The Mandate to Care

     John 21: 15-17

 

 

          Do you love me? The question is on the minds of just about everyone in some way or another. Parents ask their children. Children ask their parents. Lovers ask each other. The Contours made the question famous in 1962 with their pop song of the same name: Do you love me? In the song, the singer has learned to dance. He can “really shake ‘em down.” 

          But it’s an important question. Do you love me? Marriages are based on the answer. So are many other relationships. To love is to show a form of care. Can you care for someone without loving them? I would think so. Can you love someone without caring for them? I would think not.

          In the gospel of John in Chapter 20, Jesus appears three times after the resurrection. First he appears to Mary Magdalene. She runs to tell the disciples. Later that day, Jesus appears to the disciples, but Thomas is not there. Eight days later, Jesus again appears to the disciples including Thomas. Chapter 20 ends with a closing, a sort of wrap up sentence, the kind you see at the end of a story. John tells us why he wrote the book, what its purpose is. But then, there is Chapter 21.

          Theologians have puzzled over John 21 for many years. A number of theories have been offered as to why it is there, who wrote it, what it means. It appears in some of the earliest manuscripts and that lends credence that it was always there and not added at a later date. The best explanation to me is that it is an epilogue, an afterthought that John wanted to include. And it was important enough to him to write it down and add it on.

          Peter, James, John, Nathaniel, Thomas and two unnamed disciples are at the Sea of Tiberias. This is another name for the Sea of Galilee. Peter says “I’m going fishing.” Somehow that just makes perfect sense to me. Peter is on sensory and emotional overload. The last two weeks, he has seen his leader tortured and crucified. He has undergone feelings of betrayal the night of Jesus’s arrest as he denied their connection three times out of fear for his own life. Jesus has appeared to him and others twice at the upper room after the resurrection. And now, he is back in familiar surroundings in the lake country. He is hungry and he does what he knows. He needs something to be anchored to. His whole world is spinning on its axis. And so, it makes perfect sense to me for this fisherman to say to the others: “I’m going fishing.” And what do they say to him? “We’ll go with you.” So they get in the boat and they spend the whole night fishing.

          Here’s where the story begins to get interesting. At least three in this group are professional fisherman. They have fished this lake for their livelihood. If anyone knows where to fish, they do. And yet, they fish all night and catch nothing. There is evidence that night time was considered the best time for fishing on Galilee, but they caught nothing. This may be the truth or it may be employment by John of one of his symbols. Either way, it sets the table for the comparison of fishing for naught to coming to grips with the resurrection and what it has taught them about living the Christian life; about fishing for men. What is it that Jesus told them just a few weeks ago?

                      I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever

abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears

much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.

John 15: 5.

 

It is still for the disciples to learn, to really digest the profound truth, that apart from the guidance of Christ in their lives, they can do nothing. They can no more evangelize for the Savior than they can catch fish that night.

          Come with me now. Let’s imagine what it was like that day. It is daybreak, first light. Jesus calls out to the boat, about a hundred yards away. “Children, do you have any fish?” He asks. “No” they reply. They can’t make him out in the haze. They don’t recognize his voice. It’s just someone on the shore talking to them. And yet, he has addressed them as children, as though he is someone above them in some way. “Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some,” He says. What a strange request. You’ve been fishing all night. You know the waters. You know the depths. You know the right kind of bait to use. You know where to fish. You also know that it doesn’t make any sense to think that fish are on one side of your boat and not the other. Maybe you’re being nice or maybe you’re just too tired to argue, so you do what the man on the shore says. The next thing you know, your nets are about to break. There are so many fish you can’t haul in the net. Then John, your fellow fisherman, gets it. “It is the Lord!” he says. You are Peter. All of a sudden, it all makes sense. You are stripped for work, but for you, you have immediately forgotten about the work. It is the Lord! You put your clothes back on and dive in the water. No matter that you are a hundred yards from shore. No matter that you are weighed down by your clothing. No matter that you have left your boat when the others are struggling with a catch that they can’t handle. It is the Lord!

          What follows is nothing short of breakfast with Jesus. Breakfast with the resurrected Lord. For the third time, these men are seeing the resurrected Lord in the flesh.

          Are you still with me? Stay with me. Stay in character. You are Peter. It doesn’t matter if you are female, because this story is told to Christians of both genders. You are Peter. Breakfast is over and Jesus says to you: “Peter, do you love me?”

          Don’t you know you are grimacing! It wasn’t that long ago that you denied him. Someone came up to you and said: “Aren’t you one of those Jesus lovers?” And you said something neutral, something to make him go away. And now, here is Jesus asking you if you love him. You tell Him that He knows you love him. He says “Feed my lambs.”

          Then he asks again: “Do you love me?” You tell Him again that he knows you love him. This time he says: “Tend my sheep.” Then Jesus asks you a third time, “Peter, John Robert, Sherri, do you love me?” Now you are grieved, upset. You look at the face that you love, the eyes that you trust, the body that He willingly broke for you and you say “Lord, you know everything. You know that I love you.” And he looks back and meets your eyes and he has one simple command, just one thing: “Feed my sheep.”

