Firstborn

Colossians 1: 9-20

 

 

         My first name, my given name, is a little weird.  It sounds like a last name. So do my middle and last names, for that matter. They are all last names. That’s probably because I am a firstborn son. It didn’t help that I was born on my father’s birthday. I guess that sealed the deal. My father was also a firstborn son. He got all the family names and passed them down to me.  Firstborn. It’s still a pretty big deal today, but in ancient times, it was a very big deal. Such a big deal that the book of Genesis describes Esau’s twin Jacob as holding on to Esau’s foot in delivery, as if to pass him in the birth canal. Such a big deal that the same kid swindled Esau out of his birthright by bribing him with food. Today in western society at least, children, both male and female, tend to inherit equally. Not so in ancient Israel. The first born son got a double portion of dad’s estate. So being the firstborn was a big deal.

          Is Jesus a firstborn, a first born son? The Apostles Creed tells us that Jesus was conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary. The gospels of Matthew and Luke record a virgin birth; that is, birth of the child Jesus, to a virgin named Mary. The father was not her future husband Joseph, but none other than God the Holy Spirit.  But think about that. God the Holy Spirit is the father of God the Son? Really, Jesus has no father, as least not in the way we think of fatherhood and biology. So yes, Jesus is a firstborn, but only of Mary or, if you will, only as a human being. With God, Jesus is his only son, not his firstborn, for Jesus was with God in the beginning. Jesus, like the other members of the Trinity, never was not. This is what we believe.  This is decided theology.

          If we hearken back to the fourth century, we can hear the arguments of Arius, a great theologian who simply got it wrong when he posited that Jesus Christ was a created being. For that, he was ultimately called a heretic. The Nicene Creed was written to make clear that the position of the Church and, more importantly that of Scripture, is that Jesus is “before all things.” The apostle John writes that Jesus is the Word whom was there in the beginning. In the eighth chapter of John’s gospel Jesus answers the Jews about seeing their ancestor Abraham and he himself replies: “Truly, truly, I say to you, before Abraham was, I am.”  In the first chapter of Genesis, God addresses his creation and says “Let us make man in our image.” The point is this. Jesus is. He never was not. He is God’s only son, but he is begotten, not created or made. If you can’t get there from here, just chalk it up to the God-thing that it is. Come on, how hard can that be? If you can believe that God stands outside his creation, then to put Jesus there with him is a very small leap of faith.

          But Jesus is a firstborn. Paul says so twice in his letter to the Colossians. He says so twice in the space of three verses. First, says Paul, Jesus is the firstborn of all creation. Here. Paul is not talking about some physical attribute. Rather, he is talking about the preeminence of Christ. Paul says that it is by Jesus that all things were created. He is the agent of God! But that’s not all. Paul goes on to say that all things were created through Jesus and for Jesus. If creation were a book, Jesus, as the agent of God, would be the binding and the cover, the very container of that which was and is created. He is even the glue that holds it together.

          Jesus is also the firstborn of the dead. But wait, you say, other people died and were resurrected. Jesus himself raised Lazarus. This is true. But Jesus, Jesus the Son of God and Son of Man, was raised from the dead never to die again. In that very physical sense, he is the firstborn of the dead, born again to never die.

          So no, Jesus is not the firstborn but the only, Son of God. And yes, Jesus is the firstborn of all creation in his power and agency from God, and firstborn again in that he alone has conquered death for all time. It is up to us as believers of the gospel to call upon him as our agent to conquer death for us as well.

          Why is it so important at Christmas for us to talk about creation and death? Because we are talking about something so amazing, so phenomenal that the only way to describe it is to make it normal…and that’s a shame, because it is a country mile from normal! The story of Christmas is not about a short season of buying and gifting and “Christmas spirit.” The story of Christmas is the story of a radical invasion of God into our world! Yes, God came down, came down as one of us and stepped into the chaos and the mess and the hate and the injustice and the poverty. He came barefooted and bled with us. He came in that manger and he came…to claim that cross!

          We just heard Ashlee and Christina and Missy sing a beautiful song about the cross. The lyrics show how music can open us to God every bit as deeply as any message. Listen once more:

It’s not just about the manger

It’s not about the angels

It’s not about the shepherds

It’s not about the wisemen

 

It’s about the cross

It’s about the stone rolled away

 

It’s not about the presents

It’s not about coming home

It’s not about the beauty of the snow

 

It’s about the cross

It’s about my sin

It’s about how Jesus came to be born once

So that we could be born again

 

It’s about the cross

 

          I ran across this quotation from Winston Churchill from December, 1941. Churchill was in Washington and it wasn’t long after the attack on Pearl Harbor that he uttered these words as part of a speech. Spoken a full 75 years ago, they continue to resonate today. Listen.

          This is a strange Christmas Eve.  Almost the whole world is locked in deadly struggle, and, with the most terrible weapons which science can devise, the nations advance upon each other.  Ill would it be for us this Christmastide if we were not sure that no greed for the land or wealth of any other people, no vulgar ambition, no morbid lust for material gain at the expense of others, had led us to the field.  Here, in the midst of war, raging and roaring over all the lands and seas, creeping nearer to our hearts and homes, here, amid all the tumult, we have tonight the peace of the spirit in each cottage home and in every generous heart.  Therefore we may cast aside for this night at least the cares and dangers which beset us, and make for the children an evening of happiness in a world of storm.  Here, then, for one night only, each home throughout the English-speaking world should be a brightly-lighted island of happiness and peace.

