When the hour for the Passover meal came, Jesus took his place at the table, and the apostles with him. He said to them, "I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. Then he took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, "This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me." Then he took the cup and said, “This cup is poured out for you. This is the new covenant in my blood.”
Let me begin by saying thank you. Thanks for being here tonight. Thanks for being ready to come up and take Communion. Thank you for your courage. I’m not joking – what you’re about to do is incredibly brave. Theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer once said, “When Christ calls a man he bids him come and die.” And that’s exactly what we’re here for tonight. Now before you freak out, I’m not going to pull a Jim Jones and pass out Kool-Aid laced with cyanide. But – what you’ve come to do tonight require you to be courageous. The Eucharist takes courage.
Now, to understand what I’m talking about, to understand what Jesus was doing in tonight’s Gospel when he instituted the Eucharist, the Sacrament of Holy Communion, we need to understand something central to Jesus’ 1st century Palestinian Jewish world – and that’s symbolism. Jesus’ world was steeped in symbols.
A symbol, by definition, takes one thing and uses it to say something else. Let’s look at a few examples from Jesus’ Bible, or as we call it, the Old Testament. The prophet Hosea married a prostitute to symbolize Israel’s infidelity. Jeremiah preached while holding a pair of dirty underwear – a symbol of Israel’s filth. Ezekiel cooked a meal over his own poop. I have to say this is a symbol I have yet to see the big stink about. My point is this – symbols were central to Jesus’ world. Jesus’ world was steeped in symbols.
And so it shouldn’t surprise us to discover that symbols were central to Jesus’ ministry. After all, there is a reason he chose 12 disciples – it was a symbol for the 12 tribes of Israel being restored through his ministry. There’s a reason that he chose to be baptized, even though he was sinless. It was a symbol for his mission to be numbered among the transgressors on the cross. There’s a reason Jesus prayed in a garden the night before he died – the Garden of Gethsemane was a symbol for Eden, for that which was lost when Adam and Eve rebelled. Jesus’ ministry was steeped in symbols.
And so it also shouldn’t surprise us that when Jesus gathered his disciples around a table at the Passover, took a piece of bread, broke that bread, and then gave it to his disciples, this too was a symbol. In fact, this was Jesus’ last great symbol before he died. Jesus took bread. Jesus broke bread. Jesus gave bread. And so here’s my question. Assuming he wasn’t just loading up on carbs – that this meal was Jesus’ last great symbol – what was Jesus trying to say? When Jesus took the bread, broke the bread, and gave the bread – what did this taking, this breaking, this giving symbolize? Why does it take courage to eat this meal in particular, week after week, like he told us to do?
The Last Supper happens during Passover – a Jewish festival that celebrates the exodus. And so to unlock the meaning of Jesus’ greatest symbol there’s something we need to recall about the first Passover night. God told the people of Israel to slaughter a lamb, take its blood, and place it on the doorposts of their home. This blood, God promised, would protect them and save them. Yes – judgment would be passed on the first-born of Egypt. But – those protected by the blood of a lamb would be “passed over.” The blood would protect them and save them.
And so this meal, the Passover meal, was a symbol – a symbol of what God had done, a symbolic meal Jews shared year after year. And this symbol was so important that to not celebrate the Passover was to reject the covenant. It’d be like burning the American flag. But even more, to not celebrate the Passover was basically saying that you had lost hope in God. Why? Because Jews in Jesus’ day were praying for a second exodus, and for God to bring about a new covenant. In other words, looking back to what God had done – set them free – they prayed for what God would do – set the entire creation free.
Now with that in mind, let’s go back to that Upper Room – to the “last supper” that takes place at the Passover. Rather than looking back to the first exodus, to the first covenant, Jesus looks forward to a new exodus, to the new covenant He’s going to bring about. And like in the first Passover, blood will be shed – but it won’t be the blood of a lamb. It will be the blood of the Lamb. Like in the first Passover, judgment will take place. But it won’t be on the firstborn of Egypt. It will be on the firstborn of God. As Jesus gathers his disciples in that Upper Room, he tells them once again that blood will be shed – blood that will protect them and save them. “This is my blood,” he says, “given for you.” But to emphasize, to hammer home whose blood that must be, how the new covenant will come about, Jesus makes use of his last great symbol. And so taking a piece of bread he says, “This is my body, given for you.” “This bread – this is my body. What happens to this bread will happen to me.” And then he broke it. And he gave it to them as food.
