Breaking In

Isaiah 58: 6-11, Mark 1: 9, John 5: 9-18

 

 

          Breaking in. You hear that term and it usually brings up negative connotations. There was a break in at the Jones’ house, or the hardware store. Not good. In law school, we memorized all the elements of the common law crimes as they were imported from England into our law. It was so important that most of those definitions are still wandering around in my head, though I have not practiced criminal law for many years. The one I’m thinking about right now is burglary: the breaking and entering of the dwelling house of another in the nighttime with the intent to commit a felony.  Prove that and the person was guilty of burglary, but you had to prove each and every element of the crime to get a conviction.

          What’s that got to do with God? What’s that got to do with Palm Sunday? Well, it occurred to me that in some ways, the things God has had to do to reach us have been similar to common law burglary. What happened at the incarnation, the birth, of Jesus? What happened at the baptism of Jesus? What happened to the paralytic man sitting by the Sheep Gate in Bethesda?  What happened on Palm Sunday? What happened on Good Friday and Easter Sunday? What happens to our lives when we find the truth of the gospel? Is God a burglar? Let’s see if we can make a case.

          Two thousand or so years ago, the little city of Bethlehem had swelled to many thousands as people returned home for the census ordered by Herod. God chose that season to send his son Jesus into the world as a baby boy born to Mary. Jesus arrived uninvited and without the consent of mankind in the nighttime, arguably in the dwelling house of another. The common law was that if you were in the outbuilding of the owner, then that was the same as being in his house. So the stable counts as part of the dwelling. We seem to have all the elements except maybe the intent to commit a felony. But we can argue that treason is a felony, and Jesus came to usher in a new kingdom. That was treason to the Romans. I rest my case. God sent Jesus to commit a burglary on mankind.

                    Mark’s gospel tells us that when Jesus came out of the water after having been baptized by John, “the heavens were torn open for the Spirit of God to descend to the earth.” Another break-in. There was a break. There was an entry. It was from heaven to earth, the dwelling house of man. But it was not nighttime. Okay, maybe not burglary, but close. Under today’s codified criminal law, it would still be burglary if we could prove intent to commit a felony.

          What about that incident at the Sheep Gate? The fellow is sitting there minding his own business and Jesus invades his space, not once but twice. He doesn’t just heal the fellow; he comes back looking for him and warns him to sin no more. Jesus may not be guilty of burglary, but certainly of aggravated assault, disturbing the peace and probably a few more charges.

                    These incidents are just the tip of the iceberg, for Jesus is constantly breaking in to our lives. Look at Palm Sunday, where he came into a Roman occupied town to the salute of a crowd calling him their new king. Treason. Or Maundy Thursday, where he admitted to the Sanhedrin that he was nothing less than God. Treason.  How about Good Friday, where God tore open the veil of the temple and once more broke in to our world? He even created his own night by blocking out the sun. That sounds a lot like a burglary. That’s bad…no, that’s good!

          Of course, Jesus is no burglar. He is guilty only of overwhelming love. Something has been left out of these facts. God and Jesus are not guilty of burglary, because when they break in to the world, or the temple, they enter into their own creation. You can’t be guilty of burglary unless the dwelling belongs to another. Nothing here really belongs to us. We are only the stewards, and poor ones at that, of this earth. It all belongs to God, and he can’t break in to his own house.

          But what about us? Even if God didn’t burglarize the earth or the temple, what about us? Didn't he break in on us? What about that fellow at the Sheep Gate? He didn’t ask God for help. In fact, he was almost rude to Jesus and certainly not deserving or even appreciative of his help. And yet Jesus came for him not just once, but twice. He broke in to this fellow’s life without an invitation. Isn’t that some sort of invasion of privacy? There must be a law. Why does Jesus keep breaking in to our lives?

          Because he loves us. God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit are constantly breaking into our lives, waiting for an opportunity to break in to our hearts. That’s the story of the Bible. That’s the story of Palm Sunday. That’s the story of Easter. God loves us. How much does he love us? No Christian has any trouble answering that question. “For God so loved the world that he sent his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in hum, shall not perish, but shall have everlasting life.” He came and made himself into a human being, a servant of men, a messenger of how to live our lives. He came to redeem us from ourselves and from death itself. If it takes breaking in to get our attention, then that is what he does.  He loves us that much.

          What does it look like to be the victim of this heavenly break-in? The prophet Isaiah tells us that the fast we choose is to loose the bonds of wickedness, to free the oppressed, to break every sinful yoke, to share what we have with others, to seek those less fortunate and be their brother. And what is the result of such brotherly love? Isaiah says that “then shall your light break forth like the dawn…then shall your light rise in the darkness.”  Isaiah challenges us to live our lives unselfishly, just like the Savior whose resurrection we are poised to celebrate. When Jesus breaks in, as he does constantly, he brings light to our darkness. Isaiah reminds us that we can and should do the same to our fellow man.

