Counting By Ones

Luke 15: 1-7

 

          Have you ever gone to a party or to work or to school, thinking you are on the inside, one of the “in” people, only to find out that it is you who are on the outside? Someone really important shows up, and instead of hanging with you and your “in” friends, she is spending her time with the nobodies or the nerds, the unpopular people. Why would someone who is on top of her game spend time with people who are on the outside?

          I remember a conversation some years ago where the discussion was about the kind of example Christians are supposed to set. The issue was whether it’s OK for a Christian to be seen in a bar. It wasn’t about drinking alcohol. It was about how it would look for a known Christian to be hanging out in a bar. My friends thought it unbecoming of a Christian to be seen in those circumstances. What do you think?

          In the fifteenth chapter of Luke’s gospel, Jesus has gone to dine at the house of a ruler of the Pharisees. We’ve learned by now that the Pharisees were not Jesus’ favorite people. Apparently a large crowd has gathered and Jesus begins to teach in parables. One of those parables is about a lost sheep. Jesus says that the shepherd will go after that one lost sheep, even if he has a hundred others, until he finds it. No time limits. No weather restrictions. Just go until it is found.

          It seems that it is part of the life of a shepherd to take care of all his sheep. If one goes missing, the shepherd will arrange for the others so that he can find that one missing sheep and restore him to the fold. It’s serious business. Tim Laniak tells a story about a Bedouin shepherd named Said. By the age of seven, Said was going out daily into the Sinai with a herd of thirty goats. One day he returned with a goat missing. He told his father he had become distracted watching a shepherd girl with another flock. His father sent him back out with this command: “Go back and don’t come home without it.”

          Such a reaction is reminiscent of the words of Ezekiel who, while describing the gathering of scattered sheep, is really talking about gathering the scattered of God’s people. In chapter 34, the prophet says this:

⁶ they wandered over all the mountains and on every

high hill. My sheep were scattered over all the face

of the earth, with none to search or seek for them.

Behold, I, I myself will search for my sheep and will

seek them out. ¹² As a shepherd seeks out his flock

when he is among his sheep that have been scattered,

so will I seek out my sheep, and I will rescue them

from all places where they have been scattered on 

a day of clouds and thick darkness.

 

God is telling the Israelites scattered across the land that they are not forgotten, that he will be their shepherd, that he personally will gather the scattered.

           Laniak tells another story about a Bedouin shepherd named Ahmed whom he met on sabbatical in Israel.[1] Ahmed said that for over twenty years as a shepherd, he had never lost a sheep that he didn’t find again—dead or alive—except one. But that’s only half the story. The real point for Ahmed was though he had cared for thousands of sheep over those years, the one he never found is the one that he can never forget. That’s the one that is still on his mind.

           In God’s kingdom, we should always “count by ones.”[2] It’s a shepherd thing. Shepherds herd flocks from twenty to several hundred, but they know them all. They act as midwives at birth. All the lambs know the sound of the shepherd’s voice. They can identify it over all others. They learn to trust that sound. In John 10, Jesus tells us that:

…he who enters by the door is the shepherd of the

sheep. ³ To him the gatekeeper opens. The sheep

hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name

         and leads them out. ⁴ When he has brought out all

his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow

him, for they know his voice.

 

Maybe that’s why Jesus used so many shepherding analogies. People in that community understood the relationship between a shepherd and his sheep. The shepherd is indeed concerned with the flock, but his concerns do not stop there. He will go after the one who is lost, not occasionally but every time.

          Doesn’t that sound comforting? Once you accept Jesus into your heart, he will come for you, no matter where you are or what you have done. Jesus compared himself and his work to that of a shepherd. Again in John 10,

Jesus says:

I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. 

¹¹ I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays

down his life for the sheep.

 

Why should this story resonate with you? You can probably think of many reasons, but let me ask you to focus on this one.

Look around you. Look at the empty seats. You know who used to occupy those seats. Where is he? Where is she? Where are they? I’m not talking about those who are out of town or on a trip. I’m talking about those who once sat next to you. Where are they today? Or those you have been meaning to invite, but never get around to it. Where are they?

          They are some of those lost sheep that Jesus is talking about. He worries about them. In Luke 19, Jesus is in Jericho and he spends some time with Zacchaeus, a chief tax collector. Zacchaeus is a little guy, and actually climbs a sycamore tree to get a glimpse of Jesus over the crowd. When Jesus sees him, he invites himself to be Zacchaeus’ houseguest. This is all backward to the people looking on. The holy man the houseguest of a sinner! That starts plenty of grumbling. But Jesus does it anyway and Zacchaeus returns to the fold, so to speak. He believes in Jesus and changes his life to prove it. And what does Jesus say? “Today salvation has come to this house, …For the Son of Man came to seek and save the lost.”