These symbols that Jesus gives us – when he took the bread, when he broke the bread, and when he gave the bread – mean at least these three things.
First, this meal symbolizes what Jesus did for us. Like the bread Jesus is taken. The Roman authorities take him and nail him to a cross. He’s taken by the will of His Father, He’s taken by the leading of the Spirit, He’s taken by a vision of the Kingdom of God and set apart to establish that Kingdom here on earth. In his own words, “I came not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me.” Jesus is taken.
Second, like the bread Jesus is broken. His heart is broken by the sin and faithlessness that surround him. His body is broken and bruised as he’s nailed to a cross. His Spirit is broken as He cries out to His Father only to hear silence. Jesus is broken.
Third, Jesus is given to the world. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son to the end that all who believe in him should not perish but have everlasting life.” God gave his only Son. To us. To bring about the new covenant. To set creation free. Jesus is taken, broken, and given to the world for this very purpose.
But that’s only half the story. Jesus then gives his disciples the bread and says, “Eat it,” which in Jesus’ symbol steeped world means, “may what happens to this bread, may what happens to me, happen to you too. If you eat this bread my story will become your story. My life will become your life. Take this bread – my broken body given for the world – and eat it.”
Do you see now why Eucharistic worship takes courage? Eucharistic worship takes courage because, whether we realize it or not, every time we approach God’s altar and hold out our hands we accept our mission as the people of God – we pray that what happened to Jesus will happen to us. Eucharistic worship takes courage because God answers that prayer.
First, God will take us. Right where we are. It doesn’t matter how sinful we are, how many shameful secrets we have, or how unworthy we feel. God will take us.
Second, God will break us. He will break us of our pride. He will break us of our self-sufficiency. He will break us of our idols – of whatever it is in our life other than Him that we think will give meaning to our life. The living Lord that says, “take up your cross and follow me” will lay a cross upon our back. And that cross will break us.
Finally, God will give us to the world as food. The Lord who laid down his life for us will teach us to lay down our life for the world. We’ll become what Paul calls a “living sacrifice.” And by laying down our life for the world we’ll take our part in God’s work to set the creation free.
Someone once told me that they love how the Episcopal Church doesn’t do altar calls. They were obviously grossly misinformed. Because we do one every single week. And it takes courage to come forward. Because we’re not asking you to accept Christ. We are bidding you to come and die – to be taken, broken, and given to the world as ministers of Christ’s new covenant. We’re asking for Jesus’ story to become your story. For Jesus’ life to become your life. For Jesus’ death to become your death. And so once again, thank you for your courage. Because what you’re about to do is incredibly brave.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
chosen (Isaiah) -- OMEGA
chosen (Isaiah)
At least once a month someone asks me the question, “how’d you decide to become a priest?” And that’s a hard question to answer because I don’t believe I did. Honestly, I don’t. I really believe that God chose me for this work. I’m not so sure that I decided to become a priest. I’m not saying that I’m a puppet or that God is just pulling the strings. But I don’t think I’m here right now because of a decision that I made. I think I’m here right now because of a decision that God made. I think I’m chosen for this work. And you know what’s weird? I don’t think I’m special. I believe that God is invested in your life, too – just like He is in mine. I honestly believe that tonight I am speaking to a group of people who are also chosen for God’s work. I honestly believe that you are called.
And so tonight, I’d like to do something a little bit different, and that’s start with our bible reading to talk about being called or being chosen. Our reading comes from Isaiah.
In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. And one called to another and said: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.’ The pivots on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke. And I said: ‘Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts! ‘Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. The seraph touched my mouth with it and said: ‘Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.’ Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?’ And I said, ‘Here am I; send me!’
In order to talk about being chosen, I’m going to give us four C’s to help guide our minds – context, confrontation, conversion and call.
CONTEXT
Hearing God’s call doesn’t happen in a vacuum. We all have a context, a history, and a background. The call of Isaiah does not begin with a vision. It begins with a context. What is that context? “In the year that King Uzziah died.” Uzziah’s death – that is the context for Isaiah’s call.
