Two Gates

                Matthew 7: 13, 14     Luke 13: 22-27

        In the thirteenth chapter of Luke, as Jesus is making his way through the towns and villages of Judea on his way toward Jerusalem, someone in the crowd asks: “will those who are saved be few?” Jesus answers that the door to heaven is not wide, but narrow, that they should strive to enter through the narrow gate, that many who seek to enter it will not be able.

A similar lesson appears in the gospel of Matthew, this time introducing the conclusion of the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus says: “Enter through the narrow gate, for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.”

Just before this verse, Jesus restates the Golden Rule, saying: “In everything do to others as you would have them do for you.” Jesus says this is the law and the prophets, meaning this is all you need to know about what God has commanded for us. If we are to understand what Jesus is getting at about the two gates, we must pay attention to what comes before and behind. Before, Jesus says love your neighbor. After, Jesus says beware of false prophets. In the meat of this literary sandwich, he talks about the roads of life we choose, the gates we enter. The choices we make affect the life we lead and the destination to which it takes us. Living by the Golden Rule is a choice. So is who you listen to.

When you travel the Interstate highway, even numbered highways go east and west and odd numbered highways go north and south. When you come to the entry of the interstate, you are faced with a choice. If you are on highway 85 or 95, as is often the case here, you must choose. North or South? Which will it be?  I have found one exception. If you are in Florence and going to the beach, you can save time by going north for seven miles on I85. Then you go south again. For seven miles, you go opposite of your chosen direction. Sometimes life makes you do the same thing.

In these two passages, Jesus is not concerned about saving time. He is concerned about saving lives. In Matthew there are two gates. In Luke, there is a door, and at some point, the door shuts. What do these evangelists want us to see?

In his gospel account, Matthew has Jesus opening up two possibilities, the narrow and the wide gates, the narrow leading to life and the wide leading to destruction. Have you ever thought about such implications? Have you ever seen your life in this way? Where are the gates? Are they marked? Surely one would not pick the path to destruction purposefully!

In Matthew, Jesus talks to a gathering of many, maybe thousands. All are facing choices. Shall they go home? Shall they follow this young preacher who says he is the Son of God? What if they do? Will it make a difference in their day? In their lives?

In Luke, our Savior seems to be teaching on the move, bringing his pupils to understand that there are choices, and that those choices do not stay forever at our disposal. Many parables follow in this discourse. In their own way, they all point to the choices in our lives and the outcomes to which they lead.

The picture on the screen is of a path. It’s just a dirt path. When the path gets to the tree, it forks. Now there are two paths. Life works like that. You go along, minding your own business, trying to stay on the straight and narrow, and then your path forks. Now you have a choice. The paths look pretty much the same. One might be a little wider and more worn, but not that much different. One path is with friends from church. The other is with some new and exciting friends you don’t know too well. One path will keep you out beyond your curfew or make you late for an appointment. But shucks, life is short. Better make hay while the sun shines. Life is one set of choices after another, and each comes with its own set of consequences.

So many consequences from what at first blush looks like a small choice. Wouldn’t it be nice if the paths were marked? One would say Life, the other Destruction. That’s what Jesus seems to be saying to us in the Matthew account. But usually, these choices look more like left or right, or today or tomorrow. They don’t look that dangerous at the time. It’s just a pill to keep you awake.  Or a drink to calm your nerves. Or a little shop-lifting just to add spice to a boring day. It’s just another one of those gates. Not that big a thing, is it?

When you start paying attention, you begin to notice that those gates are everywhere. You first thought it was just about minding your parents or obeying the law. Then it was about your friends or your habits. Sometimes it seems like there is nothing that doesn’t involve choices. And that’s exactly what Jesus is getting at. Life starts out looking like a super highway and somewhere down that road and all too soon, it turns into a one-way street with no shoulders.

So in Matthew, Jesus seems to tell us that entering the

wrong gate can ruin our life, and that many people do just that. Then in Luke, he tells us that the way to life is about getting through that narrow door of belief and obedience and that you had better not tarry, for the door will shut one day. When it does, no amount of knocking will get you in.