          Three times. Three times at the end of his stay on earth, Jesus reaches out to Peter, the everyman of the disciples, and He asks the same question: Do you love me? What is the Great Commandment? Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength and your neighbor as yourself. What is the most important question for a Christian? Do you love me?

          So we have the most important question. What is the answer to this most important question? It’s as simple as the question. Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. Feed my sheep. Three times He tells us. It is the Mandate to Care.

          I think that’s why we have John 21. John was there on the seashore that day. John saw and heard. Some sixty years later when he is thought to have penned his gospel, he had a final thought and he added it on. In some ways, it is the most important chapter in a gospel loaded with important chapters. In this post-resurrection conversation, Jesus continues to teach and encourage on the matter so essential to His mission: Care for my children. Feed them, Feed them bread and water and the Word. Nourish them in body and spirit. Feed my sheep. We must never forget who we are. We are the Church. We are not the sheep. We are the disciples. It is the essence of the Christian life, of pastoral care, of servant leadership of the people of God. It is the imperative to love coupled with the mandate to care.

          Do you love me? Jesus is asking. Do you love me? If you do, then feed His sheep.

A Dwelling Place for God

     Ephesians 2: 17-22

 

 

          King David wanted to build it, but God told him no. King Solomon did build it about three thousand years ago. It lasted about four hundred years, until the Babylonians destroyed it. About seventy years later, it was rebuilt under the leadership of Ezra and Nehemiah. It lasted until 70 AD, when the Romans destroyed it during the siege of Jerusalem. Although the emperor Julian authorized a rebuild, it was never attempted.

          I’m talking about the Temple in Jerusalem, of course, the set of buildings that took the place of the Tabernacle, a moving temple in the Sinai desert that went with the people of Israel during the days of Moses and the Exodus. When God’s people came to rest in the Promised Land, they wanted to give God a home.  When judges were replaced with kings, it was the fourth king, Solomon, who got the nod to build. It was thought that the people of Israel had found a permanent home, and that their God deserved one as well. The thing is, for the Jews, they were to find that they had more in common with the nomadic existence of their forebears than they ever dreamed. From the Babylonians to the Assyrians to the Romans to Nazi Germany in the twentieth century, the Jews were being conquered, transplanted, and re-planted throughout history. It was not until 1948 that a little sliver of the Middle East was politically carved out for what is now the nation of Israel.

          Can you imagine the joy and pride of the people seeing Solomon’s temple go up? Although it took a full seven years to erect, and at tremendous cost to the people through taxation and labor, still it was a source of great pride. Can you imagine the joy and pride when it was rebuilt by Ezra and Nehemiah and others, another three year undertaking just for the temple without the outbuildings?

          I bet you can also imagine what it may have felt like to have the temple sacked. Three times the temple was destroyed. Twice it was rebuilt, but not the third time. When the temple was destroyed by the Roman Empire, the people of Israel found a different way to assemble. What exists today in its place in Jerusalem is a conglomeration of different faith traditions, all fighting for a stake in the sacred ground on which sits the Temple Mount or the Dome of the Rock, depending on your faith tradition.

          We have a thing about houses. When Jacob’s family came to Egypt and found Joseph, Jacob’s long lost son, second only to Pharaoh himself, they settled in the Land of Goshen and built dwellings to live in. When they were liberated, the Exodus took them to the land of Canaan, where they built places to live. When they returned from exile, Nehemiah led them in rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem so that they could then build their dwellings inside the safety of the wall.

           In America, we too have a thing about houses. The only depression in eighty years that brought us to a crisis point was over a collapse in the housing market. We thrive when are building houses. We suffer when we aren’t. America runs on building things, especially houses. For us, houses say stability, security, arrival, participation in the dream.

          And yet, God lived in a Tabernacle, a moveable dwelling. The Ark of the Covenant, the most visual symbol of God to the people of Israel in the Old Testament, was built with carrying poles. It was built to be portable. Didn’t God want his own house?

          David worried about that. David united the northern and southern kingdoms with God’s help. He triumphantly brought the Ark of the Covenant into Jerusalem and set it in its reserved place inside a tent that David had pitched for it. Then David went home to his very nice house. And then David began to ponder. 2 Samuel 7 tells us that David spoke to the prophet Nathan, saying “See now, I dwell in a house of cedar, but the ark of God dwells in a tent.” David was a man after God’s own heart, and David was worried about how it looked for him to be in a palace and God to be in a tent.

          David didn’t get it. Neither do we. Listen to what God said to David through the prophet Nathan:

                   ⁴ But that same night the word of the Lord 

came to Nathan, ⁵ “Go and tell my servant David, ‘Thus says the Lord: Would you build me a house to dwell in? ⁶ I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent for my dwelling. ⁷ In all places where I have moved with all the people of Israel, did I speak a word with any of the judges^[a] of Israel, whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, saying, “Why have you not built me a house of cedar?”’ … I took you from the pasture, from following the sheep, that you should be prince^[b] over my people Israel.  ⁹ And I have been with you... And I will make for you a great name, like the name of the great ones of the earth. ¹⁰ And I will appoint a place for my people Israel and will plant them, so that they may dwell in their own place and be disturbed no more… And I will give you rest from all your enemies. Moreover, the Lord declares to you that the Lord will make you a house. ¹² When your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come from your body, and I will establish his kingdom.

