Resurrecting the Resurrection

                                      1 Corinthians 15: 12-26

        Of all the religious beliefs held by those of us inhabiting this planet, perhaps the most outlandish is the resurrection of the dead. Only Christians, Jews and Islam believe in such a thing. Not Hindus or Buddhists or any other religion believes in it. Some religions do believe in some form of continued life, such as reincarnation, but not in the bodies we currently occupy being re-tooled for eternity. How crazy is that? To the Christian, it’s not crazy at all.  It’s in our creeds. It’s in our religious DNA. 

          But think about it. Resurrection of the body. It has only happened twice. Lazarus was the first. Jesus’ great personal friend died. Jesus wasn’t but half a day away and knew of his death. But Jesus waited several days to show up. He wanted to make a point. He wanted people to understand that even death cannot defeat the power of God. So Jesus waited until the body of Lazarus had begun to do what dead bodies do. Then, he acted. And a dead man walked out of his tomb, alive again.

          The other time was Jesus himself. He promised he would, and he did. The Scriptures tell us that Jesus rose from the dead on the third day just as he had predicted. Everything in the Scriptures indicates that he had the same body he died with. But after the resurrection, it appeared to be transformed in some way we cannot define. For instance, Jesus told Mary Magdalene not to touch him, as he had not yet ascended.  But later, he let others touch him.  He ate. He drank. He showed off the holes in his wrists.

          The gospel accounts and Acts testify to a number of post-resurrection encounters with Jesus. In today’s passage from 1 Corinthians, Paul begins the chapter by referencing six different appearances of Jesus to others after his resurrection. One of them is to Paul himself about three years after Jesus had ascended to heaven. The others are before the ascension. And Paul’s account doesn’t mention every incident. For instance, he doesn’t speak of Jesus’ appearance to the women at the tomb.

          So there are eyewitnesses. In courts of law then and now, two or more eyewitnesses were considered reliable evidence. Paul recites multiple instances and hundreds of people who saw that indeed, Jesus was resurrected. Paul, is doing nothing more than reciting the facts.

          And yet, people today don’t believe. People then didn’t believe. Why? Why didn’t they believe? There were eyewitnesses. Paul even used himself as a witness. Fully three years after the resurrection, Paul testifies to us that he has a physical encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus. He saw the risen Lord. It was life changing.

Why do people not believe? Maybe in part because the whole thing just defies our ability to conceive of it. He rose, not just in spirit, but in body! He was dead. No one really questions the historical account that Jesus lived or that he died and died of crucifixion. Many more, probably including the Corinthians to whom Paul was writing, believed that Jesus rose in Spirit. But not bodily! Come on!

But he did.  Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures. He was buried, and was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures. He made many appearances to people after his resurrection. This is what Paul tells those at the church in Corinth who do not believe in a bodily resurrection.

Much of Greek lore and philosophy had contempt for the body. They longed for the day when their eternal soul could be liberated from the crassness of the flesh. In contrast, Paul pointed out that it wasn’t just Christ’s soul that left the grave, but his body as well!

We live in a world of technology. We are digitalized. We want more pixels and gigabytes. We want everything proved empirically. If Jesus came now, he could  instagram his way into Corinth and Paul could have stayed home. We could all have seen the crucifixion on YouTube as someone’s cell phone coverage went virile. But Jesus chose to come onto our stage in a pre-gadget age. And even without all those technological enhancements, the story of Jesus has pervaded the society of man for two millenniums and still counting.  Jesus died and was buried and was raised. Apparently, the Christians in Corinth were hung up on the concept of bodily resurrection. They may have favored the Greek idea that the body stayed behind; that only the spirit was pure.

Why not?  I mean, a spiritual resurrection gets the job done, doesn’t it? It’s a resurrection of our essence. Isn’t that the point?

No, it isn’t! And the great apostle spends the entire passage hammering home how important it is that Christ rose bodily from the dead! He defeated death! The grave could not hold him. Some of the Corinthian Christians were stuck in their perception of corpses rising from graves like the zombies of our TV programs. They couldn’t see that the body and soul are tied forever to one another and that the essence of who we are, what makes us individuals, what identifies us, is body and soul woven together. Paul is not talking about ghouls and goonies. That’s the stuff of entertainment. He is talking about all that makes up a person, an individual, a creation from God: body, soul and personality, but cast in a resurrected presence. It will be the new, improved model, a model made for eternity, but with personal monogramming.

The resurrection.  It is not an optional belief. It is fundamental to understanding the work of Christ. It is the centerpiece of Christianity. Without the resurrection, nothing else matters. Without the resurrection, Christianity becomes another ethical model of gracious living with no outcome other than a nice life. But the resurrection is not a life model. It is the way to life!

Verses 12-18 are a litany of counter facts. If this, then that.

*If Christ is proclaimed raised from the dead, how can you say there is no resurrection?

 

*If there is no resurrection, then not even Christ has been raised.

 

*If Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain.

 

*If the dead are not raised, not even Christ has been raised.

 

*If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins.

 

*If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied.

 

          What a chilling conclusion. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied. But it is not for this life only. Paul says forget the counter facts, because they are not true. What is true is this: “But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep…in Christ shall all be made alive…Christ the firstfruits, then at his coming, those who belong to Christ.”