          Man! That’s several different ways to fail. Pick wrong. Pick late. Either way, you’re on the outside looking in. It seems like the deck is stacked against us.

          But read on. Remember to eat the whole sandwich and not leave the crust. In Matthew, Jesus is telling us to practice what we say we believe by treating others as we want to be treated. Then on the other side, he warns us to watch who’s doing the talking.  Check the warranty. Kick the tires. Sometimes, those leaders speak from both sides of the issue and say nothing except give your money right here.

          Luke is also instructive. Before we get to the narrow door, we are asked to repent, to change our ways. On the other side of the door story are several parables which bear remembering right here. After the parables of the wedding feast and the great banquet, which warn us to be ready, come two more parables: that of the lost sheep and of the prodigal son. There is our Savior, reaching out for us, going to find us, bringing us back from the edge of the cliff and saving us with his unconditional love. There is the prodigal son, spent and washed up. He has walked a far piece past the wide gate of destruction. And yet, he turns. Just like going north on I85 to get to the southbound road, he finds a path back to where he began and he takes it. The trail may not be marked, but he finds his way. And at the end of that not so well marked path waits his father with open arms, taking him in and celebrating the return of the lost son who is now---found! These, too are the stories of Jesus. These, too, are the stories of God!

          Robert Frost is one of my favorite poets. One of his poems seems to fit the situation so well today, I thought you might like to hear it. I hope it speaks to you as it did to me.

                    Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

 

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

 

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

 

Two gates? Yes. And there are consequences to our actions. But there is forgiveness before the throne of grace for those who turn back or choose that narrow road.

    Killing the Messenger

                  Luke 13: 31-35

 The thirteenth chapter of Luke is rich with events. Jesus is making his way through the towns and villages of Judea, journeying toward Jerusalem. In this chapter, he talks about the need for repentance. He tells stories and parables. He stops to heal a disabled woman. He talks about the kingdom of God, comparing it to a mustard seed and to leaven, to how small they begin and how big they become. Someone asks: “will those who are saved be few?” Jesus answers that the door to heaven is not wide, but narrow, that many who seek to enter it will not be able. He seems to say that those who cannot enter will be able to see the prophets of the kingdom from a distance, but  even so close, will not be able to enter.

Then there is this not as famous story about Jesus. As Jesus is talking, some Pharisees arrive. While most of what we read in the gospels is disparaging of the Pharisees and their incessant legalism, not all of them were like that. Jesus did have friends among the Pharisees. Some of them approach him to warn him. “Get away from here,” they say, “for Herod wants to kill you.” In context, Jesus must have still been in the region of Galilee. Herod’s jurisdiction did not extend to Jerusalem where Pilate was in charge. Herod has already had John the Baptist beheaded, so he is certainly one to be feared. So some of Jesus’ friends, drawn from the ranks of the Pharisees, warn him of the danger.

This is a scene of messengers and messages. There is Luke, the writer of this passage. He has a reason for giving us this scene over many others he might have selected. There are the Pharisees. They bring a message of warning. There is irony here, that a group known principally for its legalism comes here to warn of the long arm of the law of Herod. There is Jesus, who responds with a message of his own. And there is the audience, the audience then and the audience now. There is a message here for us as well.

Jesus talks about his mission, that he has a job to do. He says that regardless of the Herods of the world, he must go on his way until he finishes his course. He still has demons to cast out and cures to perform, and the threat of danger is not sufficient reason to deter him from his ordained course. And that, I think, is why the passage is here. Luke wants us to know, to experience as if we were actually there with Jesus, that Jesus has a ministry, a divinely ordained ministry, that it must go on to its fulfillment regardless of human opposition.

So we see Jesus confronted with real danger, but with a warning which might allow him to act for his personal safety. He declines. That is something else that Luke wants us to see, that Jesus didn’t take the safe route. Even when he had a choice, he chose his ministry over his safety.