 

          What was God saying to David? What is he saying to us? David had his heart in the right place, but he didn’t have his priorities in the right place.  David was thinking construction and glory and palaces and temples. God was thinking in a completely different way.. Look at what God says to David through the prophet. God never asked for a house. God is thinking about houses, all right, but not the kind that are built with bricks and mortar. God speaks to David and completely turns the tables. He says to David that not only does he, God, not want a house, but that he is going to build David a house. Again, the house to which God refers is not made of earthly materials. It is made of God’s honor and love, of God’s favor. God will build David a house of people, of sons and daughters, of a lineage that will trace itself all the way to the birth of Jesus Christ.

          In his book on Counseling and Christian Wholeness, Philip Culbertson talks about different ways to examine family dynamics. He mentions that one of the lenses to see that dynamic is to use the metaphor of a house. He points out that house is one of the most common biblical words connoting “family’” Think about that. God tells David that he is going to build David a house. God is talking about family. That’s the kind of house that God builds, from the   house of Abraham to the house of David to the house of Kirkley or Campbell or Catoe right here and now.

          Why do I say all this today? Because we have recently watched our earthly temple come down. Because some of us might be experiencing demolition remorse. That may be, but it is the wrong lens through which to see, and the wrong priority with which to build.

          God is the master builder. He has been in the construction business since the beginning He started with chaos and look what he built. He started with a man and a woman and look what has grown from that. Paul understood that. In the 2^nd chapter of Ephesians, he gives us the lens through which to see and the priorities by which we should govern our direction as a church. Paul reminds us that Jesus preached peace, not only to the nation of Israel but to the whole world; that Jesus provided us access to the Father through the Holy Spirit. Jesus gave us the opportunity to be members of the household of God. Listen. The household of God.

          Paul tells us that with Jesus as the cornerstone, the whole structure joins together, growing into a holy temple in the Lord. Paul is not talking about buildings, at least not in the sense that we normally think. Paul is talking about God and the way he told David about building. God’s house has never been made of bricks and mortar. God’s dwelling has never been able to be confined to a single earthly structure. What is it made of? What has it always and forever been made of? Listen to Paul:

in whom the whole structure, being joined

together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord.

In him (Christ) you are also being built together

into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.

Eph. 2: 21, 22.

 

          We are building a church. Those who came before us were building the same church. Those who will come after us will build that same church. It is not Rocky Creek Presbyterian. That is only an address.

          God has a mission, and he has chosen to use the church to accomplish that mission. If buildings can help his people to gather and serve him, that’s great. But buildings will never be the Church. Come and help build God’s church. You and you and you—and even I—are God’s house. He built us that way.

 

Lifting God’s Blessing

     Joshua 7: 1-26

 

 

          When the people of Israel crossed the Jordan River into the Promised Land, it was an event forty years in the making. Disobedience had cost the lives of a whole generation. But finally, the people of God were at the threshold of tasting the promise made so long before. The night before, they consecrated themselves for the crossing. The Jordan River stood still for probably close to a million people. When it was over, God told Joshua to command twelve men to remove twelve stones from the Jordan and mark the passage as a memorial. Joshua said to the people on the Lord’s behalf that the stones were a reminder “so that all the peoples of the earth may know that the hand of the Lord is mighty, that you may fear the Lord your God forever.”

          At that point, the people of God must surely have known that they were blessed. They stopped for religious rites. The entire new generation was circumcised as a sign of God’s favor. Passover was celebrated. The people still had to take what was to be theirs, but they had God’s blessing.

          The next stop was Jericho, a fortified city with high walls. It was a daunting task. But God said to Joshua: “See, I have given Jericho into your hand.” Remember that. It becomes important later. For seven days, the armed men of Israel preceded seven priests bearing the Ark of the Covenant around the city walls seven times. Trumpets blew continually, but no one said a word. On the seventh day, everyone was cautioned not to take anything slated for destruction. “Devoted things” particularly were off limits. On Joshua’s command, the people all shouted and the walls fell down flat. The city was taken and God was at the helm.

          Now the people of Israel have experienced two miracles back to back. First the Jordan River has stood still for their crossing. Then the walls of Jericho came down on one shout from God’s people. In each case, the people are exhorted to pay attention, to be obedient to God, to observe his commands and to wait for God. The only thing God has asked of them is not to take the “devoted things” from Jericho. I’m thinking of another time when God asked only one thing. It was in the garden of Eden, and God asked Adam and Eve only one thing: not to eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. That disobedience had some dire consequences.

          The first line of chapter 7 of Joshua is huge. It says that the people of Israel broke faith… for Achan took some of the devoted things. Listen again. The people broke faith…because Achan was disobedient. Do you see this? Because of the disobedience of one, the people had broken faith with God. And the result is that God’s anger burned against the people.

          So the next town in the path of God’s people is Ai. Ai is nothing like Jericho. Joshua sends scouts, who report that only 3,000 men should be needed to dispatch this little city. So Joshua, without speaking or praying to God, sends the men. Remember that at Jericho, God had promised that the city would be delivered into the hands of the people of Israel. No such promise is sought or given here.

