Extending the Vision

Hebrews 11: 29-40

 

 

          A thousand years ago, no one lived in the Hawaiian Islands. They are believed to have been discovered and populated by natives of Marquesas Island, about 2500 miles away. Today, it takes about thirty days to sail from Marquesas Island to Hawaii using modern equipment. Can you imagine what it must have been like a thousand years ago?

          There is a bird called the Golden Plover, which migrated north out over open water every year. The islanders watched it and became curious. They tried to follow the bird migration, but couldn’t keep up in their carved wooden boats. They did try to keep track, and every year, they would start from their end point of the previous year and try to go farther. They kept going on that journey a little farther each year until they finally discovered Hawaii. It took them 400 years to find the Hawaiian Islands, but they never gave up.

          It’s hard to imagine the kind of determination and perseverance it took to stay with that goal. Many generations pursued it, and got farther into the Pacific, but never lived to see how it turned out. Imagine how many lives were probably lost on those open seas, how many tears were shed in that quest of faith for an unknown destination. They had no guarantee; just an idea based on the flight of birds. How many storms did they face? How many times were they pushed back and denied their goal? How many children set out to accomplish that which their parents had failed to do? It must have fallen to each generation to pass it forward, to extend the vision to find out where those birds were migrating to.

          Have you ever really thought about this journey we are on? Those of us who dare to call ourselves Christian spend our lives on a journey of faith. And yet, as far as I am aware, none, other than Jesus Christ, has ever returned from the other side to tell us whether our faith is justified. The Bible tells us it is. Ephesians 2: 8 tells us that by grace we are saved through faith. The book of Hebrews tells us that faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.  In today’s message, also from Hebrews, we are reminded that by faith we move forward toward the promises of God. But it also reminds us in no uncertain terms that all the heroes of that great hall of faith in Hebrews 11 never lived to claim those promises. Why didn’t they give up? Why didn’t they throw in the towel? What made them keep going? How do we extend our vision so far that our journey can go on without ever reaching the finish line in this life? Hebrews gives us an answer to that question, but even in the answer, it requires faith to reach its conclusion.

          Hebrews 11 is a recitation of a sort of Hall of Heroes, a list beginning with Abel, the son of Adam. It talks about lives lived out in faith and pursuit of things godly, of those who died without achieving the promise held out to them by God. And yet they could, in a manner of speaking, see them. The writer tells us that these heroes greeted those promises from afar. They died not knowing the end of the story, the completion of their work, but they died still trying to claim God’s promises. Hebrews refers to them as “strangers and exiles on the earth.” What a peculiar way to describe these great patriarchs like Abraham and Moses. Strangers and exiles. Is this our fate as Christians, as disciples?

          There is something both disconcerting and yet comforting about going back to the same task again and again and again. If it is perfection we seek, then that can be understood. If it is comprehension we want, again that is a noble pursuit. But what if it is just simply the continued pursuit of that which for us represents excellence? Will we ever find it? Will we ever grasp the promises that God has made for us?

          St. Augustine is considered by many as one of the theological fathers of the Protestant Reformation. He was a prolific writer. He wrote his commentary on Genesis fifteen times. Fifteen times! He kept plumbing the depths of that Scripture, mining new discoveries every time he read. Beethoven wrote sixteen string quartets, always coming back, always trying to improve on what he had already done. My friend Joe, a Presbyterian minister for 30 years until illness forced him to the sidelines, turned down fifteen invitations from a friend to a Young life meeting. Once he went, he credited Young Life for bringing him to a saving faith. Thank God for that sixteenth invite!

          I think the writer of Hebrews has given us a window into those kinds of journeys. It seems to me that his answer is that the journey itself is meritorious. It is not our lot to achieve the consummation of all of God’s promises on this side of heaven. We have as our template that of Moses stopping within view, but not within reach, of the Promised Land. While we may have many life changing experiences, we will not be able to fully claim God’s promises here. And yet the writer of Hebrews celebrates the journey itself, pointing to a state of being that at some point unites us with all who have come before and all who will follow.

          “And all these, though commended through their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better for us, that apart from us they should not be made perfect.” Eugene Peterson puts it this way in The Message: God had a better plan for us, that their faith and our faith would come together to make one completed whole, their lives of faith not complete apart from ours.

          Can you see it now, how God through the Holy Spirit binds us, linking us down through the ages until the end of the age, each of us contributing to the body of which Jesus Christ is the head? The body of Christ, the church, transcends the ages, but it will not be complete until he returns to unite us all across the pages of history. In the meantime, we strive. We press on. We persevere. We never give up. Whether or not we obtain all God’s promises in this life, they will be ours in the end. And the journey alone is enough for now.