The Greek word for messenger is angelos (αγγελοϛ). It means one who is sent. Angels from God are present throughout the Bible, appearing to Mary, to Joseph, to Mary Magdalene and others. In every case, they bring a message from God. In every case, they say “Fear not.” This passage is no exception. Here, we see messengers in very human form delivering a message. The Pharisees are just as much from God as if they had the wings of angels, for God intended that they deliver this message.

Jesus answers with his own message. Go tell that fox I have things to do. I will finish my ministry. If he wants me, he can find me in Jerusalem. That’s where my ministry will be completed. Jerusalem, the home of so many prophets unheeded, is my destination also. Jesus calls Herod a fox, perhaps because he is sly or clever, but more likely because he is of little importance to Jesus. In the literature of the time, foxes were often viewed as insignificant. Power was attributed to the lion, not the fox. And Jesus doesn’t call Herod a lion. Jesus is looking forward. He has a date with destiny and he knows not only the time, but the place.

Jerusalem. Jesus calls it the city that kills the prophets; that stones the messengers. It is not kind to those who bring the news. We are reminded of other times and circumstances. In the book of 2 Samuel, a young Amalekite soldier brings the crown of Saul to David. The soldier has taken the life of the wounded king rather than have him perish from his own sword. David rewards the soldier’s truth telling and judgment with an execution. The messenger was killed for the message he delivered.

More contemporary to our story is that of John the Baptist, who brought Herod the message that his marriage was not lawful. For that, John was beheaded. Today, we have laws to attempt to protect whistleblowers, those who tell the truth about what their employers are really up to. Those laws are designed to protect these messengers, from danger. Sometimes the laws work. Many times they don’t. Killing the messenger has deep roots in the history of mankind.

The word Jerusalem is used three different times in two verses. Luke is calling attention to it. This is where the people of God gather. This is the home of the Temple. This is the city of destiny. Jesus talks about Jerusalem as if he were its mother, longing to gather in his children as a hen gathers her chicks. But his lament—and his pronouncement—is that such is not to be, for Jerusalem, meaning God’s people, will not allow it. They resist the message and cast out the messenger.

Of course, Jesus knows that his message is falling on deaf ears. He speaks of Jerusalem’s forsaken house, perhaps in reference to the Temple, but more broadly alluding to the people themselves. They have rejected both the messenger and the message. He says they will not see him again until the end of the age, quoting the Psalmist in Psalm 118: “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”  

Jesus also knows his time on earth is drawing short. He is on his way to Jerusalem to meet his destiny—to complete his ministry. At this point, the Gospel is not yet fully written. There is still the passion—Jesus’ crucifixion, death and resurrection—yet to be accomplished. That is the rest of the message, but not the end of the ministry.

Luke and the other gospel writers are messengers. They tell the story of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. They tell us why we should believe. They are the eyewitnesses and the interviewers of the eyewitnesses. They use the written word to record the events that changed not only their lives, but also the lives of all who believe the message of the gospel.

But the ministry is far from over. Jesus promised the coming of the Holy Spirit, the Comforter. He promised to build his church upon the rock of people like Simon Peter. And that he did. Jesus did send the Holy Spirit to dwell in our hearts and he did build his church. Even today, the Church is the rock upon which Christianity rests. It is Christ’s messenger, the angelos who carries on with his ministry. We are the hands and feet and yes, the mouths with which his message is delivered.

There are forces and powers today who would silence the messenger. But as the angels say with every message they bring, we must Fear not. There is good news to tell, and there are people here and around this community and all over this world who are waiting for us to bring that message. We are the messengers because we are the Church. We cannot be silenced. Our message cannot be corrupted. It is life itself that Jesus promises. We are the wings of that promise. As Jesus showed us, sometimes the messenger must lay down a sacrifice. But the message will never die until he comes again in the name of the Lord. And we have work to do---kingdom work!

Calling on His Name

               Romans 10: 8-13

 Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to live your life with fewer rules? Everywhere you go, everything you do, there are rules to follow. If you drive a car, there are rules of the road. You have to pass both written and driving tests before you can get a driver’s license. Go to the local swimming pool and you will find a posted set of rules for you to follow if you want to swim. The laws of this state take up about fifteen feet of shelf space. Even a kindergarten classroom has a list of rules, though most kindergarteners don’t arrive at school armed with the knowledge of how to read those rules.

