We are made righteous by his atonement.  But we still have to believe and work out our salvation. I think a big part of that is to understand that while salvation comes to individuals, it is largely achieved through community. And the community of Christ in the United States and other western nations is in crisis. It may be bigger and stronger today than ever before. We: you, me, our families, our country, our church, are all in the crucible. We face a crisis of commitment.

We have answered that call before. Here are just a couple famous examples. On a December day in 1955, a 43 year old black woman boarded a city bus in Montgomery, Alabama and took her place in a seat behind all the white people on the bus. Later, when the bus filled up and a white man was without a seat, this woman was directed by the driver to surrender her seat. When she refused, the police were called and she was arrested. Rosa Parks had voluntarily placed herself in the crucible, and in doing so, became one of the catalysts for the Civil Rights movement.

Called by many the most influential person of the 20^th century, Mother Teresa spent her first year in India with no income and had to resort to begging for food and supplies. As she emerged from the cloud of loneliness and doubt that plagued her, she wrote in her diary: “Our Lord wants me to be a free nun covered with the poverty of the cross…Of free choice, my God, and out of love for you, I desire to remain and do whatever be your Holy will in my regard…”

Our times are no exception to the call to commitment. You can think of others not so famous who live their lives in such crises. They are your family, your friends, your neighbors, and they also have entered the crucible of commitment. They are part of that cloud of witnesses to which the Book of Hebrews refers and their example must not be lost upon us. Nor must our example be lost upon a new generation for Christ waiting in the wings, for if we fail to spend our time in the crucible, if we fail to pass on the Good News of the Gospel to our children, to our peers, to our friends and acquaintances, we will have failed our commitment which we shoulder as Christians. The next generation for Christ is in our hands. In this so-called “Post-Christian” era, it is a battle line from which we must not retreat.

 Paul tells us in Philippians that “to live is Christ, to die is gain.” I sometimes think the dying part is the easy part. Faced with the prospect of losing our freedom, denying our faith, I think our chances are fair that we can face death. But living with committment? That’s a crisis without a deadline. That’s a wake-up-with, go-to-work-with, go-to-bed-with, get-up-the next-day-and-do-it-all-over-again sort of crisis. We are in the crucible. We can’t always feel it, but it’s there all the same. The crisis is real and the stakes are high. The reward is out of this world, but it takes commitment of Christians, church and community to live in Christ.

The Message translates verse 50 in a way that I think  catches the mood of Jesus on that day. It says: “I’ve come to change everything, turn everything rightside up—how I long for it to be finished” Jesus did that for you and me. We have only to reach out in faith. Get in that crucible. Get upside down if you need to, if it helps you see things rightside up. Feel the heat. Get committed. Become part of the fire. You won’t get burned.            

Treasure in the Heavens (Luke 12: 29-34) 8/11/13

 

          The twelfth chapter of Luke’s gospel finds Jesus addressing a laundry list of themes. There is a warning to beware of the hypocrisy exhibited by the Pharisees. There is an admonition to fear no man, but to fear God, another to acknowledge Christ before men. Jesus tells a parable about a rich farmer who, when confronted with his massive wealth, chooses to build bigger barns to store his crop rather than to share it. Jesus calls him a fool because the treasure he lays up is earthly and fleeting and cannot follow him in the life to come. Then, Jesus turns to the subject of anxiety. His advice is to seek the kingdom of God rather than concern ourselves with what we wear or what we eat. He tells us not to worry because God has already thought of all that. Jesus is talking about priorities. Where are yours?

          Later in the chapter, Jesus warns that we must be ready. Though he is still living and talking to his disciples, he speaks of a future which they cannot yet grasp. He tells them that they must be ready, that “the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.” The disciples couldn’t understand it at the time, but later they would come to know what Jesus meant.

          But before Jesus talks about being ready, he stops to give some comforting words and to provide us with some marching orders on how to live our lives and on what our investment portfolio should look like.  He talks about our Father’s good pleasure, about that with which we will provide ourselves, and what our treasure is. He wants his disciples, and us, to see that the real treasure is not in what we have, but rather in who we are and how we act. 

          This chapter is a mixed bag when it comes to Jesus’ audience. The chapter begins with many thousands of people gathered together, and yet Jesus begins by talking to his disciples. He next addresses his friends, who might well be his disciples still, then seems to turn to the crowd. Someone in the crowd asks him a question, and Jesus answers him. Then Jesus again turns to his disciples to talk about worry. In the next paragraph, Jesus addresses his “little flock,” apparently alluding once more to the disciples.

