Believing Through the Unbelief

Mark 9: 2, 9, 14-29

 

 

                    A mother sits beside her son in a hospital room, waiting for doctors to figure out what is causing his seizures. A soldier writes a letter home, wondering if he will ever actually see his family again. A man stands over the grave of his child, wondering how in the world to ever smile again.  A young mother looks at her children and feels her life being strangled away from her by the daily chores of her life. Why, how, can she feel so estranged from her own flesh and blood? Each of these people is Christian. Each of them believes and trusts God. And yet, here they are. Their world has come crashing in on them and their spiritual life hangs by a thread.

          Have you been there? If you have, you know something about what I mean. If you haven’t, chances are pretty good that you will experience something like this, and probably more than once. Chances are that you, you who are here in church every week, will wonder where God is and why he has forgotten you or won’t answer you.  It happens to people of faith. It happens to people of faith, not unbelievers, because people of faith dare to hope, dare to believe in something and someone bigger than they are, and in that hope we become vulnerable.

          In the ninth chapter of Mark’s gospel, we hear the fantastic story of Jesus taking Peter, James and John up on the mountain where they have a magical experience. The scene is called the Transfiguration. Jesus is seen in a heavenly, glorified light. The disciples are amazed and sworn to secrecy. When they descend, they find a crowd gathered. As the four men approach the remaining disciples, many run up to them.

          A voice in the crowd cries out. His son is possessed by a demon. The spirit renders the boy mute. Also, he is given to violent seizures, during which he will grind his teeth, foam at the mouth and his body will become rigid. The man came looking for Jesus, but he was on the mountain. So the man appealed to the disciples.

          The disciples have healed before. They have the authority. Mark 3: 14, 15 tell us that Jesus “appointed twelve so that they might be with him and he might send them out to preach and have authority to cast our demons.” In Mark 6, Jesus calls the twelve and begins to send them out two by two, giving them authority over unclean spirits. Verse 13 tells us that they cast out many demons and healed many who were sick. So the disciples were not strangers to working miracles.

          But on this day, the disciples fail. The man comes to them at his wit’s end. He can’t find Jesus, so he asks the remaining disciples and they do try. But they fail. Jesus hears the story and you can just feel his impatience. “How long am I to bear with you?” he says.

          I have been faithful. When the doctors told us we couldn’t have children and we exhausted every possible avenue to prove them wrong, I finally turned to God. I was faithful then. I was faithful when I had no other choice. When I was trying to raise four children by myself and I had no help and nowhere else to turn, I was faithful then. Whenever I have been backed into a corner, I have been faithful. I had nothing else. I’m sure God must have muttered under his breath, How long am I to bear with you?

          Jesus calls for the child to be brought to him. In the presence of Jesus, the spirit inside the boy panics. It convulses the boy, who falls to the ground and exhibits all those horrible symptoms, grinding his teeth, foaming at the mouth. Today, such symptoms would remind us of an epileptic fit, but Mark’s gospel makes it clear that this is demon possession. When Jesus asks how long the boy has suffered, he is told since the boy’s youth; in other words, a long time.

          Then, the point of this story in Mark begins to be revealed. The father says to Jesus: “If you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.” Listen to that again. If you can do anything. The man is talking to the Son of God. He is talking to a man now famous in the region for doing miracles everywhere he goes. And the father says to him: If…if you can do anything.

          What does Jesus answer? “If you can!” Jesus is saying to the man: Indeed! Don’t question me and my ability. Question yourself and your belief. Is your faith enough? “All things are possible for one who believes,” says Jesus. All things? Even this. Even this thing that your disciples failed to cure? All things?

          R. T. France, in his commentary on Mark, says that the lesson derives from a “spectacular failure to fulfill the commission which has been given to the Twelve to cast out demons.” What? The father of the demon-possessed child says to Jesus: “I believe. Help my unbelief.” Isn’t he the problem? He is the one who has not enough faith, isn’t he? Isn’t Mark’s quote of this desperate father the problem presented, the reason his son still has demons?

          Yes. The problem is stated by the child’s father. But he is not the only one who has a shallow faith. He is not the only one who failed to discern where to go to get the power to deliver his son. The man had faith, but it was not a mature faith. It was not his default position. He didn’t come from faith. He ran to faith. It was his last resort position.

          The nine disciples also had faith. They even had a commission to heal, but they had little idea how to deal with their power. Jesus was a man to them. He may have been intellectually recognized by them as the Son of God, but even so, they had no real connection as to how to access the power he had granted them. They mimicked what they had seen him do. They had the magic words and gestures, but they didn’t know how to tap the source. With Jesus gone to the mountain, they were just nine more wizards. The thing is, the nine disciples were just like the father of the demon-possessed child. They had a grain of faith, but their vision was still limited to their own horizon. They knew nothing about how to tap the power of God.