In the book of Exodus, God handed the people of Israel Ten Commandments, ten rules to live by. Of course, by the time of Jesus, that set of ten rules had expanded through men’s interpretations to a legal system of 613 laws. 248 were positive. 365, one for every day of the year, were negative. There were 39 different categories of work alone, and sub-categories underneath those.

Without changing the law at all, Jesus reduced it to two rules. We call them the Great Commandments, loving God and loving our neighbor as much as we love ourselves. Jesus let us know that he came not to change, but to fulfill, the law that God had handed down to Moses at Mt. Sinai.

But the Jews never got the message; at least many of them didn’t, and that’s okay, because it was in God’s plan all along. The message of the gospel, the plan of salvation, was never meant to be for the Jews exclusively. They were the movie screen on which God told his story to a watching world.

Of course, Paul knows this. He spends all his efforts in Romans 9-11 condemning not the Jews, but their attitude toward the gospel. They have failed to see Jesus as the Son of God, the Messiah on whose arrival they are still waiting. Paul, a Jew himself, was sad that his own people could not see the forest for the trees.

Paul quotes Moses’ farewell speech some 1300 years before: “But the word is very near you. It is in your mouth and in your heart, so that you can do it” [Deut. 30: 14]. What Moses was saying about teaching is what Paul is saying about the gospel, that it is not difficult to find or hard to discern. Rather, it is in us. It is part of who we are. It doesn’t matter about our pedigree. It doesn’t matter about where we come from, how much education we have, how much money we make. What matters is that we see it, we acknowledge it, and we live it. Theologian John Stott says this passage reminds us that the gospel has been made accessible to us all by Jesus. God plays no favorites. The common denominator is also the divisive factor. Do you believe? Answer that question in the affirmative and you are in God’s camp. Do you believe? Forget the rules and answer that question.

The word is very near you, says Moses, and Paul echoes him. Paul goes farther and says that the word is “the word of faith that we proclaim.” In the time of Moses, the word was God’s commandments, loving God and walking in his ways. In this passage Paul quotes Moses, but Paul takes us to another level, to faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ. Some have called the proclamations in verses 9 and 10 the basis for the first Christian creed: “if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” Billy Graham loved this sentence. I think he said it in every crusade I ever heard. No 613 laws, no complicated set of rules. Just say it and believe it. What is “it?” It is that Jesus is Lord of all and God raised him from the dead. Confess and believe the lordship of Jesus, his death and resurrection. And Paul ties that wonderful package into a bow by asserting that belief is the key—not knowledge or family tree or power—just belief.

Think about the promise made here. Think about what it means. We don’t have to do anything. It’s already been done for us. We just have to own it. If we let Christ into our hearts, the gospel comes with it. Then we need to say it aloud. That’s part of the ownership. Paul seems to be saying that the two go hand in hand. You believe with your heart. This makes you justified, righteous. But it is incomplete without confessing that lordship of Christ publicly. Paul says that one confesses with the mouth and is saved. So our salvation depends upon our acting on our belief. It’s like faith and works. Without works, where is the proof of your faith? Without confession of your belief, how can you be seen to believe? Inward belief leads to outward confession.

In addition to quoting Moses, Paul draws upon Joel, a prophet to the southern kingdom. Joel is a curiosity. Scholars cannot agree upon when he lived, and date him from the eighth all the way to the fourth century BC.  Joel was primarily concerned with the day of the Lord, the coming of God to judge, and he prophesied about that event and what it would mean. Paul borrows from Joel to illustrate that Jesus has come, not for a specific people group or nation, but for all who believe. He says it three different ways. First, he says that there is no shame for those who believe in him. He follows that with the statement that the Lord’s riches will be bestowed upon all who call on him. Last, Paul quotes Joel (2:32), saying that “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.” Three straight times, Paul tells us to believe in Jesus and call upon his name. Is there a message here?