          The Bible is the story of God’s mission to redeem his love. It is the story of him constantly forgiving, forever coming for us. He keeps right on breaking into our lives, looking for an opening to break in to our hearts.  Scripture also warns us that there will be one more time when Jesus breaks in to the whole creation. The words are found in Matthew, in 1 Thessalonians, in 2 Peter and in Revelation. In each, they are virtually the same. At the Day of the Lord, Jesus will come again to close out the age. All will be judged. It will be the final break in. We are told exactly how it will happen in all four of these passages. “The day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.”

          That’s a burglary I’d like to see. “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.”

Creation Craftsmanship

Ephesians 2: 1-10

 

 

          Today, our lesson comes from Ephesians, often called the crown of Pauline theology. More specifically, it comes from the first ten verses of Chapter 2, the passage which highlights that by grace we have been saved through faith. The passage has a number of important points, but they all converge on verse 8, which I just highlighted. I have tried all week to bring a message built around other verses in this passage and I’m not sure it should be done. The message of salvation by grace through faith is so powerful that it overwhelms any other message around it. Let’s look at this wonderful passage for a few moments.

          The first three verses are about the human condition. Paul describes it as pretty much in a state of hopelessness. He says we were dead in our sins, that we were walking not in the Christian way, but in the way of the world, the way of Satan; that we were following in disobedience and answering to selfishness and evil. Paul says that in such condition, our humanity was as children of wrath. We cared only for ourselves.

          We live in such a world today.  Our human condition will not change without divine intervention. The question is not whether that world exists, for we all know that it does. The question is how we will exist in our world. A story is told about a woman who was living in Tennessee some years ago. She was home and confined to her bed, recovering from hip surgery when the spring rains came. A flash flood occurred at night, and the waters swept into her house. Unable to save herself, she was in danger of drowning in her own bed. Luckily, paramedics arrived in time to save her. The human condition Paul describes is like the condition of that bed ridden woman. We can’t save ourselves any more than that woman could save herself. We are sinners. We need a divine paramedic to save us from the flood of God’s wrath.

          Contrasting the human condition described in the first three verses of this passage is God’s divine motivation, which we see in Verse 4.  Paul reminds us that God is rich in mercy and loves us with a great love, a love which we cannot earn, but have the opportunity to claim. A foul-mouthed sailor experienced that great love when a storm struck his ship on March 10, 1748, just a few days ago but over two hundred sixty years back. When he later wrote about the storm that struck his ship that day, he said that
“Almost every passing wave broke over my head. I expected that every time the vessel descended into the sea, she would rise no more. I dreaded death.” He survived the storm and it changed his life. Shortly afterward, John Newton discovered God’s amazing grace. He later wrote the hymn we sing today (Amazing Grace) to commemorate that discovery.

          The third division of this passage finds Paul preaching of God’s eternal salvation.  Verses 5-9 talk of being made alive in Christ, of being raised up with him and even seated with him in the heavenly places. It is God’s kindness and love that give us this opportunity. It is God’s saving grace brought to us through Jesus Christ that makes it possible.

          So by the grace of God, we are saved…through faith. Is it our faith that saves us? No, it is God’s grace that saves us.  Paul tells us that this salvation is not of our own doing, but rather the gift of God. Yes, we have to have faith, meaning we have to trust God to save us. We have to believe the story of the gospel. Can you trust God to save you? Can you accept in your heart that he is sufficient, that the sacrifice of Jesus Christ has done all the work that needs to be done for you to inherit eternal life? That is the choice you have. Will you trust God, or will you rely on yourself?

          If you trust God, then you will begin to understand the last verse of this passage. Paul says that we are God’s workmanship, that we are created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand for us. Our trust saves us, and we return our love through how we live our lives. We do this with the good works that we return to God as our love offering.

          In 1925, a young Scotsman named Eric Liddell won an Olympic gold medal in the 400 meter race. He won it because he declined to run in his best event, the 100 meter dash, and so was substituted into the 400m. He declined the 100m race because it was to be run on Sunday, and Sunday was the Lord’s Day for this son of Scottish missionaries to China.  Liddell went on to win the 400m, besting his previous best time by a full two seconds. When asked to what he attributed such a breakthrough time, he replied: “I run the first 200m as hard as I can. Then, for the second 200m, with God’s help, I run harder.” 

          Liddell always had his eye on the prize, but it wasn’t the one for which he became famous. When asked about his Olympic experience, he had this to say: “It has been a wonderful experience to compete in the Olympic Games and to bring home a gold medal. But since I have been a young lad, I have had my eyes on a different prize. You see, each one of us is in a greater race than any I have run in Paris, and this race ends when God gives out the medals.” Liddell went on to become a missionary to China, where he gave himself unselfishly to God’s mission in that country. He died of a brain tumor in a Japanese concentration camp in 1943. Even at the end of his life, he saw God’s greater purpose. When his release had finally been obtained through much effort and negotiation by Winston Churchill, Liddell stayed behind, giving up his passage home to a pregnant woman in the camp, saving not only her but her unborn child. He was to never see his wife and three children again.