          It didn’t help any that the disciples had failed the man. It didn’t help any that a crowd was standing there to witness that failure. Those kinds of things would rock even a solid faith. In fact, this seems to be the only time in the New Testament when someone came to Jesus looking for help while still expressing doubt. Think of that in the context of the Church. At that point in history, the disciples were the Church. Now put that in present day context. A person comes to church or reaches out to a minister or to a church member, or even just observes the church or its members in action from a distance. What does he see?  What if she gets put on hold? What if they are given an appointment for a week later? What if… In a world where people are desperately trying to find something to hang onto, where the truth seems to be something we take a poll to find, the actions of the church and everyone who represents it are either going to inspire hope or just create more doubt.

          In a world of things relative, God is an absolute. People make treaties. God makes peace. Doctors relieve symptoms. God makes bodies that heal with time and care. Psychologists listen to us talk ourselves into wellness. God exorcises our demons and makes us not just well, but whole. What if those disciples had gone to God in prayer and turned the problem in faith over to him? What if the father had just believed? God was there all along, but no one knew how to tap in to his presence until Jesus showed up.

          Although it was a father of a stricken child who made the appeal, it is all of us, from the disciples there that day to every pulpit and pew in Christendom which needs to cry out: “I believe. Help my unbelief!” While it may sound paradoxical, it reflects a truth that forever lies within us. For all but the very few, we are each a mixture of both belief and unbelief. Each of us enters seasons of doubt in which our wonderful, powerful, ever-present God seems so far away, so unapproachable, so silent.

          You know, those nine disciples came off looking pretty pathetic that day. They had failed in front of a large audience.

They failed because they weren’t plugged in. They had seen Jesus do it. They had been given his commission. But they failed to understand that they never had direct authority. Their ability to heal, our ability to disciple, is always derivative. We have to plug in. In the absence of Jesus and without prayer, the disciples’ labor was in vain. The demon was strong. He was not impressed with a few men who meant well. But in the presence of Jesus, the demon had no chance.

          I suspect that after that incident, the disciples were not so impressed with their positions or themselves. Even though they had been commissioned, they had to learn the source of their power. They could do no good on their own. They had to learn how to harness the power of God. They had to learn to rely on the power of the Holy Spirit and of prayer.

          Listen to the words of Jesus. “This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.” Even the Son of God had to connect with God in prayer in order to do his Father’s bidding. That’s why we have so many examples in the Gospels of Jesus retreating somewhere to pray. Do you want to work for Jesus? Do you want to be a disciple? Take a lesson from the disciples. You have no power for God on your own. You have to be connected to the power source and the connection is prayer.

          I believe there is one more lesson in Mark’s story. The father of that poor child believed in the power of Jesus. He had his faith rocked by the failure of the disciples and yet, he still believed. His faith was shaken. But he managed to keep coming. He managed to find Jesus. And what did Jesus do? He took that kernel of faith and worked a miracle. “All things are possible for one who believes.”

          Have you been let down by your friends? Have you come to church and found it wanting, unable to meet your needs? You find yourself in good company today. The church, while it is the bride of Christ, is populated with people, people that, just like you, have trouble staying connected. But come. Believe, and let the church, imperfect as it is, help your unbelief.

          And when it seems to fail you for the moment, instead of looking disappointedly at your neighbor in the pew or your shepherd in the pulpit, look up. Look up and see the cross. And pray. All things are possible for one who believes.       

What (Who) Do You Worship?

Luke 12: 13-21

 

Idolatry can be a subtle thing. It can mask itself in concepts like duty and chores and even religion. Anything in this world can become an idol. Theologian William Barclay tells a story of a conversation between a young ambitious lad and an older man who knew life. Said the young man, “I will learn my trade.” “And then?” said the old man. “I will set up in business.” “And then?” “I will make my fortune.” “And then?” “I suppose that I shall grow old and retire and live on my money.” “And then?’ “Well, I suppose that someday I will die.” “And then?” came the last stabbing question.

If you want to get the answers you need to get through this life successfully and get promoted, instead of demoted, to the next, you have to start by asking the right questions. It’s not about what you get; it’s about what you give away. Rick Warren, author of  The Purpose Driven Life, starts his book with these words: “It’s not about you.”   Think about that. What is the object of your worship?

 Today, we take a fresh look at a well-known story from the gospel of Luke. Luke is the longest of the four gospels. It was originally joined to Acts as part of a two volume work. Luke is the Gentile gospel writer, a physician by trade. We know him as a fellow worker with Paul, probably from Antioch, and as a faithful companion to Paul in Paul’s final imprisonment.

In today’s story, Jesus is on the way to Jerusalem. He is marching to his destiny, a destiny that includes a date with Calvary. He has stopped along the way to give instruction. According to Luke, a crowd of many thousands has gathered. Jesus begins by teaching his disciples, but in our story, he has received an inquiry from the crowd. He now turns to address the question.

 “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me.” It sounds like a question someone might ask a lawyer. A reasonable question, as Jesus was often called Rabbi, or Teacher. It was customary in those days to take such issues to the Rabbi.  It was also the custom for an estate to be left entirely to the oldest male. So the younger brother is looking for some help from this “teacher” who advocates for fairness and generosity.