          So a contingent of 3,000 fighting men go up to Ai. They are routed. Thirty six men of Israel are killed. The rest are chased away. The scripture says that the people of Israel melted and became as water. They were scared. They realized the something was different.

          Where is God? What happened? Actually, those are pretty much the questions that Joshua puts to God, right after he has torn his clothes and fallen on the ground before the Ark of the Covenant until evening, along with his elders. It’s cute the way Joshua confronts God. He talks exactly like the people talked to Moses a generation ago. They barely get out of Egypt and they are grumbling about how hard it is. Better they had stayed home where at least they had food. Joshua echoes this plea. Why have you brought this people over the Jordan at all? So that we can be destroyed? Maybe we should have been content to dwell beyond the Jordan. Look at us now. Why have you done this to us!

          It’s not what God has done to Joshua and the Israelites. It’s what they have done to God. You have to read it out loud to appreciate God’s answer. He starts with this. Get up! Get off your knees! It’s not me that let you down. It’s you who let me down!  Israel has sinned! They have stolen. They have lied. Get up! Clean your own house or “I will be with you no more.”              

          Look at what has happened here. One has broken with faith. One has been disobedient. But it is not one who will be punished. Already thirty six men have died. They have died because in the light of this intentional sin, God has withdrawn his blessing. The people of Israel are in big trouble. All of them may have to answer for the disobedience of one.

          God tells Joshua how to find the offender. By tribe, then clan, then household, then person. To Achan’s credit, he does not lie. He takes the blame for his act of disobedience. The people of God are going to be saved, but look at the cost. Thirty six dead in a battle where God’s help has been withdrawn. Then, Achan is stoned and burned. It would seem that his children are also stoned, as the scripture says that all the people of Israel burned them with fire and stoned them with stones. It is a group execution. No one person can be responsible for stoning. The responsibility rests upon all of God’s people in the same way that the disobedience of one rested on them all. It is only then that the Lord turns from his burning anger.

          Does God get angry? If you ever had any doubt, read this story. Yes, God gets angry. And sometimes, when he gets angry enough, he lifts his blessing from among us. And look at the consequences when he does. People get hurt. People die. And not just the people who anger him. God’s anger can have severe and long reaching consequences.

          Before we leave this story, we should take another look at leadership. Joshua is the leader here, and he also has something to learn. Before crossing the Jordan, Joshua talks with God. After crossing the Jordan, Joshua talks with God. Before going into battle in Jericho, Joshua talks with God. What happens at Ai? Joshua talks with his scouts. Maybe Joshua thought that Ai was no big deal like Jericho. Maybe Joshua assumed he had God’s blessing.  Maybe Joshua thought he was a good enough leader to go it alone and just consult with God along the way. Whatever Joshua may have thought, he thought wrong. Leadership in God’s world is not unilateral. It’s a consulting business. We ask. He answers. Don’t make assumptions.

          There is plenty of blame to go around here, from Joshua’s lack of godly leadership to Achan’s clear disobedience. There was a reason for God’s wanting his people not to hold on to the “devoted things” of other people. These were religious icons. They were in effect false gods. The only thing they could do for the people of God would be to compete with God himself. Achan coveted earthly value and wanted something like that in his home. He had God in his presence, and yet coveted stuff over that relationship. It cost him, his children and thirty six others their lives.

          When the people of Israel next went up against Ai, God was again in their corner. Joshua received the pre-battle words that made everything possible: “Do not fear…I have given into your hand the king of Ai, and his people, and his city, and his land.”

          In this world where we are taught daily to look after number one, that I is the most important word, that our first duty is to ourselves, the story of Achan screams for attention. It was not just Achan who had false gods. We do the same today, only our idols are more contemporary.

When Achan sinned and was disobedient, it was the entire nation that paid for it. We do not live in a vacuum. This is particularly true for Christianity, the new Israel, as Paul puts it. We live accountable to one another. We live in community. When one trips, we all stumble. When we act in Christian concert, God is with us. When we do not go to God to get our marching orders before we march, we should expect to fail. Joshua learned that lesson the hard way.

          We are God’s people. Let us never do anything to cause God to lift his blessing from among us. Rather, let us live in such a way, and with such communication, that his hand remains upon us and our steps.

Two and Five Equals What?

     John 6: 1-15

 

 

          How many times have you gone somewhere unprepared? You go for a walk and get caught in the rain. You go for a swim at the beach and you forgot a towel. You treat yourself to a nice meal, not noticing that the restaurant doesn’t accept your credit card and you have no cash. We all have many examples we could draw on to remind us to go prepared for more than just what we see. Situations change.

          A few weeks ago, we looked at the arithmetic of discipleship. Today, I want us to examine another math principle in the kingdom. Let’s take a look at God’s multiplication. The gospels tell of a miracle story that involves a meal. The story is usually known as the Feeding of the Five Thousand. It is the only miracle story that is recorded in all four gospels. It must be important for it to be in every gospel. The gospels were not written at the same time, so the story would have been known by the later writers, and yet they included it anyway. Each gospel says essentially the same thing, but only John mentions a boy, a boy who came prepared. He had packed his lunch, a lunch of five barley cakes and two fish.