          “We are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” What a beautiful thought. As you leave today, take that thought with you. You are God’s workmanship. You were created in Christ for good works. God did all that before you ever took your first breath. We are created by him to walk in the works that he pre-ordained for us to do. Each of us has our place in the body of Christ. Are you listening? Where is your place?

          Sometimes when I think of God’s craftsmanship, I think of the ocean or the beach or the Blue Ridge Mountains or the Grand Canyon. Sometimes I think of tigers or wolves or antelope. As majestic as all those things are, together they cannot hold a candle to the divine craftsmanship I see every time I look in the mirror, or out into this congregation. I am God’s creature, designed for good works. I am God’s handiwork, built for kingdom ventures. So are you. The Bible tells us so.

          In this Easter season, a season of remembering the great love of Jesus coming for us, living with us, dying for us, rising in victory over sin and death, are you experiencing the craftsmanship God fashioned for you? Are you living the life he designed for you? Of finding his place in the the Christian life, Eric Liddell had this to say: “You will know as much of God, and only as much of God, as you are willing to put into practice.”

          Listen to the words of the apostle Paul. Listen with your heart. It’s not about this world, except that this world is where we begin our walk with our Savior. God in his great love and rich mercy, wants to raise you from the death of sin, wants to seat you in the heavenly places with him, wants to show you the incomparable riches of his grace in Christ Jesus.

          Will you let him?

The Word of the Cross

1 Corinthians 1: 17-25

 

 

          Drive through any downtown and what buildings do you see more than any other? Take a spin through the countryside and what man made structure is the most prominent?  Chances are good that you will probably answer churches and you would be right. In this buckle of the Bible belt, churches are everywhere. They come in all sizes and shapes. They are old and older and even brand spanking new. They have sanctuaries that hold hundreds and even thousands of people.  One thing that almost all of them have in common is some sort of steeple. Even the ones that don’t, have something in common inside their sanctuaries. On those steeples and inside those sanctuaries and prominently displayed is a cross, usually behind the pulpit. The cross is the universal icon of the Christian church. In all of Christianity, Protestant or Roman Catholic, it is the best known symbol of Christianity.

          Google “Cross” and you will get over a million and a half websites to go to. Google the image of the cross and you will find about 50 types. The most familiar to us are probably the Latin Cross, which looks like the one behind me, the Crucifix, which bears the image of a crucified Jesus upon a cross, and the Celtic Cross, which is essentially a Latin Cross with the upper portion enclosed in a circle.

          There are all these different images of the cross, and not just the cross itself. There is also the “sign” of the cross. You know that. It’s the crossing of oneself with your hand, either on the forehead or across the chest. The practice started as early as the second century and continues today with many Christians.

          Of all the icons that might be used to remind us of our beliefs, why have we settled on the cross? Ever thought about it? Of all the symbols we might have chosen, the cross is the one that reminds us most deeply of the pain, humiliation and sacrifice borne by our Lord for us. In fact, that was the argument of some within the early church.  It was such a violent reminder, such a grotesque remembrance, that some wanted it replaced with something more heavenly, more sublime. As you know, that’s not the way it turned out, for the Cross also represents in the strongest way possible way the atonement, the sacrifice of God’s own Son on the cross to save us from the damnation of our own sin. In Colossians 2: 15, Paul says that Jesus “disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him.”

          But what does Paul mean in 1st Corinthians 1 when he talks about “the word of the cross?” It helps to know a little bit about the Corinthian church, about what was going on there at the time, about the makeup of that church. Then we can begin to see what Paul is getting at. The church in Corinth was pretty much of a mess. In this bustling city of some eighty thousand people at the time and every kind of religious culture existing side by side, Paul stepped in and planted the church in Corinth. After he left, it didn’t take long for the church to find itself embroiled in controversy. Many leaders and factions and other religions were vying for the attention of the people and they were beginning to lose the unity which had held them together. Additionally, the culture was one in which the art of debate and philosophical reasoning was given much attention. Paul was schooled in such arts, but that was not what he chose to use in Corinth. And that brings us to this curious term: the word of the cross.

          Paul was an educated man. He was schooled in the ways of debate and rhetoric common to the Greco-Roman culture of the first century. He had used these skills before. He found them wanting. What Paul found was that he was in the way of the message. He was sent by Jesus to preach the gospel, the most powerful and important message in the history of the world! He didn’t need rhetorical skills. He just needed to tell the good news! So Paul starts out this letter to the Corinthians by saying just that. He says that Christ sent him “to preach the gospel and not with words of eloquent wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power.”

          Paul goes on to talk about the wisdom and power of God. Paul has learned something himself, for the power of God is more than sufficient to persuade those who have been called. We know those who have been called. They are easily identifiable. They are the ones who believe the gospel.  Paul says that’s how you tell the winners from the losers. On the program of life, it’s not the scribes or the wise or the captains of the debate team who win. It’s those who believe the word of the cross!