          Let the children have their night of fun and laughter.  Let the gifts of Father Christmas delight their play.  Let us grown-ups share to the full in their unstinted pleasures before we turn again to the stern task and the formidable years that lie before us, resolved that, by our sacrifice and daring, these same children shall not be robbed of their inheritance or denied their right to live in a free and decent world.

 

          This whole month, we have touched on the themes of Advent: hope and joy and love and peace. We have talked about darkness turning to light, about waiting for the Lord, about expectation. Christmas, Christ day, is all those things. But it is also an arrow that points oh so directly at the reason Jesus came to dwell among us. It was man who designed the cross, but it was Jesus who was fitted for it. It was his instrument of peace. Through his blood, our peace was bought. Even on this day, even amidst all the happiness and joy of the Incarnation of God on earth, there is the cross. It is what he was born for. Today, while we hug and kiss and rock and relax, help us to remember that he was, and is, alive and vigilant. We are his children. His love will bring us home.

          Merry Christmas!

Wait for the Lord

Psalm 27

 

 

          I watched a good portion of the Army-Navy game yesterday. It’s sort of a tradition in our house. My father and all his cousins were Army. My uncle was Navy. He was the only one until I came along. After me were both my brother and my son. My sister went rogue and joined the Air Force. Now I have a daughter who married a Coastie. The point is, we have to watch. Our families, mine and Cindy’s, are generations thick in military service. Now that’s of no particular importance. It’s just my way of introducing this: It never fails when I watch that game that I realize that every player, every single player, and every student in gray or blue in the stands, has already committed to put his or her life on the line for duty, honor and country. They are barely out of their teens and their immediate futures are etched in those long gray lines of soldiers.

          Why, you might ask, do you make such a point here and now, Preacher? Why would you bring up soldiering so close to the celebration of our Savior’s birthday? What’s the connection? It’s a fair question. Listen to the words of the Psalmist in Psalm 27:

                          2 When evil doers assail me

                             to eat up my flesh,

                             my adversaries and foes,

                             it is they who stumble and fall.

 

                         3 Though an army encamp against me,

                            my heart shall not fear;

                            though war arise against me,

                            yet I will be confident.

 

          There is more connection to soldiering and the Incarnation than one might think at first impression. As surely as those cadets and middies do battle on the football field, they will very soon become brothers and sisters in arms, defending the ideals they have sworn to protect.  In much the same way, our Savior arrived as an innocent baby, but was sent from the beginning to be the most important soldier in the history of the world.

          Psalm 27 is a beautiful psalm. The beginning verses are full of confidence. It is often used at both Christmas time and at funerals because its words lift us up and give us hope. Peter Craigie has characterized it as a “Royal Ritual” because of its references to courage and confidence and its linkage to power. Listen to the royal attributes for the Lord used in its opening lines: “The Lord is my light and my salvation.” That statement cannot be found anywhere else in the Old Testament. It hearkens ahead to the apostle John’s many references to light in his gospel and letters. But here in this psalm, the idea of light and salvation is used for the first time. Light was equated to God in so many ways, from the illumination of physical darkness (Remember us talking about coming out of the darkness in Isaiah 9) to the illumination of the spirit and soul, to the sanctuary of God himself. The Psalmist’s words are “The Lord is my stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”

          And yet, our Psalmist, most probably king David, in the middle of this psalm, cries out to God for grace, for an answer, for an acknowledgement. The confidence that God inspires has not penetrated the heart of the psalmist, and he appeals to God: Don’t hide your face from me. Don’t turn away in anger. Please don’t forsake me. The psalmist feels distant from the God he needs and loves. He becomes painfully aware of his own shortcomings. Even his own parents have deserted him. He feels alone. He prays for God to take him in.

          During the Christmas season, we reach out to do more for others. We sing more songs, buy gifts for each other, attend more social functions. Christians salute each other with Merry Christmas. Politically correct retailers, more worried about offending than commending, say Happy Holidays. Whatever the greeting, the thought is that we must be more kind. It is the season of giving. We consume food and gadgets and toys as if there may be no tomorrow. We must hurry so we will have time for fun, time for reflection.

          How’s that working for you? If you say not so good, you are not alone. We are a nation bent on having fun and meaningful events, even if it kills us! And yet, even in the midst of all the fuss and bustle, sometimes the fate of many of us is to feel more alone than ever before. Look at Psalm 27. David seems to have the same problem. “Cast me not off, forsake me not,” says David.  David sounds a little like us. He believes. He gives credit. He tries to rest in the shadow of the Lord. But…he just can’t quite be still. People are chasing him, lying about him, wanting to take his place. And he is worried. Sounds like someone I know.