          When you and I gather here week in and week out, this is a good thing. We come to fellowship with one another. We come to worship God in assembly. We come to engage in all those aspects of the purposes of the Church. But we need to understand that to do those things and only those things is, in Jesus words, to acknowledge the ninety and nine and abandon the one who is lost.

         Remember what we have talked about before? Church is a jumping off place. It is a place of worship and fellowship to be sure. But it is also a place where the people of God gather momentum to do the work of God. When I come here during the week, I spend little time on the church property. There are shut-ins to visit. There are the sick to visit. There are those who for one reason or another are not coming to church. Perhaps they have undergone a trauma or a tragedy. Perhaps their conduct has not been up to some self-exacted standard, and they feel too guilty. There are as many reasons as there are people.

          Sometimes sharing a meal or a walk with someone is the way to commune with them where they are. Whatever the way, it is spawned in an effort to meet the lost where they are rather than where we want them to be. That’s why Jesus spent so much time in the houses of tax collectors and sinners. He purposefully surrounded himself with those whom we have exiled or written off. Not so with Jesus!

          Jesus would look at these missing people as the one sheep that was lost. He would send us out to find that one sheep, to bring it back to the sheepfold that we call the community of God. Jesus would go to their house to get them to this house. He would eat their food to get them to partake of his food.  Then, we can gather together our neighbors and our friends and rejoice, for the scattered can be gathered and the lost can be found. We just have to “count by ones.”

          This message began with questions. Why would someone important bypass the “in” crowd to be in the presence of someone no one likes or cares about? Because he or she can see and feel what it’s like to be on the outside. Because he cares. Because she can’t see ins and outs, only people.

          Why would an upstanding Christian go to a bar and hang out with that kind of crowd? For the same reason that Jesus went home with Zacchaeus and Matthew and many other sinners. That’s where some of the lost will be found. If you want to work for God, if you want to help usher in his kingdom, then you need to go find the lost. You need to help gather the scattered. You won’t find them in church until you have first gone to where they are, heard what they have to say, felt their pain and touched them with the compassion of Jesus. Then they might listen to what you have to say. And you will find them one by one.

          Wouldn’t you love to be part of helping someone be found? You can be. Everyone has a little bit of shepherd in him.

“Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’⁷ Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in

heaven over one sinner who repents than over

ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.”

---

     [1] Timothy S. Laniak, While Shepherds Watch Their Flocks (Everbest Printing Company, China, 2007).

     [2] Ibid, 79, quoting S.C. Barton.

Why Bethlehem

Matthew 2:1-6, John 6: 32-35

 

          If you were going to make a statement, you would want to stage the announcement, wouldn’t you? You would want to have everyone’s attention. You would want to maybe splash some publicity around. You would want to pick an appropriate place to make the announcement, a place where you could get the most bang for your buck. Barak Obama announced his run for the Presidency in Springfield, Illinois, the place where he started his first job, the place where Lincoln ran for president. And Springfield is more or less in the center of the United States. Obama wanted a place of significance to make his announce-ment. It would give him the most exposure and the biggest audience.

          Presidents and other heads of state make many announcements from their respective seats of government. If they choose another place, it usually is tied to something important to the message they want to convey. They want the place to speak for them in a way that does more than mere words. For instance, Japan’s surrender ending World War II was memorialized on the USS Missouri (Mighty Mo), a highly decorated battleship that still sits at rest today in Pearl Harbor.

          Why would we expect anything else from God? Wouldn’t we expect God to find a suitable venue for such a grand announcement as the Incarnation, the birth of the Son of God?

Of course! It is the greatest gift of all time. Surely the presentation of such a gift should be met with place and circumstance befitting such an entrance!

          Well, then—why Bethlehem? An exploration into this question invites us to journey into the very heart of God—into his promises, into his character—into the love and care and meticulous attention to detail that is there for us to mine. Why Bethlehem? Let’s take a closer look.

          The first biblical mention of Bethlehem comes in Genesis 47. Jacob is old and near death. He is still in Egypt and calls for Joseph to come to him to receive his blessing. He is reminiscing about his life. He recalls the death of his wife Rachel, Joseph’s mother, on their return from Mesopotamia. She was buried near Bethlehem. Even today, her tomb stands at the entrance to Bethlehem.

          So Bethlehem is mentioned early in Scripture. Later, it became famous as the city where King David was born and also where he was crowned king. But in spite of such recognition, Bethlehem was just a suburb of Jerusalem, lying about six miles southwest of that great city. Although it occasionally swelled a bit during religious festivals or occasional censuses, it was always little more than a village. Estimates put its population at the time of Jesus’ birth at less than a thousand, about the size of Jefferson, hardly a place befitting the arrival of a king. And yet, the birth of our Savior in tiny Bethlehem is no accident. Nothing is accidental with God.