Jesus ignores the question asked and answers the deeper one. The question he wants to answer is: What is the object of your worship? To what or whom are you devoted? Beware, take care. Life is not about the stuff you accumulate.

“This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?”

          What does the man get from Jesus? Absolutely nothing. Jesus doesn’t do money questions, especially when they have to do with earthly acquisitions. To do so would be to talk about what Paul calls the “world of the flesh.” Jesus, as you know, is not “into” things of the flesh. He is “into” matters of the spirit. So instead, Jesus tells him, and the crowd, a story. It is often called the parable of the rich fool. Don’t let the title lead you to the wrong conclusion, just because you don’t think that you are rich. Jesus didn’t name the parable; he just told it.

          The ground of a certain rich man produces a bumper crop. It’s more than he can eat, more than he can even store. As Jesus tells the parable, he could be writing a magazine article today about the “Me” generation:  Luke says the rich man thought to himself. What shall I do? I have no place to store my crops. This is what I’ll do. I will tear down my barns and build larger ones. I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to myself:… Barclay says, in his commentary on Luke, that no parable is so full of the words I, me, and mine. The rich man tried to conserve his happiness by keeping, instead of finding his happiness in giving. And what does God say to the man who has it all?

“This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?”

          You have saved and scrimped for years now, because your child is going to have it better than you did. He or she is going to college. Finally the day arrives, and your hard earned savings just aren’t enough. But you’ve been paying on the house for years, and you have equity. So you go see your friendly banker, who tells you that you want a home equity line. Now anybody who has been paying down a home mortgage for very long knows that the last thing you want is to borrow more money. You might need it, but you surely do not want it. But let’s not quibble over words. The point is, you can fund your child’s education, and that’s your goal.

          Time goes by. Your child is home for a few days in between summer sessions (got behind a little bit, and the summer job just has to wait so he or she can stay on target to graduate). You ask your child about whether he has thought about a major since college is now supposed to be half over. You know this is important-- thousands of dollars a year important. When you bring it up, he says: “I don’t know yet, but don’t you think it would be better if I took the car back to school? I sure could use a car. Whaddaya think? Can I take the other car back to school?

          In an age of instant communication, your call has just been dropped. Now you know how Jesus felt when he was asked estate questions. Most of the questions he fielded were about selfish interests. Instead of being asked for the keys to the kingdom, he was being asked for the keys to the car.

          We live in a state of unadulterated affluence. I’m not talking about your neighbor or your boss or your brother. I’m talking about me and you. How many of you own your own home? How many of you own a car? More than one car? A boat? A camper? An RV? How many of you take a vacation every year? How many TVs do you own? How many phones?   

We are rich. The least of us is rich by almost any standard. Now, I don’t think that Jesus cares whether you and I are rich in worldly possessions. But I do think he cares plenty about what we do with them. There’s an old Roman proverb that goes something like this: “Money (or possessions) is like sea-water; the more a man drinks, the thirstier he becomes.”

Are you generous with your possessions or are you like the rich fool who wanted to hoard everything he had? How many of you tithe? Let’s hope you beat the national average, which isn’t hard to do. It’s 2%. 2% of those who characterize themselves as churchgoers or members are tithing their money. And then, there is our time, every second of which is a gift from God. How much time do you give to God each week? There are 148 hours in a week. That’s true no matter where you live, whether you work, are retired or in school. Ten percent is roughly 15 hours a week. Are you tithing your time? It all belongs to God, and He only asks for 10% as your act of faithfulness. If you’re not, you might want to look at where your time goes. Let’s say you average 8 hours sleep and a 40 hour work week. You’ve still got 52 hours left. Only about a fourth of that would make you a tither of your time. The way you spend your time tells a lot about what you value.

“You fool. This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself.”

          It’s hard living in the world with both feet planted firmly on the ground, and yet trying to live in the Spirit. It hard to hold on to the keys to the kingdom of heaven when your boss, your family, and your stuff are pulling you with a force that makes gravity look like a levitation act. Every day is full of pressure, some direct and some very subtle, to succeed, to acquire, to be independent. America runs on consumerism.

          So maybe you need to let go. Jesus doesn’t care about your money or your things, but he does care about your love of them. He cares about your slavery to them. He wants you to love Him. He wants you to let him in where he can love you in a way that you can feel. He wants you to live in relationship with him.

          What is the object of your worship?  The rich man never saw beyond the world he created. He never saw beyond himself. Billy Graham once said that “The smallest package I ever saw was a man wrapped up wholly in himself.”

How is your vision today? Can you see your neighbor? Do you witness to your brother in the workplace? To your sister at the cash register? Can you see God’s children at the concert? Jesus did. If we want to call ourselves his disciples, we have to live like it.

Are you storing up, or sharing?    In the 8^th chapter of Mark’s gospel, Jesus was passing through the region around Ceasara-Phillippi. He stopped to share his thoughts with his disciples and the crowd that had gathered. And he asked the question that we should constantly ask ourselves: “What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?”

          Jesus wants to be the object of your worship, and not just at the appointed hour on Sunday. He doesn’t need Verizon or T-Mobile or even the Internet to communicate with you. He’s calling you…and He’s calling me. Don’t drop the call. Make God your treasure. And there will your heart be also.