          Do you have an answer for your doubt or your impatience? Do you have a method or a plan? Is there something in this Christmas season that should and can be different? If you really trust in God already, then you don’t need an answer. You already know what the rest of us are looking for. But if you could use a boost, a word to the wise, David might have the answer for you. Here in this psalm, David asks one thing. He actually uses those words. What’s that one thing? “…that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to inquire, or seek, in his temple.” Watch now. David is not talking about heaven or life after his time on earth. He’s talking about now. He asks to dwell in God’s house now…all the days of his life. Life doesn’t begin in heaven. It starts right where you are. It’s not all roses down here, but if, like David, you are seeking the beauty of the Lord, it has a lot more to offer than what you may have been experiencing. David says “I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” I think he means the here and now.

          This is the third Sunday of Advent. The theme is joy. Last week we celebrated the theme of hope. Remember that in the biblical application of hope, it means expectancy. It is not concerned with some possibility, but rather with looking forward with confidence to an event or time which will come to pass. As we march ever so much closer to the anniversary of the birth of our Savior, we can look back to the Psalmist and realize that as people of faith, we share our hope and our joy expectantly. We have been promised. Christmas is the realization of one leg of that promise. The Savior came to earth. God came to earth. He came as a baby, a human. We call it the Incarnation, the coming of God in human form.

          And while we celebrate the love and hope and joy that Advent embodies, we should pause to remember what the Incarnation meant and means. It is the coming of the Lord.  He became man and dwelt among us, says John in his gospel. He came as a baby, but he came for a task. That task was as a soldier of the cross and a builder of bridges, the bridges of man with God. That is the story of Easter and for now, that is in the distant future. Today we can do as David did in Psalm 27. We too can wait for the Lord. We too can be strong and let our hearts take courage.

          Wait for the Lord. He is coming. Can you feel his presence yet? The prophets told God’s people over and over to wait for the Lord. They promised he would come. Isaiah announced the birth of that baby hundreds of years before he came.  And here we are in Advent, waiting on him again, not to come as he did in the manger, but to come again, at the end of the age.

           But Christmas also teaches us to wait actively. We need not wait in anticipation only, but in participation as well. Let him be the stronghold of your life. As surely as David called God our light and our salvation, he also found himself put upon by the ways of the world in which he lived. He found himself losing his confidence to deal with the things that life threw him. But then David reached out. He reached out in real time for a God whose presence could be felt right here, right now.  And in his wisdom, he advocated for himself and us a path that keeps us in the game. Wait upon the Lord, but wait with faith and hope and joy. Let your heart take courage. He is here. Just open your heart to make room.

A Birth Announcement

Isaiah 8: 17, 22-9: 7

 

 

          Birth announcements are precious. They say things like: Our littlest love, welcome, introducing. They detail the date and length and birth weight of the newest arrival to the family. They show pictures of the newborn adorned in the prettiest white clothing. It’s a big deal. Of course the baby’s name is included. The announcements are sent to friends and family members. Now with the internet and Facebook, they can reach far and wide. Why do we do such things? Why do we go to so much trouble? Because there is new life and that life is part of us, part of who we are. In some ways, that new life is the best part of who we are. We want everyone to know of our good news.

          The gospels of Matthew and Luke present birth narratives of Jesus. They are more than just announcements. They describe some of the details of the Incarnation, the coming of God to earth as a human. Then, there is the gospel of John, which tells us that Jesus was there from the beginning of creation, but became flesh and dwelt among us. The Luke narrative has been memorized by children for time immemorial: “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night.” And so it goes. But long before that night—eight centuries before it—there was a birth announcement. We find it in the book of Isaiah in the ninth chapter.

          Isaiah is one of the major prophets of the Old Testament. He prophesied to the Southern Kingdom of Judah through four different kings. He caught the tail end of Uzziah’s reign, then Jotham, Ahaz and Hezekiah. Ahaz was the disaster of the three. His son Hezekiah got the dubious assignment of cleaning up his father’s mess. The prophecies in the book of Isaiah have often been asserted to be predictions of the hope that Hezekiah’s reign would prove restorative. But one cannot read this passage without feeling the depth and breadth of a prophecy that seems to span centuries, looking beyond immediate relief and earthly rule to something bigger and stronger---to something set apart.

          The historical setting is this. The kingdom of Judah has escaped the clutches of powerful Syria, but to do so, they have made a pact with Assyria. It turned out to be an unholy alliance. Their ally becomes their oppressor and the kingdom is, in the words of Isaiah, turned into darkness. Our study opens with Isaiah promising to wait for the Lord. But his promise is laced with a foreboding of despair for his people as they have fallen under the shadow of Assyria. What follows is in stark contrast to that image of darkness.

          Isaiah points to a future, but he does so in a very specific way.  Theologian John Oswalt tells us that though all of the events about to be predicted are in the future from the prophet’s point of view, the verbs are all in the perfect tense.  Isaiah has been given divine insight. It is from that view that, though he speaks in the uncertainty of his own times, he still can see into the future and describe its events as though they are completed actions. That’s what we do when we use the perfect tense. He can see what will happen and talk about it as done. This is not guessing. This is knowledge.