          Why Bethlehem? For one thing, it was prophesied. Look at what Matthew says. In chapter 2, he quotes portions of Micah and 2 Samuel, both from the fifth chapter and the second verse. Matthew writes this:

 And you, O Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
 are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
 for from you shall come a ruler
 who will shepherd my people Israel.     Matt. 2:6

 

Seven hundred fifty years before the birth of Jesus, Micah is prophesying the emergence of a shepherd-king, a new David, who will gather and deliver a remnant of God’s people. It’s funny and curious the way the usually very factual Matthew seems to disremember the second line of his quote from Micah. Where Micah says that Bethlehem is too little to be among the clans of Judah, Matthew quotes it as “by no means least among Judah’s rulers.” A different slant. Of course, Matthew is telling the story of Jesus, of victory, and he takes a little poetic license. He also borrows a line from 2 Samuel about the one who will shepherd my people Israel. So Matthew is reminding us that the coming of the Messiah to Bethlehem was prophesied long before it came to pass. God is keeping his promise.

          There is also the star. It is seen by the Magi, wise men from the East, wherever that is. It is specific enough that its genesis is Persian, and vague enough that twenty or more countries claim to be the country of origin for them. There is even prophesy about the star. The prophet Balaam, also called a Magi, predicting a ruler who will destroy Israel’s enemies, says this:

I see him, but not now;
I behold him, but not near:
a star shall come out of Jacob,
and a scepter shall rise out of Israel     Num.24:17

 

So the star is bright enough to catch the attention of Persian astrologers, and apparently it seems to be moving enough for them to follow it. Yet it is specific enough to seem to hover over the very stable where the Incarnation is taking place, so specific as to point the shepherds to the very manger where the new infant king  lies.

          Then, there is the matter of the visit of foreign dignitaries. Magi is one of those words. It can mean astrologers, or wise men, or princes, or even kings. We cannot say which with any accuracy, but we know that these Magi were received at court by King Herod. We know they bore expensive gifts for the Christ child. It is yet another sign that this little baby is already famous and that Bethlehem is the scriptural “X” that marks the spot.

            There is also Herod’s reaction. All of a sudden, the threat of a rival is legitimized by the arrival of these foreign dignitaries. Some scriptural fact checking by his scribes lets him know that the little suburb of Bethlehem, two miles closer to him in Jerusalem than our neighbors in Pageland are to us, has been deep selected by the prophets of old to usher in this new kingdom. Herod takes the news so seriously that when he can’t find the child, he orders the execution of all the boys in the region under the age of two.

            Are you beginning to get the picture? God had a plan for Bethlehem. Bethlehem had the pedigree as the City of David. Bethlehem had been handpicked and the announcement had gone out through the prophet Micah hundreds of years before the event. And Bethlehem also had no other claim to fame. Nothing of note had happened there for centuries. It was just the kind of place where God always shows up. He does that to places just like he does it to people. None of us are qualified to bear the news. None of us are qualified to be the messengers. So God qualifies us. He did the same thing to Bethlehem.

          The word Bethlehem is a compound word, two words put together. Beth means house, like Beth-el, which means house of God. Lehem, or lechem, means bread. So Bethlehem means house of bread. That doesn’t sound so important until you begin to scratch off another layer or so. For instance, in Jewish prayers, the word lechem is used to represent food and sustenance. It’s not just bread, but all that bread means to a hungry people. Bread is the basic necessity. How are prisoners rationed? On bread and water. They can survive with those basic necessities. Bread is that which we most need, that which sustains us, our most basic necessity.

          Put the word Beth with lehem and you have house of bread. What’s the most important thing in your life? Whatever it is, from food to shelter to health to employment, all of it is symbolized by this thing we call bread. So to call a place the house of bread is to call it the place where everything we need, everything we have, is met. Why Bethlehem? Because…it gives us everything we need.

          Why Bethlehem? In the sixth chapter of John’s gospel, Jesus has just fed the five thousand and they are back the next day for more. They want to be nourished. Jesus gives them something bigger than bread for the day. Listen to his words:

          Jesus then said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you,

         it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven,

         but my Father gives you the true bread from heaven.  

        For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven

        and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us

        this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of        

        life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever     

        believes in me shall never thirst.     John 6: 32-35

 

“I am the bread of life.” This is Jesus’ promise to us. We will never have to worry about missing out on anything important. Jesus is all we need. He is the sustenance. He is our most basic necessity. When we walk with Jesus, we will want for nothing that really matters.