          Let’s put this story into the twenty first century and let’s tell it through the eyes of the boy. Let’s give him a name. The boy in John’s gospel didn’t get a name. I think he should have, but John didn’t do that. He had his mind on what Jesus did, not what the boy did. But let’s give the boy a name. How about Toby? Our fictional Toby attends E. Rivers Elementary School (not fictional) in Atlanta. He was attending on January 29, 2014, the day that Atlanta’s highways shut down due to a three inch snow that fell at just the right time. All it took was a thin sheet of ice and a few wrecks to shut down the Interstates, helped by workers who went home at midday to beat the storm, but instead created gridlock on the roads just as the storm hit. The Interstates stayed that way for a day. And in that day, thousands of people’s lives were altered. Twenty Four hundred children stayed in their schools that night, unable to get home, with parents unable to get to them.  Unless, of course, you were Elizabeth, the daughter of   Mark, who walked six miles in the snow to spend the night with her and help out at their school. Fifty more children spent the night on their school bus trapped in the gridlock. Food was walked in to them. One lady had to deliver her child in her car, aided by state troopers. Many acts of kindness sprung up all up and down the Interstate. Some who were able to leave their cars walked to an open CVS drugstore, returning with treats for their neighboring motorists. It was a day when a plastic CVS bag was far more popular than any Gucci bag has ever been. Toby’s school bus got stuck on I-285, and he and sixty of his classmates rode in ambulances to a Kroger supermarket where they spent the night and were fed by the good folks at Kroger. Stores all along the highway opened their doors to thousands of stranded motorists. And when state and local officials were stymied as to how to handle the crisis, a woman named Jocelyn started a Facebook page called Snowed out Atlanta, which by the day’s end had over fifty thousand signups. The site coordinated help to thousands; over eight hundred homes were opened. There were literally thousands of random acts of kindness going on all over Atlanta.

          Doesn’t that sound a lot like the Feeding of the Five Thousand? Jesus is in the area. Jesus is like this snowstorm in Atlanta. Everywhere he goes, it causes a traffic jam. Here is Jesus on a mountain next to the Sea of Galilee. This should be a slightly populated area, but here on the mountain, there are five thousand men. There are also women and children, but they are not counted. This is a big crowd, and out on the mountain, no one is selling concessions. It’s time to eat, and no one came prepared. And here comes young Toby. He is probably local because he has food with him. He probably has come from nearby and brought a bag lunch.

          Jesus sees the crowd forming. He knows the situation. He turns to Philip to test his wits and his faith. He asks Philip where to buy bread. He knows that there is not only no place, but not enough money, to do this. Andrew comes up. Andrew is called the Bringer because it seems as if he is always bringing things or people to Jesus. He does it again. He has found Toby and Toby has offered to share his bag lunch.

          It’s a wonderful story. The people are seated on the mountain. Jesus gives thanks. The loaves are passed. The fish is passed. Everyone, EVERYONE, is filled! Ten thousand people or more are filled! When all have eaten, twelve baskets of food are left! The people call it a sign. They call Jesus the Prophet.

          Some say that this is easily explainable, that it is simply the generosity of the many caught up in the moment. If that was indeed the case, I have no problem with that. It is no less a miracle to get five thousand hungry people to share what little they have than it is for the Lord to snap his fingers and produce the harvest.

          Is that what happened in Atlanta that January day? Was it just the natural generosity of the many in a crisis? Reports are that for all the acts of kindness, there were plenty who would not lift a finger for fear of losing their place in the traffic line, so it’s something more than mob generosity.

          With the Feeding of the Five Thousand, you can just say that Jesus was there. His presence alone was reason enough. If you did, you would be only half right. Jesus was also present in Atlanta in 2014. He is always present through the Holy Spirit abiding in his people. He is always present beside the Father interceding for his brothers and sisters in the faith. Jesus lost nothing in his Ascension. We just gained a spiritual presence in us here and a divine advocate for us in heaven.

          Here’s the point. The story of the Feeding of the Five Thousand is in every gospel for a reason. The teaching of this story is that important. It is a tale of wholesale generosity. It is a tale of miraculous multiplication. It is a reminder that if we are to reach the lost, we had better be prepared to feed them if we want them to be able to hear us. Man does not live by bread alone, but man cannot live without it. And for John, who more than likely was the last to write his gospel and who therefore would have been familiar with the other three, chose to add the boy, the boy who brought his bag lunch to Jesus and handed it over to be used by the Master. I’m asking myself, what was it that John wants us to consider? Why the boy?

          There are any number of reasons that John wants the boy to be in the picture. Here are a few I see.  First, he was a boy, not an adult. John might be telling us that revelation does not have to come just from on high, not just from the pulpit or the learned commentarian. Revelation can come in simple ways, like those of a boy with his bag lunch. Second, the boy was prepared. He was in a position to help because he didn’t come out to the mountain empty-handed. It’s the same as bringing your gloves to a work day or having a shovel handy when a hole is to be dug. Things don’t happen unless someone shows us prepared.