Enduring the Twists of Life

                               James 1: 2-4, 12,    Matthew 24: 11-13

 

          How do you feel about trials? How do you feel about perseverance? Doesn’t sound like much fun, does it? I know about trials. That was a big part of my job for many years. I represented people at trial. In our legal system, trials are the last resort. Many attempts are made to stay out of court. There are arbitration and mediation. There are pre-trial discovery tools designed in part to reveal the weakness of a case in order to settle it. Even when one gets to the courtroom prepared for trial, there are usually last minute attempts to settle out of court. Why? Because trials take a lot of time just to get to trial. Trials are tricky. Trials are expensive. And you can’t predict the outcome with any great degree of reliability.

          “Count it joy when you meet trials.” That’s the way the book of James begins. That’s verse 2. Ten verses later, James says something very similar. “Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial.” James must be just a little bit weird. Count it joy! Consider yourself blessed! That’s hardly what all my clients said over the years. What is joyous--what is blessed--about trials? Even though James isn’t talking about courtroom trials, but rather the trials of life, it still seems strange to think of such things as a reason for joy.

          You fall in love and get married. Some time goes by and before you know it, before you really planned for it, there is a baby on the way. One of my daughters has managed to have two children the last four years on two different islands, and now they are in their third home in five years on yet another duty assignment. She didn’t plan it that way. That’s one of those trials of life. Of course, there is joy and blessing involved, but sometimes in life, there is such a thing as getting a little too much to process, even if its joy.

          Half of American marriages end in divorce. We don’t plan it that way. Approximately one in five adults in America experiences mental illness in a given year. We don’t plan it that way, but there it is. Life comes at you in a thousand different ways, from not enough money to not enough time. We have many resources here in America, and yet we all seem at one time or another under trial of some sort.  We don’t realize how good we have it. Ask anyone living in Houston or the Florida Keys or Puerto Rico right now about trials. People are waiting in line for twelve hours to get enough gas to use their generator for a couple days, and they are the lucky ones. On an island without electricity, someone with a generator is considered lucky. Consider it pure joy when trials come your way? That would be a hard sell in those areas right now. Many areas cannot be reached even a week after the storm. You can’t call for help when the cell phone tower is on the ground and the cell phone can’t be charged for lack of electricity. You can’t walk out when the roads are blocked with mud and felled trees. You just have to wait.

          And yet, James would have us celebrate. What were some of the trials that the people of James’ time might have experienced? Certainly there was poverty. James’ letter is filled with references to such situations. James 2 refers to religious persecution. The rich were dragging the poor into court, apparently blaspheming Christians for being Christians. Chapter 5 talks about the rich withholding wages from those who were thought righteous. Why? Because they were righteous. These were not times when it was popular, or even safe, to be a Christian. And James also more generically just talks about trials of many kinds. He is casting his net wide enough to include the varied kinds of suffering we all encounter, from sickness and loneliness and disappointment to sadness.

          What James is talking about is two different forms of trials. In verse 2, he talks about people who have to undergo trials, who have to be tested, all as part of a refinement process which must be endured in order to become pure. It is, literally, the purification of a faith which is already there but needs strengthening. For these tests from God, we are to count them as joy that he refines us. But in verse 12, James is talking about a different kind of trial. Here, James calls those of us who persevere in faith blessed; we are to receive the crown of life. First, we gained perseverance. In this instance, James reminds us that such perseverance has a payoff. We will be blessed. We will be rewarded with the crown of life.

          So some trials are tests of faith, while others are just plain endurance tests. Remember the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden? The serpent, the craftiest of all God’s creatures, appears to Adam and Eve. He weaves a tale of deception and lies about the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Adam and Eve are enchanted by the serpent’s statements and decide to take a bite of the poison fruit. God, upon finding out, curses the serpent. Interestingly, he causes the serpent to go forth on his belly, to literally eat dust. He makes the serpent cursed above all other beasts. If such is the punishment, can we not infer that before God’s curse, the serpent may have been attractive, may have walked upright? If not, then why would God’s curse refer to going forth on his belly?

          When I think of a snake, any snake, I try to change my thought. For me to think of a snake is to think of something ugly and sinister and scary, something that slithers up out of nowhere and catches me unawares. I don’t like snakes. My apologies to all the biologists in the audience who can certainly tell me the benefits of this creature. I just have an aversion to them. Perhaps it comes from this scene in the garden, where the Bible depicts that which lies, that which deceives, that which would hurt us, as a serpent.

          In his wonderful book, The Book of Mysteries,[1] Jonathan Cahn includes a story about snakes. The teacher reminds the student that snakes are cold-blooded. The scientific result of that is that they are limited in their ability to endure. We humans are warm-blooded. That means, among other things, that we can run and keep running. Snakes can’t do that. They can’t keep going. That means that we can outlast them. We can get away if we see the snake. Even if it comes for us, we can outlast it. We have more endurance. In the same way, enduring faith trumps evil.