          Why Bethlehem? Because it was the house of life for him who was the bread of life. God planned it from the beginning. He connected the dots from generation to generation throughout eternity to come to that village and that stable and that manger under that star on that night. He came down to us. He came down into our lives.

        Remember, nothing is accidental with God. It could never have been anywhere else, could it? The house of life---for the bread of life.[1] God gave us all the signs. Prophets and a star and worshippers and even a house of bread—of life.

On this Christmas Eve, don’t you want to make sure that your house has the right kind of bread? Put the bread of life in the center of your house. He is Emmanuel—God with us.

---

     [1] Jonathan Cahn, The Book of Mysteries, FrontLine, Lake Mary, FL., 1982, Day 34.

Mary

                                                            Luke 1: 26-38

 

          She was a teenager, perhaps as young as 15. She was Jewish, of course. Roman Catholic legend has it that she was the daughter of Anne and Joachim, a wealthy couple who had much trouble conceiving a child. According to the legend, Mary was consecrated to the Lord and went to live in the temple at age 3, much like what Samuel did in the Old Testament. It’s all legend. There is nothing about this in the Bible. It only tells us that she was a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph.

          Her name was Mary. If we can believe any of the legend, then Mary’s life from age 3 to the appearance of the angel Gabriel in the third chapter of Luke’s gospel was anything but normal. Maybe it was better than normal life. Maybe she really did grow up in the temple. We can’t say. We can say that normal life for a teenage girl in Nazareth was not very sophisticated. Life for anyone in Nazareth in the first century was most probably simple and hard. Archeological digs in the area indicate a village centered around agriculture. The dwellings were simple and mostly structured around caves used for their domestic work and the recovery of animals. Tzippori was the trading center of Galilee and not too far away. It may have been that some commuted there to gain work. Perhaps even Jesus and his father Joseph sold some of their work there.

          Whether Mary was raised in the temple or she stayed at home, her life was restricted. The very fact that she was female meant a lack of privilege in the culture. She was either performing chores around the temple or she was doing chores around the house. There were no restaurants, no cafes, no ball parks, no movies or bowling alleys, no public schools to attend. No climate control other than an occasional breeze. But there was plenty of work.

          I wondered about how Mary’s life might compare with that of a teenage girl here in Jefferson. So I put in calls to Brook Clark and Rebecca Horton. Think about that. Here I am, some seventy miles away and I call these young women on their personal cell phones. Instant communication in your pocket or your purse. Can you imagine what Mary would think? It took her over a week to travel the same distance to see her cousin Elizabeth, who was pregnant with the child who would become known as John the Baptist.

          Brook was so busy, I never heard back from her. I did speak to Rebecca. Rebecca is also 15. I asked Rebecca about her week. This week was a typical week for Rebecca. She had three ball games and practiced the other two days. That’s five out of five nights she was out of the house. Think that’s the way Mary lived? Hardly. Then I asked Rebecca what she would think if her parents came in Saturday night and introduced her to this thirty year old guy named Larry, saying that he was a real nice guy and they wanted her to drop out of school and get married to him this spring.  Rebecca’s response to her parents went something like this: Are you out of your mind! What have you been drinking or smoking?

          We think of Mary today and she is accorded this saintly status. We see depictions of this haloed young woman holding a perfect baby. We see beauty and presence and miracle all perfectly packaged in marvelous works of art that hang in galleries and cathedrals and Sunday school classes. Do you think Mary saw herself that way? I’m thinking Mary was already stunned at the recent turn of events in her life. This very nice and respectable, but older man named Joseph had asked Mary’s parents for her hand in marriage, and the next thing she knew, she was betrothed to him. Such a nice word, betrothed. But what does it mean? It’s sort of like our modern day word for engaged. But what is different is that it was highly unlikely that Mary had any say in this bargain. It was probably just announced to her. Mary, this is Joseph. He has taken quite a shine to you. He is going to be your husband. What do you think of that?

          Is our culture different from that in which Mary grew up? Of course. But Mary was still a teenager. She was still very young and very inexperienced. Chances are that unlike Brook and Rebecca, she had no one to turn to, and no recourse except to run away.

          Now, try to imagine how Mary must have felt when Gabriel showed up on her doorstep. She has already had the rest of her life arranged for her, and now, even before she has married, she is told that she is about to become pregnant. And not just pregnant, She is going to bear the Son of God as he becomes human. Mary reacted quite calmly, but she had a question. How can that be? I am a virgin.

          No problem, says Gabriel. Just wait for the Holy Spirit to come upon you. And also, the power of the Most High will overshadow you. You see, says Gabriel, nothing is impossible with God.