          The word of the cross is that he died. He died on that cross to save us from our own sin. And so, Paul says he preaches Christ crucified. But to stop there is to stop short of the end of the story. The end of the story, the reason we keep telling it, is that Christ didn’t just die for us, as glorious and generous as that was. He rose! He rose from the dead! Death could not hold him and he rose and he walked among us and he ascended to heaven, where he continues to intercede for us until he returns. That is the word of the cross! That is its power!

          Maybe that’s why even today, the cross stands at the top of churches. Maybe that’s why even today, the cross still stands behind the pulpit, reminding us not only of that great sacrifice, but also of that great and magnificent victory. Paul, quoting the prophet Hosea, says later in his letter to the Corinthians:

                    O death where is your victory?

                    O death, where is your sting?

                                                            1 Cor.15:55

          What is the word of the cross? I think the word of the cross is so powerful as to need no words. The cross speaks to us. It speaks to our heart of hearts. It is Jesus reminding us. I love you. I did it for you. I gave all and conquered all for you. I’m coming back for you. That is the word of the cross. Halleluiah!

Counted as Righteous

Romans 4: 13-25

 

 

          I used to play golf. I got where I could break eighty about half the time. If you’re a golfer, you know that’s not too bad. I never played the par 3’s that well, but even so, I almost made a hole in one dozens of times. Every time I came close, you know what my score was for that almost hole in one? Two.  

          It’s the same for outfielders who nearly catch that homerun ball. And for running backs who get stopped on the one inch line. And shots on goal that hit the post and bounce the other way. They all come soooo close. But when everything is tallied up, they are all the same. They don’t count. Cooking is the same way. Cook too little or too long or too hot or too cold and you don’t have a meal; you have a disaster. Close? Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.

          What about righteousness? How does righteousness work? Does close count in righteousness? In Matthew 25, Jesus talks about the final judgment. He is on his throne and all the nations are gathered. He is separating those who are deemed righteous from those who are not. He congratulates one group and condemns the other. Both seem to be unaware of what they have done or not done. They are received or condemned based upon their treatment of others, based upon their compassion—or their blindness--for their fellow man. Their fate for all eternity lies in the answer to one simple question. When you helped, did you do it unselfishly without regard to any benefit you might derive? Did you do it to the least, to the invisible? I know, that’s two questions, but you get my drift.

       With righteousness, Jesus seems to be saying, you’ve got to give like me to be like me. It doesn’t matter that you have a shelf loaded with good deeds. Why did you do them? Jesus says to those with the wrong motives: “as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me. And these (you) will go away into eternal punishment.” With righteousness, close doesn’t count. Or maybe, it depends on what is it you are counting. Albert Einstein, one of the great mathematicians of all time, put it this way: “Everything that can be counted does not necessarily count; everything that counts cannot necessarily be counted.”

          So how do you get counted righteous? In addition to the passage in Matthew, Paul gives us a thesis about righteousness in the book of Romans. Romans may well be the most theological book of the New Testament. It is lofty and complex, yet also down to earth and colloquial. It is a treatise of righteousness written to a church that Paul did not plant and had not yet been to visit. In the passage we examine today, Paul takes us on a tour of God’s saving righteousness, particularly as seen through the faith of Abraham. Abraham’s faith was “counted to him as righteousness.”

          My wife tells me that she has never been all that partial to the word righteousness. She says it just sounds too “high-falutin.” She says it doesn’t seem to fit.  She says it’s just “too ---something,” whatever that means. I think I know what she means. I grew up hearing that this guy or that woman was too “self-righteous.” It was not a compliment. I don’t really remember hearing it in any other context. Righteous seemed like something selfish or uppity.

          Well, if you agree with Cindy or me about that, then it’s high time to change your mind. Righteousness is a cool word. It describes something I want to be. You want to be righteous too. Here’s why.

          When you read Paul in the original language in which the New Testament was written, the word righteous comes from the same root as the word justification. They are interchangeable. To be righteous is to be justified. To be justified is to be righteous. We all want to be justified. That’s like saying we’re okay. And we are. We are part of God’s family when we believe in the gospel. At that point we are justified by God’s grace. Think of it this way. Justified means “just as if I had not sinned.” I like that! That’s what God gives me. And that makes me righteous. Remember, it means the same as justified. It means right with God. I’ll take that, too.

          So I think that the word righteous got a bad rap. Righteous is who I want to be. I want to be right with God. But how do I get righteous? Well, I can’t buy it. I can’t barter for it. I can’t earn it. So how can I get righteous? Well, consider Abraham.

          God promised Abraham that he would become the father of many nations. God made a covenant with Abraham to do that. We have talked about that. But Abraham was an old man, a hundred years old in fact, and his wife Sarah was ninety years old herself.   Paul is impressed with Abraham’s faith level. Paul says that Abraham’s faith did not weaken even when he considered his own body. The next line in Romans 4 just might be Paul’s attempt at humor, for he says that due to his advanced age, Abraham’s body “was as good as dead.” Now we have a number of members here who also are rather senior in age, but I know personally that they are very much alive. But then, none of them are contemplating childbirth and raising a child, either. At any rate, what Paul means is that Abraham had to have faith and plenty of it, because all the earthly signs to which he was accustomed were screaming “no way.”