While we’re quoting Joel, don’t miss what happened here. Way back, hundreds of years before Christ came to earth, the prophet Joel is saying that everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. Did Joel mean every one of the Jews who call on God’s name? Maybe.  But what did God mean? It doesn’t take a theologian to figure out what Paul means, and what he thinks Joel meant. Paul identifies with Joel’s prophecy, interpreting it as a signature of salvation on all who call on the name of Jesus.

In context, we need to remember that much of Paul’s writing, and certainly the scripture here, is a defense to his ministry to the Gentiles. The church is a new creation and in its infant stages. Paul feels compelled to justify his position. Some accused him of being an apostate, a person who had abandoned his belief. Theologian Thomas Schreiner explains Paul’s stance this way: “Since the same Lord is the Lord of all and since the OT itself anticipated that Gentiles who call on his name would be saved, the inclusion of Gentiles into the church is not a sign of Pauline apostasy but rather an evidence that the last days have dawned in which God is fulfilling his saving plan” [Romans, p. 562].

This is a wonderful and simple passage. In the same way that we don’t have to know what century Joel prophesied in, that we don’t need to know whether Joel fully understood the far-reaching arm of his words, neither do we have to wonder about what nationality or gender or race we are. Jesus claims all who call on his name.  This is the wonder of this passage.

In the same way that Jesus reduced centuries of man-made laws and regulation to two simple rules of love, so Paul has here reduced the entire gospel and its entire message to two simple points. Believe it and say you do. Believe that Jesus is risen from the dead, that he lives forever and then confess that belief with your lips. This is the simplicity of this passage, If I might dare to add to Paul, it would be that confession is not just a saying. It is much more an action. It is the way we do business with this thing called Christianity. Do we confess it, or do we ignore it?

To say that Christ died for us is certainly true and it is awesome. But it is also incomplete. He rose! He lives for us too! To leave Christ on the cross as our martyr is an unworthy Christianity. He is so much more. He is our victor! Believe it and confess it, every way you can, every day you can, to everyone you can.

       Piercing the Veil

           2 Corinthians 3: 12-4:4

 

 

          In the book of Exodus [Exo. 34], Moses goes up on the mountain and has an encounter with God. It is so intense that when Moses comes down the mountain, his face is literally shining. Moses has to cover himself with a veil to talk to his people, as they are blinded by his appearance. Every time Moses goes up the mountain to meet with God, he removes the veil and every time he comes down to the people, he wears the veil. The people cannot bear to come too close to the presence of the Lord, even when it is only the reflection given off from the face of Moses.

          In the book of 2 Corinthians, Paul is writing to the church about coming to Christ. He is talking about being ministers of the New Covenant, a covenant centered on Jesus and the Holy Spirit rather than the law. When Paul talks about the law, he is talking about the relationship created in the Old Testament between God and his people, the set of rules grounded in the Ten Commandments and everything that followed from that first set of laws.

          In order to explain what the Gospel is and what the New Commandment is all about, Paul chooses to contrast it with the Old Commandment, the Mosaic Law. Sometimes Paul gets so charged with enthusiasm for his cause that he goes overboard.  But there is a reason for him to be so commanding. In the church in Corinth, there are those who continue to see the Gospel through the lens of being Jewish, as opposed to being Christian. Paul continues to press them to see the new truth that has been revealed through Jesus, and the gospel is a new definition of who God’s people are.

          Paul reminds us that we are members of the New Covenant, that we have great hope, that such hope should make us bold. He talks about us not having to wear a veil when we turn to the Lord, because Jesus has bridged the gap between us and God.

          Over the life of my law practice, I have incorporated hundreds of organizations, from plumbers and electricians and builders to churches and chambers of commerce. The main reason most people incorporate is protection from personal liability. Provided they follow the rules and do not hold themselves out personally in the wrong way in what they say, they can enjoy the protections of personal liability afforded by the law. But if they step over the line, making promises and representations of a personal nature, then the result may be that they may become personally liable for their actions. The legal term for this is “piercing the corporate veil.”  The protection of incorporating is made void by our actions. The veil is torn away to expose us.