          You see, when you are chasing the promises of God, there is always more. You can never get to the end of the road, only to the end of your road. Yes, you come to church and Sunday school. Yes, you go to meetings and tithe and help with mission projects and visit the sick and share your wealth. You do these things over and over…and yet they are never the same. Even with the same people, each moment is unique. There is a freshness to the work of God that never gets old, never tastes quite the same. Each time we draw water from God’s well, it is fresh and new and fills us in a deeper way that is singular to that experience. Maybe that is why the Psalmist tells us that “my cup runneth over.”

          When we compare our sacrifices to those recited in Hebrews, we realize how little God has asked of us to date. But that may change and we need to be ready when called. We are tied to those saints of old as surely as they are tied to us. For me, I take comfort in the fact that I am part of a continuing body of Christ, always growing, always tied to its roots and yet able to expand.

          The vision for God’s kingdom is vast, too much for one person to see. But we can dream, like Joseph did. We can explore, like the people of Marquesas Island did. We can persist, like the teenager that kept inviting my friend Joe.

          In the very next chapter of Hebrews, the writer sums up the reason that we keep coming back. He says this: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith.”

         It is for us, each of us as individuals and all of us as the body of Christ, to pass it forward, to extend the vision. If it means from time to time that we must liv as foreigners, strangers and exiles in our own land, so be it. We will be in good company. If you have eyes to see, and ears to hear, he will give you the legs for the journey.

Are You In The Race?

1 Corinthians 9: 26, 27

 

 

          In the last week, I have been to three memorial services for people who have died. I watched people parade by and shake hands and pay their respects. In many ways, it was wonderful to see how many people had been touched. In other ways more subtle, I was reminded of how many people gather at funerals and weddings and baptisms and other special days to pay their respects and then disappear from the religious scene until the next wake or High Holy Day. I was also reminded of those who come so often, but give so little of themselves and make no real change in their lives.

          Are you in the race, or are you only watching from the bleachers? Are you getting dirty and worn from the constant exposure to the dirt and grime of everyday living and giving…or are you cheering someone else on, sitting comfortably at a distance? Do you have, as they say, skin in the game?

          The apostle Paul compared the Christian life more than once to athletic contests. Some of his favorite comparisons were that of life and commitment to the lives of dedicated athletes such as boxers and runners. In 2 Timothy 2, he talks about ethics and obedience, reminding us that “an athlete is not crowned until he competes according to the rules.” In Chapter 4 of the same letter, Paul is near the end of his journey of life and he tells his protégé Timothy that he has fought the good fight, that he has finished the race…that he has kept the faith. And in today’s passage, Paul talks about self-control, focus and discipline.

          The Boston marathon is probably the most prestigious race in the world. Every year, several thousand runners compete in a 26.2 mile race for the title that gives them bragging rights as the best distance runner in the world. No one would ever think one could cheat in such a race, and yet it happened. In the eighty fourth running of the Boston marathon, a woman came out of nowhere to win the women’s fastest time. Her name was Rosie Ruiz, and she tried to win the Boston marathon without running the race.

           In 1980, Rosie was the first woman to cross the finish line. Her victory assured her instant recognition as one of the world’s great athletes. It was an amazing feat; made all the more amazing by the way Rosie looked at the end. After that grueling 26 mile run, her hair still looked almost like it had just been done and she was barely out of breath. Such a model of fitness! But then, people began to notice things. Rosie’s legs were loose, not at all like those of a distance runner. No one had seen her along the race course until the last half mile. When questioned about splits and intervals, runners’ terms, she asked “what’s an interval?”  A few days later, two men came forward to report that they had seen her come out of the crowd to enter the race in the last mile. Some others reported seeing her on the subway during the race in her runner’s uniform. A week later, Rosie’s recognition as the winner of the Boston marathon was withdrawn.

          Rosie never admitted that she had cheated. She kept promising to run another marathon to show that her time was not a fluke. Somehow she never got around to it. As life went on, Rosie had other problems. She had some serious run-ins with the law. Rosie kept trying to take shortcuts to fame and prosperity. It never worked out. She really had no skin in the game. She wanted the benefits, but refused to do the work or take on the burdens that accompanied that kind of success.

          The apostle Paul had plenty of skin in the game. By his own account, he was beaten three times with rods, was whipped five times with 40 lashes, stoned once, shipwrecked three times, was adrift at sea, suffered from exposure to extreme weather and the list goes on. Paul knew what it was to train for his event. He knew what it was to sacrifice, to be at the end of his rope and have to endure. A marathon is a lot like that. Some say that one never completely recovers physically from the running of such a race. Paul had the marks of his Christianity. They were on his back!