          In the first verse of the ninth chapter, Isaiah takes us far into the future. He speaks of a day to come with no gloom, no darkness, a day when the land of Israel will again flourish. And then Isaiah goes to a place where only divine knowledge can take him. He says that in the latter time, that is, the future, God has made (see that future perfect tense working?) “glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, the Galilee of the nations.” Isaiah is calling attention to Galilee, the region where Jesus began his ministry on earth some eight hundred years later. And Isaiah refers to the nations, not just Israel or Judah. In other words, the time will come when God’s glory will be seen anew, and it will begin in Galilee, and it will come to the nations, to the Gentiles. Isaiah has just completely re-written the definition of God’s people. In the New Testament, Paul echoes that thought in his letter to the Galatians (6: 15, 16), where he calls Christians a new creation and refers to them as the Israel of God.

          Isaiah now calls us to see this great light which illuminates the nations. No longer shall we labor in a land of darkness. It will be a time for joy. Listen to verse 4: “For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult and every garment rolled in blood will be burned as fuel for the fire.” No more warriors. No more war. He whose birth is promised will break the yoke that binds, whether it is the yoke of oppression or the yoke of sin. Freedom is promised to both physical and spiritual oppression. And it all comes from God, the author of this joy. Listen to the prophet: he [God] has made glorious…you [God] have multiplied…you [God] have broken the yoke… These are not the works of man, but of God.

          The words of verse six are magnificent, no matter what the translation:

For unto us a child is born,

Unto us a son is given;

And the government shall be upon his shoulder,

And his name shall be called

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

 

          Here is the great birth announcement of history. Government will change. The world will change. And it will all start with the birth of a child, a son. Yes, his lineage will come from the stump of Jesse, King David, just as Isaiah predicts elsewhere, but the lineage of this child, this son, will be deeper than any other. He will trace his roots to the Trinity of God, Son and Holy Spirit. Look at the titles bestowed upon this royal son: Wonderful Counselor-all wise in his plans and purposes. Mighty God-an undefeatable warrior. Everlasting Father-the unbroken cord of kinship and family through which he identifies with and cares for his people. Prince of Peace-this is the promise of a harmonious existence, much more than simply a lack of war. And yet, in all these titles, there is the conspicuous absence of the title of king. This son will be much more than an earthly monarch. King, no; Royalty, beyond measure!

          As beautiful as it is, this birth announcement, why would God, the God of creation, of the universe, choose to arrive as human on earth, much less a helpless baby? Here is one of those God moments from which we can begin to see our Creator.  The gospels, indeed all the New Testament and the Reformed Confessions and Creeds, make it clear that Jesus was both divine and human, fully God, fully man. What could be more human than the Incarnation, the arrival of God on earth as a baby born to mankind? But there is more. If God is the God of peace, who comes to bring peace, will he come as a warrior to secure that peace? Hardly! He would come as he did, as the birth announcement of Isaiah proclaims. John Oswalt says it beautifully: “God is strong enough to overcome his enemies by becoming vulnerable, transparent, and humble---the only hope, in fact, for turning enmity into friendship.”

          What a birth announcement! It’s a little different than those we see today. No height or weight. The given name is withheld, but four titles take its place. It is full of promise. Even more, it is full of promises. But, you might say, Isaiah couldn’t know this. I think you’re right. He didn’t know. But God knew. In verse 7, Isaiah includes this in the birth announcement: “Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end.” Does that sound like an earthly king to you? No term limits. No termination. Just increase followed by increase.

                                  For unto us a child is born,

Unto us a son is given…

The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

 

If there was ever a birth announcement that deserved a positive response to its RSVP, this is the one!                                       

 

The Remnant, Shepherds, and the Righteous Branch

Jeremiah 23: 1-6

 

 

          It’s Christ the King Sunday. As holy days go, this one is pretty new. Pope Pious XI instituted it in 1925. At the time, secularism was on the rise throughout Europe. The Pope hoped that the celebration would help to remind people of the primacy of Jesus; that the authority and existence of Jesus is preeminent in our lives.  Sadly, the experiment, while a noble idea, didn’t seem to take. Less than a hundred years later, here’s a sampling of church attendance recorded in 2007: Great Britain: 27 percent, France: 21 percent, Sweden: 4 percent. America is some better at 44 percent, but realize what that says: over half of America stays home every Sunday.

          Now this is not the same as belief in God, but it is a formidable warning that the Church as we have identified it over most of the 20^th  and now 21^st Century, is in the midst of reformation at its best, and a slow but accelerating death at worst. That’s not very good news. But it should come as no surprise. The concepts of God and Jesus still have great penetration into the psyche of the 21^st century, but the Church? Well, that’s a different story.

          In the sixth century while Zedekiah was on the throne of Judah, the prophet Jeremiah spoke to the people of God. Zedekiah wasn’t such a bad guy, but during his eleven year reign he was pretty much of a puppet. In other words, the fortunes of Judah continued to spiral downward. Under his not very impressive reign, the Southern Kingdom fell to the Babylonians. In today’s passage, Jeremiah speaks to the issues of poor and corrupt leadership, to the judgment that will befall such leaders, to the remnant who are faithful, and to the restoration of righteousness through responsible leadership. If you close your eyes and listen to the Scripture without any knowledge of when it was written, you just might find a lot of relevance for where we are today.