           A seed is planted in the ground by a caring farmer. The seed is planted in good soil and is cared for and watered. The heat of the sun nourishes it. The seed dies. It is a necessary act that must precede the life that is to come. The death of the seed allows the plant to germinate. The result is a plant, transformed by the sacrifice of the seed into something alive and vital and beautiful. From the death of one comes the life of so many in new and splendid bodies. What a metaphor for Easter! So it is with our Savior. His obedience to the Father even unto death germinated not only his life eternal in a resurrected body, but also the lives of all who would follow him.

          Is the resurrection incredible? Of course it is! Only God could do it. But it is just as real as it is incredible. So today, this Easter Sunday, say with me the incredible truth. He is risen! Not he was, not he will be. He is! It is the great truth of the gospel and the great truth of all history that we believe not only that he lived, but that he lives. He has overcome sin, and he has overcome death, and if we believe, we have his promise that we can do the same.

So let us resurrect the resurrection. Let’s talk about it. Let’s celebrate it. It is the most liberating truth of all time. The natural conclusion to human life is not death, but rather life and life abundant. This is the message of the resurrection. We are all invited to the table.

The Lord Has Need of It  

 Luke 19: 28-40

         The nineteenth chapter of Luke’s gospel tells us that Jesus was coming up from Jericho to Jerusalem, about a seventeen mile journey. On the way, he tells the parable of the ten minas, a story about the importance and duties of stewardship. He apparently stops over to spend the weekend before Passover in Bethany with his friend Lazarus. Then he continues on Sunday from Bethany, about two miles out of town, into Jerusalem.

          When Jesus reaches Mt. Olivet, he sends two disciples ahead to a village, perhaps Bethpage. He tells them to look for a colt tied up and to bring it back to him. He says if anyone asks why you are doing this, just say “The Lord has need of it.” Luke says they were sent away and that they found the colt just as Jesus had told them.

          Now, what have we encountered here? Has Jesus been doing some advance planning? Are he and his disciples so well known and respected that on facial recognition alone, some owner will trust them with his animal? Is this the fulfillment of some Scripture? Yes, yes and Yes. Yes, Jesus, or one of his crew, may well have lined up the use of an animal ahead of time. That would not have been terribly unusual. Yes, Bethpage, or any other village close to Bethany, was small and the news of the healing of Lazarus would have made Jesus, and perhaps his disciples as well, famous to the area. And yes, in the book of Zechariah, the prophet rallies the people of God to persevere. The exile is over, but the temple is far from being rebuilt and there are obstacles at every turn. In the ninth chapter, Zechariah prophesies of the coming King of Zion, saying,

Behold, your king is coming to you;

righteous and having salvation is he,

humble and mounted on a donkey,

on a colt, the foal of a donkey.         Zech 9:9

 

The word colt was used to denote not only the foals of horses, but also of donkeys. In the context of this passage, which is all about the entry of a king of some sort, it is more likely that the colt to which Jesus refers is that of a donkey. In the culture of the time, kings rode horses into battle, but rode donkeys into town to denote the peace they had secured. So in this case, the entry of a king would not be on a horse.

So Jesus the outlaw,  Jesus the man who has people looking to execute him, rides into town in the most public of ways to a cheering crowd of followers. Luke says the whole multitude of his disciples were there, implying that it wasn’t the crowd or the curiosity seekers, but rather all of his many disciples who were present. They praised his name. They applauded his mighty works. They were ready to crown him King.

           There were Pharisees in this crowd. Some said to Jesus to rebuke his disciples, to silence their cheering. They may well have been sympathetic to Jesus. Perhaps they were just trying to persuade him to stay low-key. Reading the story, one can’t be sure of their persuasion. Jesus responds. He uses words about stones crying out, but his message to the Pharisees is not intended to be veiled. He is saying that the witness to this story cannot be silenced, cannot remain untold.

          There is much here to mine as always. But when I read this passage, three things keep commanding my attention.

All three have to do directly or indirectly with what Jesus said in this passage.  The first is those words of Jesus: “The Lord has need of it.”  The second is more about the revelation of Jesus’ words: they “found it just as he had told them.” The third comes from Jesus at the end of the passage: “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out.” In a way, they are all you need to know about our Savior.

          The Lord has need of it. Change the pronoun. The Lord has need of him. The Lord has need of her. The Lord has need of you. The Lord has need of me. If anyone asks you why you are visiting the sick, your answer might be: the Lord has need of me. If anyone asks you why you tithe your hard earned money, you might answer: the Lord has need of it. If anyone asks you why you get up earlier on Sunday and take time dressing your children in their Sunday best and rushing out the door when instead, you could have enjoyed a cup of coffee on your day off, your answer might be: the Lord has need of them…and me!  What Jesus was instructing his disciples that Sunday long ago was that he had a plan.  In his wisdom and his grace, he involved two disciples, two followers, to make that plan come to pass. He didn’t need them…he chose them. He still does that today. He doesn’t need us; he chooses in his grace and love toward us to involve us, to enlist us, to create a need for us. The Lord has need of you and me and us.

          Secondly, when we respond to Jesus, when we go out and do what he calls us to do, we will find things to be just as Jesus has promised us.  In this passage, Jesus predicted the outcome of the disciples’ encounter in the village. They found things just as he had told them. Jesus called upon them to do a small chore, but gave them nothing with which to present themselves other than a sentence identifying him as the sponsor. They had no need for more. They only had to obey his bidding and things turned out just as he had said. Has this happened to you? It certainly has if you have acted at the direction of God. Have you stopped to pray with a friend in the grocery store? Have you felt the guiding of the Holy Spirit to do something out of the ordinary for you? To say something not in your comfort zone? When we obey our Lord, things turn out just as he tells us they will. We have only to act.