          I stand here in front of you week after week, month after month, in fear. Have I prepared enough? Are my words enough? Is my voice strong enough? Enough for what? To represent my Savior! What if I get it wrong? What will happen to those who came to hear, to worship, to pray, even to be healed? The most important answer is that I will never have the innate ability to deliver on any of these what ifs. No one else short of Jesus himself does. But one question lingers and will always beg for an answer. Am I running the race? Am I fighting the good fight? Am I keeping the faith? Such matters demand undivided loyalty, unmatched discipline and unflinching obedience. If I and you can measure to that standard, our reward will not just be a laurel wreath of victory. It will be a crown of unmerited grace! God doesn't ask that you win the race. He just wants you to be in the race. And if you're in the race, God will see to it that you're victorious. 

          Although our Lord is the very definition of giving, of sacrifice, of self-sacrificing love, he is not someone to be mocked. The churches of all faiths today are populated partially with people like Rosie, people who come to church every Sunday. They smile; they gather with others, they participate, but only to a point. They are not invested. They have no skin in the game. Eugene Peterson describes such people as those “who want to get in on the finish line but who cleverly arrange not to run the race.” Look behind their Sunday morning rituals and you will find little else.

          You see, God is simple, but he is not easy. He doesn’t force anyone to come along, but he doesn’t accept anyone who is insincere. With God, sooner or later, you’re going to have to ante up. He will take you where you don’t want to go, send you to do things untasteful, even make you do something as simple as washing the dirt and dust of the day off someone’s feet. Walking with God is not for those who get in a marathon the last half mile. It’s for those who are real, and bring real commitment.

          It takes discipline to run on God’s team. You don’t have enough stamina if you try to do it by yourself. But God does not require that. What God requires is summed up well in today’s passage. Paul says this: “So run that you may obtain it [the prize]. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we are imperishable. So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control…”

          God wants us on the team. He wants us in the race, but only if we give him all we have. To come to church and do nothing else before or after is to enter the race at the finish line, where everyone is lined up to see the victor. It looks convincing, but those who watch are not the judge.

          Are you in the race? Will you run for God…or for yourself? Will you believe, not when people all around you say a manifold amen, but when the times get tough. Will you shake your fist at God, or will you pray through the loneliness and the anger and the pain? Will you drop in, or will you roll up your sleeves and stick around through the doubt and the despair? One way leads to temporary pleasure and recognition. God’s way, running the whole race…leads to his grace. And his grace is sufficient!

What, Why, What, What?

John 1: 35-39, Luke 2:46-49, Mark 10:35, 36, 49-51

 

 

          Questions. Who, what, where, when and why. These are the questions any good journalist seeks to answer in order to write a story. This is the method to find answers. If you’re good at it, you get the who, the what, the where and the when and that tells you the why. Many of us spend most of our lives trying to get such answers. Why am I here? What am I looking for? What’s the point of it all?

          The first words of Jesus in the gospel of John are in the form of a question. The day after Jesus is baptized by John, he walks by John, who is standing with two of his disciples. John says: Look, it’s the Lamb of God. The two disciples start to follow Jesus. We are told that one of them is Andrew. The other is speculated to be John, but we really don’t know that. Jesus turns around to see them following him and asks them: “What are you seeking.”

          Turn to Luke’s gospel. Jesus is a twelve year old with his family in Jerusalem for the celebration of the Feast of the Passover. They are probably traveling in a caravan of pilgrims and many would have had their own families with them. So it would not have been uncommon for the older children to congregate away from their parents. In this way, Jesus goes missing, but his absence is only discovered after a day’s journey. At that point, his parents turn back to find him. After another day to get back and three days in Jerusalem, they find Jesus in the Temple. They are astonished and amazed. But they are also parents of a twelve year old boy who has been missing for five days. When they confront Jesus, he has this to say by way of explanation: “Why were you looking for me?”

          Mark’s gospel offers the question that in many ways is the intersection of the first two questions. What are you seeking and Why were you looking for me merge into “What do you want me to do for you?” And at the end of Chapter 10 of Mark, we hear Jesus ask the question not only of his disciples, but of a blind beggar named Bartimaeus.

          First, James and John approach Jesus with a request. They frame it generically, but Jesus dodges the open ended approach. He asks the question: “What do you want me to do for you?” Later, a blind man asks for mercy. Jesus calls him and asks the same question. The man is healed because of his faith.

          What’s it all about? This life we lead, where does it go? Is there supposed to be meaning? What is my job? Am I sent here and if I am, for what purpose? The journalist asks who, what, where, when. When she gets all the answers, she puts it all together to answer why. Why do people do the things they do? Why don’t we do the things we mean to do? Why? “What are you seeking? Why were you looking for me? What do you want me to do for you?”

