Preparing the Way of the Lord

     Luke 3: 1-6

 

 

          “A voice cries: In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our Lord.” This is part of a passage from the 40^th chapter of Isaiah, where the great prophet begins his prediction of the future. Unlike most of the prophetic books of the Old Testament which tell of God’s message in their contemporary situation, the latter part of Isaiah focuses on the future. Isaiah looks down the long road to come. He sees God upholding his own cause with a world-transforming display of his glory. Isaiah aims his vision at such an event, the time when the way of the Lord will be revealed, when the King will come.

          John the Baptist is a lot like Isaiah. He looks like he came out of the woods. He is not a pretty sight. Isaiah wasn’t either. The Old Testament prophet once went naked for three years and pulled out his hair to make his point. The new one wears a garment made of camel’s hair, rough to the touch, and eats bugs for his nourishment. These are not your average seminary products. John is like Isaiah in more ways than one.  Like Isaiah, he is setting the table for another. Both are prophets, heralding the coming of the real thing.

          So in Luke 1, John the Baptist is the new prophet and he quotes Isaiah: “The voice of one crying in the wilderness; Prepare the way of the Lord.” Luke uses more references to people and kings in this passage than in any other place in his writings. He does so because he wants everyone to see the significance, to mark the date. Jesus is coming not just for the people of Israel, but for everyone. Luke is connecting the old with the new, but John’s prophecy is more than Isaiah’s. John is the herald, the announcer, not just the prophet. No matter who your king is, the real king is about to be introduced, and that is the job of John the Baptist. He would help smooth the way, prepare it for the Son of God. John’s call had worldwide significance, for the Savior was coming for all people.

          Luke tells us that the word of God came to John. The same words are used to describe God speaking to Samuel (1 Sam. 15: 10), to Jeremiah (1:4), to Ezekiel (1:3), to Jonah (1:1), Haggai (1:1), Zechariah (1:1), Malachi (1:1) and others. In each case, God was speaking to his servant, giving him both a vision and a task. The words introduce a special revelation, a revelation received to take to the people. In that same tradition, John the Baptist is sent as God’s prophet, and his proclamation is the “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.”

          How do you prepare the way of the Lord? Well, John seems to say that we need to level the field. John says make the path straight. Fill every valley. Lower the mountains and the hills. Straighten out the crooked. Make the rough places level.

          I think about that in practical terms. I like to ride a bicycle for exercise and for recreation, but I like it so much better when the terrain is smooth and fairly flat. I can go farther when the resistance is small. These days, there are bike paths designed for cyclists to move more easily with traffic. It’s as though the valleys have been filled and the mountains leveled. It makes the path straighter. I can see what John the Baptist was getting at. He wanted the path for the coming Savior to be clearly marked, easy to navigate. He wanted to prepare the way.

          When you want cyclists to be able to navigate safely with motorists, you create a bike path. You set aside a space where cyclists can ride. But what do you do when your objective is not just a safe place for a few, but a path for the Savior of mankind? It’s going to take a bigger path for that job. How do you prepare the way of the Lord?

          Prophets like John cry from the wilderness. That is, they are not the most visible, nor do they have the most credibility. They are prophets. If there is one thing that most of the prophets in the bible have in common, it is that they aren’t popular. They come talking about wrongdoing and they call for us to turn away from it, and we would just as soon they didn’t, for we are all too comfortable in our lives. This is not the way to win friends and influence people. The fact that they are right is just incidental information. If they don’t come preaching the message we want to hear, then we tune them out. They are marginalized from the start.

          In addition, John the Baptist is telling the people that the real king is coming. He says that “all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”   John does not promise salvation for all. Rather he heralds that it will be in sight for all to see. John points to the revelation of the Messiah, the physical manifestation of the Son of God. He goes on to say that the way must be prepared for him. The leveling to which he refers is nothing less than removal of the sin of the people.

The prophets talk in metaphors to tell us what needs to be done. How do you prepare the way of the Lord? Straighten the path, fill the low places, flatten the high places, straighten the crooked, make what is rough become level. It sounds like the prophets are in the grading business, and in a sense they are.

          That’s why John talks in terms of mountains and valleys. That’s why he uses such big terms to describe the grading project, because sin is everywhere. It’s as big as the mountains and as deep as the valleys and if we want God to be able to come to us, there is something we must do. We must be baptized in our repentance if our sins are to be forgiven. This is how we prepare the way of the Lord.

          What do we do to prepare for a royal visitor, a head of state? We make preparations of all kinds, from transportation to security to food and lodging and venues from which to speak and meet. We pull out all the stops to be sure we are ready to receive someone of so much importance in our midst. The ancients did the same for their kings and emperors. In the days of Isaiah, when a king proposed to tour a part of his empire, he sent a courier in advance to tell the people to prepare the roads. In Luke’s gospel, John acts as that courier. John knows he has been called to make way and that is exactly what he is trying to do. In his zest for the job, he thinks back to the visionary words of Isaiah and he attempts to remove the immoveable. Even though he knows that sin has pervaded our lives, he appeals to us to wipe ourselves clean, not only to ask forgiveness but to repent, to turn away. These are the hills to be leveled, the paths to be made straight, in our lives. The result of that repentance is salvation.