          If that message came to Rebecca or Brook, what do you think their response might be? Can you see a Facebook message going virile? You are going to bear a son out of wedlock, not by your husband to be, and the Holy Spirit of God will be the father of that baby, and…that baby is the Son of God.

          Rebecca’s favorite TV show is Stranger Things. It’s a story about a young boy who vanishes, and the small town that uncovers a mystery involving secret experiments, terrifying supernatural forces and one strange little girl. That sounds a lot like Gabriel’s visit to Mary. Maybe these teenagers have more in common with the mother of our Savior than they might have thought.

          There is one thing perhaps almost as striking to me as the incredible story of the birth of God’s Son to a poor teenager from Nazareth. And that is the incredible faith and hope of Mary, just a young, small town Jewish girl from the lake country of Galilee. Mary had faith in God. And she had hope, hope the way it was defined in first century Israel. Hope is the expectation that things that are promised by God come to pass in God’s time. Not maybe. They do. Mary had that kind of hope.

          And Mary had faith.  Listen to her response to the angel Gabriel as Luke records it: “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” Just that simple. That’s all she said. No what ifs. No buts. Just I am God’s servant. Let it come. In that way, Mary has just left all of us in the dirt. If we can believe what the gospel writer reports, and we can, then Mary had no questions. She took the news and reported for duty. The next sentence says that the angel departed from her.

          I would love to say that I have that kind of hope, the kind of hope that promoted a teenage girl to say let it be. This is the Advent season. Hope is one of the themes of Advent. And the kind of hope that Mary displayed is the kind of hope that our Savior wants to see in us. Not when or whether or if or maybe. Just…let it be.

          It would be just a matter of a few months. Mary and Joseph would travel the eighty miles from Nazareth down to Bethlehem. They would use a donkey, which only slowed them up, but probably gave this young mother a little rest from walking. Mary would witness the birth of her son in a stable. having to lay him in a feed trough to keep him off the ground. She would witness shepherds from the fields with great stories of angel filled skies. And at the end of that beginning, she would, as Luke tells us, treasure up all these things, pondering them in her heart. The mother of the Son of God, even as a naïve teenager, knew that she didn’t need to publish what had happened. She pondered the events of the day. There would be a time for her to talk later. In this way, Mary was wise well beyond the years of her life. She was ready for what God had asked of her. She seemed to know that while the world has seen a thousand or more babies who became kings, there has only been one king who became a baby.  She couldn’t possibly know how much would happen, how much that baby boy would change the world.

          Mark Lowry and Buddy Greene teamed up to write a Christian song that was first sung by Michael English. The lyrics capture some of what Mary must have pondered that night and the nights to come. Listen:

Mary did you know, that your baby boy will one day walk on water?
Mary did you know, that your baby boy will save our sons and daughters?
Did you know, that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you've delivered, will soon deliver you

 

Mary did you know, that your baby boy will give sight to a blind man?
Mary did you know, that your baby boy has walked where angels trod?
And when you kiss your little baby, you have kissed the face of God

 

Mary, did you know…

 

          Mary’s journey was hardly over with the birth of Jesus. She was always there. She was there in the beginning to give birth. She was there to get him safely to Egypt and back to protect him from a murdering Herod. She was there when he began to discover himself and his mission and debated with the scholars in the temple. She was there at his first public miracle, urging him to go ahead and help the wedding guests with more wine made from water. And she would be there at the end, watching him give himself for us on that unholy cross.

          Mary was always there. It was thought that she was one of those accompanying Magdalene to the tomb to dress Jesus for burial, and probably was with the disciples in that upper room at Pentecost. She was never in the foreground. That territory belonged to her son. But she was there. The Bible never mentions a time when Mary sinned. Not David, not Joshua, not even Moses, can make such a claim. And when Mary was called upon, she was ready and was filled with the faith from which all real hope springs.

          May we all come a little closer to being like Mary in the new Christmas season. May we be servants of the Lord. And may we let it be…according to His Word.

Building God’s House

Psalm 127: 1, 2, Nehemiah 2: 4-8, 17-20

 

 

          What kind of house do you want to build? I know, I know. Most of you have already built or bought your house. So you already know that I’m asking you a trick question. I could be talking about your dream home. What kind of house do you want to build? Don’t worry about where. Just concentrate on what kind. What are the key ingredients for that dream house of yours?

          To build your dream house, you need to have a vision. You need to see it in your mind’s eye, feel it in your bones. You need to feel that feeling when you walk in, that the look is just right, the feel is just so, the mood is warm and loving and soothing, almost like, well, sanctuary.

          What is your dream house? Is it bricks and mortar? Is it by water? Of course, it’s a structure, but what kind? Is it tall and stately or long and sprawled out? When you think of your dream house, what kind of structure is in your vision? Is it a structure built of earthly material—or is it of something else, something made of even sterner stuff than wood or brick? A house is where you live. A house is where you feel special. A dream house should have everything that is special to you. What is it they say: A man’s home is his castle?