           And then, there is that supernatural presence of God that is waiting to be activated. If we don’t turn things over to Jesus, then we are left to our own devices. But when we do, look out! Great things can and will happen. Just ask Atlantans about how to come together and use what is there. Just ask our friend Toby, the boy with the bag lunch. If Toby were here to tell us about that day, he might say something like this? “It went from my hands to the Master’s hands. When you let things pass from your hands to the Master’s hands…they get multiplied.”

          So two plus five can equal thousands with Jesus. Whether its food, or clothing, or disaster relief, or people, or even souls, put it in the Master’s hands. And then, expect a miracle!

Drake’s Observation

Luke 17: 20, 21     John 14: 15-17

 

 

          A couple Sundays ago, I dropped in on the children’s Sunday school class. While we are in Telephone Church, they meet in the hall. They line up on the wall and the only chair is for the teacher. I think they sort of like it that way. That particular morning, the lesson was on Jesus’ battle in the wilderness. As is the way of children, that might have been the story in the book, but they had questions and observations that went far beyond Jesus and Satan and those temptations in the wilderness. Somehow, the conversation turned to how it will be when Jesus returns. Everyone had a thought. What happens if we’re alive? How will we meet Jesus? What happens if we’re already dead? How will we meet Jesus then? What will we look like if we’re already dead? And what will heaven look like? Where is it? What’s it like?

          You have to be quick if you’re going to teach Sunday school to young boys and girls. They have more questions than you have answers. And they don’t ever ask simple questions. When children ask about God, they go to the heart of theological discourse. No seminary professor ever asked me questions that hard.

          Amid all these questions, one stood out to me. It wasn’t a question. It was an observation. Drake O’Neal said something pretty simple but very profound. Drake said: “I like it here.” It isn’t that Drake has anything against heaven. In fact, he liked the idea because it would mean he could hook up with his Pa again. Drake has someone in heaven whom he misses. Isn’t that true for all of us! But still, there was that very pointed observation: I like it here.

          Now, Drake’s parents and grandparents can feel flattered. Drake’s experience so far on this planet has been pretty good. Drake likes it right where he is. He’s in no hurry to experience heaven as long as earth goes along the way it’s been going. If heaven is so wonderful, why isn’t Drake in a hurry to get there? In fact, if heaven is so wonderful, how come all of us aren’t in a hurry to get there?

          I’m not. I like it here. Come to think of it, I can’t name a single person that I know who is in a hurry to get to heaven. Even though the Christian religion is based largely upon our salvation, no one is lining up for heaven. It’s a promise that all of us want to claim, but not right now. So Drake is onto something when he says he likes it here. We all like it here. How is that possible when heaven is the ultimate goal?

          I think that we sometimes get off track when we use all our time and energy to point to heaven. Of course, it is the destination we all desire, but the journey is just as important. In fact, it’s pretty much the only way I know to get there.

          Why do we like it here so much? The simple answer is that that’s the way God meant for us. In the creation, God made everything for us that we need. He made us to enjoy the creation, to have dominion over it, to help one another, to be in communion with him. He also gave us freedom of choice and in our desire to be like God, we chose to use that freedom to bring us to a broken relationship with God. But God meant it for good. He always means it for good. The whole Bible is this long story of God rescuing us from ourselves over and over and over again, always loving us and looking after us even when we reject him. Remember what Joseph said to his brothers, the brothers who left him for dead? “Do not fear, for am I in the place of God? As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good…” [Gen. 50: 20].

            But why do we like it here so much? One of the reasons has a theological name. It’s called realized eschatology. Eschatology is a big word with a big meaning. It is the study of the “end” things, the “last” things. It’s the study of when and how God’s intentions for the world are fulfilled.[1] When Jesus came, when he died and was resurrected, he brought life. That is, God’s will was and is being done on earth as it is in heaven.[2] It started then and it will never completely finish until Jesus comes again. So we are in the end times, even if they last a million years. The world changed forever when Jesus came and died for us. And if Jesus came and died for us to live, then we are already participating in some way in the kingdom of God. So realized eschatology is a term that instructs us that since Jesus has come and died and risen and defeated death and sin, then we are already in the end times, but since he has not come again to close out all history, then we are also living in the not yet. We live in the already and the not yet.

          I think that’s why Drake likes it here. Jesus has already given us all the hope we need. We are living on the place where God started it all. Even though we have mucked it up a lot, there is so much, so very much, that is just plain wonderful about our world and all the people and relationships that we have here. I agree with Drake. I like it here. I like it here a lot.

          And every time I make a new friend, every time I smile at some act of kindness, every time I see someone giving out love just because they can, I know I like it here so much that I don’t want it to end. Even in the rough times, when someone I care about is hurt or dies, I still am glad they were here and that I got to know them and remember them. They become part of me in some way and in that way, perhaps they never completely die.

          What we are talking about is the Kingdom of God. Is it here? Is it there? Is it coming? Is it now? Yes to all of the above. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus is asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God will come.  Jesus answers them this way: “The kingdom of God is not coming with signs to be observed, nor will they say, Look, here it is! or There! For behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you” [17: 20, 21].  Before he ascended, he promised the disciples the coming of the Holy Spirit to dwell in the hearts of every believer. Where is the Kingdom of God? It’s inside us and all around us.