          In the passage from John, the evangelist who is famous for using double entendres has Jesus asking two would-be disciples: What are you seeking? These two seek their teacher. In the Jewish tradition of that time, they seek to bind themselves to one who speaks the truth. What are you seeking? asks Jesus. John is stirring the pot. He’s not just talking about Andrew and his friend. He wants us to ask not only what we are seeking, but whom. He wants us to look for the why that will send us on a journey for life. John is not just talking about spending quality time with Jesus. He’s talking about apprenticing ourselves to the Master.

          Perhaps these two men have been looking for their reason to be. They are young; working in their family’s fishing business. Maybe they have other aspirations. Maybe they yearn for money or power. Whatever their motivation, chances are that it is selfish. But they look for leadership, a role model, a hero, someone to whose star they might attach. So these would-be disciples answer his question with one of their own: “where are you staying?” The implication is that they want more than an interview. They want the full baptism. They want to follow him in all its implications. And as they will find out only too well, the implications are considerable. He is about to take these young men on a journey not toward wealth and fame, but toward God. What are you seeking? asks Jesus.

          Luke gives us the story of the twelve year old Jesus in the temple, sitting among the teachers. It is a foreshadowing of things to come. His concerned parents chastise their son for what looks like carelessness or disobedience. Jesus responds with a question that strikes to the essence of their search. Why were you looking for me? On one level, it seems impudent to ask such a question of his parents. But Jesus is not on that level. He has gone to another plane. The emphasis has shifted. For the first time in Luke’s gospel, Jesus is the subject of the action. When the scene opens, Jesus accompanies his parents. By the time it closes, Luke tells us that they accompanied him back to Nazareth.

          What did you expect? he might have said. I am only your son physically. And what are you looking for? Are you looking for me because you think I’m lost? Do you really want to find me? Look more closely and you will see me as I really am and what I mean to you.

          This is the son of God, looking at a crossroads in his life. While he will remain obedient to his earthly family, he has already left the building. Robert Ismon Brown puts it this way: “This Jesus who asks ‘Why are you looking for me?’ actually wants to know the answer from us in precisely the place we find ourselves, even if  responding to him feels embarrassing, as perhaps it might have felt to Mary and Joseph in the Temple that day.” Do you hear Jesus talking to you? What are you looking for?               

          When we look more closely at the first passage from Mark, it’s not hard to see ourselves. James and John, young and cocky, so much so that they are called the “sons of thunder”, come to Jesus and say: “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” It’s like asking for a blank check. It’s no surprise that Jesus countered, wanting to know what they really wanted. They have found Jesus, but having found him, they are at a loss as to what they really want from him. How familiar is that! The task of our lives is not so much to find Jesus, as many of us have accomplished that. It is, rather, what we want from him. Do we want something to which we have affixed our dreams and aspirations? Or do we aspire to kingdom things? What does being with Jesus really mean? There is a cross in Jesus’ future. There is a cost to discipleship.

          Bartimaeus dares to say what he means and dares further to believe that Jesus is quite possibly who he says he is. Bartimaeus, an outsider, has better vision without sight than do the disciples, the insiders, with sight. Think back to our text from John where Jesus invites Andrew and his companion to “come and see.” The vision to which Jesus is referring does not require eyes.

          Discipleship. The two disciples had faith and acted on it by following and responding to Jesus’ invitation. Bartimaeus had faith and acted on it. His faith made him well. Neither acted knowing the outcome. They just acted on faith. James and John, insiders without perception, had to wait and watch to find out about faith. Jesus’ own parents did not understand. Jesus challenged them to take a real look not only at him, but also at themselves. Sometimes you have to take a step back to see what is right in front of you.

          Bartimaeus had an answer for Jesus. “Rabbi, I want to see” He understood the question and he was ready with the answer. Mark tells us that he recovered his sight and he followed Jesus on the way.   

          Jesus asks us: “What do you want me to do for you” Are you ready? Do you have an answer for him? “What are you seeking? Why were you looking for me? What do you want me to do for you?” In all the questions from Jesus, he is giving us an invitation. He wants us to follow on the way.  Jesus asks what are you seeking, why were you looking, what do you want from him. He asks us these questions and he is standing right there in front of us.

          There he is. Jesus is both the question and the answer. Do you have the vision, not of Joseph and Mary, not of James and John, but of blind Bartimaeus? Can you see?

          What do you want him to do for you?

Linking the Chain      

                                 1 Corinthians 12: 12, 13, 24b-26

 

 

          What do you do when you need a rope and none is to be found? What if there is no time to go find one? What if lives depend on that rope?