          How do you prepare the way of the Lord? Break down the walls. Tear down the fences. John the Baptist was called upon to tell the people, and through that testimony God calls upon us, to prepare our hearts, to prepare our lives. William Barclay says it this way: “The King is coming, Mend not your roads, but your lives.”

         John the Baptist tells us that “all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”  Of that, we can rest assured. But John does not promise us that all shall receive that salvation. Neither does God. For that, we must prepare the way.

          Are you prepared? You first have to ask forgiveness. You have to turn away from your selfishness and sin. That is how you prepare your way for the Lord. Make straight your path. The King is coming!

      What is Truth?

     John 18: 33-37

 

 

          November 13, 2015. Just nine days ago.  It was Friday night in Paris. In the soccer stadium, eighty thousand people were watching France play world champion Germany. Along the Champs Elise, people were attending a concert, sitting outside in cafes, enjoying a pleasant evening. In less than an hour, multiple attacks at several different sites had taken the lives of 128 innocents across the city. Armed terrorists executed people in the name of ISIS. In the last couple days, ISIS released a propaganda video clearly threatening New York City and Washington, DC, as prime targets. The video featured images of bombs and suicide bombers getting ready for an attack. ISIS does these things in the name of jihad, the Islamic command to maintain its religion through all struggles and against all resistance. For ISIS, the truth is that all secular life, all man made laws, threaten the purity of their religion. It is a narrow reading of the Koran, a reading with which mainstream Muslims disagree.

           This past Friday, November 20, 2015, armed assailants, members of an Islamic militant group with strong links to al Qaeda, attacked the Radisson Hotel in the capital of Mali, a small West African nation, and 21 more people were killed. al Qaeda is another militant religious group that believes that Western influence has eroded the religion of Islam. It has pledged itself to the purification and preservation of Islam by the destruction of other religions and secular influences. This is the religious truth of al Qaeda.

          In the book of John, Jesus is paraded before Pilate to be examined about his religious and political beliefs.  Pilate, the Roman procurator, asks Jesus if he is King of the Jews. This is a political question. If Jesus affirms the claim, he is guilty of treason, an offense punishable by death. For Pilate, it is not a trick question. He is ascertaining the credibility of a threat to the Roman government.

           Both Pilate and Jesus know the facts. The Jewish leaders are headhunting, and Jesus is no criminal. The trouble is that because of several past acts by Pilate for which he was reported to Caesar, his job security is in jeopardy. So while the Jewish leaders are headhunting, Pilate realizes it could his head that they end up with. Pilate and Jesus verbally spar with one another, Pilate hoping for an opening, Jesus using the moment to fulfill God’s will for him. It is Pilate rather than Jesus who is in jeopardy, Pilate rather than Jesus on trial.

          Jesus answers Pilate’s question about kingship. Ignoring the question without dodging it, Jesus says that there is a purpose for which he was born, a reason for which he has come into the world. That purpose is “to bear witness to the truth.” Jesus makes another comment; that those who are of the truth listen to his voice. Now Pilate is more than a little uncomfortable. The light of the world is confronting Pilate and he must decide between light and darkness. Pilate’s answer reflects his disillusionment. He will not allow himself to be confronted. “What is truth?” asks Pilate. What is truth?

          What is truth? The question was not just for Pilate. The question is for you and me. The question is the subject of books. Philosophers and theologians have debated the question for hundreds of years.

         What is truth? In pursuit of its self-anointed truth, al-Qaeda envisions a complete break from all foreign influence, the creation of a worldwide order in which there is only one religion.  The truth for al-Qaeda is that if you don’t believe in its way of doing things, you are the infidel and the enemy.

          What is truth? If you are a member of  ISIS, your truth is the pursuit of an Islamic state; that any other existence of authority over Muslims worldwide is heresy, that all who do not believe in the group’s interpretation of the Koran will be killed. The truth for ISIS is that if you are not part of it, you should be destroyed.

          We should fear these terrorist groups. We should realize that no matter how misinformed or misled or just plain wrong they are, they believe what they preach. No matter what we may think of their beliefs or how much we should condemn their methods, we cannot help but acknowledge their commitment. They strap bombs to their waists and wade into their assigned missions, knowing full well they will never return. They are not politicians or economists or statesmen. They are soldiers of their beliefs.

          The story of Jesus and Pilate offers no such re-enforcement. The only belief system we can see in Pilate is that of self-preservation. Three times, Pilate found no guilt in Jesus. Three times he tried to hand Jesus back to his own people. But in the end, the mob and the religious leaders had Pilate’s number. He gave in to the truth of the moment rather than acknowledge the truth of the ages.