          We are between the times; that is, between Easter and the end. In the between times, the battle between God and the powers of darkness is still waged, but the outcome has been sealed. Shirley Guthrie says it this way: “The victory of Christ that has been won is the guarantee of the final victory that is surely on the way.”[3] So yes, the kingdom of God is already here and now, and yes the kingdom of God is not yet complete.

         For Drake, and for many other Christians including me, the answer is pretty simple. I like it here. Why? Maybe it’s because the kingdom of God is already here, just enough to make it special to be alive.

---

     [1] Shirley C. Guthrie, Jr., Christian Doctrine (Louisville, Westminster John Know press, 1994), 281.

[2] Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, 281.

     [3] Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, 284.

Seeing the Invisible

Nehemiah 2: 13-18     2 Corinthians 5: 1-10

 

 

          Don’t you love to be around people who can cast visions! People who can look out into space as if they see something, and as they begin to describe what they see, it isn’t long before you can begin to see it too.  I remember as a college student hearing Robert Kennedy use these words as the theme for his 1968 Presidential bid: “Some men see things are they are and say why. I dream things that never were and say why not.” Just to be fair, he was quoting George Bernard Shaw, but he claimed those words as his vision. Or there was Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I have a dream” speech delivered in 1963 in the March on Washington.

          Both these men died casting their vision. They died, but their visions lived. Both these men were vision casters. They looked out into the nothing and they saw not what was, but what could be. Without dream casters, where would we be? They see the invisible. They give it a taste of reality for us.

          We’ve been talking about the book of Nehemiah. Nehemiah is like Kennedy and King. He has even better vision. From his vantage point in King Artaxerxes Persian palace, he can see Jerusalem, a place he has never lived, in a country in which he has never set foot. And his vision of what is there is so real that it brings him to tears.

          I’m thinking that Nehemiah had two visions. The first one was a vision of what Jerusalem looked like. He had the capacity to see in his mind’s eye the ruin and devastation that was there. He could see the broken down walls. He could smell the burned gates. And in this vision, scripture tells us that Nehemiah wept and mourned for days. He fasted and he prayed. He remembered the teachings of his elders and of scripture that if they would return to God, that God would again gather them and bring them to his chosen place.

          It is a powerful testimony that even though seventy years had passed, even though Nehemiah had grown up in a mixed culture where he was constantly exposed, and was successful in, the Persian way of life, he still was profoundly influenced by the power of God. Even though he has climbed the ladder of success, even though he has no physical connection with Jerusalem, he does have this incredible, almost instinctual, connection with his homeland. He knows it is in trouble and for all practical purposes destroyed. It makes him hurt. It brings him to his knees. But this is only the first vision.

          But Nehemiah begins to pray again. You know this is dangerous. When righteous believers begin to pray about something, things happen. Prayer is powerful. We are reminded of that over and over in scripture. What does James tell us? Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective [5:16].

          So Nehemiah prays. And in that prayer, another vision is born. This time, Nehemiah does not see the description of Jerusalem as brought to him by certain men from Judah. This time, Nehemiah sees a different vision. This time, Nehemiah sees Jerusalem rebuilt. He sees the walls rebuilt. He sees the gates restored. He sees the temple as a center of worship. He sees the people no longer as the scattered, but rather coming together to worship as the gathered people of God. Nehemiah sees what to everyone else is still invisible.

          And in that prayer, Nehemiah is emboldened. He is so emboldened by that prayer that he goes to the Persian King and asks for permission to go home and rebuild. Right before he makes this crazy request, he prays again. If you read Nehemiah, you can see a pattern. The man doesn’t go off half-cocked. He is always going to God in prayer before he does or says something big. And it works.

          So Nehemiah sets out to the home he has never known, to the people who are his but know him not, to rebuild a city where no one wants to live. Why? Because Nehemiah has seen the invisible. He has cast his vision for God.

          Hold that thought, the thought of seeing the invisible, while we now turn to another form of vision and another form of re-building. While Nehemiah was concerned with an earthly home, the apostle Paul in 2^nd Corinthians 5 was concerned with a different kind of home.

          Paul calls our bodies our earthly home. He compares them to a tent in which we live, but only temporarily. He talks about being uncomfortable in a way. It’s as though we know that there is something more, something better, but that is in the valley of the not yet. In the now, we groan and carry our burdens, sensing more, but unable to see that which is promised.

          Paul says in verse 6 that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. In verse 5, he says that we have the guarantee of the Spirit until life, life in God that is, swallows up our mortality. Now this is high theological cotton, and Paul is apparently trying to reassure us that when our mortal bodies are separated from our souls, we need not fear, for God in his time will reunite them. But this seems also to be a teaching moment. For me, to be at home in the body is not to be away from the Lord, but to be in community with the Lord through the power of the Holy Spirit. No, we are not yet ready for heaven, but yes we are already in communion with God. I don’t disagree with Paul. I’m just noticing another thing that God teaches me in this scripture.

          But here is what else Paul says. And here, he joins with Nehemiah. Paul says: we walk by faith, not by sight. Paul is reminding us that we too are called upon to see the invisible.