          But Abraham did have faith. Abraham claimed God’s promise. Abraham walked with God. Sarah laughed, even named their son Isaac, which means laughter, but she also must have had faith, for indeed she and Abraham did conceive the first born son of the nation of Israel.  Paul uses terms like this to describe Abraham’s faith: “in hope he believed…did not weaken in faith…no distrust in God…fully convinced.” What was it in which Abraham was fully convinced? That “God was able to do what he had promised!”

          That’s how we get righteous. That’s how we get right with God. We believe. Paul tells us that Abraham’s belief “was counted to him as righteousness.” Do you see what Paul is saying? Abraham didn’t build up a big bag of good deeds, though he did many good things. Abraham didn’t accumulate great wealth to buy a seat at God’s table, though he did become a wealthy man. Abraham did not live a pure life, as is evidenced by his lie to King Abimelech about Sarah (Gen. 20) and his impatience with God that resulted in the birth of his son Ishmael not by Sarah but by her maidservant Hagar.  But Abraham did come to have complete faith in God, and when he did, he was blessed. He was counted as righteous.

          Paul says that the words “it was counted to him” were not written just for Abraham. They were also written for us. Paul says this: “It will be counted to us who believe in him who raised from the dead Jesus our Lord, who was delivered up for our trespasses and raised up for our justification.” Paul is showing us a double meaning here. Delivered up and Raised up. One saves us. We are delivered from our sins. The other finds us. We are raised up into righteousness. The gospel is incomplete without both events.

          The lesson of Abraham is simple. Close doesn’t count. Life is not about the quantity of your deeds or the depth of your reasoning. Life is about the quality of your heart. That’s what counts. That’s what makes you righteous. Do you believe that God sent his Son, let him die for us, raised him from the dead, and did it all for us? If you do, you are counted as righteous, just like Abraham and all the saints who have followed him.

          I’m thinking about all those goats back in Matthew 25 who did the right things for the wrong reason. They did it for themselves instead of unselfishly. They did it for personal gain and not for the Kingdom. At first blush, they seemed so much like the sheep whom Jesus loved and brought into fellowship with him. But a deeper reading shows that their acts only looked like faith. They weren’t ever that close to begin with.

          We have to believe to count. We have to have faith to count. When we do, the acts and deeds that we carry out will be acts of love that are God centered and not selfish. I have heard it said that if you don’t smell like sheep, then you ain’t no shepherd. Shepherds are what we all need to be. Then we count. We all have a witness to bring to the Lord’s Table. May we each find and participate in that witness. And then when that day comes for us to stand before our Savior, we too will be counted as righteous.

Torn For Unity

Ephesians 4: 1-6    Genesis 15: 7—21

 

 

          Ephesians is one of that group we refer to as the prison letters because it was written by Paul while in prison in Rome. In it he presents or re-introduces several themes, from election to grace by faith to redemption to reconciliation, to name a few. Today’s passage concentrates on reconciliation of all people to a new creation in one body, the church. Paul talks to his beloved church plant in Ephesus about unity. He tells them to make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit. Notice that Paul asks them to maintain the unity of the Spirit. He doesn’t ask them to create unity because it is already there. He wants them to preserve what has already been established by God through the Holy Spirit.

          Paul talks a lot about ones. One body, one spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all. That’s a lot of ones. What Paul is trying for is to get these members of the new Christian community to enter into relationships with one another. And he wants them to do it in a certain way. He wants them to be humble. He wants them to be gentle. He wants them to be patient. He even wants them to bear with one another in love. These are the building blocks of unity in the church. While the word is never used, the concept of a Trinitarian God is clear: one Spirit, one Lord, one God and Father. As there is unity in the Godhead of God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit, so does Paul exhort the church to experience and maintain that unity in itself.  

          So Paul is lifting up the themes of redemption and restoration through God’s grace and the saving act of Christ. These themes are not new. There are echoes of them from the beginning. The story of God is a story of mission…God’s mission to create, redeem and restore his people and all his creation, and that story is told across the pages and books of the Bible.

          Look, for example, at an old story from Genesis. In the fifteenth chapter, we read of a story that at first seems strange to us.

God is giving Abram, the nomad, the promise of land. Abram wants to believe but is having trouble buying in. He asks God how he can know as truth what God speaks. God says to Abram: Go get me these three animals and birds. Abram does as he is told and then cut them in half, except for the birds. He set the halves opposite one another so as to create a path. It is late in the day and Abram falls asleep. God shows him his future in his sleep, as well as the future of his people. Then, and here is the strange part, the presence of God passes between the pieces in the form of a smoking firepot with a blazing torch. Because of the promise made and the passing of God’s presence through these cut pieces of animals, this became known as “cutting a covenant.”