          In his quest to keep his job, to preserve the status quo, Pilate cared only for his personal truth, and that was to get along with the Jews. His way of life depended upon keeping a peaceful trade corridor between Syria and Egypt and that corridor went through Palestine. If the Jews erupted in civil disobedience, the trade was interrupted. But Pilate was not by himself. In a later scene in Chapter 19, Pilate said to the Jews; “Shall I crucify your King?” The chief priests answered: “We have no king but Caesar.” The very religious leadership that accused Jesus of blasphemy stood in front of Pilate in broad daylight and declared: We have no king but Caesar. No wonder the Pilates of the world mutter out loud: What is truth!

          When Jesus stood in front of Pilate, he did so as living truth and he bore witness to its existence. The night before, he had knelt in the Garden of Gethsemane and prayed for his followers. He said: “Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth.” We know the Word as written, God’s divinely inspired word, and also as Jesus, the Living Word of God. I think Jesus meant both in that garden. That is the truth, the living and written Word of God.  

          Jesus told Pilate that everyone who is of the truth would listen to his voice. Pilate was not one of those people. The chief priests were not those people. The mob that went along with all that wrongdoing was not those people. They were not of the truth and they could not hear the truth or see it standing right in front of them.

          What is truth? I am the truth, said Jesus. “I am the way, the truth and the life. No man cometh unto the Father but by me.” Jesus does not need sharia law or jihad. He does not need arms or bombs or walls or tanks or missiles. Jesus just needs us to be of the truth. Then, we can listen to his voice.

          Have you found the truth? Contrary to what many modern day philosophers may preach, it is not your truth that you should most seek, but rather the truth.

          What is the truth? For God so loved the world…that he sent us Jesus!

Cracked Pots

Isaiah 64: 1-9, 2 Corinthians 4: 1-12

 

 

Have you ever seen a potter at work? He fashions the clay, first kneading it until it gains the right consistency. Next, he must center it. The clay must be of even thickness. If one side is too strong, it will overcome the weaker side. Then, the potter begins the patient and gentle process of opening the clay. He is shaping it in its preliminary form. It barely resembles the final product. When it is shaped the way he created it to be, it is time for the object to dry. This is another slow process during which it cures, until it is ready for glazing to achieve the luster and look the potter intended. Last, it is fired--subjected to great heat for a prolonged period of time until finally, it is ready for use. If you leave out any of those steps or if you cheat on them, then you have something inferior and it will not last. The new creation takes its place in the world and goes to work as a piece of art or a vessel, whatever the artist conceived for that piece of clay. It’s amazing to watch what can happen to a slab of clay in the hands of an expert. 

Let me welcome Kirk Argo to the platform with me. As you can see, Kirk is a potter and he is going to do his work while we talk about pottering and clay. Of course, we aren’t really talking about clay at all. We’re talking about God and we’re using Kirk and his clay as a parable. You may remember that a parable is a story told in some way familiar to the audience in order to explain something difficult in a way that can be more easily understood. Jesus spoke in parables. That way, people understood him more easily.

In the latter chapters of Isaiah, the Old Testament prophet calls out to God to come back to his exiled people.  In Isaiah 64, Isaiah is tired and he wants God to make his presence known. When God comes down, nations tremble and mountains quake. Yes, Isaiah wants God to shake things up. He wants God to take over again and rule his chosen people. Isaiah uses the metaphor of the potter and the clay in much the same way that Jesus used parables.  Isaiah says: But God, you are our Father. Please look upon us again. Don’t forget us. “We are the clay, and you are the potter. We are all the work of your hand.” Isaiah meant it for his people, but the same idea applies to individuals.

My life is like that lump of clay. God has a vision of what he wants me to be. He made me in his image, but he made me unique, one of a kind. He started out by kneading me, just like the clay that Kirk is working now. He has subjected me to different situations, different life events, getting the right mix so that I could hear him, see him in the world around me. He brought me lots of experiences, good and bad: Sunday school, boy scouts, a father’s alcoholism, mental illness, college. Military, big cities, jobs. Law school, marriage, starting a business, children. Divorce, betrayal, a new start, a good marriage, seminary, church. Just a few nouns to represent my life. Your life has its own nouns and they describe you in your own unique way.

I finally began to notice a pattern. Through every passage—and that’s what they were—passages. I thought of them at the time as accomplishments or failures, but they were passages. Anyway, through every passage, I looked around and there was God. Have you had similar experiences in life? It isn’t easy, this thing called life. But it’s so much harder when you try to go it alone. I know now that God was kneading me, centering me for the shape he designed for me.

After all that kneading, I think God had me where I could see him. Like the clay, I was centered enough to be able to be worked with. Maybe that’s when I really saw Christ for the first time. I had acknowledged his presence for a very long time, but there came a point when I was ready to be worked.

Through the messiness and up and downs of life, God was at work in me. He was opening me just like Kirk is opening his work of clay. The Holy Spirit finally had room to abide in me. I began to understand that my life was not my own. It was more than words; it was an awakening.