          So the Scriptures portray the serpent as an agent of evil, not because it is inherently evil, but because snakes generally move by twisting. That may be why snakes are such a good representation of evil. What is evil but good perverted? God made everything on earth, every rock, every creature. God made everything good. So how did things become evil? Good things became twisted. How do people end up at war with one another? Their communication becomes twisted. How does the truth become a lie? It becomes twisted. When we pervert the truth, when we distort the purity of God’s message, it twists and morphs until, like the serpent, it has taken something good and made it evil.

          The symbol of the serpent as an agent of evil is powerful. But the image for perseverance is even more powerful. The teacher in Cahn’s book says this: “Evil is cold-blooded. What that means is this: Though evil may have its day, its victories, it’s time to move and strike—it remains cold-blooded. Therefore, it can never endure…So, in the end, the good will always outlast the evil. Therefore, persevere in the good…you will overcome and prevail in the end.” Jesus himself was tried in the desert at the beginning of his ministry. The devil came at him quoting, and distorting Scripture. Jesus held his ground, endured the trial, used Scripture to explain Scripture—and prevailed. Evil could not endure the warm-blooded love of Christ.

          One more thing might be added. Never has God asked us to do this alone. He does not mean for us to go it alone. The Holy Spirit abides in us. Jesus the Son goes before us. God awaits our perseverance, for which we receive his blessing… a crown of life. Perseverance is tough. Trials come in many forms and come over and over. We are not likely to avoid trials in this life. What we can count on is that our faith will help us persevere—and that perseverance will bring us blessings that far outweigh the trials.

          Count it all joy.

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

     Work in Progress

                                   Exodus 3: 13, 14, Matthew 28: 5-7

                            

   Work in Progress. You see those signs on the highway and you start paying extra attention. Something is happening. You may not be able to see what it is at first, but you know to slow down and proceed with some caution. Something is already going on up in front of you and you need to take heed. Pay attention. Work in progress.

          The same idea applies in places other than highways. How about when you come in a room where someone is studying, or making supper, or reading a book? Those, too, are work in progress and again, it’s best to walk softly until you get the lay of the land…or the room. Something is going on before you arrive. It didn’t need your presence to happen. You need to tread lightly. What’s going on?

          Have you ever been somewhere and you just knew right away that a presence was there? It may have been a hospital room or even at a campfire out under the stars. Wherever you were at the time, you knew that you were in the presence of God. Isn’t it something the way he can do that!

          We shouldn’t be surprised. What is it that God said to Moses? Moses is told to go to Egypt and Pharaoh and to bring God’s people out of that land, and Moses asks God: What if they ask me your name? What shall I say? And God tells Moses to say: “I AM WHO I AM.” I AM. We say his name all the time. What’s your name? I ask you that and you say “I am Johnny Clark. I Am Emily Boone.” Think about that. We can’t identify ourselves without identifying God. Jonathan Cahn says that God’s name is “woven into the fabric of existence.”[1] Your I am would not exist but for his I AM. And think about this. You can’t speak of yourself without putting him first. You would never say Jean Campbell I am! No, you have to put God first, God’s existence first, to get to yourself!

         Work in progress. We understand that concept when it comes to us. We remember the Apostle Paul’s teaching about justification and sanctification. When we accept Christ and believe in him, we are justified. Our sin is washed away and we are part of God’s family. But no matter how deeply and fervently we believe, we continue to sin. So we continue to repent. We continue to ask for God’s forgiveness. We have entered into a life-long process whereby we sin less and become more in the image of God. This work in progress is called sanctification. But that process is not what I’m talking about here.

          We say that God is everywhere, that God knows everything. Luke’s gospel reminds us that Jesus said that even the hairs of our heads are all numbered [12:7]. But there is more to it than that. The Spirit of God lives within us. Paul calls us and the Church God’s temple, saying that “God’s Spirit dwells in us.” [1 Cor. 3: 16]. All this is true, but again, that’s not what I’m talking about now. I’m talking about that presence, that working presence, of God wherever we go, whomever we encounter.

         Some of you have worked in the textile industry before it moved to Asia. Can you remember the first time you walked in to a weave room or a spinning room or a cutting room?  How in the world could you become part of all that work in progress? There were already things going on all around you. Sometimes life is not so noisy, but things are still happening fast. Coming into a classroom for the first time or getting a new job are examples. You walk in and realize that a lot is going on. You want to take some time to just observe and try to get a handle on all that is happening. Otherwise, you will look foolish.

          God is like that. God is like all those places where you have been and realized that a lot was already happening when you entered that environment. No matter where you are, no matter whom you meet, no matter what your state of mind at the time, God is already there when you arrive. Not only is he there; he is at work.

          In the last chapter of Matthew’s gospel, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary go to Jesus’ tomb. There they encounter the angel of the Lord. The angel reassures them and tells them this about Jesus: “He is not here, for he is risen…go quickly and tell the disciples…and behold, he is going before you…there you will see him…”

          He is risen. Some translations say he has risen. I prefer he is. Scholars will debate over the grammar, but there is no debate among believing Christians that theologically, our Lord Jesus Christ rose from the dead and remains alive and well for the rest of eternity. So He is risen best describes for me theologically where Jesus is today. He is risen! But the main point is not so much about the verb describing Christ’s state as it is about describing his action. What is he doing? He is going before you. That is, he is paving the way. When you arrive, you will find him already there.