          The book of Nehemiah and its companion Ezra are stories about identity and rebuilding, of starting over, of building not just walls and the temple, but also community. After seventy years, the exiled community is allowed to return home. Of course, home is not what it used to be. Jerusalem is not only more or less a relic of its former glory; it is populated by the Jews who were left behind, together with settlers of other ethnic origins. The old Jerusalem is gone. The question for Ezra and Nehemiah and others carrying the commission of the King of Persia to rebuild—is what would constitute the new Jerusalem? What vision do Ezra and Nehemiah carry with them?

          Nehemiah was born in exile. He has never seen Jerusalem. His heritage is Jewish and he knows the stories by heart that his people have told him. He is the cup bearer to the king. In that day, the rank was of great importance. It would be the rough equivalent of Prime Minister today. With all his importance in his job, he still weeps for that which he has never seen, for the dream of restoring his heavenly father’s house. Nehemiah has a vision. He prays to God for the right words, the right presence, and then he says to the king: “send me to Judah, to the city of my fathers’ graves, that I may rebuild it.” And the king says yes. Yes, go and rebuild your city. Nehemiah’s take on it was this: “the king granted me what I asked, for the good hand of my God was upon me.”

          Remember that dream house you were imagining. What is your vision? It is big? Is it strong? Can it stand up to all your needs and desires? If you can build what is in your heart, what will it be like? For the people of Israel in the post-exile, they faced a daunting task. The city lay in ruins. The people who had stayed were now scattered. The people coming home from exile were strangers in the land of their fathers. They had never set foot in the home to which they were returning. What was it that they would build? What was their vision?

          Building the walls of Jerusalem is the first job that falls to Nehemiah. The people needed protection. They were not surrounded by friendlies. This was renewal in the most literal sense. There were no walls to the city. Before any work could even be contemplated on the temple, the city must once again be secure. This was hard work, backbreaking work, but Nehemiah had a vision from God. The task was finished in just fifty two days.

          If you read Nehemiah, you see who rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem. It was Eliashib the high priest with his brothers and priests who built the Sheep Gate. It was the sons of Hassenaah who built the Fish Gate. Joiada and Meshullam, other sons, repaired the Gate of Yeshanah. And there was Melatiah and Jadon and Uzziah and Hannaniah and all their kin.

          Do you begin to get the picture? Change the names and the address and the picture becomes Johnson Road in Jefferson, SC, and the people becomes Clarks and Campbells and Catoes and Sullivans and Kirkleys and Johnsons and Funderburks and Hortons. Nehemiah gathered the people of God to rebuild the city of God.

          Early in his career in ministry, Eugene Peterson, whom you may know as the author of the Bible translation called The Message, had a church to build. His congregation, started from scratch, which had met in his basement for a couple years, was now ready to build a church building. Architects were interviewed by the building committee. It wasn’t fun. The experts all had plans and recommendations, but none seemed to ask about what vision the church had. They came upon a young architect who had never designed a church. He actually visited several worship services before he agreed to take the job. He came to know something about the identity of the people for whom he was to work. From that, he could join his vision with their vision. He designed something that reflected the identity of the church family he had observed.

          You know, Nehemiah had the financial resources. He had the support of King Artaxerxes. He had letters of credit to buy building materials. He could even use the king’s forest for the timbers he would need. Finances were not a problem. But there were other problems. The people had to be re-united. The people of the exile were strangers to the land and to the people left behind. The people left behind had no leadership for generations and had little to bind them together. When the two groups met, they had little in common. The locals had intermarried with pagans. The religion of their forefathers had eroded to the point where it was hard to identify.

          So what Nehemiah had the most trouble with was not the finances. He had the most trouble with uniting the people under a common cause. They had no identity as a people, much less a holy nation. The story of Nehemiah goes far beyond re-building the walls of Jerusalem or even the temple. You know what’s funny? When the walls were about halfway finished, the Arabs and the Ammonites and the Ashdodites, all enemies of the Jews, banded together and threatened to destroy the work. It scared the people. They pulled away. Nehemiah rose up and exhorted the people. He told them not to be afraid, to remember the Lord, who is great and awesome. He told them to fight for their homes. The people came together again and finished the walls.

          As we get closer and closer to beginning the task of rebuilding the physical part of our church, we would be advised to study the story of Nehemiah. We, like the people of post-exilic Jerusalem, have the financial resources to restore our walls. And we, like the congregation of Christ Our King Presbyterian Church pastored by a young Eugene Peterson, are having trouble settling on a design and an architect. Why? Maybe it’s because we are still struggling a bit with finding someone to see us as we are.  We have an identity, but no one we have interviewed has seemed to care much about that.