         In the previous two chapters, God has spoken of judgment, and it is a harsh judgment indeed. But here in chapter 23, God says through Jeremiah: Woe to the leaders who destroy and scatter my people. I will deal with you. You can count on that. Then I’m bringing back those who stayed faithful. They are everywhere, but I know who they are, and I’m bringing them back. None will go missing. And when I do, I will set righteous leaders over them. They won’t have to fear any more. The days are coming, says God, when I will raise up someone, a righteous Branch of the family tree. That leader can be trusted, and my people will be saved.

          In America, many people think that a secular leader elected by the people will be our righteous leader and make us safe. Would that it were so easy! We could just elect someone and wait to be saved. It didn’t work for the people of Israel and Judah and it won’t work for us either. We, like Northern Europe, are a people educated in religion, rich in church assets from buildings to bank accounts. But that has not stopped the downward spiral of the church. The church may be the bride of Christ, but it is his people to whom he has delegated the responsibility to nurture it. Sadly, in too many instances, we Christians tend to find other interests. It has caused God himself to scatter us. And in those days as in these, leaders with the wrong agenda have aided in the bankruptcy of our morality and divided our loyalties. While it is our rebellion and rejection that exiles us, it is corrupt leaders who bring curses upon us and take us deeper into the pit of disobedience.

          Why did God promise to attend to the shepherds of the day? Because they did evil deeds. Because they were selfish and looked after themselves, ignoring what was good for the people, what was commanded by God. By the way, shepherd, as the Hebrew term was used in Scripture, commonly referred to the ruler or rulers of the time. Since the plural form is used here, it probably referred to those in positions of leadership and not just the king. And God said woe to them. Woe would have meant judgment. God is going to deal with the bad shepherds.

          But God is far from done. Not only does he promise to deal with the bad shepherds; he promises to bring his people good shepherds. He promises shepherds, leaders, who are accountable, who make us safe, who leave none of us uncounted or missing.

          The second part of this passage deals with a remnant. Not all are going to be spared. But those who have been faithful, no matter where they are, will be brought home safe to live in a way that leaves no fear. They will be the flock of the good shepherd, and they will be fruitful and multiply, the same words promised by God at the creation.

          Last, God promises a righteous Branch. His words have been interpreted as Messianic, even eschatological. The righteous Branch is a leader like no other, dealing wisely, executing justice and righteousness.  The word branch reminds us of Isaiah’s “shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots” found in Isaiah 11. Is this the same idea? Is it an earthly ruler? Is it the Messiah? Is it both? The name given by God to that leader: “The Lord is our righteousness” has connotations of not just righteousness, but also of salvation or deliverance.

          In verse 7, Jeremiah says “the days are coming.” While we have no way of knowing when from this generalization, we do know that Jeremiah is calling our attention to a solemn proclamation. God is in charge. He sees what is happening. He is taking names and he will not only hold us accountable; he will also bring judgment on those of us who lead badly and falsely. We will be delivered if we believe and obey, and we will live in harmony again.

          The thing is, we, the people. What are we doing? We, the people. We are the people of God. What are we acting like? Who are we trusting? What leaders are we raising up? Are we the 44 percent who attend the church or the 56 percent who stay home? And if we come, do we worship or whine? We, the people. Are we the remnant to whom God promises salvation? If we are, we need to show that by the way we act, by the way we trust. It is as relevant today as it was when the people of Jeremiah’s time were threatened.

          We are promised what God will do. The question is: What will we do?

The Remnant, Shepherds, and the Righteous Branch

Jeremiah 23: 1-6

 

 

          It’s Christ the King Sunday. As holy days go, this one is pretty new. Pope Pious XI instituted it in 1925. At the time, secularism was on the rise throughout Europe. The Pope hoped that the celebration would help to remind people of the primacy of Jesus; that the authority and existence of Jesus is preeminent in our lives.  Sadly, the experiment, while a noble idea, didn’t seem to take. Less than a hundred years later, here’s a sampling of church attendance recorded in 2007: Great Britain: 27 percent, France: 21 percent, Sweden: 4 percent. America is some better at 44 percent, but realize what that says: over half of America stays home every Sunday.

          Now this is not the same as belief in God, but it is a formidable warning that the Church as we have identified it over most of the 20^th  and now 21^st Century, is in the midst of reformation at its best, and a slow but accelerating death at worst. That’s not very good news. But it should come as no surprise. The concepts of God and Jesus still have great penetration into the psyche of the 21^st century, but the Church? Well, that’s a different story.

          In the sixth century while Zedekiah was on the throne of Judah, the prophet Jeremiah spoke to the people of God. Zedekiah wasn’t such a bad guy, but during his eleven year reign he was pretty much of a puppet. In other words, the fortunes of Judah continued to spiral downward. Under his not very impressive reign, the Southern Kingdom fell to the Babylonians. In today’s passage, Jeremiah speaks to the issues of poor and corrupt leadership, to the judgment that will befall such leaders, to the remnant who are faithful, and to the restoration of righteousness through responsible leadership. If you close your eyes and listen to the Scripture without any knowledge of when it was written, you just might find a lot of relevance for where we are today.