          In today’s passage, Paul uses this metaphor of the veil to describe how Moses hid his face from God’s people after encountering God. The plain reading from Exodus would seem to say that Moses’ face was so bright after such an encounter that the people couldn’t take such illumination. It was just too much for them to take in. But in this passage in 2 Corinthians, Paul is using that Old Testament encounter with God to illustrate that Moses covered his face in order for the people not to notice that the illumination was temporary, that it would fade over time. Paul wants us to understand that in the same way that Moses’ face faded in its brightness, so too does the Old Testament law. It is not a saving vehicle, but rather an exposing vehicle.  Paul then contrasts that to the saving grace of Jesus and to the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. The law is not enough, but the gospel is.

          Now, it seems to me that Paul has stretched the veil metaphor about as far as it can stretch. His take on its use is really not very close to that of Exodus. But, as we have acknowledged, Paul had a different audience and he was dealing with Jewish issues that today we don’t even think about. He was spreading a gospel rooted in, but no longer bound by, the Old Testament law.

          Whether you are applying Old Testament law or American corporate law, the result is the same. The veil to which we refer is there to protect us. In Exodus, it protected the people from a God they were not prepared to see. In the law, it protects our personal assets.

          But Paul’s next point in this passage is worth any amount of stretching to get to, for he says: “But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed.” Think about that in light of the reason why the veil is used in the first place. Remember ii is used to protect us, in one way from others hurting us and in another, from the presence of God consuming us. When one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed.

          What does Paul mean? When we turn to the Lord, the veil is removed. But Moses himself could not look directly into the face of God. Although he removed the veil, the Bible says he stood in the presence of God, not looking at God’s countenance. What is Paul getting at?

          In his report of the death of Jesus, Luke tells us that darkness came about the sixth hour and stayed until the ninth hour. The light failed and the curtain, the veil, of the temple was torn in two. Jesus breathed his last. The veil of the temple, the curtain protecting the people from the Holy of Holies, was torn down. What is the significance of that report from Luke?

          When Paul writes about the Lord here, he is using the Greek word kurios, which means Lord. When Paul uses kurios, he is referring to Jesus. When he talks about God, Paul uses another word. So Paul is saying that when one turns to Jesus, the veil is removed. In the same way that Paul talks to the Corinthians about the power of Jesus, Luke talks about the veil of the temple coming down. That too is in response to Jesus.

The point that Paul is hammering home to us is that Jesus is the key, that Jesus is the reason, that Jesus is the way to God. Jesus lifts the veil, whether it is in the temple, where misguided religious leaders attempt to keep the Spirit of God hidden behind a man-made curtain, or on a mountain top, where we may encounter God one-on-one, or in the reading of the written Word, a privilege made available to us only in the last 5 centuries. Jesus lifts the veil and as Paul says, we can see him in all his glory. With the coming of Jesus, we who believe are all becoming transformed into the very image of him who saved us.  

Can all see it? Can all hear it, this gospel which unveils the very presence of Jesus to us? Paul says no, the gospel remains veiled to those who are perishing, to those who have been blinded by selfish and evil pursuits. No, the gospel will not be heard by everyone, says Paul. At least it will not be heard in a saving way. As Jesus said, he who has ears, let him hear.   Sometimes, the veil we wear for protection does us more harm than good. If it acts as a barrier for the truth, it protects us not only from intrusion but from illumination as well.

Paul says that the Lord (Jesus) is Spirit, that the presence of the Spirit brings us freedom, that through the Spirit, we believers can be transformed into that divine image. Paul is not only calling us to a deeper walk with God; he is trying to get us to acknowledge that deep abiding presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives as Christians. As we are transformed, so can we transform others. We call it witness…putting the power of the Spirit to work in our lives and turning that energy loose on those who are around us. The Holy Spirit is not an idea. He is not a concept. He is a person, living in us.

And that’s what it means to be unveiled. Jesus pierced that veil of separation between us and God. If God lives in us…can we not look at God more clearly? If the Holy Spirit guides us, can we not do without other protection? Let the Holy Spirit pierce your earthly veil of protection and let yourself be vulnerable to the light. The light of Jesus! Not only will it not blind us—it will make us see!