          So what is the significance of this strange ritual? God is saying to Abram that if he (God) ever goes back on his promise, then may what happened to those animals also happen to God. Bible scholars call this a self-maledictory oath. In plain English, it is a promise to bring bad things on oneself if he breaks his word or covenant. God makes promises to Abram that will affect all God’s people, and God says: I will keep my word or tear myself to pieces. He wants to unify Abram with him in a lasting covenant. This is the word given by God the Father.

          Two thousand years later, God the Son hung on a cross. He looked up to the heavens and cried out: “My God! My God! Why have we been ripped asunder?” Think about that. We were the ones that failed. God never broke covenant with us. It was, and still is, the other way around. But God loved us too much to accept the outcome which had been covenanted. So the love and unity that exist among Father, Son and Holy Spirit were broken. God did that for us. He loved us enough to break the peace of his own union as the Trinity rather than make us pay a debt we could not pay. Father, Son and Holy Spirit were torn asunder so that we might be united with them.         

          When Paul writes to the churches in Ephesus, this is the unity he is talking about. God in the Trinity has bought us with a price. We are redeemed because not only did he keep his part of that old covenant cut between him and Abraham; he kept our part of it too. Then he birthed us anew as his bride. We are the church, the gathering of God’s people. We are celebrated as individuals and wedded to one body. We belong to one family and that family is built by God himself.

          The unity of which Paul speaks is a unity not just between you and God or me and God, though that is certainly of great value. It is much more than that.  God keeps covenant with his people. God stays on his mission. God even tore himself apart to unify his church. God acted from love to give us the opportunity for restoration. It is God’s grace that does the heavy lifting. We just have to believe, and a significant part of the way we act out that belief is in community. As Tim Lane puts it, “Paul constantly applies the message of grace to individuals, but individuals who are in fellowship with one another.”

          For Jesus, church is as big as it gets down here. Jesus called it his bride. He died for it. He was torn from God for it. He ordained his disciples to go out and build his church. He trusted them with the whole future of the church and they came through for him. Though they were separated as they went about doing kingdom work, they were united in the idea of ecclesia, the gathering of the people of God. And they committed their lives to that effort. They knew what Paul teaches here. You can come to God alone, but you can’t do God alone. God was meant to be done in community. The Church, the bride of Christ needs you and you need it. And when you act in love to your fellow members, the body does not hurt; it thrives.

          He was torn for our unity. Let us honor that by being unified in this great priesthood of believers. We have kingdom work to do. Let’s do it together!

Defining the Job and Then Doing It

Mark 1: 21-39

 

 

          I had a meeting this week with a lay pastor friend of mine. We got caught up on each other’s ministries and families and then we spent awhile talking about spiritual formation. Sometimes, he acts as my spiritual advisor. As we are both more “doers” than “talkers,” it was hard to get a conversation going about things that are internal, but we finally got around to it. I had done an exercise in which I was asked to name those things I long to let go of in order to become more open to God’s activity in my life. I named the same three things I’ve been trying to let go of for years. My old friend laughed. Then he said something pretty perceptive. He said, “That’s just what the labels are. If you get rid of them, then what? If you’re not very careful, you will just replace them with new labels. Your problem is that you’re a workaholic. That’s what you need to let go of or tame. He laughed again. “At least now, you’re working for God,” he said.

          I was down at the church this week. It was Wednesday afternoon and I still had nothing for a sermon. I spent hours trying to just hear God or gain an idea. Everything I tried was coming up blanks. I stepped outside the church to call my wife. She was just as bad. She had spent the previous evening dealing with a hit parade of petty problems and went to bed with a cluttered and worried mind. She had spent the whole evening doing “good” but somewhat petty projects that left her tired and lacking meaning. So we complained to each other about how busy we were.

          Jesus suffered from some of the same burdens of business and multi-tasking that we do. The problem surfaces in the very first chapter of Mark’s gospel. Jesus is starting his earthly ministry. He gathers his team. He begins to teach, giving his first recorded lesson in the synagogue in Capernaum. He rebukes an unclean spirit in a man and does it in such a way that he is speaking not with hope or invoking the power of another, but rather is speaking with the authority that can come from only one source. The unclean spirit departs and Jesus’ fame begins.

          Jesus left the synagogue and went to Peter’s house, where he commanded a fever to leave Peter’s mother in law. She was healed instantly. You can imagine what happened next, after two apparent healings back to back. Before the day was over, or rather when the day was over, the town and the region were glutted with people coming to see the miracle man. Remember this was the Sabbath, but Sabbath ended at sundown. So then, the people could bring their sick friends to the house of Peter without breaking the Mosaic Law. Jesus said nothing of who he was, made no claim, but it didn’t matter. He healed people. He cast out demons. Mark tells us that the whole town was at the door of Peter’s house that evening.

          At some point, the day ended and the door to Peter’s house finally closed. The next morning, Jesus rose early, very early. It was still dark outside. He left by himself and went to a desolate place where he could be alone. He needed to have a talk with his spiritual advisor. He needed to pray.