         In the previous two chapters, God has spoken of judgment, and it is a harsh judgment indeed. But here in chapter 23, God says through Jeremiah: Woe to the leaders who destroy and scatter my people. I will deal with you. You can count on that. Then I’m bringing back those who stayed faithful. They are everywhere, but I know who they are, and I’m bringing them back. None will go missing. And when I do, I will set righteous leaders over them. They won’t have to fear any more. The days are coming, says God, when I will raise up someone, a righteous Branch of the family tree. That leader can be trusted, and my people will be saved.

          In America, many people think that a secular leader elected by the people will be our righteous leader and make us safe. Would that it were so easy! We could just elect someone and wait to be saved. It didn’t work for the people of Israel and Judah and it won’t work for us either. We, like Northern Europe, are a people educated in religion, rich in church assets from buildings to bank accounts. But that has not stopped the downward spiral of the church. The church may be the bride of Christ, but it is his people to whom he has delegated the responsibility to nurture it. Sadly, in too many instances, we Christians tend to find other interests. It has caused God himself to scatter us. And in those days as in these, leaders with the wrong agenda have aided in the bankruptcy of our morality and divided our loyalties. While it is our rebellion and rejection that exiles us, it is corrupt leaders who bring curses upon us and take us deeper into the pit of disobedience.

          Why did God promise to attend to the shepherds of the day? Because they did evil deeds. Because they were selfish and looked after themselves, ignoring what was good for the people, what was commanded by God. By the way, shepherd, as the Hebrew term was used in Scripture, commonly referred to the ruler or rulers of the time. Since the plural form is used here, it probably referred to those in positions of leadership and not just the king. And God said woe to them. Woe would have meant judgment. God is going to deal with the bad shepherds.

          But God is far from done. Not only does he promise to deal with the bad shepherds; he promises to bring his people good shepherds. He promises shepherds, leaders, who are accountable, who make us safe, who leave none of us uncounted or missing.

          The second part of this passage deals with a remnant. Not all are going to be spared. But those who have been faithful, no matter where they are, will be brought home safe to live in a way that leaves no fear. They will be the flock of the good shepherd, and they will be fruitful and multiply, the same words promised by God at the creation.

          Last, God promises a righteous Branch. His words have been interpreted as Messianic, even eschatological. The righteous Branch is a leader like no other, dealing wisely, executing justice and righteousness.  The word branch reminds us of Isaiah’s “shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots” found in Isaiah 11. Is this the same idea? Is it an earthly ruler? Is it the Messiah? Is it both? The name given by God to that leader: “The Lord is our righteousness” has connotations of not just righteousness, but also of salvation or deliverance.

          In verse 7, Jeremiah says “the days are coming.” While we have no way of knowing when from this generalization, we do know that Jeremiah is calling our attention to a solemn proclamation. God is in charge. He sees what is happening. He is taking names and he will not only hold us accountable; he will also bring judgment on those of us who lead badly and falsely. We will be delivered if we believe and obey, and we will live in harmony again.

          The thing is, we, the people. What are we doing? We, the people. We are the people of God. What are we acting like? Who are we trusting? What leaders are we raising up? Are we the 44 percent who attend the church or the 56 percent who stay home? And if we come, do we worship or whine? We, the people. Are we the remnant to whom God promises salvation? If we are, we need to show that by the way we act, by the way we trust. It is as relevant today as it was when the people of Jeremiah’s time were threatened.

          We are promised what God will do. The question is: What will we do?

Offspring of the Blessed

Isaiah 65: 17-25, 66: 1, 2

 

          Sometimes when I read Isaiah, it’s like watching the movie Back to the Future. Or maybe it’s Forward to the Past. Isaiah is thought to have lived and prophesied in the eighth century BC. This would date him around the time that the Assyrians conquered the Northern Kingdom of Israel. But Isaiah also seems to write about the Babylonians, who came over 130 years later. He also talked in Messianic terms, enough that we often quote him as predicting the coming of Jesus, which was over seven hundred years in the distance. So Isaiah covers a lot of ground. He is one, two or even three writers, depending on which commentator you are reading. It’s Back to the Future on turbo. Today’s passage is a prime example. It seems to talk about the present, the future and even the distant future.

          Isaiah is a big book, sixty six chapters, the same number, coincidentally, as the number of books in the Bible. It might help to get an overview of it before we discuss the passage for today.  Isaiah starts out talking about God’s judgment to a people who refuse to get their act together. In the sixth chapter, God seems to be saying that while hope can’t protect us from judgment, neither is judgment the final word. At least that appears to be the case for the elect, those who hear and respond to the call of God. That gives us hope. The next section of Isaiah (7-39) calls for God’s people to put their trust in their Creator rather than in the nations and the powers of the world. Beginning with chapter 40, God’s people are re-introduced to the concept of God’s unearnable grace, and chapter 49 ushers in the Suffering Servant passages which prophesy the sin offering that will come from God. We see those chapters as the foreshadowing of the coming of the Messiah. Chapter 56 begins a section in which God is seen as the powerful God who brings about change and produces righteousness in that remnant of his people who believe. That remnant speaks for God in a mighty witness to the nations who are on the outside looking in.

          So in this book, we have the promised judgment of God, tempered by the hope for those who are called, an admonishment to trust God and not the world, a re-introduction to God’s grace, a prediction of the Messianic Age, and God as the change agent to produce righteousness. It is in this last section that today’s passage appears.  It is a passage that begins and ends with hope. Even in the midst of judgment, we see the grace of God and the promise of salvation as an overarching theme.