          So first, the Lord, in his grace and love, has included us. The Lord has chosen to have need of us. Second, when we let the Lord include us, when we answer his call, things will turn out just the way the Lord has told us. Third, don’t even think about trying to silence the witness of something as powerful as the good news of Jesus Christ. It can’t be done. Jesus answers the Pharisees in words that can be found in Habakkuk: “For the stones will cry out from the wall, and the beam from the woodwork respond.”  [2: 11]. There, the prophet speaks to plunder and ill-gotten gains and warns that houses and structures built with such will find the very building materials crying out for justice. In this passage, Jesus looks at the Pharisees as he might look at religious skeptics of our day. His answer to them is not unlike Habakkuk. Don’t try to silence the message that cannot be silenced. To silence the tongues of the human witnesses is to invoke those of nature itself. The gospel cannot be silenced. The story must be told.

          The question for us on this Palm Sunday is not whether the story is true or whether it bears being told. Those answers are already in. The question for us is whether we will listen and what we will do with the information. Will we answer the call to be needed by our Lord? Will he have need of you? Will we go where he calls, do what he asks? Will you witness to that which you believe? Let the stones stay silent, though they and all creation await our commitment to be relieved of their groaning. If we do, if you do, as did those two unnamed disciples, that we will find it just as he has told us.     

             Tweening             John 12: 1-8

       Some names go together. In folk music, it’s Peter, Paul and Mary. In pop culture, it’s Abraham, Martin and John.  In the Old Testament, it’s David and Jonathan. In the Gospels, it’s Peter, James and John, or Mary, Martha, Lazarus and Judas. Wait a minute. Play that last one back again. Mary, Martha, Lazarus and Judas? It just doesn’t fit, does it? Judas doesn’t fit in such a group. His is a one way, one dimensional history. Judas is the betrayer. Yet there he is in Bethany at the home of Lazarus. In a strange way, he does fits, for here, in this scene, there is the presence of death, so much so that is it sometimes referred to as the death passage.

          The story of the anointing of Jesus appears in all four Gospels. There are quite a few variations. In two gospels, it takes place at the home of Simon the leper. In another, Luke, it happens at the home of a Pharisee. The timing is different in Mark, occurring after Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, whereas the others place it on the weekend before the Passover and before Jesus comes to town. In two gospels, it is the head of Jesus which is anointed, but in the other two, it is his feet.  The story in Luke seems to have so many variances that some think it may be a different story altogether. While some facts vary from gospel to gospel, what is clear is that a woman, probably Mary the sister of Lazarus, anointed Jesus with an oil that was worth a year’s pay for a common laborer.

          As I was preparing this message, my wife called me to check in. How are you? How’s it going? Are you writing? The usual small talk and questions, probing me to make sure how I am, whether I’m ok. Then an observation. She had come from teaching a class. A friend of some years was there. She had been absent for some time, undergoing chemotherapy. The regimen has reached its end. Her body can no longer tolerate the treatments. Now the disease will have full access to her. Her time with us is now measured by weeks and months rather than years. The presence of death is very real for my wife’s friend and for all those who care for her.

          The scene at Bethany is somewhat surreal. Lazarus has been miraculously raised from the dead by Jesus. Jesus is now an outlaw and yet he is voluntarily looking into the jaws of the lion as he prepares to enter Jerusalem for the Passover. A meal has been prepared, perhaps even a banquet. This may be the first appearance for Lazarus after his resurrection. He too is a marked man by the Sadducees, who run the Sanhedrin, the ruling body of the Jews. They do not believe in the resurrection of the body and Lazarus is living proof that it can happen.  Here he is, reclining at table with Jesus the outlaw. It is as if the backdrop of death is breaking bread with the foreshadowing of death. Lazarus, the newly undead, sitting with Jesus, the about-to-be dead. No wonder it has been called the death passage. Like my wife’s friend and her circumstances, the presence of death is very real here, too.

          To this atmosphere are added Mary, Martha, Judas and probably the other disciples, though their presence is only implied. Martha is serving. That’s what Martha does. Mary is loving. Where Jesus is concerned, that’s what Mary does. Judas is griping. That’s what Judas does. Well, he also steals. The passage calls him a thief.

          Mary, ever the loving servant, breaks out a pound of very expensive perfume. It is used, among other things, to adorn the body of the dead. John tells us that not only does she bathe the feet of Jesus in this oil, but that she also cleans up the excess with her hair. Both are acts of extreme humility and devotion. Judas is irritated and says as much. Why would you lavish all this expense to wash his feet when water would do? This money could go a long way to feed the poor. John lets us know what Judas really wants. He wants access to all that money. Jesus tells Judas to leave Mary alone. He alludes to his impending date with the cross when he says that Mary may elect to save it for his burial. Then, he tells those gathered that the poor will always be there, but not so for him. He is again alluding to his death, although there is no way that those listening can catch his meaning.

          Mary’s deeds are such a witness. She holds Jesus in such high esteem that rather than anoint his head, a sign of honor,   she anoints his feet to show her complete humility. Mary even throws convention to the wind and lets down her hair to wipe away the excess. Such a display was unheard of in polite company. Indeed it was the sign of an immoral woman to be seen with her hair down in public. But Mary thought nothing of what others would say. She was totally devoted to Jesus.