          In the twelfth chapter of his letter to the Romans, Paul talks about spiritual gifts; how they are different; how each of us is gifted with some special aptitude from our Lord that will enable us to serve him. Paul also talks about how all these gifts come together; how they merge into a unity that he compares to a human body. Our bodies function inter-relationally. We need all kinds of parts to make a whole. Eyes, ears, mouths, hands, feet all come together to make one body. Take away one of those parts and the body may function, but not as well as when all are together working as a team.

          Just recently, Roberta Ursrey was enjoying a day at the beach with her family. Her sons had taken out the surfboard near the pier at Panama City Beach. The rest of her family was also there enjoying the day when she suddenly realized that her sons were missing. As she went looking for them, surveying the landscape, she found them, foundering in the water where they were caught in a riptide. They were trapped and a good hundred yards from the beach.

          There was no lifeguard. There was no rope or buoy or boat. Against advice from others, Roberta acted as a mother acts. She started swimming. Five other family members joined her. It didn’t take long for them to find out how hard it is to do things by yourself. Now ten people were trapped by the current in water fifteen feet deep. They tried swimming in. They tried swimming with the current. No matter what they tried, they made no progress.

          Paul tells us that “just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body though many, are one body, so it is with Christ…for the body does not consist of one member but of many.” If only there were a rope. If only there were some way to come together instead of all those individual efforts. If only those bodies could become one.

          Jessica Simmons and her husband were at the beach. They had come for dinner and were taking a walk. Jessica had just claimed a discarded boogie board when she noticed people pointing at the water. At first, she thought they had sighted a shark. As she focused her gaze in the direction pointed, she realized what was happening. Simmons, a strong swimmer, started swimming to them.

          Paul goes on to say that God arranges us, just as he does the human body. We can’t all be eyes or we would only see. It takes many parts to make up a body. To make one takes many. To become stronger than yourself, you must unite with others.

          Jessica would have made little difference by herself, no matter how strong a swimmer she was. Her husband knew this. He and a few other men started making a human chain, linking arms and elbows, stretching from the surf into the ocean. Everyone helped. No one was too small. Those who couldn’t swim stayed in shallow water. It didn’t take long before about 80 people, pretty much total strangers, had formed a human chain that stretched almost a hundred years into the water, just a few feet from the now desperate swimmers. What do you do when you need a rope and there is none to be found? You make a chain.

          Are you too little or too weak or too insignificant to help? Paul says that the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable. There is no such thing as too insignificant. As surely as the human body needs all of its parts to function the best, so does God arrange us to be part of a flourishing whole. Separate, we function. Together, we conquer.

          The chain worked. Jessica and a couple others swam to those in trouble. One by one, they were passed along to the chain, and then passed down the chain to safety. One woman rescued, Ursrey’s mother, was actually having a heart attack. She too was rescued, gotten to the hospital, and survived.

          The Corinthian Christians are told that “there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together.” After the rescue event, Simmons commented how impressed she was with everyone working together to rescue the family. This is her comment: “It’s so cool to see how we have our own lives and we’re constantly at a fast pace, but when somebody needs, help, everybody drops everything and helps.” When it was over, everyone walked away. No names were taken. The 80 plus people became anonymous again. There is something very beautiful about that. It shows compassion, unselfishness, a willingness to be part of the body when the body is doing something good.

          Ursrey, the mother who had to be saved while trying to help her sons, commented that “These people were God’s angels…I owe my life and my family’s life to them.” How about that! Just another morning at the beach and you are called an angel! It happens that way when you become part of God’s chain.

          You know, the Corinthian church to which Paul was writing probably would have let that group of people drown on the beach while they were busy debating who was in charge and what should be done. The whole reason Paul was writing to them was because they had, in the words of the Old Testament writers, gone their own way. They had little direction and no unity. It happens with churches. It happens when they are healthy and it happens when they are sick. They lose their ability to respond to that still, small voice that guides and directs and spurs them to something and someone bigger than themselves.

          Was Roberta Ursrey right? Were God’s angels on the beach that day? I’d like to think that they were just like us, that they were going about their business when they heard a call. And they answered. Maybe they had no particular reason to be unified. But when the reason appeared, they stopped what they were doing and got in line. They literally became links in a chain of life.

          Our church, our little church in this little community, has taken a beating. We have lost our buildings and some of our resources. But this is a temporary thing. The buildings are not the church, but in the coming months there will be times when we wonder if we can be the church that God has called us to be. We will be prone to argue, to disagree, to think that whatever is on our hearts is the only way forward. To get our answer about how to move forward, we can look to stories like that of Roberta Ursrey and Jessica Simmons. Their paths crossed on a beach and both women and many more on the beach that day were changed. They experienced discipleship. They didn’t have to think. They just acted unselfishly. And they were called angels.

          Disciple is another word for messenger. That’s the job we are called to do. Spread the news. Bring the message. If, as Paul reminds us, we can do that message on a beach by joining arms to make a chain, that is just as true a testimony as standing in any pulpit. Just ask Roberta Ursrey.

