Work in Progress

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

                            

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     The Power of One

                                                  Ephesians 4: 1-6

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uncommon People for a Common Mission

1 Samuel 17: 38-46

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Water, Spirit and Fire

Matthew 3: 4-12

 

 

          Do you ever think about your baptism? Chances are that if you do, your thought is that you remember nothing, for in the Reformed tradition of which Presbyterians are a part, it is far more common to be born into the church, and therefore be baptized as an infant. So if you think of baptism, you are probably thinking of your children’s baptism. There may have been a special set of clothing for your child, perhaps something handed down through generations. There would certainly be family pictures and probably a family get-together after the church service. Baptism is sort of an event, isn’t it? We dress nicer, we fry chicken and we invite people to church. It’s too bad we can’t have a baptism every week.

          But now I want you to stop a minute and think about something. When I say baptism, what comes to mind? I suspect it would be something like I just described, an event of water baptism involving a family member. But there is more than one kind of baptism, and that is what John the Baptist was reminding the crowd gathered by the Jordan River in the third chapter of Matthew’s gospel. Indeed, John was engaged in just the kind you’re probably thinking of—water baptism. The ceremony was used as a ritual associated with joining the church. But wait. Was there a church in John’s Day? The Christian church was not yet born. So John had other ideas. He used baptism to identify with change—with a turning from the old ways and a turning toward a new way.

          In this passage, John the Baptist is employing many images. He calls the religious leaders a brood of vipers, conjuring up the image of snakes. He uses stones to show that it’s no problem for God to raise up children descended from Abraham. He could command the stones to do so and they would. He uses the image of an axe laid against a tree to take it down because its fruit is not good. He ends the passage with images that any farmer will quickly understand, as he talks about using a winnowing fork to separate the wheat from the chaff, the good from the bad. So many images used to describe the state of readiness, or lack of it, of some people. And not just readiness for Jesus’s coming, but also for judgment. John the Baptist knew that water baptism, while representing a commitment, is just the first step, a sort of warmup exercise, for the baptism that our Savior brings.

          The Baptist says this: “I baptize you with water for repentance, but he who is coming after me is mightier than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” Of course, he was talking about Jesus and indeed, John baptized Jesus, not to bring repentance, but in Jesus’ words, to fulfill the scripture prophesying his coming. John would have preferred that Jesus baptize him, but he understood his role.

          We talk about baptism as a sacrament, as a symbol of our acceptance into the family of God, as a sacred ritual set apart in the church in the same way that The Lord’s Supper is set apart. And indeed, baptism is that. Our polity says that “through baptism an individual is joined to the Church universal, the body of Christ” [1.0301]. Baptism in this form is of great importance to our understanding of our Christian faith and of our binding to the one true church, the church of Jesus Christ. But baptism is more than that.

          “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.” That’s what the Baptist said. What was he talking about? After the water, there is spirit and fire? Is baptism a process? Do we goes through it in stages? Much of what John is saying is that he’s just the messenger. Jesus is the real deal. John will use water as a symbol of change, of turning away, of redemption. But Jesus. Jesus will bring the tools to seal us in his camp. This concept of baptism in the Holy Spirit is not stage two. It just distinguishes the earthly limitations of John from the unlimited scope of Jesus. Jesus, the Son of God, will baptize us but it won’t be with water.  Jesus will send the Holy Spirit to live in us, abide in us, walk with us. That is a baptism that can give us not only the ability to turn away, but also the strength and love to stay turned.

          John the Baptist uses the ceremony of baptism to mark a point of transformation of people’s lives. They want to turn away from their sin and live a life of righteousness. With water, they mark that decision with a commitment made in public by a ceremonial washing away of their old selves and a putting on of something much better. We do that today by acknowledging Christ as our Savior. In the days of the Baptist, the promise was for a life committed to God.

          Secondly, John points us toward the stronger one, the one who is to follow, the one whose sandals John is not worthy to carry. The stronger one will also baptize, but with the Holy Spirit instead of water. His will be a baptism that is not ceremonial, but life changing. Only the Son of God can accomplish such a baptism in us.

          So far, so good. We can all use a big dose of the Holy Spirit. But there is more. John says that we will also be baptized with fire. John is warning us. Craig Evans says that “right now, he [John] immerses people in the water of the Jordan River, but his successor will immerse all Israel, indeed all of humanity, in Spirit/wind and fire, which will consume some and purify others.” This is what John means when he characterizes Jesus with a winnowing fork in his hand, under which some will become good grain, but others will be nothing more than chaff to be destroyed.

          So John emphasizes the difference between him, an earthy evangelist, and Jesus, the Messiah. John is only the messenger. Jesus will bring another sort of baptism, a heavenly baptism, but with it will come a baptism of fire which will separate good from bad seed. There will be a judgment. One will either be saved by the wind and fire, or he or she will be judged by it.