          There is a lot going on here. Lazarus is up and about. The great friend of Jesus whose death caused our Savior to weep is now socializing. His testimony of resurrection is so powerful that the religious leaders will plot to have him executed. Martha is serving, a role to which she is accustomed. This is how she testifies. She says little, but is always near, working in the background. There is Judas, described here as disciple, betrayer and thief. His concern is with money and its pursuit. He can lay no claim to higher ground. There is Mary, the sister of the man returned from the dead. Surely Jesus is nothing less than God to her. He saved her brother. For Mary, the banquet is a woefully inadequate thank you. She takes her most treasured possession and bathes Jesus in it. Nothing is enough to reward him for what he has done and who he is.

          And then, there is Jesus. Like that backdrop of death that  Lazarus cannot help but bring to the table, Jesus shows us the ominous foreshadowing of his own death, now less than a week away. No matter that his hosts and followers do not know, for he does. This is what he has come to do and it looms large in his thoughts.

          Yet there is more to this story than the former and future deaths these men will undergo. There is much more. As surely as Lazarus reminds us that he died, his very presence screams to us that he lives! He is resurrected from days in the grave, nights without breath or life. One cannot help but wonder if the strong aroma of the perfume does not also help to hide the pervasive smell of death that may still follow Lazarus. And Jesus. Jesus looks clearly toward a killing cross, knowing and even predicting that as surely as he will allow the earthly temple of his body to be destroyed, it too will rise in those predicted three days, resurrected from death…and offering mankind the same future if it, we… will but ask and believe.

          A supper. A banquet.  A testimony not just of death but of resurrection. It is like the testimony with which Jesus left us. The kingdom of heaven is at hand. It is here, incomplete and messy, but here. The Spirit comes to us and we feel…we know…that he is here, that he is in us, part of us. And yet, he has not yet come. It is not yet the end of the age. We live in the middle of the already but not yet. We are tweeners, hurting from the sin that remains within us and healing from the spirit that washes over us.

Can we live with both these existences? Can we both live in the valley of the shadow and bask in the light of the Son? That is often what is required of us in this life. And so the answer must be yes. Yes, we can walk in that valley. We can walk in as many valleys as come to us. Judas captured the treasury and bankrupted himself. Mary gave the bank away and found the riches of the love of God. We can do the same as Mary did if we believe. We can do so because death holds no power over the Christian.  We can do so… because of the resurrection. He lives!

             Two Gates

                Matthew 7: 13, 14     Luke 13: 22-27

        In the thirteenth chapter of Luke, as Jesus is making his way through the towns and villages of Judea on his way toward Jerusalem, someone in the crowd asks: “will those who are saved be few?” Jesus answers that the door to heaven is not wide, but narrow, that they should strive to enter through the narrow gate, that many who seek to enter it will not be able.

A similar lesson appears in the gospel of Matthew, this time introducing the conclusion of the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus says: “Enter through the narrow gate, for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.”

Just before this verse, Jesus restates the Golden Rule, saying: “In everything do to others as you would have them do for you.” Jesus says this is the law and the prophets, meaning this is all you need to know about what God has commanded for us. If we are to understand what Jesus is getting at about the two gates, we must pay attention to what comes before and behind. Before, Jesus says love your neighbor. After, Jesus says beware of false prophets. In the meat of this literary sandwich, he talks about the roads of life we choose, the gates we enter. The choices we make affect the life we lead and the destination to which it takes us. Living by the Golden Rule is a choice. So is who you listen to.

When you travel the Interstate highway, even numbered highways go east and west and odd numbered highways go north and south. When you come to the entry of the interstate, you are faced with a choice. If you are on highway 85 or 95, as is often the case here, you must choose. North or South? Which will it be?  I have found one exception. If you are in Florence and going to the beach, you can save time by going north for seven miles on I85. Then you go south again. For seven miles, you go opposite of your chosen direction. Sometimes life makes you do the same thing.

In these two passages, Jesus is not concerned about saving time. He is concerned about saving lives. In Matthew there are two gates. In Luke, there is a door, and at some point, the door shuts. What do these evangelists want us to see?

In his gospel account, Matthew has Jesus opening up two possibilities, the narrow and the wide gates, the narrow leading to life and the wide leading to destruction. Have you ever thought about such implications? Have you ever seen your life in this way? Where are the gates? Are they marked? Surely one would not pick the path to destruction purposefully!

In Matthew, Jesus talks to a gathering of many, maybe thousands. All are facing choices. Shall they go home? Shall they follow this young preacher who says he is the Son of God? What if they do? Will it make a difference in their day? In their lives?

In Luke, our Savior seems to be teaching on the move, bringing his pupils to understand that there are choices, and that those choices do not stay forever at our disposal. Many parables follow in this discourse. In their own way, they all point to the choices in our lives and the outcomes to which they lead.

The picture on the screen is of a path. It’s just a dirt path. When the path gets to the tree, it forks. Now there are two paths. Life works like that. You go along, minding your own business, trying to stay on the straight and narrow, and then your path forks. Now you have a choice. The paths look pretty much the same. One might be a little wider and more worn, but not that much different. One path is with friends from church. The other is with some new and exciting friends you don’t know too well. One path will keep you out beyond your curfew or make you late for an appointment. But shucks, life is short. Better make hay while the sun shines. Life is one set of choices after another, and each comes with its own set of consequences.