          Look, he is going before you. The angel told Mary that Jesus was going before them to Galilee, but that was just the first place. He is going before you too. He is risen. He is going before you… to school. He is going before you…to the grocery store. Jesus is going before you to the bus, to the ball game, to the kitchen. Jesus is always going before you. When you walk into a situation, when you confront someone, when you deal with a crisis, Jesus is already there. Before you arrive, work is already in progress. That’s what God’s providence is all about. He looks after his creation and all his creatures, even when he is not expressly invited. How much more will he do when we issue our invitation for him to come with us, in us…and before us!

          Eugene Peterson talks about how such understanding has changed the way he enters every room, every situation. He says he quotes it before every visit or meeting.[2] “He is risen…he is going before you to Campbell Road, there you will see him, as he told you.” “He is risen…he is going before you to Monroe Hospital; there you will see him, as he told you.”

          Isn’t it a comfort to know that you are not alone? Isn’t is a blessing to realize that he is going to wherever you are going, that he has gone before you, that when you get there, you will find him already there, already working. When you arrive, something is already going on, because our blessed Jesus has already arrived, and what you encounter is nothing less than a work in progress.

           He came first. Our very existence comes from him. If he came first, then we ought to put him first. If we come from him, then let us work through him. Let his existence order our existence. It’s not just about living for him, but also about living from him. And he didn’t just come first; he is first. He is the great I AM, and we take our existence from and through him. When we move we find him already there. When we observe, we see him already at work. When we begin to work, we join a work already in progress.

          When we begin to grasp the ever present going before us of the I Am, of the Son, of the Holy Spirit, we begin to be empowered by all that divine energy. We live from him, we move from him, we act from him…we even feel from him. Being made in his image is being empowered in his work…his ever-present, ever-leading work in progress.

          “Do not be afraid…I know you seek Jesus…He is not here, for he is risen.” And “he is going before you to” everywhere you will ever be; there you will see him. Always, always, always…we are dealing with a risen Christ who goes before us.

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[1] Cahn, Jonathan, The Book of Mysteries (FrontLine, Lake Mary, FL.), 2016, Day 2,

[2] Eugene Peterson, Living The Message (Harper Collins, San Francisco), 1996, 259.

     The Power of One

                                                  Ephesians 4: 1-6

 

 

          Vacation is good for the soul. A destination wedding of my wife Cindy’s nephew brought us recently to Aspen, Colorado. Since we had to travel that far, we decided to extend the trip and visit her other relatives in Colorado and New Mexico. A week or so later, we had renewed old friendships, made new ones, hiked through a mountain valley, rode horses up another mountain, and driven through much of the Western Slope of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado.  We were awed by God’s architecture in that area of the United States. For much of the time, I felt as though I was in a massive cathedral of God’s own carving.

          Ten miles outside of Aspen in the White River National Forest, there is an area where one can see a mountain range called the Maroon Bells, a name which refers to the color and shape of those peaks. They are touted as the most photographed place in Colorado. In the right light, they have a deep reddish, maroon color from the soft red shale and siltstone of which they are composed. As I stood there looking, I imagined the pipes of a church organ. I could almost hear God’s voice on the soft wind that blew through the valley on our visit. A couple days later as we traveled south, we witnessed wonder after wonder of the Rocky Mountains. The majesty of that mountain range and valleys miles wide is enough to take your breath away.   

          Is it possible to feel closer to God outside in nature? I think most people would echo a resounding yes to that question. In the presence of God’s astounding artistry, from mountains to seashores to prairies to deserts, one can often feel a more pronounced presence of God. Perhaps it is the lack of so much civilization pressing in upon us. Perhaps it is the incredible beauty that exists where man’s footprint is not so evident. Whatever it is, it draws us closer to the magnificence of God. While it is not meant to take the place of our gathering for worship as God’s people, it is an inspiration that all of us need. These places in nature are more wild, more serene, more likely for many of us to become awed enough to step back, to take time, to listen and perhaps feel more clearly God’s presence moving within us as we meditate on his creation. That’s part of what I did on my visit to the Rockies.

          In the book of Ephesians, the apostle Paul is writing from prison. He refers to himself as a prisoner for the Lord.  We looked at part of this passage recently when we were talking about obedience to God and how we know people who walk with God. Paul says here to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called [4:1].  The passage is about unity, unity in the body of Christ, and Paul details our calling to Christ, our walk with Christ, in terms of humility and gentleness, of patience, of bearing with one another lovingly, of eagerly maintaining unity in the Spirit [v. 2, 3].

          Then, Paul talks about what it means to be in unity with the body of Christ. He talks about one body and one Spirit…one hope…one Lord, one faith, one baptism [v. 4]. Paul is telling the Ephesians that the body of Christ is the Church. It is the Christ-ordained organism through which Christ exists and is made known in the world today.