If you haven’t heard of Uzziah, he was a remarkable king and he did a lot to bless his people. He was a military genius, building an army of over 300,000 soldiers. He also fortified Jerusalem, which meant that under Uzziah’s rule, the people of Israel were finally safe. Uzziah was an economic guru, a spiritual leader, and a pillar of the people. With the exception of David and Solomon, Uzziah was remembered as the most stable, wise, faithful and powerful King that Israel ever had. But more than that, his reign lasted 52 years – that’s more than Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Clinton, and both Bush’s combined. Imagine having a president for fifty-two years with a 100% approval rating. In the land of Israel, Uzziah is all that they knew and they depended on their king. Their king was their refuge. But then one day – their refuge dies.
Question – what do you do when Uzziah dies? For their whole life, Uzziah had been on the throne. He was their anchor, their source of strength, their refuge, their king. But now he’s dead.
Here’s what I’d like to suggest. The death of our anchor, the death of our king, is the context for hearing the call of God. Our Uzziah dies. We come to see that our anchor can’t hold us and that we need a new one. We come to see that the source of our strength is either gone or inadequate. We come to see that our king – whatever that is or whoever that is – is mortal and subject to death and that we desperately need a king that is immortal, a king that can never die.
Now, the death of Uzziah is different for each of us. It could be an earth-shattering event – the death of a loved one, the loss of a job, or the end of a relationship that we were fully invested in. Or, our lives can just unravel. And that unraveling can be dramatic – a panic attack or a meltdown. Or, that unraveling could just be a deep dissatisfaction with the status quo – a realization that the source of our strength, whatever that is, is fleeting. But death – that’s the context for hearing the call of God. Uzziah dies. We come to see that what we were relying on or who we were relying on cannot save us and that we need a new anchor.
CONFRONTATION
Our second “C” is confrontation. Isaiah is confronted with the presence of God. And notice the irony. King Uzziah is dead, which means that the throne is now empty. But then Isaiah looks up and where does he see God? Sitting on a throne. Isaiah turns his eyes from the throne of man and beholds the throne of God. Knowing Uzziah to be dead, Isaiah comes to know that God is alive. Isaiah is confronted with a vision of the Living God.
And the reason I say confronted is because Isaiah comes to see that the Living God is holy. According to Isaiah, even the angels cover their faces. The angels can’t even look as they cry holy, holy, holy, over and over again. And as a side note, repetition is the bible’s only way to emphasize something. There aren’t any capital letters or exclamation points in the Hebrew language and so the only tool for emphasis is repetition. Now, a lot of words in the bible are repeated twice but only once does an attribute of God get repeated three times. And what is that attribute? It’s not “loving, loving, loving” or “compassionate, compassionate, compassionate.” Of course, God is most definitely loving and most certainly compassionate. But only holiness is repeated three times. This is significant. Holiness gets to the core of who God is.
Now, most people hear the word holiness and think about moral purity. But holiness is much more complicated than that. The Hebrew word qadosh means set apart and refers to someone or something that is totally different. To say that God is holy is to say that God is totally different. It’s to say that God is different in a way that is wonderful and mysterious and terrifying and exciting. And that “total difference,” that holiness, leads Isaiah to our third “C.”
CONVERSION
“And I said: ‘Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!”
After seeing the truth about God, Isaiah saw the truth about himself, and he spoke the truth about himself – I am lost! Seeing the truth about ourselves is rare. We tend to downplay our sin and our weaknesses. We minimize the reality of our sin, the cost of our wrong choices, and the damage we’ve done to ourselves and to each other. It’s like we’re born wearing special sunglasses that darken our perspective and keep us from seeing the truth. But then we’re confronted with the great and terrifying holiness of God and that confrontation makes us ripe for conversion. It rips off our sunglasses, or perhaps I should say our sin-glasses. After seeing God for who He truly is – holy – we see ourselves for who we truly are – people of unclean lips.
And notice, Isaiah says something incredibly profound. “I’m lost.” Another translation of the Hebrew word is “ruined.” “Woe” is me he says. Woe is a word of judgment that the prophets typically spoke on other people. But the prophet Isaiah speaks woe on himself. Because in the light of God’s holiness, Isaiah is undone and he comes to see that unless God’s grace intervenes he will be utterly ruined. Fortunately, God’s grace does intervene, though perhaps not in the way we usually imagine. Here’s how it happens.