So many consequences from what at first blush looks like a small choice. Wouldn’t it be nice if the paths were marked? One would say Life, the other Destruction. That’s what Jesus seems to be saying to us in the Matthew account. But usually, these choices look more like left or right, or today or tomorrow. They don’t look that dangerous at the time. It’s just a pill to keep you awake.  Or a drink to calm your nerves. Or a little shop-lifting just to add spice to a boring day. It’s just another one of those gates. Not that big a thing, is it?

When you start paying attention, you begin to notice that those gates are everywhere. You first thought it was just about minding your parents or obeying the law. Then it was about your friends or your habits. Sometimes it seems like there is nothing that doesn’t involve choices. And that’s exactly what Jesus is getting at. Life starts out looking like a super highway and somewhere down that road and all too soon, it turns into a one-way street with no shoulders.

So in Matthew, Jesus seems to tell us that entering the

wrong gate can ruin our life, and that many people do just that. Then in Luke, he tells us that the way to life is about getting through that narrow door of belief and obedience and that you had better not tarry, for the door will shut one day. When it does, no amount of knocking will get you in.

          Man! That’s several different ways to fail. Pick wrong. Pick late. Either way, you’re on the outside looking in. It seems like the deck is stacked against us.

          But read on. Remember to eat the whole sandwich and not leave the crust. In Matthew, Jesus is telling us to practice what we say we believe by treating others as we want to be treated. Then on the other side, he warns us to watch who’s doing the talking.  Check the warranty. Kick the tires. Sometimes, those leaders speak from both sides of the issue and say nothing except give your money right here.

          Luke is also instructive. Before we get to the narrow door, we are asked to repent, to change our ways. On the other side of the door story are several parables which bear remembering right here. After the parables of the wedding feast and the great banquet, which warn us to be ready, come two more parables: that of the lost sheep and of the prodigal son. There is our Savior, reaching out for us, going to find us, bringing us back from the edge of the cliff and saving us with his unconditional love. There is the prodigal son, spent and washed up. He has walked a far piece past the wide gate of destruction. And yet, he turns. Just like going north on I85 to get to the southbound road, he finds a path back to where he began and he takes it. The trail may not be marked, but he finds his way. And at the end of that not so well marked path waits his father with open arms, taking him in and celebrating the return of the lost son who is now---found! These, too are the stories of Jesus. These, too, are the stories of God!

          Robert Frost is one of my favorite poets. One of his poems seems to fit the situation so well today, I thought you might like to hear it. I hope it speaks to you as it did to me.

                    Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

 

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

 

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

 

Two gates? Yes. And there are consequences to our actions. But there is forgiveness before the throne of grace for those who turn back or choose that narrow road.

    Killing the Messenger

                  Luke 13: 31-35

 The thirteenth chapter of Luke is rich with events. Jesus is making his way through the towns and villages of Judea, journeying toward Jerusalem. In this chapter, he talks about the need for repentance. He tells stories and parables. He stops to heal a disabled woman. He talks about the kingdom of God, comparing it to a mustard seed and to leaven, to how small they begin and how big they become. Someone asks: “will those who are saved be few?” Jesus answers that the door to heaven is not wide, but narrow, that many who seek to enter it will not be able. He seems to say that those who cannot enter will be able to see the prophets of the kingdom from a distance, but  even so close, will not be able to enter.

Then there is this not as famous story about Jesus. As Jesus is talking, some Pharisees arrive. While most of what we read in the gospels is disparaging of the Pharisees and their incessant legalism, not all of them were like that. Jesus did have friends among the Pharisees. Some of them approach him to warn him. “Get away from here,” they say, “for Herod wants to kill you.” In context, Jesus must have still been in the region of Galilee. Herod’s jurisdiction did not extend to Jerusalem where Pilate was in charge. Herod has already had John the Baptist beheaded, so he is certainly one to be feared. So some of Jesus’ friends, drawn from the ranks of the Pharisees, warn him of the danger.

This is a scene of messengers and messages. There is Luke, the writer of this passage. He has a reason for giving us this scene over many others he might have selected. There are the Pharisees. They bring a message of warning. There is irony here, that a group known principally for its legalism comes here to warn of the long arm of the law of Herod. There is Jesus, who responds with a message of his own. And there is the audience, the audience then and the audience now. There is a message here for us as well.

Jesus talks about his mission, that he has a job to do. He says that regardless of the Herods of the world, he must go on his way until he finishes his course. He still has demons to cast out and cures to perform, and the threat of danger is not sufficient reason to deter him from his ordained course. And that, I think, is why the passage is here. Luke wants us to know, to experience as if we were actually there with Jesus, that Jesus has a ministry, a divinely ordained ministry, that it must go on to its fulfillment regardless of human opposition.

So we see Jesus confronted with real danger, but with a warning which might allow him to act for his personal safety. He declines. That is something else that Luke wants us to see, that Jesus didn’t take the safe route. Even when he had a choice, he chose his ministry over his safety.

The Greek word for messenger is angelos (αγγελοϛ). It means one who is sent. Angels from God are present throughout the Bible, appearing to Mary, to Joseph, to Mary Magdalene and others. In every case, they bring a message from God. In every case, they say “Fear not.” This passage is no exception. Here, we see messengers in very human form delivering a message. The Pharisees are just as much from God as if they had the wings of angels, for God intended that they deliver this message.