          Sometimes we find discipleship. Sometimes discipleship finds us. No matter which way it comes, the call is there for us to answer. Answer the bell. You won’t be by yourself, and God needs you!

In Plain View      

                                         Romans 1: 18-23

 

 

         

         In many states, it’s illegal to hide a handgun. If you have it where it can be seen, then you are legal. The weapon must be in “plain view.” The theory is that if one can see something, one will take appropriate action in response to that information. That makes sense, doesn’t it? If something is plain to see, you know more about what to do and how to act. If you can see it, it’s easier to believe and much easier to plan your actions in accordance with what your vision informs you. If it’s a snake, you back away. If it’s a carousel, you get on it and take a ride. And yet, when it comes to God, the plain view approach doesn’t seem to illicit that kind of response.

          God has been in the revelation business since the dawn of creation. Mankind was given a garden full of everything we need, from perfect weather to bountiful food. Adam and Eve were blessed with not only resources, but dominion over all that they saw. But it wasn’t enough. Evil tempted them to think about playing God. They had it all. Why couldn’t they know it all? Our ancestors had a revelation of the wrong kind. They wanted to be God instead of obeying God. That was our first mistake, but far from our last.

          Our Reformed tradition tends to classify revelation into two categories. Special revelation is that form by which God makes himself known through the Word, both living and written. In other words, God has specially revealed himself to us through Scripture, the Bible, and through Jesus. But God also reveals himself through general revelation. General revelation is that form by which God has made himself known through his creation. That is, God can be seen not only in what he has created—mankind, animal life, plant life, birds and creatures of the sea, mountains, prairies and oceans—but also in its preservation and order. Why doesn’t the sea overrun the land? How are the tides ordered so efficiently four times every day? Why doesn’t the earth slip off its rotational axis with the sun and burn up? Can gravity or the seasons or any of the laws of physics really be something random? Our answer is of course not! The continuing order of our planet experienced over millions of years is the act of a loving and powerful God, and his is an ongoing presence in the world.

          The Belgic Confession is a confessional statement adopted by many Reformed churches. It is still the official confessional statement of the Dutch Reformed Church. This is how the Belgic Confession describes General Revelation:

We know Him by two means: First, by the creation,

preservation, and government of the universe, which

is before our eyes as a most elegant book, wherein all

creatures, great and small, are as so many characters

leading us to see clearly the invisible things of God,

even his everlasting power and divinity, as the Apostle

Paul says in Romans 1: 20. All which things are sufficient

to convince men and leave them without excuse.

     Belgic Confession Article 2.

 

          I love how the Dutch put it. We can see clearly the invisible things of God—and we are without excuse.  Of course, the confession only repeats the words of Paul in our text for today. Paul says to the Romans and to us that God’s otherwise invisible attributes have been clearly perceived from the creation, by looking at what he has made! So we are without excuse as to the presence of God. The Bible and Jesus make things more clear, give us more complete direction, but they only amplify from the beginning of creation until this very day a continuous, divine and powerful presence that cannot be denied. 

          We live in a time that is being referred to as post-religious. Do you think we are post-religious? What is religious? Everyone seems to have his or her own definition. Mine is that which is done regularly, like being on a diet. Do you come to church regularly and have you joined a church? Then you would be considered religious. Do you practice the tenets of your church, of the Bible? Then you are religious by most definitions. But there are many Americans and Europeans who don’t do that anymore. The great majority still claim to believe in God, but they do little to demonstrate that belief.

          Thus the term “post-religious,” an age in which the church and religious beliefs in general have become part of a menu of beliefs and practices from which many choose as if going through a cafeteria line. That doesn’t sound at all like what Paul had in mind. That doesn’t sound at all like clearly seeing the invisible things of God. It sounds a lot more like there are many in our society who look at the same things we look at and rather than seeing God, they see science or technology or progress. Worst of all, oftentimes they see themselves as the architects of those things good in the world. That’s nothing less than changing lords. When we do so, we hand ourselves over to ourselves or some other creature rather than our Creator. How ignorant is that! For the sake of being our own boss, our own Lord, we end up foundering around in a confusing sea of dysfunction.  

          The words of Paul to the Roman church remind us that we may be religious or non-religious or post-religious or any other term that might fit the order of the day. But regardless of the terminology, the presence of God is not hard to find. It’s in the songs of the birds right outside our kitchen windows. It’s in the breezes of the evening that we will never see, but can feel as sure as we can hear those songbirds.