          I think there another sort of baptism that every Christian should expect. It is, quite literally, a baptism of fire. While God has promised not to tempt us, he has also promised to test us. After our baptism of water and of the Holy Spirit, we may expect to hear from God many times during our lives. He may test us with the death of a loved one or the illness of a friend.  He may visit us with our own illnesses or trials. There are so many ways to be tested, from failure to disappointment to poor health, to name a few. There is even the testing of success and how it may distort our view of life.

          Today, we have several among us who are being presented for baptism and confirmation of their saving faith in Jesus Christ. You may find that your baptism or confirmation is so rich with imagery for you that you feel moved. You may even feel the presence of the Holy Spirit coming into you in a way never felt before. Don’t worry if it doesn’t happen now. It will happen in God’s time. But when you have such feelings, please understand that no matter how strong they are, no matter how committed you may feel, those feelings will erode with time. What will you do then? Will you cling to your faith, or will you abandon it? Will you continue to renew it or will you let it slide away from your grip. God knows your nature and he knows these things will happen. So don’t be too surprised when he periodically sends you a wakeup call.

          Water baptism guarantees nothing. It is not an admission fee. It is a way for us to identify with our Lord, to declare in front of others that we believe, that we want to turn over our lives to our Lord. But it will cure nothing. The baptism of the Holy Spirit is an infusion, even a transfusion, of the goodness of God’s presence and wisdom into our very existence. It will help us resist the powers of this earth and of our own selfish nature. Baptism of fire? I think of it as another confirmation. I have the tools through those two other kinds of baptism. The question is whether I will bring my tool pouch with me every day, for there will be fiery baptisms to undergo which will require all the help I can get from God. In life, there is not one crossing, but many. Granted, the act of water baptism or confirmation by a believer is a crucial step. But it is only a step.

          Come dressed for the game of life. The apostle Paul suggests the armor of God for us: the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit [Eph. 6: 13-17].   You will need them all, for being a Christian is not for the faint of heart. Come dressed…and take all the baptisms that God sends your way. He’ll be in your corner from the beginning to the end.

Getting Emotional

John 15: 12-15

         

          In the first chapter of the Bible, we learn that we are made in the image of God. In the Latin, the term is Imago Dei, Image of God. Does that make you feel special? It certainly should. To be made in God’s image sounds wonderful to me. But then, when I look at myself in the mirror, I’m thinking it must mean much more than just looks. What does it mean to be made in God’s image? We humans are the only ones that the Bible says that about. What is God really like? We really need to know because it is in his image that we are made.

          We could focus on physical attributes. Maybe God has a tan, or maybe he’s 6’5” and cut like a Greek statue. Maybe he’s a she. In the book The Shack, God is depicted as a big, black mammy who loves to cook, then later as a bearded grandfather type with white hair. The whole point of those characterizations is that God looks like neither. No one has seen God. We don’t know what God looks like. Moses saw his presence, not his image, and even that very minimal exposure to God turned Moses’ countenance to something akin to shining. No, it doesn’t make sense to focus on physical attributes when we’re trying to find out what God is really like.

          In the fourth chapter of John’s gospel, Jesus has stopped in Samaria on his way back to Jerusalem. He talks to the woman at the well and he tells her that “God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and in truth.” [v. 24]. So maybe we should try to understand who God is, and therefore who we are, by looking at what’s on the inside rather than what’s on the outside.

          Is it okay to get emotional? Does God get emotional? There is an old debate which calls into question the impassibility of God. In the first and second century when Christianity had to compete with the Greek gods and Greek mythology for attention, it was good to be able to talk about God being unemotional, which contrasted to those crazy, unpredictable Greek gods. Their world looked like another Peyton Place, and apologists such as Justin Martyr argued that God was much more reliable. Although what Martyr was trying to say, that God is reliable, is true, it’s also true that to define God’s reliability by his serious demeanor is to use too strict a definition. It really doesn’t square with what we know about God from the Bible. God has been shown to show the full range of emotions, from the time of creation through the gospels and letters of the New Testament.

          Certainly there are many characters in the Bible who show a range of emotions. Sarah laughed when she heard God or his angel promise 100 year old Abraham that he would be the father of nations [Gen. 18: 12]. Joseph’s compassion grew warm when he saw his younger brother Benjamin after so many years away, so much that he had to withdraw from their presence to weep [Gen 43: 30]. Moses cried out to God in exasperation over the behavior of the people [Ex. 17: 4]. When the Ark of the Covenant finally arrived in Jerusalem, David danced in the street [2 Sam. 6: 14-16]. There are numerous examples in scripture of a broad emotional palate on which the stories of God are painted.

          What is God really like? Philip asked that question of Jesus in a roundabout way. He said to Jesus: “Show us the Father” [Jn. 14: 8]. And Jesus answered “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.” [Jn. 14: 9b]. So we have a way to see what God is really like. We can look at Jesus.