An angel takes a live coal and holds it to Isaiah’s lips. This is Isaiah’s image of grace. In fact, the coal is so hot that the angel of God has to use a pair of tongs. The angel can’t even use his hands, but Isaiah has to allow the coal to burn one of the most sensitive parts of his body. And this tells us something important about grace. There is real pain – a real sting – that comes with conversion. We often assume that grace means the absence of pain. But according to Isaiah that’s just not the case. Deep, deep grace – at least initially – can make us feel a deep, deep pain.
You see, the goal of God’s grace is to change us, which is what I mean when I say “conversion.” The goal of God’s grace isn’t to spare us from pain but to redeem our character, and I hate to say this, but pain can do wonders for our character. After all, it’s painful whenever our Uzziah dies. But it’s still grace. It’s painful when we’re confronted with the reality of our sin in the light of God’s holiness. But it’s still grace.
One of my favorite writers – Brannan Manning – is an alcoholic and he writes a lot about how God’s grace allowed him to hit rock bottom. He writes about how in order to change, he had to see the wasted years, the ruined relationships, the devastating lies, and the utter selfishness. It was God’s painful grace, he says, that allowed him to see the truth.
A lot of Christian mystics tell us to pray for the gift of tears. And if you’ve ever read their writings, you come to see that they all prayed, on a regular basis, for a broken heart – what they called the gift of tears. That was their prayer – for God’s light to penetrate their souls, to reveal the presence of sin, and to bring them to tears. When’s the last time you prayed for that? I’ll be honest – it’s been a while for me. But God’s painful grace is something we should be seeking. It is a good thing to feel lost because it opens us up to the power of being found, which moves us to “C” number four.
CALL
Our life is found in the call of God. God doesn’t heal Isaiah for his sake alone but so that he can live out his prophetic call. “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” That’s God’s question and for the first time Isaiah is ready to respond. “Here am I. Send me.”
If we asked Isaiah “how’d you decide to become a prophet” what do you think he’d say? Who knows, but I imagine it’d be along the lines of “I didn’t choose God, God chose me.” But you know what’s weird? I don’t think Isaiah is special. I believe that God is just as invested in the lives of the people in this room as He was in Isaiah’s. And I honestly believe that tonight I’m speaking to a group of people who are chosen for God’s work. I honestly believe that you are called. I guess the only question is – to what?
Well, I think that you and I are ultimately chosen for the same thing. And since not all of you are called to be priests, that mean’s my primary call is not to be a priest. My primary call, your primary call, is something else. Our primary call is to be holy, like God is holy. Our call is to be transformed so much in the depth of our souls that we become totally different in a way that is wonderful and mysterious and terrifying and exciting. In a world of hate, we are chosen to be set on fire with love. In a world that is selfish, we are chosen to be surprisingly selfless. In a world full of dull sameness, we are chosen to be different. Just like God.
Jesus put it like this in the Sermon on the Mount. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” Think again about our reading from Isaiah, where even the angels had to cover their eyes in the presence of God. But then along comes Jesus, who knew the Book of Isaiah backwards and forwards, and says, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.” I think that’s our common call. To have a pure heart. Just like God. So that one day, we can see Him. So that we don’t have to cover our faces.
Does anyone know what the Greek word ekklesia means, which is where we get the word church? It means to be “called out.” If we think that we’re not called to anything than we’ve misunderstood Christianity. We are all called out. Not one of us is special, and yet every single one of us is special.
I’m sure you’ve been told that you’re made in the image of God, which is true, but tonight I want to tell you what that means. In biblical times, kings would strategically place their image all over their land. For example, kings would put up statues of themselves and stamp their image on coins. Coins were made in the image of the king. Statues were made in the image of the king. This was the king’s way of reminding the people who was in control.
In the same way, each of us is called to be an image for our King. To a world that mourns the death of Uzziah, we are chosen to represent the King that cannot die, to remind people that there is One seated on the throne of heaven and that he reigns over us all. The king of heaven has strategically placed you all over His land. Our call is to be so loving and so selfless and so different that people are reminded who the true King is.
We may or may not hear it but God is asking each of us – whom shall I send, and who will go for us? In other words, who will represent us?
What a blessed thing it is to feel God’s painful grace, to stop mourning the death of Uzziah, to see a vision of the King eternal that cannot die, and then to respond with the words of Isaiah.
Here am I. Send me.