          Our session and our congregation will be ok. It just takes awhile to articulate our vision. We do have an identity, but we also have an opportunity to recast that identity more in the image of who God wants us to be than ever before. For this moment in our history, we have this opportunity to rebuild our church buildings more in the image of God, to find in the walls that we rebuild the presence of worship—and fellowship—and discipleship—and mission—and ministry. We need to heed the words of Nehemiah: Remember the Lord, who is great and awesome, and fight for your brothers, your sons, your daughters, your wives, and your home.

          We have to have a vision. What does God look like? What should the house of God look like? It will be our sanctuary from the world, our launching spot of mission to the world, a place to call our church home. Will it remind us of God? That’s the final plan we’re going to find these next months, if we keep the faith.  If we are to get it right, our identity has to merge with that of God when we build his church.

          Psalm 127 opens with a comment about building. “Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.”  You know, God has been in the building business since creation. He started with a garden. He taught man and even instructed mankind how to build the ark, his temple and so many more projects. And yet, God’s greatest building project has had nothing to do with bricks and mortar. God’s greatest building project has been all about sweat and blood. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength” [Mark 12: 30, 31]. And

“Love your neighbor as yourself.”

          We can plan. We can work hard. But if we are not planting God’s seeds, it won’t be God’s house. Unless the Lord builds the house… Theologian John Goldingray says it like this: “What is true about building and guarding is true about all work. It is vain if it is not accompanied by God’s involvement; it may unaccountably achieve nothing.”[1]

          What does God’s house look like? The look is just right, the feel is just so, the mood is warm and loving and soothing, almost like, well, sanctuary. Surely, the presence of the Lord is in such a place.

Amen Yes.

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     [1] John Goldingray, Psalms Volume 3, Baker Commentary on the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, Baker Academic), 2008.

Going Up to Jerusalem

Psalm 121, Mark 10: 32-34

 

 

          My daughter Emily is a climber. She has spent most of the last decade in Africa, so that’s where most of her climbing has been. I know she has climbed Mt Kenya, the second tallest mountain in Africa after Mt. Kilimanjaro. Emily loves to climb. The view at the top is incredible, but that’s not the only reason she climbs. Emily is thirsty for challenge, for adventure and for the experience itself. The climb changes her, broadens her, makes her stretch.

          My family spent years trekking back and forth to the mountains of North Carolina. We spent many hours on rivers kayaking and white water rafting. When we weren’t on the river, we went hiking. I’m not the climber that my daughter is, but I do love the view that comes at the end of a climb. I remember particularly a place near the Tennessee-North Carolina line called Max Patch. A short climb rewards you with this spectacular view at 4,600 feet. On a clear day, you can see Mt. Mitchell to the east and the Great Smoky Mountains some twenty miles to the west.

          Jerusalem is the Max Patch of its region in Judea. It lies on the southern Judean plateau, which at its highest is about 2,500 feet above sea level. That’s high in that area. 37 miles to the east is the Mediterranean Sea and 22 miles west is the Dead Sea, the lowest point on earth. So Jerusalem is one of the high places of the region. That’s one of the reasons that the gospels have many references to “going up.” Jesus and the disciples were going up to Jerusalem.

          But there is more to this term of going up than just geography. Jerusalem was the Holy City. It was the site of the Temple. It was the destination for the people of Israel at least three times a year for the important feasts that commemorated great days in the history of God’s people, including Passover, Tabernacles and Pentecost. On these high holy days, the people would make their pilgrimage to Jerusalem. They would “go up” to the City of God. The gospels echo that theme. In today’s passage, Jesus and the disciples are on the road, going up to Jerusalem. Matthew 20 and Luke 19 say essentially the same thing.

          With Jesus, it is not just a going up from down below. It is a journey; a journey started long before that culminates in his arrival at his beloved Jerusalem, a city rich in meaning for Jesus but poor in loyalty to the Son of God. It is the place where he will meet the cross; a destination that will forever change the world. Going up. In the Greek, the word is αναβαίνώ (anabaino). Its Hebrew counterpart is transliterated as Aliyah. It means the going up, the ascent. Every time we read of Jesus going to Jerusalem, we see this word. Aliyah is literally the ascending. So to go to Jerusalem was to make Aliyah, or to make the upward journey. Even in modern times, when the Jewish people began to return to the land of Israel, that twentieth century exodus was called Aliyah, the upward journey.