I’m thinking about the story of Joseph. Betrayed by his brothers, sold into slavery, betrayed again by Potiphar’s wife and thrown into prison. But on the other side of all that betrayal, stood the Master Potter. God was crafting Joseph into the deliverer of Egypt. Joseph’s brothers come to him expecting the worst, and Joseph says “Do not fear. You meant it for evil but God meant it for good” [Gen. 50: 19]. Can you think of times in your life when you knew something was different, when you were open to the Holy Spirit in a way that you had not been before, when all those valleys in life began to make sense in the light of God’s walk with you, his presence in your life?

As the potter works, he realizes his creation is not right. It is missing something. It is not what he envisioned. The potter slaps his hand right into the midst of his creation, and it collapses in a heap. He starts again, this time perhaps with a little more consistency in the mix.  Sometimes, even when the vision is right, even when the touch is perfect, the pot warps and he has to start all over again. Sometimes he just doesn’t like what he sees and he destroys it to start anew. Over and over, the potter works his magic until at last, the almost finished product lies before him, ready for glazing and firing.

Ever feel like you try and try, and the more you try, the worse off you are. Ever feel like you know what to do and where to go and how you are to live your life, only to be slapped right back to where you started. Maybe it’s just God working you on his master wheel, getting you to just the right consistency, just the right mix. The apostle Paul gave it a name. He called it sanctification, the process of reaching for God, the act of pressing on, of falling short and falling down, but always and continually reaching to be more Christian, more filled with the Holy Spirit; the process of letting go and letting God.

Each of us is the work of the Master Potter. Paul teaches the Corinthians, and us, that though we are no more than jars of clay ourselves to be thrown about, cracked and splintered, nevertheless we are God’s treasures. Each of us is unique, created by God for a special purpose. We are afflicted, but not crushed, perplexed but not to despair, persecuted but not forsaken, struck down, but not destroyed. We are the work of his hand. Paul says that it is precisely because of our fragile state that we can show that surpassing power belongs to God and not us.

As our bodies and minds are worked and re-worked, we become a new creation, but not without the work. Like the clay, we must be open to Christ, shaped by the Holy Spirit, glazed by the creative power of God and fired in the sanctifying heat of life in all its adversities and triumphs. No steps can be omitted. No shortcuts can be taken. The process takes time if the result is to be a new creation. Where once we were cracked pots of no use or value, now we become treasures of the Master. Our lives are fashioned in the hands of the potter, and in the end we are hardened for service and glazed for immortality in the light of God

When God in the Trinity decided to build a bridge to us, he sent his Son to build it. The Master Potter made a way to reconcile himself to his creation. The Potter had cast himself upon the wheel. Jesus took his place as an earthen vessel in obedience to God.  The next three decades would harden and cure him into the human vessel for whom all of us find our model. He was tested, opened, shaped and fired. Jesus was tested more severely than any Christian has or ever will be. He would live to be glazed in the shadow of a cruel cross, but even that was meant for good.

We live in a world fashioned by God Almighty. The great I AM. Nothing is hopeless where God is concerned. When I think of where I’ve been, of all I’ve lived to see, I’m thankful. I’m thankful to be a cracked pot. I want to be a metaphor for Christ. I look at how God is shaping each and every one of us and I pray for the ministry that Paul brought to the Corinthians, that we might, each in our own, God-crafted way, be “servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God” [2 Cor. 4: 1]. May God continue to work on us. If I can be a vessel whom God is opening and shaping, then I want to be a cracked pot. I hope you do too. He is the potter and we are the clay.

Spirit of the living God,
Fall afresh on me.
Spirit of the living God,
Fall afresh on me.
Break me, melt me,
Mold me, fill me,
Spirit of the living God,
Fall afresh on me.

                             Daniel Iverson, 1926

Finding God’s Blessing Wherever It Lies

Ruth 1:1-5, 4:13-17

 

 

          My wife went to the grocery store to get more meat for supper. Extra people were dropping in and we didn’t have quite enough – food, that is. We had plenty of people. Cindy called me and asked me to bring her purse. She had forgotten it. I took her purse to her and ran into some friends from my old church.  Susan and Steve. They are brother and sister. Both single, they hang out a lot with each other these days. It was odd to see a brother and sister in their forties spending so much time together. Odd but nice. They care and respect each other.

          The book of Ruth tells a similar story. Naomi has lost first her husband and later, her two grown sons. She is Jewish, though she and her husband had moved to Moab long ago. Now she is widowed and left with her two widowed daughters in law. She has no means of support and she finds herself a long way from help. She decides to go home to the land of Judah. At least there, she will have some male kin who might feel the inclination to help her out. A widow, a foreigner, over three thousand years ago, had little to nothing to look forward to without men in her life.

          Steve and Susan’s parents were my friends. They were older than me, but very vital, him a banker, her a nurse. They were strong Christians and they were strong with their connection to family. Cindy and I helped start a small group ministry in our home church and Joanne, their mother, gathered up half the people in her neighborhood for a not so small group that met in her home regularly. She bought extra copies of Rick Warren’s book The Purpose Driven Life and gave them out to the patients at the doctor’s office. She and Dan were poster children for how to be friends with their adult children.