          It sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? But today we are a world of 195 nations and 4,200 religions, even 9 Presbyterian denominations —how do we even begin to have a conversation about unity? We are a diverse planet, and even where there seems to be unity, there is remarkable diversity, as in the Church. Is unity possible? Is it desirable? What did Paul mean and to what does he point us to today?

          The Colorado Rockies are loaded with evergreens and aspen trees. In the fall, the aspens rival the tulip poplars and hickories and birch of our beloved Blue Ridge Mountains. They turn a bright, shimmering yellow that glistens in the sun and wind. In their movement, they seem so alive that they dominate the landscape with the dance of their leaves. What is amazing is that for the most part, these aspen forests are really one living organism. Aspens grow roots near the surface from which new trees sprout, resulting in vast forests that are all interconnected. The DNA of the trees in these forests is identical. One forest in Utah consists of 47,000 trees calculated at 13 million pounds. This would make it the largest known organism in the world. One article I read talked about aspens as an example of cloning. To me, it seems more like one parent with many, many children.

          As I took in the grandeur of these beautiful aspen forests, I couldn’t help but compare those forests to the Church. Isn’t the Church one living, breathing orgasm? Doesn’t the Church spring from one root system spreading over large areas, having its children spring up from the one common root? A tour guide driving us up to the Maroon Bells remarked about how avalanches would often bend aspen groves all the way to the ground, and then from those felled trees, roots would re-establish and new trees would emerge. What looked like the death of an aspen grove was actually the spawn of a new forest.

         What do we do when we invite someone to our church? What do we hope to accomplish when we start a new church plant, perhaps with a few of our faithful and a hope for a new church community? We are like those aspens growing new from one organism with a root system that cannot die. What happens to us as Christians when we face the avalanches of our church life, like having our church burn as happened to this congregation? We will be like those aspen groves that regenerate from the devastation of an avalanche. In the world of God’s children, we re-populate and become new growth, an addition to the family of God.

          But if we all are part of one root system, then how do we make room for new growth from outside? Again, we can look to the aspen tree to learn. Even in these large, homogeneous forests, one will find other trees with different DNA. It happens from the wind or birds blowing or carrying leaves which fall to the earth and root. So strangers become part of the populations as well as those already in the family.

          Suppose we do want to plant a church. Can we expect it to grow away from the mother church? How will we handle such a plant? Again, the aspen provides us a metaphor for such an endeavor. When you try to plant as aspen tree, you often find that the tree you planted will die. But if you wait a season or two, you will see new sprouts coming up not far from the original plant. This is the spreading process at work. It is not so different from what God does to his church.

          One body, one spirit, one hope. One Lord, one faith, one baptism. An aspen forest can begin with one tree planted well. The whole Christian movement started just that way. Jesus came. He left behind a little band of twelve disciples. Look what has happened since. The Power of One can never be underestimated. We should all take note of the aspen. Each of us bears the DNA of our Lord. Let’s go do some planting.

Uncommon People for a Common Mission

1 Samuel 17: 38-46

 

 

          How many of you have used Tupperware? I doubt there is an adult in this room who hasn’t. How many of you have been to Kentucky Fried Chicken in the last month? We’re talking about two American business institutions and yet, without a little luck and a lot of failure along the way, those products wouldn’t exist today.

          Earl Tupper invented the plastic containers we now call Tupperware in the1940’s, but he could barely give them away until a single mom named Brownie Wise, who worked for Tupper, began to host something called Tupperware parties. The rest is history.

          Harland Sanders was a sixth grade dropout who went broke trying to peddle a chicken recipe, but he didn’t give up. Today, KFC is in practically every town in the country with over 17,000 stores. Then there are Ben and Jerry, who took a correspondence course together on the art of ice cream making. Aren’t we glad they did! They just wanted to start up an ice cream store in their home town, but when an idea is good, well, things happen.

          We can look at the Bible and find story after story that can outdo even those American dreams. There is Abraham, who fathered a people numbering in the millions though he was a century old man having his first child with Sarah. There is Noah, whose family repopulated the world after surviving a flood for the ages. There is Moses, a shepherd from the hill country, who took on mighty Pharaoh and his armies with nothing but a staff. There is David, the boy who slew the giant with a sling; Joseph, the slave who ran the nation of Egypt; Elijah, who took on four hundred prophets of Baal; Ruth, whose quiet loyalty earned her the status of grandmother of David the king, and Daniel, who wouldn’t bow or change his loyalties to God even to save his own skin.

          The Bible is full of such stuff of heroes and heroines and they all have something in common with those American success stories. They were not geniuses or rich or somehow favored. Quite the contrary. They were ordinary people just like you and me. None of them, not one, would have been picked for some high school or college superlative list like Most Likely to Succeed or Smartest. They were ordinary people—but they were uncommon.

          In the case of those American business success stories, they were people with an idea who didn’t give up. As time went by, the ideas gained traction. But they had to work for it and wait for it. Their success came not so much from brilliance as from tenacity.