At least once a month someone asks me the question, “how’d you decide to become a priest?” And that’s a hard question to answer because I don’t believe I did. Honestly, I don’t. I really believe that God chose me for this work. I’m not so sure that I decided to become a priest. I’m not saying that I’m a puppet or that God is just pulling the strings. But I don’t think I’m here right now because of a decision that I made. I think I’m here right now because of a decision that God made. I think I’m chosen for this work. And you know what’s weird? I don’t think I’m special. I believe that God is invested in your life, too – just like He is in mine. I honestly believe that tonight I am speaking to a group of people who are also chosen for God’s work. I honestly believe that you are called.
And so tonight, I’d like to do something a little bit different, and that’s start with our bible reading to talk about being called or being chosen. Our reading comes from Isaiah.
In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. And one called to another and said: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.’ The pivots on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke. And I said: ‘Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts! ‘Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. The seraph touched my mouth with it and said: ‘Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.’ Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?’ And I said, ‘Here am I; send me!’
In order to talk about being chosen, I’m going to give us four C’s to help guide our minds – context, confrontation, conversion and call.
CONTEXT
Hearing God’s call doesn’t happen in a vacuum. We all have a context, a history, and a background. The call of Isaiah does not begin with a vision. It begins with a context. What is that context? “In the year that King Uzziah died.” Uzziah’s death – that is the context for Isaiah’s call.
If you haven’t heard of Uzziah, he was a remarkable king and he did a lot to bless his people. He was a military genius, building an army of over 300,000 soldiers. He also fortified Jerusalem, which meant that under Uzziah’s rule, the people of Israel were finally safe. Uzziah was an economic guru, a spiritual leader, and a pillar of the people. With the exception of David and Solomon, Uzziah was remembered as the most stable, wise, faithful and powerful King that Israel ever had. But more than that, his reign lasted 52 years – that’s more than Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Clinton, and both Bush’s combined. Imagine having a president for fifty-two years with a 100% approval rating. In the land of Israel, Uzziah is all that they knew and they depended on their king. Their king was their refuge. But then one day – their refuge dies.
Question – what do you do when Uzziah dies? For their whole life, Uzziah had been on the throne. He was their anchor, their source of strength, their refuge, their king. But now he’s dead.
Here’s what I’d like to suggest. The death of our anchor, the death of our king, is the context for hearing the call of God. Our Uzziah dies. We come to see that our anchor can’t hold us and that we need a new one. We come to see that the source of our strength is either gone or inadequate. We come to see that our king – whatever that is or whoever that is – is mortal and subject to death and that we desperately need a king that is immortal, a king that can never die.
Now, the death of Uzziah is different for each of us. It could be an earth-shattering event – the death of a loved one, the loss of a job, or the end of a relationship that we were fully invested in. Or, our lives can just unravel. And that unraveling can be dramatic – a panic attack or a meltdown. Or, that unraveling could just be a deep dissatisfaction with the status quo – a realization that the source of our strength, whatever that is, is fleeting. But death – that’s the context for hearing the call of God. Uzziah dies. We come to see that what we were relying on or who we were relying on cannot save us and that we need a new anchor.
CONFRONTATION
Our second “C” is confrontation. Isaiah is confronted with the presence of God. And notice the irony. King Uzziah is dead, which means that the throne is now empty. But then Isaiah looks up and where does he see God? Sitting on a throne. Isaiah turns his eyes from the throne of man and beholds the throne of God. Knowing Uzziah to be dead, Isaiah comes to know that God is alive. Isaiah is confronted with a vision of the Living God.
And the reason I say confronted is because Isaiah comes to see that the Living God is holy. According to Isaiah, even the angels cover their faces. The angels can’t even look as they cry holy, holy, holy, over and over again. And as a side note, repetition is the bible’s only way to emphasize something. There aren’t any capital letters or exclamation points in the Hebrew language and so the only tool for emphasis is repetition. Now, a lot of words in the bible are repeated twice but only once does an attribute of God get repeated three times. And what is that attribute? It’s not “loving, loving, loving” or “compassionate, compassionate, compassionate.” Of course, God is most definitely loving and most certainly compassionate. But only holiness is repeated three times. This is significant. Holiness gets to the core of who God is.
Now, most people hear the word holiness and think about moral purity. But holiness is much more complicated than that. The Hebrew word qadosh means set apart and refers to someone or something that is totally different. To say that God is holy is to say that God is totally different. It’s to say that God is different in a way that is wonderful and mysterious and terrifying and exciting. And that “total difference,” that holiness, leads Isaiah to our third “C.”