Jesus answers with his own message. Go tell that fox I have things to do. I will finish my ministry. If he wants me, he can find me in Jerusalem. That’s where my ministry will be completed. Jerusalem, the home of so many prophets unheeded, is my destination also. Jesus calls Herod a fox, perhaps because he is sly or clever, but more likely because he is of little importance to Jesus. In the literature of the time, foxes were often viewed as insignificant. Power was attributed to the lion, not the fox. And Jesus doesn’t call Herod a lion. Jesus is looking forward. He has a date with destiny and he knows not only the time, but the place.

Jerusalem. Jesus calls it the city that kills the prophets; that stones the messengers. It is not kind to those who bring the news. We are reminded of other times and circumstances. In the book of 2 Samuel, a young Amalekite soldier brings the crown of Saul to David. The soldier has taken the life of the wounded king rather than have him perish from his own sword. David rewards the soldier’s truth telling and judgment with an execution. The messenger was killed for the message he delivered.

More contemporary to our story is that of John the Baptist, who brought Herod the message that his marriage was not lawful. For that, John was beheaded. Today, we have laws to attempt to protect whistleblowers, those who tell the truth about what their employers are really up to. Those laws are designed to protect these messengers, from danger. Sometimes the laws work. Many times they don’t. Killing the messenger has deep roots in the history of mankind.

The word Jerusalem is used three different times in two verses. Luke is calling attention to it. This is where the people of God gather. This is the home of the Temple. This is the city of destiny. Jesus talks about Jerusalem as if he were its mother, longing to gather in his children as a hen gathers her chicks. But his lament—and his pronouncement—is that such is not to be, for Jerusalem, meaning God’s people, will not allow it. They resist the message and cast out the messenger.

Of course, Jesus knows that his message is falling on deaf ears. He speaks of Jerusalem’s forsaken house, perhaps in reference to the Temple, but more broadly alluding to the people themselves. They have rejected both the messenger and the message. He says they will not see him again until the end of the age, quoting the Psalmist in Psalm 118: “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”  

Jesus also knows his time on earth is drawing short. He is on his way to Jerusalem to meet his destiny—to complete his ministry. At this point, the Gospel is not yet fully written. There is still the passion—Jesus’ crucifixion, death and resurrection—yet to be accomplished. That is the rest of the message, but not the end of the ministry.

Luke and the other gospel writers are messengers. They tell the story of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. They tell us why we should believe. They are the eyewitnesses and the interviewers of the eyewitnesses. They use the written word to record the events that changed not only their lives, but also the lives of all who believe the message of the gospel.

But the ministry is far from over. Jesus promised the coming of the Holy Spirit, the Comforter. He promised to build his church upon the rock of people like Simon Peter. And that he did. Jesus did send the Holy Spirit to dwell in our hearts and he did build his church. Even today, the Church is the rock upon which Christianity rests. It is Christ’s messenger, the angelos who carries on with his ministry. We are the hands and feet and yes, the mouths with which his message is delivered.

There are forces and powers today who would silence the messenger. But as the angels say with every message they bring, we must Fear not. There is good news to tell, and there are people here and around this community and all over this world who are waiting for us to bring that message. We are the messengers because we are the Church. We cannot be silenced. Our message cannot be corrupted. It is life itself that Jesus promises. We are the wings of that promise. As Jesus showed us, sometimes the messenger must lay down a sacrifice. But the message will never die until he comes again in the name of the Lord. And we have work to do---kingdom work!

Calling on His Name

               Romans 10: 8-13

 Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to live your life with fewer rules? Everywhere you go, everything you do, there are rules to follow. If you drive a car, there are rules of the road. You have to pass both written and driving tests before you can get a driver’s license. Go to the local swimming pool and you will find a posted set of rules for you to follow if you want to swim. The laws of this state take up about fifteen feet of shelf space. Even a kindergarten classroom has a list of rules, though most kindergarteners don’t arrive at school armed with the knowledge of how to read those rules.

In the book of Exodus, God handed the people of Israel Ten Commandments, ten rules to live by. Of course, by the time of Jesus, that set of ten rules had expanded through men’s interpretations to a legal system of 613 laws. 248 were positive. 365, one for every day of the year, were negative. There were 39 different categories of work alone, and sub-categories underneath those.

Without changing the law at all, Jesus reduced it to two rules. We call them the Great Commandments, loving God and loving our neighbor as much as we love ourselves. Jesus let us know that he came not to change, but to fulfill, the law that God had handed down to Moses at Mt. Sinai.

But the Jews never got the message; at least many of them didn’t, and that’s okay, because it was in God’s plan all along. The message of the gospel, the plan of salvation, was never meant to be for the Jews exclusively. They were the movie screen on which God told his story to a watching world.

Of course, Paul knows this. He spends all his efforts in Romans 9-11 condemning not the Jews, but their attitude toward the gospel. They have failed to see Jesus as the Son of God, the Messiah on whose arrival they are still waiting. Paul, a Jew himself, was sad that his own people could not see the forest for the trees.