          In the book of Psalms, a full fifteen psalms are devoted to ascent. Psalms 120-134 are a whole section of Psalms of Ascent. They are a group of psalms, ancient poetry and hymns, offering praise and worship to God. It is thought that they may have been sung by worshippers as they ascended the road to Jerusalem to take part in the three ancient festivals. Psalm 121 is exemplary:

                             I lift up my eyes to the hills

                             From where does my help come?

                             My help comes from the Lord,

                             Who made heaven and earth.

                                                                             (v. 1, 2)

These songs call us who would be pilgrims to trust God, to go up the mountains of life, knowing that God has our back, that God never sleeps and that no elements are sufficient to hurt us while in God’s care. We can make our ascent safely while God watches over us.

          We are all familiar with physical ascents, from mountain climbing to hiking to taking the stairs instead of the elevator. These ascents keep up our strength, give us stamina, and offer in some cases a whole new way of looking at things. But we are God’s people. Like John Bunyan’s Christian in his journey through The Pilgrim’s Progress, we too are not just physical, but spiritual children making our way, going up to Jerusalem. In our case, Jerusalem is not so much a geographic location as it is the City of God promised by John in the book of Revelation. It is a spiritual ascent that each Christian must make. Ultimately, when our journey is finished, it is our place of deliverance.

          What are the watchwords of our society? Whatever. If it feels good, do it. Eat, Pray, Love. Peace. Just Do It. Have it Your Way. I’m worth it. Where in this list, which could be much longer, does one find an unselfish meaning? The watchwords of our society have little in common with making an ascent. They have more in common with self-pleasure. They are the avenues of personal reward, the byways of selfishness.

          Our heroes today tend to be packaged in sports uniforms. That’s not as bad as it sounds. This last week, I watched as two baseball teams battled for seven games in the World Series to see who could prevail. It wasn’t hard to notice that both teams played like it. That is, they played like teams. They were unselfish. They pulled for each other’s success. Teams who win championships know a lot about making Aliyah, that upward journey. In that sense, the striving of sports franchises is a microcosm of what Christians need to do in their walk toward Jerusalem. It’s never about personal gain. It’s always about growth and discernment of those truths that will change our lives.

          What am I talking about here? I haven’t been to Jerusalem and most of you haven’t either. Do we have to go to Jerusalem to be pilgrims? Not literally. But symbolically, every one of us has Jerusalem in front of us.  Every one of us has a climb to make, an ascent to conquer. Every one of us has to make Aliyah, to go up toward the high places of life. If we choose to descend into that which we want, that which the voices of this world shout out to just do it or to have it our way, then we go the way of the lost. If we choose to stay home, to stay on that level playing field, we will find out sooner or later that the ground is not really level at all. Nothing stays the same, not things, not people, not relationships. If you’re not climbing, eventually you will find that you are descending.

          The world is not a kind place. There are kind people in the world, but they cannot direct us. They are on their own journeys. They too are faced with these choices of self—or selfless. They need our help as much as we need theirs. To reach out to help one another is in a very real sense a going up, of making that upward journey of faith.

          The thing to understand is this. It’s not about the choice you make, for life is full of choices. Each choice influences the next. Each bend in the road leads you either closer to God or farther away from him. Each climb has places to rest and go on, or to turn around and go back.

          In our passage today, Jesus turns to his faithful and tells them what is going to happen. They are going up to Jerusalem and he tells them what to expect. What he tells them is enough to make anyone turn around and run. What he promises them is betrayal, condemnation, mocking, flogging, degradation and death. It’s hard to hear anything after that. But there is one more thing—after three days he will rise. What’s that? After three days, he will defeat death, dethrone Satan, rise from the grave!

          Is this what going up to Jerusalem is all about? Is this the life of a Christian? Mocking, jeering, contempt, even danger and death? According to Jesus, that’s correct. All that and more.

        But there is that view. When you are on the mountaintop and walking across that long ridge, your view is out of this world and the air is so clean, it feels as if it’s washing your lungs. The way up is sometimes long and sometimes treacherous. The footing can be tricky. There are choices along the way. Go left, go right. Quit and go back. Or—take another step. A journey of a thousand miles begins the same way a trip to the mailbox begins—with a single step.

          If we are to be Christian, we all have to make Aliyah, the upward journey. It is hard and sometimes dangerous and always—always, long. But it is not without its rewards, like the cleanness we begin to experience on the way up, or the strength we begin to feel as we put more and more faith in our Savior along this pilgrimage we call life.

          We need to remember in the midst of all the calls to the easier life, of all the warnings of the danger and challenges ahead, that for those who choose the higher step, the higher ground, there is the promise that we too shall rise. There is no set of circumstances from which the pilgrims of God will not taste victory. It is our act of Sanctification, to climb the mountain that takes us to faith and obedience. Going up, making Aliyah, is the only choice that brings life.