CONVERSION
“And I said: ‘Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!”
After seeing the truth about God, Isaiah saw the truth about himself, and he spoke the truth about himself – I am lost! Seeing the truth about ourselves is rare. We tend to downplay our sin and our weaknesses. We minimize the reality of our sin, the cost of our wrong choices, and the damage we’ve done to ourselves and to each other. It’s like we’re born wearing special sunglasses that darken our perspective and keep us from seeing the truth. But then we’re confronted with the great and terrifying holiness of God and that confrontation makes us ripe for conversion. It rips off our sunglasses, or perhaps I should say our sin-glasses. After seeing God for who He truly is – holy – we see ourselves for who we truly are – people of unclean lips.
And notice, Isaiah says something incredibly profound. “I’m lost.” Another translation of the Hebrew word is “ruined.” “Woe” is me he says. Woe is a word of judgment that the prophets typically spoke on other people. But the prophet Isaiah speaks woe on himself. Because in the light of God’s holiness, Isaiah is undone and he comes to see that unless God’s grace intervenes he will be utterly ruined. Fortunately, God’s grace does intervene, though perhaps not in the way we usually imagine. Here’s how it happens.
An angel takes a live coal and holds it to Isaiah’s lips. This is Isaiah’s image of grace. In fact, the coal is so hot that the angel of God has to use a pair of tongs. The angel can’t even use his hands, but Isaiah has to allow the coal to burn one of the most sensitive parts of his body. And this tells us something important about grace. There is real pain – a real sting – that comes with conversion. We often assume that grace means the absence of pain. But according to Isaiah that’s just not the case. Deep, deep grace – at least initially – can make us feel a deep, deep pain.
You see, the goal of God’s grace is to change us, which is what I mean when I say “conversion.” The goal of God’s grace isn’t to spare us from pain but to redeem our character, and I hate to say this, but pain can do wonders for our character. After all, it’s painful whenever our Uzziah dies. But it’s still grace. It’s painful when we’re confronted with the reality of our sin in the light of God’s holiness. But it’s still grace.
One of my favorite writers – Brannan Manning – is an alcoholic and he writes a lot about how God’s grace allowed him to hit rock bottom. He writes about how in order to change, he had to see the wasted years, the ruined relationships, the devastating lies, and the utter selfishness. It was God’s painful grace, he says, that allowed him to see the truth.
A lot of Christian mystics tell us to pray for the gift of tears. And if you’ve ever read their writings, you come to see that they all prayed, on a regular basis, for a broken heart – what they called the gift of tears. That was their prayer – for God’s light to penetrate their souls, to reveal the presence of sin, and to bring them to tears. When’s the last time you prayed for that? I’ll be honest – it’s been a while for me. But God’s painful grace is something we should be seeking. It is a good thing to feel lost because it opens us up to the power of being found, which moves us to “C” number four.
CALL
Our life is found in the call of God. God doesn’t heal Isaiah for his sake alone but so that he can live out his prophetic call. “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” That’s God’s question and for the first time Isaiah is ready to respond. “Here am I. Send me.”
If we asked Isaiah “how’d you decide to become a prophet” what do you think he’d say? Who knows, but I imagine it’d be along the lines of “I didn’t choose God, God chose me.” But you know what’s weird? I don’t think Isaiah is special. I believe that God is just as invested in the lives of the people in this room as He was in Isaiah’s. And I honestly believe that tonight I’m speaking to a group of people who are chosen for God’s work. I honestly believe that you are called. I guess the only question is – to what?
Well, I think that you and I are ultimately chosen for the same thing. And since not all of you are called to be priests, that mean’s my primary call is not to be a priest. My primary call, your primary call, is something else. Our primary call is to be holy, like God is holy. Our call is to be transformed so much in the depth of our souls that we become totally different in a way that is wonderful and mysterious and terrifying and exciting. In a world of hate, we are chosen to be set on fire with love. In a world that is selfish, we are chosen to be surprisingly selfless. In a world full of dull sameness, we are chosen to be different. Just like God.