          This is not the only record in Mark of such action by Jesus. He did it again after feeding the five thousand. Mark tells us that “…he dismissed the crowd. And after he had taken leave of them, he went up on the mountain to pray” [6:46].  The night of his arrest, after what was to become known as the Last Supper, Jesus went to the garden of Gethsemane to pray. Although he took Peter, James and John with him, he went off by himself. [14: 32-41]. It is clear in the gospel accounts that Jesus regularly sought the counsel of God through prayer.

            Of course, on the morning after that first healing, Peter and the others searched for him. Eventually they found Jesus and told him that everyone was looking for him. Jesus didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t even bother to say no to their request to return. What he did say was “Let us go on to the next town.”

          What in the world! People were waiting in line to meet Jesus and he told his disciples that they were leaving. And they left. They went to the next town. No matter that people wanted to meet him, touch him. He left. He was not being cruel. He just knew his job and he set out to do it.

          My pastor friend was telling me in his own way to know my job. If it is being a lawyer, that’s fine. If it’s dealing with real estate, that’s fine. But if it isn’t, then why is that stuff taking up so much room on my plate of life? And if it is removed, with what will I replace it? What is my real job and can I focus on it? My wife was up to her ears in civic projects and dealing with the petty details of life, but is that really her job?

          As we read this passage in Mark, it should not escape our notice that even this early in his ministry, Jesus had choices to make. From the beginning, Jesus came into conflict with Satan. The man possessed with demons was shouting at Jesus, but he was only an instrument. He was under Satan’s control. Satan was shouting at Jesus. Satan was not new to him. He had already encountered Satan in the temptation in the desert before he began his ministry. What should be significant to us is that Satan is always around. Today, he is much more shrewd than in the first century. We seldom confront demons bodily, though it does happen. But there is no lack of evil wandering around. Satan has learned the art of misdirection. He can exercise his power over us in the very chores and deeds we do in the name of goodness.

          Jesus said to his disciples: “Let’s go on to the next town, that I may preach there also, for that is why I came out.” The disciples didn’t understand. They were too new and they didn’t have the gospels to read. We do. We can see that Jesus came for more than healing. Healing was a way to get attention so that he could tell his message. Healing was a good thing to do, but it was not the main event. The people’s immediate needs clouded their ability to hear the truth that Jesus offered. “…that I may preach there also, for that is why I came out.” What does Jesus mean? He says: “this is why I came out.” Is he referring to coming out of town? Or is he referring to coming out of hiding and getting on with his ministry? I suspect that both ways might apply.

          Jesus withdrew. He prayed. He connected with God. And he moved on. He had a message to deliver. He had a job to do. There is a nice model for us when we are multi-tasking or overloaded and starting to get irritable about all the do-gooding we are up to. Is that the job we are called to do?

          It would have been easier for Jesus to give in to the crowds in Capernaum, throughout Galilee, in Jerusalem. It would have been easier for him to provide the food, to do the healings. But Jesus had a job to do. He knew what it was and he continually set out to do it. Jesus’ job was to tell the gospel, live the gospel, save those who were lost. He never let the other needs of life get in the way of his true calling.

          God has given each of us a job to do. Have you found yours? If you are not finding time to spend with him in prayer and reading the Word, how will you hear him? Even the Son of God had to separate himself from the crowds and the pull of the details of life in order to hear what his heavenly Father had to say. The time you spend each day communing privately with God is the time when you can hear him. It is the time when you can know your place, define your job for the day. Then you can go to the next town, or the next task or the next conversation, even if things remain to be done where you are. Let God define your job…and then set out and do it.

For the Sake of the Gospel

1 Corinthians 9: 16-23

 

 

          Ever feel like you had to do something or else? I’m not talking about something you wanted to do or even something you were required to do. I’m talking about something that if you didn’t do it, would tear you apart. You just had to act. Maybe it was someone betraying a close friend and you just couldn’t stand by and let it go on. You know you were risking a friendship, but the stakes were too high. Whether your friend understood or not, turned on you or not, he or she had to be told. Maybe you had to leave home and go try your wings. Even though you didn’t want to leave, you just couldn’t stay, at least not right now. There would be time for coming back home, but for now, you just had to leave or bust. When you were in love, didn’t it just about kill you not to be able to tell the whole world, especially him or her, how you felt. You had to. It couldn’t be held inside. It had to be told.

          Those who are called to ministry often express feelings like that—as though if they didn’t answer the call, they just wouldn’t be able to go on. And yet, the call of ministry is a double edged sword. Some years ago, I met with my minister and told him that I was seriously thinking of enrolling in seminary. His advice was to argue with God and to do everything in my power to avoid that call, but if I could not get it to go away, then to answer it. Today, I understand more about what he meant.

          Paul says to the Corinthian church: “…necessity is laid upon me. Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel.” Paul has been called to ministry and having heard that call, he can no more say no to it than he can say no to Jesus himself. Paul must follow his call.

          This passage has often been used to talk about the calling to ministry, and also whether it is appropriate to pay ministers or whether they should labor for free. But in a larger sense, it is also about stewardship and its call for each of us as Christians. 1 Peter 2:5 teaches us that as Christians, we are “living stones being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood.” Peter is not talking about ministers. He is talking about us.