          In the case of those Biblical folks, they were as ordinary as you can get. Nomad, farmer, slave, shepherd, poor girl from another country, exile, teenager. That’s not much to write home about. But look what they did, these ordinary people. They did so much so well because though they were just ordinary—they were uncommon.

          What makes people like this, who seem so very ordinary, who would never stand out in a crowd, so memorable? They do things that people don’t do. They attempt things that should not be attempted. They don’t seem to understand about risk/reward ratios or they would never attempt to do such things. What makes them tick, these people we read about now with awe? They were uncommon. They sought to do that which could not be done.

          The story of David and Goliath is such a tale. When no else in the army of Israel will step forward, a teenage shepherd appears. He has never been in battle. He comes to the front simply to deliver food to his brothers. Before he knows it, he is to be the giant killer. David says to the king fearlessly: “The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear will deliver me from the hand of the Philistine.” Then King Saul says to David the word we all need to hear: “Go, and the Lord be with you.”

          I don’t know about people like Colonel Sanders or Earl Tupper, but I do know about those biblical characters. They were tapped in to a source which fueled them in a way that sheer ambition and work ethic can never do. They showed faith in God; faith that could overthrow armies, persuade kings and embolden young men and women to take on overwhelming tasks. And that faith is what made them and so many others uncommon.  

          Uncommon is not an everyday thing. If it were, it would be common. Uncommon is different. It’s doing things other people don’t do; looking at life in a way that other people don’t understand. If you live that way just to be different, you will certainly succeed at being different. But what if you live that way because you have a purpose, a purpose bigger than yourself? Then, uncommon becomes something very special.

          We live in a world surrounded by people who live lonely lives. Many whom we know are trapped in their individual pursuit of happiness. When I practiced law, I was fortunate to have a number of clients who were millionaires.  Thank goodness for rich clients. They helped make up the difference that allowed me to take on clients who couldn’t afford legal services. I remember one client in particular. He always had toys. He had a beautiful home in town, but he could afford more, so he bought a McMansion on the lake. When he got bored, he bought a fifty foot yacht with two bedrooms belowdeck, all to cruise around on the lake. When he tired of lake living, he moved back to town to another McMansion. Now he’s trying the mountains. Another mansion, this one equipped with a fabulous automobile just to drive around while he is in the mountains. My friend goes to church, too. I’m afraid it’s more a part of his connectional life than to find his higher purpose. He’s not a bad guy at all, but I worry that he will be forever getting new toys because he has no idea what it’s like to be uncommon.

          The church is uncommon. There is no institution like it in the world. It exists not because we fuel it or feed it. It exists because Christ began it and Christ will maintain it. It does not depend on the good graces of individuals, but rather the grace of Christ. We do church as community. Wes Roberts calls the community of the church “the living, breathing, in-your-face demonstration of what it means to live under the reign of God.” [1] We are part of the body of Christ and he moves us common people to continually do uncommon things.

          The church is just as much at risk of missing the mark as any other institution. It’s very hard not to become worldly. It’s difficult to watch all the apparent success of televangelists. Who can help but notice the megachurches around us which feature topline entertainment, canned music and slick promotions. They use bleacher seats instead of pews, ATMs instead of passing collection plates. I have almost no experience with that and do not mean to criticize. What I do mean to do is worry about what message all that consumerism sends. Sooner or later, people in need must be fed with the Word one on one, face to face.

          There is a story about a Korean pastor who visited a large church here in the states. The church had Wednesday night prayer services, but few showed up. It had a new educational wing and overflow parking for Sunday services where thousands would attend. After a tour of the huge facility, the local pastor asked the Korean minister his thoughts. His response was simple. “It seems that you can do quite a bit without God.”

          It’s not about technique. While resources are nice, it’s not about resources either. It’s about finding ourselves by giving ourselves away. It’s about what Peter and Paul and Joseph and Moses found out. It’s about being disciples.

          As we bond together as the church, we can begin to feel ourselves part of a common mission. We are set apart from the greater community as God’s people trying to do God things. We come together to fellowship, to worship, to disciple. We move out into the world around us as a people set apart from our world but working in it. We are commissioned to go, teach and baptize. How uncommon is that! We gather to be sent. We come to be equipped to go. We learn in order to teach.

          As this message closes, let me hasten to say that in very great part, I am speaking to the choir. This church community that I serve is in most ways a model for what church should be. People here give of themselves not just on Sunday morning, but all week long. People here value their relationships and constantly cement them with acts of love along the way. People here will quickly give and give generously, not only from their abundance, but from their substance with both their money and their time. There is always room for improvement, but I am constantly humbled by the voluntary acts of kindness and generosity I witness here in this gathering. This church is an uncommon community and it acts on the common mission of discipleship day in and day out.

          We will do well to remember the words of King Saul to young David. As David prepared to meet the Philistine giant on the field of battle, Saul sent him out with these words: “Go, and the Lord be with you.” That’s all we’ll ever need.

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[1] Wes Roberts and Glen Marshall, Reclaiming God’s Original Intent for the Church (Navpress, Colorado Springs), 2004, 87.