          In this passage, God is once again Creator. He creates new heavens and a new earth. He creates a state of mind that rejoices. He creates Jerusalem as a joy and her people as a gladness. Here we see our Creator God doing so again; that is, creating again. The God of Genesis, of all that is and ever was, is re-creating, making better that which has become tarnished, making beautiful that which has become dull. It is as though he has taken out the family silver service and polished it all new. It shines and is ready for service once more.

          We are re-introduced here to a premise that prevails throughout the Bible—that we can’t get there from here. That is, we can’t get to heaven on our own devices. We need divine enabling. John Oswalt puts in this way: “How will humans ever be able to live the righteousness of God, to be the evidence to the nations that he alone is God? Only in one way: if God himself intervenes and exercises his creative power to remake us and our world.” We hear this over and over. For instance, in Romans, Paul reminds us that all have sinned and fallen short of God’s glory (3:23). Wecan’t do it on our own.

          I think about the upheaval in the American political process that we have just witnessed. The American people spoke rather clearly recently. What I heard us saying most loudly was that we are fed up with a government that argues rather than functions. We are fed up with their pontificating and blaming. We want leadership that considers us, that honors all instead of the privileged few. We are looking for if not a new creation, then at least a re-engineered creation. Doesn’t that remind you of what God is saying here in Isaiah. He creates new heavens and a new earth.

          But look at what else God says. He doesn’t throw out the baby with the bathwater. He takes what is good and re-tools it. He takes a righteous remnant and re-crafts it to be splendid and beautiful again. He promises fullness of life.  No more shall babies be taken prematurely by a world full of broken people where sin prevails, where men and women lead lives of quiet desperation. God means for his people to lead long lives, humble and contrite in spirit.No more laboring in vain or bringing children into a world which functions poorly. For those who are called, that is, those who believe, who trust, they will be answered before they can even call. They and their descendants will be the offspring of the blessed of the Lord (v.23).

          There are several ways to read this passage. A new heaven and earth are promised elsewhere in Scripture. The book of Revelation speaks of a new heaven and a new earth. It speaks of a New Jerusalem at the close of the age, where God reigns and sin is no more. This is the New Jerusalem of the end times. 2 Peter talks about a new heaven and a new earth in which righteousness dwells. Whenever we read about the Day of the Lord, we cannot ignore judgment. Destruction of the wicked, of sin, is part of that final judgment. But to see that and nothing more is to miss the blessing that is the ultimate glory of God, for he has promised us something new and bright and beautiful and perfect.

          So when I read this passage, I can’t help but see Isaiah reminding us of God’s promises—promises of something new and wonderful, and not just in the end times. Isaiah talks about things of the future, but there is enough in his references to make it clear that he is thinking on more than one level. And one of those levels is the here and now, the immediate future. We are not relegated only to wait for a distant day. We are also called to transform our present.

          We Americans are struggling right now to redefine who we are. We are an inclusive people, but we have fears of what that may bring. American means something more than geography It means a way of life, a path to freedom, a recognition of individual rights and an acknowledgment of fundamental fairness. Today, we are here to worship God and to celebrate a truly American tradition of Thanksgiving. The whole idea of the holiday stems from people determined to start anew and to make something beautiful in a new land.

          So this Thanksgiving, we are on the horns looking at how we elect our leaders, even how we govern ourselves. We may be at the threshold of something new. In the days of Isaiah, the prophet predicted a time when the geography of our world was to be a joy, a New Jerusalem. He prophesied a time when the people of our world would be a gladness.  We take hope, as did the prophet, in God’s promise that he is still creating, still calling. Why not take this wonderful creation he gave us—and transform it into something new? That’s what God intends for us. He has given us his word to guide us. May we continue to tremble at it as we build our lives around it. We have already been commissioned. It’s time to get back to work—for God.

Sojourning

Exodus 2: 21-22,     Hebrews 11: 8-16

 

          You know, the Bible is loaded with sojourners. Sojourners are people who are only staying temporarily. They consider their home to be another place. Noah was a big time sojourner. He was never really home even in his home country. One day, he sailed away in an ark and landed in a new world where he was asked to repopulate it with his extended family. Abraham was a major league sojourner. God asked him to pick up everything and start going. He didn’t even know his destination when he left. I suppose my daughter Emily is a kind of sojourner. She has spent almost a decade in Africa, but in at least three different countries. Now she’s been gone so long, she’s a sojourner even when she comes back home. I guess she’s a long term temporary.

          In the second chapter of the book of Exodus, we find Moses has killed an Egyptian and has fled from Egypt for his safety. He travels to the land of Midian. It’s not clear how far away that was from Egypt, but it was far away enough to be safe. There, Moses befriends Jethro, the priest of Midian. The scripture says that Moses was content to dwell there and that Jethro gave Moses his daughter Zipporah to Moses in marriage. They had a son and named him Gershom, which means “stranger there.” Moses said he gave his son that name because “I have been a sojourner in a foreign land.” Though Moses stayed in Midian for fifty years before he returned to Egypt, one gets the feeling that Midian was still to Moses a foreign land.