Paul quotes Moses’ farewell speech some 1300 years before: “But the word is very near you. It is in your mouth and in your heart, so that you can do it” [Deut. 30: 14]. What Moses was saying about teaching is what Paul is saying about the gospel, that it is not difficult to find or hard to discern. Rather, it is in us. It is part of who we are. It doesn’t matter about our pedigree. It doesn’t matter about where we come from, how much education we have, how much money we make. What matters is that we see it, we acknowledge it, and we live it. Theologian John Stott says this passage reminds us that the gospel has been made accessible to us all by Jesus. God plays no favorites. The common denominator is also the divisive factor. Do you believe? Answer that question in the affirmative and you are in God’s camp. Do you believe? Forget the rules and answer that question.

The word is very near you, says Moses, and Paul echoes him. Paul goes farther and says that the word is “the word of faith that we proclaim.” In the time of Moses, the word was God’s commandments, loving God and walking in his ways. In this passage Paul quotes Moses, but Paul takes us to another level, to faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ. Some have called the proclamations in verses 9 and 10 the basis for the first Christian creed: “if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” Billy Graham loved this sentence. I think he said it in every crusade I ever heard. No 613 laws, no complicated set of rules. Just say it and believe it. What is “it?” It is that Jesus is Lord of all and God raised him from the dead. Confess and believe the lordship of Jesus, his death and resurrection. And Paul ties that wonderful package into a bow by asserting that belief is the key—not knowledge or family tree or power—just belief.

Think about the promise made here. Think about what it means. We don’t have to do anything. It’s already been done for us. We just have to own it. If we let Christ into our hearts, the gospel comes with it. Then we need to say it aloud. That’s part of the ownership. Paul seems to be saying that the two go hand in hand. You believe with your heart. This makes you justified, righteous. But it is incomplete without confessing that lordship of Christ publicly. Paul says that one confesses with the mouth and is saved. So our salvation depends upon our acting on our belief. It’s like faith and works. Without works, where is the proof of your faith? Without confession of your belief, how can you be seen to believe? Inward belief leads to outward confession.

In addition to quoting Moses, Paul draws upon Joel, a prophet to the southern kingdom. Joel is a curiosity. Scholars cannot agree upon when he lived, and date him from the eighth all the way to the fourth century BC.  Joel was primarily concerned with the day of the Lord, the coming of God to judge, and he prophesied about that event and what it would mean. Paul borrows from Joel to illustrate that Jesus has come, not for a specific people group or nation, but for all who believe. He says it three different ways. First, he says that there is no shame for those who believe in him. He follows that with the statement that the Lord’s riches will be bestowed upon all who call on him. Last, Paul quotes Joel (2:32), saying that “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.” Three straight times, Paul tells us to believe in Jesus and call upon his name. Is there a message here?

While we’re quoting Joel, don’t miss what happened here. Way back, hundreds of years before Christ came to earth, the prophet Joel is saying that everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. Did Joel mean every one of the Jews who call on God’s name? Maybe.  But what did God mean? It doesn’t take a theologian to figure out what Paul means, and what he thinks Joel meant. Paul identifies with Joel’s prophecy, interpreting it as a signature of salvation on all who call on the name of Jesus.

In context, we need to remember that much of Paul’s writing, and certainly the scripture here, is a defense to his ministry to the Gentiles. The church is a new creation and in its infant stages. Paul feels compelled to justify his position. Some accused him of being an apostate, a person who had abandoned his belief. Theologian Thomas Schreiner explains Paul’s stance this way: “Since the same Lord is the Lord of all and since the OT itself anticipated that Gentiles who call on his name would be saved, the inclusion of Gentiles into the church is not a sign of Pauline apostasy but rather an evidence that the last days have dawned in which God is fulfilling his saving plan” [Romans, p. 562].

This is a wonderful and simple passage. In the same way that we don’t have to know what century Joel prophesied in, that we don’t need to know whether Joel fully understood the far-reaching arm of his words, neither do we have to wonder about what nationality or gender or race we are. Jesus claims all who call on his name.  This is the wonder of this passage.

In the same way that Jesus reduced centuries of man-made laws and regulation to two simple rules of love, so Paul has here reduced the entire gospel and its entire message to two simple points. Believe it and say you do. Believe that Jesus is risen from the dead, that he lives forever and then confess that belief with your lips. This is the simplicity of this passage, If I might dare to add to Paul, it would be that confession is not just a saying. It is much more an action. It is the way we do business with this thing called Christianity. Do we confess it, or do we ignore it?

To say that Christ died for us is certainly true and it is awesome. But it is also incomplete. He rose! He lives for us too! To leave Christ on the cross as our martyr is an unworthy Christianity. He is so much more. He is our victor! Believe it and confess it, every way you can, every day you can, to everyone you can.

       Piercing the Veil

           2 Corinthians 3: 12-4:4

 

 

          In the book of Exodus [Exo. 34], Moses goes up on the mountain and has an encounter with God. It is so intense that when Moses comes down the mountain, his face is literally shining. Moses has to cover himself with a veil to talk to his people, as they are blinded by his appearance. Every time Moses goes up the mountain to meet with God, he removes the veil and every time he comes down to the people, he wears the veil. The people cannot bear to come too close to the presence of the Lord, even when it is only the reflection given off from the face of Moses.

          In the book of 2 Corinthians, Paul is writing to the church about coming to Christ. He is talking about being ministers of the New Covenant, a covenant centered on Jesus and the Holy Spirit rather than the law. When Paul talks about the law, he is talking about the relationship created in the Old Testament between God and his people, the set of rules grounded in the Ten Commandments and everything that followed from that first set of laws.