          Naomi said her goodbyes to her daughters in law. It was the only way for her to survive. But Ruth said no to the goodbye. A young widow, she felt loyal to her mother in law and promised to go with Naomi. Her words to Naomi are among the most well known in all Scripture. “Whither thou goest, I will go and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God” [Ruth 1: 16, KJV]. Another oddity. A daughter so faithful, so loyal to her mother in law that she will follow her even to a foreign country. Odd but nice. Ruth cared about and respected her mother in law.

          Ruth did follow Naomi back to Judah. She did find a kinsman redeemer named Boaz. He was man of integrity and responsibility. The love between him and Ruth certainly plays a role in the story, but it is not at center stage. Ruth’s loyalty to her mother in law, to family, her desire to find the good inside us all, made room for God to do his work. The real story is the ability of Ruth to find meaning in challenge, to find hope in the middle of trying circumstances. The real story of Ruth is to walk in faith and find the blessing where it lies.

          I visited with Steve and Susan in the grocery store. Have you ever noticed how grocery stores are a great place to connect? Something about all that produce, I guess. Anyway, Susan was in a motorized cart. She said she hasn’t walked in a year and a half. Hip problems turned into bigger hip problems. One surgery turned into more and her body has not responded the way the doctors hoped. After nine months without being able to walk, Susan has had to face that hard truth that life has changed for her. The house was sold. She could no longer keep it up, nor afford it. A move to handicapped housing followed. Another swallowing of pride. She coughed out her litany of woes and then, she started talking about the power of prayer. In a move that surprised me much more than her, I felt a sudden need to engage in prayer with Susan, and so we did. I pulled her out of line at the checkout and for a long minute, I bent down and we hugged. I hugged her very hard and I prayed. I think she did, too. Not a word was said aloud, but there was power in that prayer. I felt myself releasing to God, feeling myself weak in the thought of his power over us all.

          We got back in line and the three of us walked to the parking lot; that is, Steve and I walked, and Susan rode. They both talked about their blessings. He spends a lot of his free time with her. He calls it hanging out. With part of the money from the sale of her house, she bought an old Mustang GT. It sounds powerful. She says playfully she can ride around and flirt in it without getting out of the car. It didn’t cost much, but it gives her some pleasure. Makes sense to me. Her life is a struggle these days, and the car gives a few laughs along the way.

          Steve could have more of a social life if he didn’t spend so much time with his sister. If I know Steve and I do, that seldom occurs to him. Like Ruth with Naomi, Steve “hangs out” with Susan.

They both come from the root of a mother who lived out Proverbs 31 as though it were her favorite sweater, and a father who grew into that grace more and more with every passing year. The parents have gone on, but the signs of that parenting remain. Susan is doing like Ruth. She may walk again, but she may not. Regardless, she is finding meaning in her challenges and hope in the middle of trying circumstances. And at least for a season, her brother Steve is her Boaz, her kinsman redeemer.

          In the story of Ruth, or is it the story of Naomi, things turned around, Ruth was married, bore a son. The male line was re-established. The son she bore Boaz became the grandfather of King David. The neighborhood said he had been born to Naomi, their way of acknowledging that God answers prayer. That’s a very good way to end this story, for in the end, it’s not a story about Ruth or Naomi, not even about the son that became the product of all that faithfulness. It’s not a story about my friends Susan and Steve, or even about the trials she faces and the obedient way she holds on to her faith. But the seed of the real story lies within such experiences. The real story is not so much about our faith in family or even in God. The real story is about his faith in us.

          The story of Ruth is a story of obedience and faith. Things turned out well for Ruth and Naomi. It’s not always that way for us in this world. Sometimes the relief we seek from our misfortunes or our physical infirmities doesn’t come here on earth. God does not promise us that. What he does promise us is peace. Jesus talks to his disciples, his posse, the night of his arrest. They don’t know what to think of his behavior. They don’t really understand at the time what he means in the fourteenth chapter of John when he says to them: “Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you.” But they experience it in relationship to him through the Holy Spirit. What he does promise us is loyalty. The psalmist tells us the God is our refuge and our strength, a very present help in trouble [Psalm 46]. He tells Joshua that “I will never leave you or forsake you…that he is with us wherever we go” [Joshua 1:5].

          Wherever we go. Whatever we do. Whatever we encounter. He is there. We are not alone. I thank my friend Susan for reminding me that circumstances only test us; they do not define us. I thank my friend Steve for reminding me that hanging out with family is not a burden, but a privilege. God, give us all the wisdom to discern that you are always there, that you always have faith in us; that your blessings extend far beyond our immediate needs. Help us to see it and return it to you with our loyalty, our obedience and our love, whatever the circumstance. Help us to believe that there is power in every prayer we lift up to you, every song we sing to you, every hug we give for you in Jesus’ name. And help us too, to walk in faith…and find God’s blessing wherever it lies.

Your Faith Makes You Well

Mark 10: 17-22, 46-52

 

 

          A couple years ago, I underwent cataract surgery on both eyes. I had dense cataracts lying directly between my lenses and my field of vision. The results were several. Colors became much more dull, though I didn’t really know it because it happened over a long period of time. I also could not see very well. I kept hitting curbs when I was parking or gliding out of my lane on the road. I finally began putting two and two together one day at the beach. Cindy was standing in front of me with direct sun behind her. I looked at her and saw nothing. It was as though she had disappeared. That was the first time that I truly realized that my vision was impaired.