If you can see it with your naked eye, then you don’t need faith, do you. You can rely upon your eyes. If you can feel it with your hands or taste it with your tongue or hear it with your ears, you don’t need faith any more. But if you can’t, then you need faith. You need faith to cast a vision. You need faith to see God in his presence. And you need faith to place yourself in that presence.

          And what is God’s presence? I am God’s presence. When I stand here in faith, talking about what God means to me, I am God’s presence. You are God’s presence. When you rise to sing a hymn, bow to pray, hold the hand of another in Christian love, you are God’s presence. Think about it. You can’t do any of that without faith. And that’s precisely how you see the invisible. Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen, says the writer of Hebrews.

          What is it that you can see? What is that invisible reality that God has shown to you? Kennedy and King and Nehemiah and Paul all had something in common. They saw a world or a place or a people with the eyes of God. Then they set out to get others to see it with them. Your job is no different. What do you see? God has given you eyes for something special. Pray about what you see. Then share it.

It’s Time

Nehemiah 2: 13-18

 

 

          I wish you all could have been with me this week at the National Gathering of ECO. Time after time I was challenged. Sometimes it was by recognized experts in their fields. Once it was by former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice. One of the most powerful challenges came from neither, but from a minister named Linda Snyder. Linda is the pastor of Middle Presbyterian Church in Mt. Pleasant, Pennsylvania. It is a small country church with a small membership. Its existence predates the United States itself, having been formed in 1772.  Middle Presbyterian’s future was trapped by its history in both its buildings and its thoughts until it finally had to confront them. In an act of great corporate courage, this little church has gone after its future in God’s plan. It is re-modeling its historic sanctuary. It is replacing its ancient pews with chairs! It has changed its mission statement, which now reads: “To reach the lost at any cost” and its vision statement, which now reads: “To be a historic congregation for a contemporary world.” Middle Presbyterian is no longer in the middle. It’s not just renovating its facilities. It’s renovating its commitment.

          We talked some about Nehemiah a few weeks ago. I want to return to that story today to mine it a little further. In the second chapter, Nehemiah goes out at night to inspect the walls of Jerusalem. They are bad. The walls are down. The gates are destroyed. These are walls made of stones. Big stones.  The walls to be restored were 7-11 feet thick and 9 or more feet high. To undertake the task of rebuilding will require the efforts of all the people and faith in God that transcends all the doubt that not only surrounds their efforts, but threatens their resolve.

          It is not a question of whether Nehemiah is up to the task. He is their leader, but he is only one man. It is not a question of whether God is up to it. We all know that answer. The question is: Are those who would be God’s people up to it? Are they up to the task? It will come at a cost, and there will be those who want them to fail.

          Now I’ve gotta ask. What is the big deal about the walls? Jerusalem’s walls had been down seventy two years. Why rebuild them now? Why was it so important for Nehemiah to take on this project and lead the people of Jerusalem to take part? There was somewhat of a safety issue, but again, the walls had been down for a couple generations. What was it? It was way more than safety.

          For Nehemiah, re-building the walls of Jerusalem was a God thing. There really was not a pressing need, if you think in human terms. But if you’re doing kingdom thinking, that’s a whole new ball game. Think about it. Nehemiah was helping re-build the city of God!  

          The book of Nehemiah is only twelve chapters, but it contains as least ten prayers from Nehemiah. Why is Nehemiah always praying? Because what he proposes to do is too big for the personnel. It’s too big for the schedule. It’s just too big. And that’s how Nehemiah knows that he’s going to be part of a God thing. And prayer is big to Nehemiah, because he knows that the job is too big without God. Nehemiah has to have faith. Big faith. Big enough that with God’s help, he can convince the people to get on board.

          The book of Nehemiah is a story of big faith. The people of God got on board all right. In spite of all the obstacles they faced, in spite of all the other tasks they had to do to live, they brought in the wall project. In 52 short days, the walls of Jerusalem were rebuilt. How did it happen? Why did it happen? It happened because those walls were a symbol of something much bigger. They were a symbol of God’s people dedicating themselves to kingdom work, regardless of what others thought, even regardless of what else they had to do.

Listen again to the words of Nehemiah:

 

          ¹⁷ Then I said to them, “You see the trouble we are in, 

how Jerusalem lies in ruins with its gates burned. Come,

let us build the wall of Jerusalem, that we may no longer suffer derision.” ¹⁸ And I told them of the hand

of my God that had been upon me for good, and also

of the words that the king had spoken to me. And they

said, “Let us rise up and build.” So they strengthened

their hands for the good work.

         

          We have been about the task of gathering information for months now. We have learned a lot. We will never learn enough. There will always be more to know. But it’s time. We don’t need new facilities to be God’s church. We don’t need a sanctuary or a fellowship hall or classrooms to do kingdom work. But we do need to act out our faith. Let’s begin again. It’s time to build something for God.

          Listen today to what your leaders have to say, to what they have learned. Search your heart. Then make your decision and have it counted. And once we have decided, then strengthen your hands for the good work.  Kingdom work. Let’s not just renovate our facilities. Let’s renovate our commitment.