          In order to explain what the Gospel is and what the New Commandment is all about, Paul chooses to contrast it with the Old Commandment, the Mosaic Law. Sometimes Paul gets so charged with enthusiasm for his cause that he goes overboard.  But there is a reason for him to be so commanding. In the church in Corinth, there are those who continue to see the Gospel through the lens of being Jewish, as opposed to being Christian. Paul continues to press them to see the new truth that has been revealed through Jesus, and the gospel is a new definition of who God’s people are.

          Paul reminds us that we are members of the New Covenant, that we have great hope, that such hope should make us bold. He talks about us not having to wear a veil when we turn to the Lord, because Jesus has bridged the gap between us and God.

          Over the life of my law practice, I have incorporated hundreds of organizations, from plumbers and electricians and builders to churches and chambers of commerce. The main reason most people incorporate is protection from personal liability. Provided they follow the rules and do not hold themselves out personally in the wrong way in what they say, they can enjoy the protections of personal liability afforded by the law. But if they step over the line, making promises and representations of a personal nature, then the result may be that they may become personally liable for their actions. The legal term for this is “piercing the corporate veil.”  The protection of incorporating is made void by our actions. The veil is torn away to expose us.

          In today’s passage, Paul uses this metaphor of the veil to describe how Moses hid his face from God’s people after encountering God. The plain reading from Exodus would seem to say that Moses’ face was so bright after such an encounter that the people couldn’t take such illumination. It was just too much for them to take in. But in this passage in 2 Corinthians, Paul is using that Old Testament encounter with God to illustrate that Moses covered his face in order for the people not to notice that the illumination was temporary, that it would fade over time. Paul wants us to understand that in the same way that Moses’ face faded in its brightness, so too does the Old Testament law. It is not a saving vehicle, but rather an exposing vehicle.  Paul then contrasts that to the saving grace of Jesus and to the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. The law is not enough, but the gospel is.

          Now, it seems to me that Paul has stretched the veil metaphor about as far as it can stretch. His take on its use is really not very close to that of Exodus. But, as we have acknowledged, Paul had a different audience and he was dealing with Jewish issues that today we don’t even think about. He was spreading a gospel rooted in, but no longer bound by, the Old Testament law.

          Whether you are applying Old Testament law or American corporate law, the result is the same. The veil to which we refer is there to protect us. In Exodus, it protected the people from a God they were not prepared to see. In the law, it protects our personal assets.

          But Paul’s next point in this passage is worth any amount of stretching to get to, for he says: “But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed.” Think about that in light of the reason why the veil is used in the first place. Remember ii is used to protect us, in one way from others hurting us and in another, from the presence of God consuming us. When one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed.

          What does Paul mean? When we turn to the Lord, the veil is removed. But Moses himself could not look directly into the face of God. Although he removed the veil, the Bible says he stood in the presence of God, not looking at God’s countenance. What is Paul getting at?

          In his report of the death of Jesus, Luke tells us that darkness came about the sixth hour and stayed until the ninth hour. The light failed and the curtain, the veil, of the temple was torn in two. Jesus breathed his last. The veil of the temple, the curtain protecting the people from the Holy of Holies, was torn down. What is the significance of that report from Luke?

          When Paul writes about the Lord here, he is using the Greek word kurios, which means Lord. When Paul uses kurios, he is referring to Jesus. When he talks about God, Paul uses another word. So Paul is saying that when one turns to Jesus, the veil is removed. In the same way that Paul talks to the Corinthians about the power of Jesus, Luke talks about the veil of the temple coming down. That too is in response to Jesus.

The point that Paul is hammering home to us is that Jesus is the key, that Jesus is the reason, that Jesus is the way to God. Jesus lifts the veil, whether it is in the temple, where misguided religious leaders attempt to keep the Spirit of God hidden behind a man-made curtain, or on a mountain top, where we may encounter God one-on-one, or in the reading of the written Word, a privilege made available to us only in the last 5 centuries. Jesus lifts the veil and as Paul says, we can see him in all his glory. With the coming of Jesus, we who believe are all becoming transformed into the very image of him who saved us.  

Can all see it? Can all hear it, this gospel which unveils the very presence of Jesus to us? Paul says no, the gospel remains veiled to those who are perishing, to those who have been blinded by selfish and evil pursuits. No, the gospel will not be heard by everyone, says Paul. At least it will not be heard in a saving way. As Jesus said, he who has ears, let him hear.   Sometimes, the veil we wear for protection does us more harm than good. If it acts as a barrier for the truth, it protects us not only from intrusion but from illumination as well.

Paul says that the Lord (Jesus) is Spirit, that the presence of the Spirit brings us freedom, that through the Spirit, we believers can be transformed into that divine image. Paul is not only calling us to a deeper walk with God; he is trying to get us to acknowledge that deep abiding presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives as Christians. As we are transformed, so can we transform others. We call it witness…putting the power of the Spirit to work in our lives and turning that energy loose on those who are around us. The Holy Spirit is not an idea. He is not a concept. He is a person, living in us.

And that’s what it means to be unveiled. Jesus pierced that veil of separation between us and God. If God lives in us…can we not look at God more clearly? If the Holy Spirit guides us, can we not do without other protection? Let the Holy Spirit pierce your earthly veil of protection and let yourself be vulnerable to the light. The light of Jesus! Not only will it not blind us—it will make us see!