          Soon after we returned home, I made an appointment with the eye doctor. I was diagnosed with cataracts. The doctor scheduled surgery as soon as available because my vision was so poor. When I looked into the light, it blinded me. I really didn’t have sufficient vision with which to make judgments based upon my sight.

          The tenth chapter of Mark contains a number of stories. Jesus talks about divorce. He talks about the importance of children and how their simple trust and belief can be instructive to all who would follow him. He talks for the third time about the Passion that he knows awaits him in Jerusalem. There are other stories in Chapter 10, but today, I want us to focus on two of those stories. Both are about men who met Jesus, one a rich young man who ran up to him at the beginning of the journey and the other a blind beggar named Bartimaeus who met Jesus in Jericho just as they were beginning the last leg of the journey.

          The young man runs up to Jesus. He is all excited. He kneels before the Master and he asks: Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life? Many would say he already has. He has money. He has position. He has social status. He has it made. And he is a good guy. He wants to follow Jesus. He has kept all the commandments. He is a good Jewish son. Jesus looked at him and said: Well, you only need one more thing. Go sell all you have and give it to the poor. Then you will have treasure in heaven and you can come and follow me. 

          Only one more thing. What is the thing? Sell all you have and give it to the poor. What Jesus was saying was that this young man already had a god. It was the god of wealth and power and earthly possessions. Jesus looked at him, loved him, and said you lack only one thing. But the one thing was not surrendering his independence and that was a bridge too far. The poor boy failed. He looked at Jesus and he looked at his stuff. And the stuff won. Jesus loved him and even that was not enough. He looked right into the light and it blinded him. The rich young man had cataracts impairing the vision of his soul.

          The rich young ruler ran up to Jesus at the beginning of his journey thinking to join up, but stayed home. The bookend to this story of vision, or the lack of it, happens near the end of the journey, as Jesus is leaving Jericho with his disciples, when another man approaches Jesus. That is, he approaches as much as he is able. His name is Bartimaeus and he is sitting by the side of the road. He is blind.

          Jericho was the last stop before Jerusalem.  The Jericho to which Mark refers is probably the new Jericho built by Herod. It was off the old pilgrimage path where the old Jericho, now no longer populated, had stood. So Jesus goes off road, so to speak, to make a stop in Herodian Jericho. From Jericho, they would make the final ascent from the Jordan valley to the city of Jerusalem. It is a steep climb of some 3400 feet over a distance of about 15 miles. Pilgrims today say it takes about eight hours of steady walking to make the trek. 

          Bartimaeus is just as excited as the young man who ran up. He cries out for mercy from Jesus, whom he calls Son of David. This is a messianic greeting. In other words, he looks upon Jesus as the awaited for Messiah. The more people tried to shush him, the louder Bartimaeus got.   Jesus stopped and said to call him. They did and Bartimaeus did the same thing the rich young man had done. Mark tells us the he sprang up and came to Jesus.  

          Jesus says something to Bartimaeus that we would all like to hear. He says: “What do you want me to do for you?” Bartimaeus didn’t have to be asked twice. “Let me recover my sight”, he said. “Go your way,” said Jesus, “your faith has made you well.”

          After my surgery, the light really did come on. Colors were vivid again, to the point of looking remarkable. Centerlines and curbs were also vivid. I could drive again without scaring everyone. And when I looked into the light, I was no longer blinded. Now I can see like never before. I can only compare it to when I was a child. I saw well then too. It was sort of like that passage in Mark 10 where Jesus tells his disciples to receive the kingdom of God like a child. My vision in my eyes was clear again. But Jesus was not talking about the eyes of the head. He was talking about the eyes of the heart.

          What do you want me to do for you, asks Jesus. Really he asked the same question to both the rich young man and to Bartimaeus. The words were different but the question was the same. What do you want of me? It caught the rich man off guard. He had a mansion and a four car garage. He had a BMW. He belonged to the country club. Jesus had sandals and a robe and he went everywhere on foot. When the rich man asked how to get to heaven, he was looking for an item on a menu. Not so with Bartimaeus. When Jesus asked him, he knew. He wanted to see. He knew Jesus had the keys to his sight. He believed. He believed not only that Jesus could heal him. He believed that Jesus could HEAL him. Know what I mean? Bartimaeus did not suffer from the disease of too much birthday. He knew what was important and he kept his focus. After Jesus healed his sight, Bartimaeus followed him on his way. Jesus adds one more pilgrim to the ranks of discipleship.

          The symbolism in Luke 10 is inescapable. Two men want to find their way. Two men come running to Jesus. Two men ask for the keys to the kingdom. Only one knew what to do with those keys.

The one with vision cannot see and walks away in dejection. The one who is blind can see exactly what Jesus offers.  Two men look into the same light. One sees with his eyes, is blind to the truth and says no. The other sees with his heart, recovers his physical sight and commits himself to the road to the Cross.