          The book of Hebrews also talks about sojourning. We know chapter 11 as the great hall of faith, where the pastor writer offers a list of notable faith warriors down through the ages. But the writer is about much more here than giving us a hall of heroes. He wants us to understand about faith…and perseverance in that faith. I say pastor because that’s the way I have come to see the book of Hebrews. It speaks to me as if I am listening to a carefully and caringly crafted sermon, although much longer than the ones you hear from me. We don’t really know who wrote it. Paul or Barnabas have often been given credit, but the writing style differs from that of Paul enough to cause substantial doubt about that authorship. So we don’t know.  I will call him the pastor.

          The pastor talks about Abraham’s call to a place. It is the place where he was to receive his inheritance. By using the word place, the writer seems to be pointing us not to a physical address, but more to an eternal dwelling place. We know he went to the land of Canaan; the place the pastor calls the land of promise. But notice how he lived. The pastor tells us that Abraham lived as in a foreign land, in tents. Now many of you folks are people of the land. Even if you don’t farm anymore, you live on family land here in the eastern Sandhills of South Carolina. The land has been your sustenance for generations. Even now, as brothers and sisters die, you make efforts to buy their share of the land to preserve that inheritance. The land has been and remains part of your identity, so much so that many of you commute for long distance to jobs in more populated areas, yet choose not to move closer to your work.

          Compare your feelings for your family land to that of Abraham. You build houses and barns. Abraham raised his family on the move. You put down roots. Abraham put down tent stakes. Even though he was called, and called to a place, Hebrews says that he and his son Isaac and then his grandson Jacob, lived as in a foreign land. Why? The writer of Hebrews gives us the answer. He says that they were looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God [v.10].

          In verse 13, the pastor talks about these generations of God’s people dying, not having received the things promised. And yet they had received God’s promise, hadn’t they? Abraham was promised land, and he went to and settled in a new land, a land rich with blessings for him and his family. Abraham was promised seed, and certainly he was blessed with that, as Jacob gave his grandfather twelve sons.  And yet, Hebrews says that the promise was not received. The writer of Hebrews is pointing out to us that the promise, the real promise of God, is not land, but rather that heavenly city whose designer and builder is God. He was talking about something that you can’t see or touch, but that is more real than all the dirt in the Carolina Sandhills.

          This is why the pastor of Hebrews refers to these faithful as sojourners. He says that they acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. They had seen the promise, but only from afar. Now if the inheritance were as simple as the land, then these people would either have gone back home or they would have made their new land their home. But that is not the promise to which God refers. God calls us to that which lives in our hearts, a place where all longing is forever satisfied. The writer of Hebrews put it this way in verse 16: “But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one.  Therefor God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.”  

          There is a price to pay for this kind of faith. We are never going to be completely at home where we live on this earth. We who call on God as our Lord and Savior live our lives with a different point of reference.  Theologian Gareth Cockerill says it this way: “By deciding to journey toward the eternal ‘City’ in answer to God’s call, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob chose to be strangers and aliens in the unbelieving society of this world.” The end result for the Christian is that he or she is going to be accorded a sort of “alien” status right in the middle of what we call home. Should we really be surprised? Jesus himself was run out of his home town, saying that “no prophet is acceptable in his home town.” If we are going to seek residence in that eternal city, our pilgrimage must start here and now, and it will be met in some quarters with hostility; in others, downright contempt.

         It seems to me that what all these passages are pointing to is that while we all come to know that life is a journey, what we have to figure out is the path for that journey. There is a vast difference between pilgrims and wanderers. We have all met wanderers. They are interesting people. They often have been many places and seen many things. But usually, their stories have a common thread. They are aimless in their wanderings and have no more reason to go to the next place than to stay at the one where they are.

          Pilgrims are a different sort of folk. Their journey has purpose. They are seeking something which will bind the threads of their life together in purpose. Noah and Abraham and Moses and all of our biblical sojourners are an example not of wanderers, but of pilgrims. We are reminded at the beginning of this Thanksgiving season that our American heritage points to the pilgrims of the Mayflower. They left their homes with a purpose. They sought a new land to practice that in which they believed. Invariably, pilgrims are going to find themselves sojourning in a place for a time on the way to their real destination. Such is the way of the Christian.         

          Growing up, my sister and brother and I used to play the board game Monopoly on rainy days. I remember that on one corner of the board, there is a square that is the jail. The whole center of that corner is a jail cell with a guy behind bars. If you drew a “Go to Jail” card, then that’s where you went for a while. But if you just landed on the square, there were edges, margins, all around it, that said “Just Visiting.” That was fine. If you were “just visiting,” you could move on without being held back. Just visiting on that Monopoly board is sort of like what I’m trying to describe here about life as a Christian.

          We are in a very real sense, sojourners in a foreign land, the land of the already but not yet. Jesus has come. We know the gospel.  We can see the way to salvation. This is the province of the already. But he sits at the right hand of God, not yet ready to close the age, not yet willing to end his loving pursuit of each and every one of us. This is the land of the not yet.  So we press on toward the mark of that upward call. And in the meantime, we persevere. We do not build our permanent homes in this world. We are sojourners, living for that heavenly city he promised.