            So when we read this passage from Paul to the Corinthian Christians, we can see the marks of stewardship imprinted upon it. Listen to these phrases: “I am entrusted with a stewardship…I have made myself a servant to all…I have become all things to all people…I do it all for the sake of the gospel.”  These thoughts are not just the thoughts of a minister. They could be the thoughts of any Christian.

          Listening might be the first ingredient to effective stewardship. I love the story that William Barclay tells about a country doctor in England named Johnson, who possessed the art of leading people to talk on their favorite subjects, and on what they knew best. He had a readiness to throw himself into the interests of other people. He knew the art of listening and he practiced it. As a result, he had a great following. Is that so hard to do? Apparently it is for some. But for Christians, we are called to be a people who listen.

          “I am entrusted with a stewardship,” said Paul. For Paul, that meant taking the gospel to the Gentiles. It meant living all over Asia Minor and being a traveling missionary for much of his life. He was the first and greatest church planter. But stewardship takes many forms. Consider the story of Oseola McCarty, of Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Forced to quit school in the sixth grade to help take care of her aunt, she never returned. She later became a washerwoman and did that menial job for decades until arthritis forced her to quit at the age of 86. She never owned a car; she walked everywhere she went. Her mother taught her to save money and she opened a bank account before she quit school. She saved something every week, no matter how little she earned washing clothes at fifty cents a load. A year after she retired, she had a meeting with her banker and her attorney, a man for whom she had washed clothes. She had saved $250,000.00. She showed them her estate plan with ten dimes. On dime was to go to the church. Three were to go to relatives. The other six dimes were to go to the University of Southern Mississippi as an endowment to fund a scholarship to help underprivileged African-American kids attend college. The washerwoman funded a $150,000.00 endowment and became the university’s most famous benefactor. She said she had too much money and couldn’t take it with her, so why not help someone else and put the money to work for God. Stewardship can be found anywhere along that spectrum, from giving your life to the planting of churches to saving money for a future gift.

          “I have made myself a servant to all…I have become all things to all people,” says Paul. Paul never compromised his ethics or his theology. But neither did he let his own upbringing or pride or cultural bias get in the way of winning more people over to the gospel.  The word we translate here as servant can also be translated slave. He saw himself as a slave entrusted with the stewardship of the gospel.  He is too good for no one.

          Paul ministered to the Jews. He says that he “became as a  Jew.” At first that makes little sense. He was in fact Jewish. But this passage shows how far Paul had come since that experience on the Damascus Road. He no longer thought of himself purely in that ethnic context. He would use his “Jewishness” to gain the confidence and respect of the Jews, but he was free from the old legal constraints of that religion. Nevertheless, his experiences and knowledge were useful to him in understanding how to reach the Jews.

          Paul ministered to those outside the law. This most probably refers to the Gentiles, as they were outside the Mosaic law of the nation of Israel. He grew up in the Diaspora, the area outside the capital city. He knew what the world was like outside Jerusalem. He says that although he is not lawless, he acts as though he is. Again, he is not compromising his ethics or theology, but rather his approach to how to communicate. His compass is the law of Christ, the requirement of Christian living, working out one’s salvation through faith in Christ and his teachings. He will not scare away a Gentile seeking Christ by spouting Mosaic Law to him. Rather he will listen to where that person is. Then, he can share Jesus and his love for all people.

          Paul ministered to the weak. Here, it would seem that Paul is calling to those who are at this point lost. It is not just the Jews, who know God but not Jesus, or the Gentiles, who come to know Jesus without the Jewish law, but also those within each group who have lost their way, to whom Paul reaches out. He is calling out to those who, like that lost sheep who wandered away from the flock, need a good shepherd to guide them home. If Paul has to go where they are, be who they are, to save them, he will.

            So why does Paul do these things? Why does he meander throughout Macedonia and Greece, calling out to those from all walks of life? He tells us in verse 23. He “does it all for the sake of the gospel.” He experienced God. He believed the Jesus story. He preached Christ crucified.  For Paul, it was never about him. It was always about the gospel, the lifesaving, life sustaining message of salvation offered through belief in Jesus. Paul felt the call of Jesus to tell the gospel story.

          Is there a “takeaway” today, besides the fact that we can clearly admire Paul for all he did?  The takeaway for me is that we should do the things we do for the sake of the gospel. Some of us will do as Paul did. We will go into some sort of ministry for our vocation as well as our calling. Most of us will do other things as we travel the road of life. Ministry is a funny thing. You can do it and never leave your chair in the den. You can be a prayer warrior and God’s army will be the stronger for it.  You can save a dollar or so a week until your savings turns into a university endowment. What you do is between you and God. It’s not about the what. It’s about the whether. Will you? Will you let God use you the way he used Peter and Paul and Oseola McCarty?  God wants us all as his ministers. Will you listen? Will you get your hands dirty with people different from you? Don’t stand at the edges of life. Get involved. Let yourself disappear into the message. And do it all for the sake of the gospel, that you may share with them in its blessings.