          What do you want of me, asks Jesus. It’s all in how you see it. At the end of the day, these are stories of discipleship. Jesus extends his hand to us all. There are those who walk away and there are those who hold on. If you can see him through all the stuff of life, then you can be like Bartimaeus. You can spring up and come to Jesus. Your faith will make you well and you can follow him. Throw off the cataracts of this world and see Jesus loving you and calling you. Climb that spiritual road from Jericho to Jerusalem and follow him on the way, just like Bartimaeus did.  Your faith can make you well.

His Story

Joshua 23: 14-16, 24: 14-18

 

 

                    In the latter chapters of the book of Joshua, the great leader of the nation of Israel stands before the people. He has lived through forty years of wandering in the desert. He has picked up the mantle of leadership from Moses and carried it remarkably well. He has brought God’s people into the Promised Land. He is old. He is tired. He knows his time is near. He says to them: “And now, I am about to go the way of all the earth.” He is speaking of the end of his life, the end of his ministry, the completion of his baptism.

          In our opening passage today, Joshua talks about covenant. He reminds the people that God has not failed in any way to deliver everything he promised. He has kept his covenant. Everything has come to pass. No one has earned anything. God has provided everything.

          The whole of history can be traced in terms of covenant. God covenanted with Adam, with Noah, with Abraham, with David. Then, the prophet Jeremiah signaled a new covenant that was to come. We understand that new covenant now as Jesus, God incarnated as man; savior, God with us; Immanuel. All of history, if one looks at it from a Christian worldview, can be seen as God’s continuing covenant with his creation. History becomes---His story. Craig Bartholomew puts it this way: “What is the real story of which my life story is part? Is there a ‘real story’ that provides a framework of meaning for all peoples in all times and places, and therefore for my own life in the world?”

          Is there a real story? In this world of individualism, we are told that the world started with a big bang or any number of other theories as to how we find ourselves here. Textbooks concentrate on the scientific explanations, even if they fall well short of the mark. The world in which we live is a world of empiricism, of calculation, of logic. There is no room for the spiritual unless it can be logically explained.

          Is there a real story? Does your life story intersect with someone else’s?  Even if you say yes, aren’t you talking about your husband or children or parents or cousins? How can your story merge with some other story from someone who lived in another time, or in another place? Is there some framework of meaning for all peoples in all times and from all places? If you believe in God, if you believe in the Holy Scriptures as God’s story, then there is only one answer to questions like that, and it is YES. Yes, there is a real story, and it involves us all.

          We have talked about covenant, about how we can trace the story of God through covenant from the beginning of history, from the beginning of His story. When we trace those covenants through the Bible, we see God on a mission. The Bible is a story—a story of the mission of God to reveal Himself to his creation and to redeem it for himself.

          You know the history of this church better than I do. It was carved out of this ground by your ancestors: Campbells and Clarks and Johnsons and Sullivans and many more. The ground under our feet marks the footprint of a church that rose from an idea to a meeting place to several buildings on several sites, but always—always, existing to worship God and to continue to tell his story. About 55 years ago, this sanctuary was built on this location and it continues to serve.

          But what or whom does it serve? Why does Rocky Creek Presbyterian Church still exist? Because it serves God. It is part of God’s mission to reveal and redeem his people. Rocky Creek is just one of hundreds of thousands of connections to that mission of God that goes back to creation itself.

          The other day I walked next door to the fellowship hall to see if I could do something useful with the folks decorating for Homecoming. I didn’t get to do much, but while I was there, I noticed a few pictures and a lot of cards on the piano. On each card was a name. Each name was that of a minister who had labored for God here at Rocky Creek. I didn’t count the names, but they numbered about fifteen or so. Fifteen men and women, each of whom have worked for this congregation over more than a century. Does your life intersect with others? All I have to do is look at that piano and I know the answer. My life intersects with Ray Howe and Ladd Brearly and each man and woman represented by name on that piano. Does your life intersect with others? Look around. You are generations deep here, and the most common denominator among you as you sit in this sanctuary is not bloodlines or geography, but mission. God’s mission has been the call that brought you here to this place, and it brought your ancestors here as well.

          Yes, your life intersects with others. I stand here today on the shoulders of all those who came before me in this place, and they did likewise when they stood here. You do as well. We all come from someone and somewhere and go toward somewhere else. It’s not about family, as least not in the sense that we normally come to think of it. Here, in this place, we are reminded of story, the story that tells us of the identity and presence of God in our lives, in our past, in our present, in our future. That is the family that intersects each of us with one another. We need no name but Christian to see the family resemblance.

          If you read on to the next chapter of Joshua, you will find Joshua’s farewell to his people. It is both a caution and a challenge.  To the end God’s man, Joshua tells his people to fear the Lord, to serve him in sincerity and faithfulness, to put away any other Gods. Then Joshua utters that famous line: “Choose this day whom you will serve…but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” Not long after, Joshua died. It is a fitting tribute to this great leader but humble man that it was said that Israel served the Lord all the days of Joshua and all the days of the elders who outlived him and had known all the work that the Lord did for Israel.