          Do you ever just stop and look around at this creation we live in? We are loaded with God’s presence. It’s not just nature, though nature may be the most beautiful part of God’s creation. It’s in technology too. Last week when we saw a ladder truck pouring water on the roof of our fellowship hall, we were glad to witness the technology of modern firefighting. The technological advancements God had allowed us to make are no less impressive than the mountains of the Blue Ridge. It’s just that sometimes, all that advancement can confuse those of less discernment, allowing them to think that they did it all by themselves. God allows us many advancements. He loves us and wants us to succeed. After all, it is his image in which we were fashioned. But we can never catch God. He is the divine author.

          Stop right now and just think a moment about the prettiest, or the most profound, the most awe inspiring thing or person you know. Now try and disconnect whatever makes you awed by that person or thing from God. If you have found God, you won’t be able to make that disconnect. Our world as Christians is inextricably bound with God’s presence.

          We are privileged to know God, to know of his presence through the natural revelation of his creation. But we should take heed. The very passage where Paul reminds us of what God has done also goes on to caution us not to take credit and not to ignore the plain language of his creation, God’s silent manifestation of his power and sovereignty. The message in Romans 1 is not of mercy and love, but rather of divinity and authority.

          We cannot get to where God put us. We can plant trees, but we cannot create them. We can deliver babies, even perhaps clone life, but we cannot begin to replicate the unique makeup of each and every being of God’s creation. The danger, perhaps, is to think that imitation is somehow synonymous with creation. It is, in the words of the poet, only the sincerest form of flattery.

          Natural comes not only with orderly tide charts and beautiful scenery. It also comes with hurricanes and earthquakes and floods. Mankind has never ciphered how to stop such events. Our attempts are centered on early warning and containment. We would do well to apply such principles to our knowledge of God. No matter what level of knowledge mankind acquires, we still continue to fall woefully short of anything more than theorized explanation of how we came to be here. Those who require empirical evidence before they accept the presence of God are cautioned by Paul to, in today’s words, take a look around. He is present. He is manifested everywhere we look.

          It’s hard to tell the difference God makes when you look at people. Jesus tells us as much in the fifth chapter of Matthew’s gospel. Jesus says that God “makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust” [5:45]. But Paul cautions us here that we can become so immersed in the idols we create, from money to power to plain old selfishness, that although we know God, we do not honor him…that we become futile in our thinking, and our earthly wisdom will betray us for the fools that we become. We swap glory for pleasure and our hearts become darkened and distorted from the shape in which we were cast by God.

          It is a privilege to know God. He has made it easy for us. We have so many natural signs to inform us of who he is and how magnificent he is. What do you see when you look around? Do you see the strife and envy and prejudice that permeate our society? They are there to see. But you should also see and feel the freshness and love of our God, who brings us the newness of each day, the wonder of life all around us.

          God is in plain view. And we have no excuse for not having seen him. Open your eyes and see the majesty!

What Kind of Tree Is Me?      

                                         Psalm 1: 1-6

 

 

          Many years ago, when I was just a boy, my parents built the house in which Cindy and I now live. It was, and still is, a nice, cozy home. In the beginning, the land was so full of scrub brush that my mother named the place Briarfield. It really was a field full of briars, mostly blackberry bushes. The blackberries were good when they came in, but it wasn’t much of a yard. It sloped in the back once, then again, to a creek that meandered through the property. My dad got five hundred pine seedlings from the Forest Service, and he and I set them out on the land joining the creek. In the upper back yard, we planted three oak trees, and three maples were set out in the side yard. Over the years, both longleaf and loblolly pines grew to maturity. One of the three oaks survives and it is the same with the maples.

          I look today at our little wood and it has begun to show that evolution that is part of nature’s way. The birds and the wind and the storms have carved another sort of wood from the one that my dad and I started so long ago. Over time, a forest, even a tiny one like ours, evolves. Softwoods like pines and gums give way to black cherry and poplar and oak. The pines grow fast and with a taproot. They can sway forty percent in the wind. Oaks and maples spread their roots and trap moisture from all over their long reach. They grow slower but much harder. Dogwoods, my mother’s favorite, once reputed to be big and strong enough to make crosses for crucifixions in ancient Israel and Greece, now grow spindly and crooked. Legend has it that the dogwood could never grow straight after Jesus was nailed to it.          

          The Bible talks about trees. In fact, it names several dozen different trees. There is the gopher wood used to make the Ark, acacia wood to build the tabernacle of God, the cedars of Lebanon used to build Solomon’s Temple, the olive trees that bear the favorite fruit of Israel, the fig tree cursed by Jesus, the dogwood thought to have been the source of the cross, the tree of knowledge of good and evil in Genesis. Whatever the tree, each has its use, some for strength, some for fuel, some for building material, some for ships. Some, many in fact, are fruit trees and a food source.