          So is the message of chapter 12 a message to Jesus’ disciples? Some theologians say so and draw more narrow conclusions about the meaning of Jesus’ remarks. There is one point where Jesus answers a question from someone in the crowd, so at least part of this discourse is meant for everyone. Some scholars point to this as evidence that Jesus is addressing all of those present. It seems to me that Jesus does both, but more importantly, all of it is reported in Luke’s gospel, so all of it is there as a lesson to me and you. If you are a seeker, then you are like the person in the crowd seeking Jesus’ advice. If you have been saved, then you are a disciple. Either way, Jesus is talking to you. What is his message to you?

          I went to say good bye to a friend this week. She was thirteen years my senior. Too young to be a mother figure, too old to be a close friend and yet, that’s exactly what she was. She was my friend. She cared about me. I came to visit her a couple weeks before she died. I knew she was in pain from the cancer, but I couldn’t find it in her eyes. I barely got to ask her anything. I was too busy answering her questions. She took the lead as always, wanting to know about our children, about my ministry. After the funeral, my wife commented how close she had felt to our friend and I had to laugh, for that’s the way everyone felt about this kind and gentle rock of a Christian. We all claimed her as our special friend, but she belonged to a community of friends to whom she had been so loving and gracious for so long. Her name was Joanne and she knew where her treasure is.

          At Joanne’s funeral, a neighbor and her daughters sat in front of us. She is a cancer survivor and a strong Christian. She is a beautiful woman about my wife’s age. For a decade, she has raised her two daughters by herself. They were there with her. Now in high school, they are striking in their appearance. Blessed with the genes of their mother, the three of them made quite a statement. This is particularly true in light of their mother’s steadfast loyalty to her daughters and our God through many years of being a single parent. She carries her burden so lightly that it appears invisible. Her name is Jane and I’m pretty sure that she knows where her treasure is too.

          I share these little stories because I am connected to these people. As I mature in Christ, I understand more fully what that means. To be connected to people in relationship is to open one’s heart to the treasure that God has promised us. It is in these relationships that God reveals his loving nature to us, and through which we become more able to understand and accept that unconditional love. Jesus said: “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

          Jesus went on. “Sell your possessions and give to the needy.” What’s that all about? Well, Jesus didn’t say to sell all your possessions and I doubt that’s what he meant either. I think what he meant was to share the blessings you have been given, and to share those blessings especially with those who need them. I think he meant for you and me to give of who we are and not just from the excess with which we find ourselves. Do you have a gift for hospitality? Share it. Do you have a lot of money? Give some away. Do you have a voice? Sing for God. If you believe that Jesus died for you and that he will come again, if you believe that heaven waits on the other side of this earthly life, then do some heavenly estate planning.  Invest in a “whole life” policy instead of just a term policy. It builds value. You see, we don’t really get to retire. We just change addresses. Our father has given us the kingdom and that is our real security.

          This is an old farming community, so everyone is used to seeing tractors. How silly would it be to see someone hitching up a plow to the front of a tractor! And yet, friends, how often do we do exactly that with the lives that God has given us! Instead of calling on our heavenly Father and accumulating heavenly treasure, we lean on the things of this world. We want security and we trust to a bank or the company retirement plan to provide it for us. We want to trust, but we put our trust in jars of clay. People and human institutions let us down. That includes the church, for while it is ordained by God, it too is subject to human frailty.

          Not so with God. “Provide yourselves with moneybags that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys.” Imagine. No aging. No rust. No thievery. No mildew. That’s real security.

          How do we capture that which God promises? We let go. [Take out keys]. I heard someone talking about possessions and material things a couple weeks ago and I love what she said. She said having things is OK, but as Christians, we must hold on to these things loosely. I look at these keys in my hand and I try to imagine that they represent all the material things I own. I have them. I control them. As long as I hold them loosely, I can stay in control. My possessions should be like these keys, dangling loosely on a ring, ready on short notice to be exchanged or even removed. [Throw the keys to someone]. See? I can let them go if I hold them loosely. I can surrender them or pass them on to someone else. I am still in control.

          But what if I hold on too tightly? [Throw the keys back]. Then the things of my life begin to control me. Now where is my treasure? Is it in my wallet? Is it in my possessions? I have made my own God. I can no longer see the treasure that my friend Joanne showed me, that Jesus promises, for I am blinded by my own light, guided by my own selfish desires.

          God has promised us treasure in the heavens. He has promised eternal life and life abundant. But he has given us the power to reject. We can choose to be selfish. We can choose to build up our treasures here on earth. The only problem is that those treasures cannot save us from death. Only God can do that.

          Where is your treasure? Are you seeking the kingdom? If you do that first, everything else that your heart desires will be added to it. We have God’s promise for that. Or are you seeking to please yourself and give God the leftovers? If you don’t like the answers that are ringing in your heart, then change it. All you have to do is ask. “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”

Amen