          In Joshua’s time, he served the Lord. He did it the best he could and his elders followed suit. It was a good time for God’s people. When we meet for Homecomings such as this, we are reminded that we too serve the Lord. This place is not just a watering hole for family reunions, though such events can serve the Lord very well. It’s not just a gathering place for the fraternity of Presbyterians, though that too can serve the Lord. It is, I think, a place for us to be refreshed, to be reminded that God is here and that God goes and comes with us to all the places and people of our lives; that it is His story that is the tie that binds us to one another over time and place.

          For a century and a half, Rocky Creek Presbyterian has existed in this area in some form or another. It has lasted that long because it served God. It will last much longer if it continues to do that. for it is not the mission of this church that excites us. It is, rather, the mission of God. We derive our mission as a congregation from that mission of our heavenly father. If we are informed by God’s Word, if we seek to validate that which we read in Scripture, then we will continue to be committed as God’s people. We are invited, indeed commanded, as surely as were God’s people by Joshua, to participate in God’s mission. We will continue to tell His Story. We will work for the redemption of not only our own souls, but for all of God’s creation.

          That’s a story worth telling the rest of our lives.

A Greater Task

James 3: 1, 2    Titus 2: 7, 8

 

 

          There’s an old country ballad written by Ed Bruce and made famous by Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson. It’s entitled “Mamas don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys.” It’s not a bad comment on cowboys. It just acknowledges their itch to be out on the open range. But it does remind us that cowboys are made of different stuff, that being a cowboy is not for everybody.

          James, the writer of the book by the same name and the half-brother of Jesus, had the same idea about teachers, but for different reasons. Writing to the Jewish Christians outside Jerusalem, James says that being a teacher is not for everybody either. He says that not many of us should become teachers. Shades of Willie Nelson.

          Let’s stop here and look at this You Tube clip. It’s about pastors, but it could just as easily be about teachers. As you watch it, think about the teachers in your life, the public school teachers and the volunteer teachers right here in this church, that never know when to quit or what time it is.

     (youtube.com: mamas don’t let your sons grow up to be pastors)

          It’s funny, but it’s true, too. And pastors are teachers. They’re just a specialized form of teacher. Jesus was a teacher. Remember that when Jesus was directly addressed in the New Testament, two of every three times he was called Teacher.

          So James says that not many of us should become teachers, because it’s tough and---because it carries a different standard of care. James tells us that teachers will be judged with greater strictness than the rest of us. Why is that? Because teachers have special influence. Because teachers have special responsibilities. To whom much is given, much will be expected. What are those responsibilities that are so special? According to Paul in 2 Timothy (2:15), they rightly divide the word of truth. Teachers “should not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting…with gentleness.”  William Barclay puts it this way:

“It was the teacher’s awe-inspiring responsibility that he could put the stamp of his [or her] own faith and knowledge on those who were entering the Church for the first time.” Barclay was talking about teachers in the early church, but I ask you, what has changed? If anything, that responsibility has only grown over the centuries.

         The apostle Paul had plenty to say about teaching. Many of his thoughts are contained in the Pastoral Epistles; the two letters to Timothy and one to Titus, both men his protégés. In the second chapter of Titus [2: 7, 8], Paul urges them to be models of good works, and in their teaching to “show integrity, dignity, and sound speech that cannot be condemned, so that an opponent may be put to shame, having nothing evil to say about us.” Paul gives Titus a tall order. In addition to dignity and integrity and sound speech, he must first be a model of good works. Paul is saying to Titus that which we can all appreciate. In order to be an effective teacher, in order for his or her students to hear the message, it must first arrive in the way the teacher lives life. Teaching occurs first, and maybe foremost, not by what we say, but by who we are.

          What do our Christian teachers really do? Of course, they point out scripture. Of course they teach Bible stories. Of course they pray with their students. They do all these things and more. But what they do most of all is not talking about Christ to their students; it is showing Christ to them.

          It’s my great joy to recognize all the teachers we have here, teaching every age from toddlers to seniors. They are to be commended, congratulated, applauded and supported. But this is a cautionary tale as well as a congratulation. The job is immense, the rewards are usually not visible for some time, and it is a greater task than should not be undertaken without the constant help and guidance of the Holy Spirit. To do it haphazardly is to suffer judgment from God.

          Why would anyone teach, considering the time it takes, the potential liability for failure? Why? Perhaps it is because we love. We love what has been done for us and we want to pass it on. The greatest teacher of all once went up on a mountain and sat down. His disciples followed him and Matthew tells us that he opened his mouth and taught them. That teaching is called the Beatitudes, and one of the things he said was this:

 

               You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill

               cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put

               it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to

               all in the house. In the same way, let your light so shine

               before others, so that they may see your good works

               and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.

 

          May it be God’s will for this gathering that each and every one of us, no matter what our position or station, shines our light, giving the glory of God to all who see that light. In that way, we can also teach. Let that be our greater task.