          Walter Hansen wrote an article in Christianity Today [Feb 3, 1997] in which he suggested that we can see what God is like by looking at the emotions of Jesus. He outlines five emotions, those of compassion, anger, grief, joy and love. The scriptures tell the story. Jesus was moved with pity for a leper he met in Galilee [Mk 1: 41]. He had compassion for the widow of a man who had died [Lk. 7: 13], and on the crowd which had followed him for three days and was hungry [Mk 8: 2]. When he saw the helplessness of the crowds that followed him, Matthew says he had compassion for them as well, commenting that they were like sheep without a shepherd [Mt. 9: 36]. Jesus was moved by the conditions he saw, just as we are when we see poverty or cruelty or other negative human conditions.

          Jesus got angry the same as we do, but when Jesus got angry it was never selfish or motivated by some personal need. In the synagogue on a Sabbath, he was about to heal a man with a withered hand when he looked around, realizing that instead of looking for a miracle, everyone was watching to see if he would “work” on the Sabbath. Mark’s gospel said he looked at them with anger [3:5]. More than once, he called out religious leaders as a “brood of vipers” [Mt. 12: 34, 23: 33]. He dressed down his disciples for not bringing children to him and Mark characterized him as indignant [10: 14]. And of course there is that famous scene of Jesus overturning the tables of the money changers in the temple courts [Jn. 2: 17]. He would not have the common people taken advantage of. Yes, Jesus got angry and indignant. He got short with his words. And yet, in all these examples, his motives were pure and his concern was for others, not himself.

          If you read closely, you will notice that in several accounts of Jesus’ compassion or anger, the emotion of grief also appears. Jesus was moved by a sight. His emotion would show in his compassion and his healing at one moment, and in anger at another. But often, that emotion was followed by grief. He hated to bear witness to what he saw when he encountered the dark side of humanity. It moved him as it should move us. Perhaps the greatest example of his tenderness was the scene at the tomb of Lazarus. John tells us he was deeply disturbed in spirit and deeply moved [11: 33]. He wept near the tomb [11: 38]. No matter that very soon after, Jesus would call Lazarus back from the grave. No matter that he had the power to reverse any human condition. He still had that capacity to hurt deeply, to be emotionally wounded and to grieve.

          What about joy? Did Jesus experience joy? The gospels don’t talk about it as much. After all, Jesus was the “suffering servant” predicted by Isaiah. He had much ground to cover and many mouths to feed or influence. But Jesus did experience joy. Mark tells the story of seventy two disciples being sent out ahead by Jesus as a sort of evangelical advance team. When they returned, their reports were full of success. Mark tells us that Jesus, hearing the news, rejoiced greatly in the Holy Spirit [Lk. 10: 21]. He was like a proud parent, beaming from the success of his offspring. And in John 15, as Jesus is making his closing remarks to his beloved disciples before his impending arrest, he talks about his joy. It is his legacy to his disciples, that they have his joy, and that their own joy would then be full.

          When I think of joy, my thoughts turn to Nancy Link, my mother in law who recently met the Lord face to face. Nancy lived a long and accomplished life, but most who knew her, including me, were the most impressed, the most influenced, not by her many accomplishments, but by her sustained joy over a long and full life. She knew happiness and joy here, and she knew it well. I think it’s because she got it. She understood what Jesus meant in John 15. She accepted Jesus’ joy in her heart early and thrived on it all her life. Do you know people like Nancy?

           In Hansen’s menu of the emotions of Jesus, he saves the most pre-eminent for last. Jesus loved. In Hansen’s analysis and in mine, love is the guiding force behind all the other emotions. If you don’t care, then things don’t get to you. You don’t experience compassion or anger or grief…or even joy. Love is the power, the mover, the thing above all things. The apostle Paul gives us the primer on it in the great “love” chapter in 1 Corinthians 13. There is faith, and there is hope, both overpoweringly important. But the greatest? It’s love.

          We have come to the end and find ourselves back at the beginning. We have talked about five emotions of Jesus on vivid display in the gospels. He was compassionate. He got angry. He felt grief. He also felt joy. And he was chock full of love. Well, we would expect that of the son of God. But we too are sons of God, fully adopted by God himself into the family when we give ourselves to him and believe in the gospel of Jesus.

          And that’s what is so spectacular to me about Jesus. Yes, he was the son of God. But he referred to himself as the Son of Man. Why? Because in the wonderful mystery that is God in the Trinity, Jesus was just like us. Jesus was the ultimate human. Remember the passage in Genesis that we started with? Imago Dei. In the image of God. We don’t have to try to be like God. We already are. We are made in his image. We just need to be the best humans we can be. We’re like that teddy bear in the bedtime story. When we lose all our fur and we don’t have an eye or an ear anymore and when our stuffing is starting to come out, then we have experienced so much emotion and so much love…that we are finally real. Just like Jesus.

Extending the Vision

Hebrews 11: 29-40

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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