          Trees are metaphors for life. Some people are strong, like the cedars of Lebanon. Some can take great punishment and wear, like the cypresses of Mt. Hermon. Some bear fruit, and fruit of different kinds. In Israel, there are avocados, bananas, apples, cherries, pear, pomegranate and many more that come from the native trees, more than forty in all. That fruit is edible and helps sustain life. But there are other fruits that are not so edible, like the shade of the willow and oak. They sometimes supply us with the fruit of the spirit that accompanies rest and meditation. Some people are like that as well.

          The Psalms are mostly hymns. There are psalms of joy, of ascent, of praise, of lament. Psalm 1 is none of those. Neither is it an introductory Psalm, though it is placed at the beginning of the book. Psalm 1 is an invocation, calling us to lend our ears to God’s teaching, more akin to the wisdom literature of Proverbs than to the lyrical nature of the Psalms.  In that sense, it makes for an appropriate opening to the book of Psalms.

          Blessed is the man opens Psalm 1. But then the Psalmist tells us what is not blessed, doing so in a tripartite list of ascending familiarity. First, he walks. Then he stands and lastly, having gotten comfortable in his life of selfishness, he has a seat. Who is blessed? The man who walks not, stands not, sits not. Where? In the advice of the wicked, in the way of sinners, in the seats of mockers. Blessed is the man or woman who goes the other way from these storms and droughts of life.

          What is this man like, this man who is blessed? He cannot live just by not doing. He or she must do! The Psalmist offers us suggestions. The man is like this; a tree. Well, it must be a special tree. Indeed, it is. It is a tree planted by the rivers of water. When it is time, it yields its fruit. Through all that it encounters, it does not wither, but rather it prospers. How does it do this? Think about that tree. It is planted in the right place. There is space. There is nourishment. It can put down roots that reach those rivers of water and it can prosper. The man or woman who would be blessed must follow this path if they are to find a life that prospers. We too must find our rivers of water. We are in such a place now, where roots can go down and we can be nourished without fear of walking or stopping or sitting down in an environment that will poison us and the fruit we would bear.

          Trees are like people in another way. They don’t get to what they are overnight. It takes time for a tree to grow, to gain its maturity. It takes some trees longer than others. Growth is both upward and outward. To hold its height, a tree must gain breadth. Trees of every kind must learn to weather the storms of life, the droughts that come along, the winds that buffet them, the extremes of the seasons. They must put down roots, whether those roots run deep or wide. Those roots must sustain them through all the experiences and events they will encounter. Is it not the same for us?

          What kind of tree is me? What kind of tree are you? I think that I, like the forest, am evolving. When I was young, I was more like the fruit that comes in its season and provides those around it with laughter and joy and tenderness, all fresh and new and ripe. In another season of life, I have been more like those cypress trees that just keep taking a pounding and find a way to survive. In this season of life, I think I more resemble a pine tree, tall and straight but more able to bend to the elements that never stop testing me. What kind of tree are you?

          In the eleventh verse of the very first chapter of the Bible, God says this: "Let the earth sprout vegetation, plants yielding seed, and fruit trees on the earth bearing fruit after their kind with seed in them"; and it was so. Do you know what God was doing? He was creating; that’s for sure. But what? It seems to me that though mankind came somewhat later, the template was there to see. We are here to bear fruit after our kind. We are here as planters. We put out the seeds, just like I did with my Dad those many years ago. God will bring the harvest. What is our kind? We are made in the image of God. That is our kind.

          In the gospel of Matthew, Jesus is walking through the Lake District, the region of Galilee, teaching and healing and proclaiming the gospel. He gives a long discourse on many subjects over chapters 5-7, starting with the Sermon on the Mount. Near the end of this, his first of five discourses in Matthew, Jesus talks about trees and their fruit. Listen to the words of our Lord:

               ¹⁵ “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in

sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. 

¹⁶ You will recognize them by their fruits. Are

grapes gathered from thornbushes, or figs

from thistles? ¹⁷ So, every healthy tree bears

good fruit, but the diseased tree bears bad fruit. 

¹⁸ A healthy tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a

diseased tree bear good fruit. ¹⁹ Every tree that

does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown

into the fire.                           Matthew 7 15-1

 

          The Psalmist warns of the ungodly and uses healthy trees to symbolize the prosperity that comes from righteousness. Jesus, in the beginning of his ministry, draws from a similar analogy to warn of poor root systems and the disease of a poison witness. If you don’t get healthy and stay healthy, you become diseased. In the same way that disease prevents a tree from bearing fruit, so will disease of the spirit of a man cause him or her not only not to bear fruit, but to be cut down.

          What kind of tree are you? Where are your roots growing? Where is your delight? If it is in God’s teaching, you are healthy. And God will bring the harvest.