Jesus put it like this in the Sermon on the Mount. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” Think again about our reading from Isaiah, where even the angels had to cover their eyes in the presence of God. But then along comes Jesus, who knew the Book of Isaiah backwards and forwards, and says, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.” I think that’s our common call. To have a pure heart. Just like God. So that one day, we can see Him. So that we don’t have to cover our faces.
Does anyone know what the Greek word ekklesia means, which is where we get the word church? It means to be “called out.” If we think that we’re not called to anything than we’ve misunderstood Christianity. We are all called out. Not one of us is special, and yet every single one of us is special.
I’m sure you’ve been told that you’re made in the image of God, which is true, but tonight I want to tell you what that means. In biblical times, kings would strategically place their image all over their land. For example, kings would put up statues of themselves and stamp their image on coins. Coins were made in the image of the king. Statues were made in the image of the king. This was the king’s way of reminding the people who was in control.
In the same way, each of us is called to be an image for our King. To a world that mourns the death of Uzziah, we are chosen to represent the King that cannot die, to remind people that there is One seated on the throne of heaven and that he reigns over us all. The king of heaven has strategically placed you all over His land. Our call is to be so loving and so selfless and so different that people are reminded who the true King is.
We may or may not hear it but God is asking each of us – whom shall I send, and who will go for us? In other words, who will represent us?
What a blessed thing it is to feel God’s painful grace, to stop mourning the death of Uzziah, to see a vision of the King eternal that cannot die, and then to respond with the words of Isaiah.
Here am I. Send me.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
the perfect vessel
Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the LORD appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. Then Moses said, "I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up." When the LORD saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, "Moses, Moses!" And he said, "Here I am." Then he said, "Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground." He said further, "I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob." And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God. Then the LORD said, "I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt." But Moses said to God, "Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?" He said, "I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain." But Moses said to God, "If I come to the Israelites and say to them, 'The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,' and they ask me, 'What is his name?' what shall I say to them?" God said to Moses, "I AM Who I AM." He said further, "Thus you shall say to the Israelites, 'I AM has sent me to you.'" God also said to Moses, "Thus you shall say to the Israelites, 'The LORD, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you': This is my name forever, and this my title for all generations.
One of the curses of ordained ministry is that people assume that I have it all together – that because God called me to be a priest that somehow I must be special. They obviously don’t know me well. The truth is I get lonely and anxious. I’m sinful and stubborn and scared and fumble through life trying to balance serving God and managing my problems. But the assumption is that I’ve got it all together, that I’m a spiritual giant, that somehow I must be special. And logically, this makes sense. We live in a world where the best and the brightest have a competitive edge. In the Kingdom of the world, the more impressive our resume, the more likely we’ll get picked. That’s just how the Kingdom of the world works – but what about the Kingdom of God? Does God delight in calling the strong? Does God pick people who have it all together to do His work? Do we have to be special to do something great for God?
Tonight I want to tell you a story. It’s a story about God and about God’s work here on earth and about the people God uses to do that work. It’s a story that begins with a guy named Abraham and with a promise that God makes to him. “Through you and your descendants I want to bless the entire world.” That’s the promise. Now, in the context of this biblical story, humanity has fallen from grace, the world is out of joint, people don’t know God, they don’t love him, they’re not happy and so God draws up a rescue plan and chooses Abraham to be play a pretty key role. “Through you and your descendants I’m going to fix this mess. I’m going to use your descendants, your children, to bless the entire world.”
Well, by the time the Book of Exodus begins Abraham’s descendants – the Israelites – have been slaves in Egypt for four hundred years. And maybe a few of these slaves have heard about God’s promise, but I doubt they believe it because all they’ve known is slavery. Imagine being born in a prison cell and then hearing a story about your great, great, great, great, great grandfather who was promised by God in 1509 that one day you’d live in a palace. Would that story give you hope as you sat rotting in your cell? I seriously doubt it. And so as the book of Exodus opens, the situation looks hopeless.
Well, just when it seems things can’t get any worse they do. The Egyptian Pharaoh starts worrying about the Israelites because when God commands them to be “fruitful and multiply,” they’re like “heck yea.” These people have a lot of babies and pharaoh doesn’t want to be outnumbered – after all, that would be bad for national security – and so he gets Congress to pass a law – newly born Israelite boys will be killed and thrown into the Nile.
Well, one day an Israelite boy is born by the name of Moses and his mother can’t stand the thought of losing him. And so she hides him for three months, and when she can’t hide him anymore, she makes a little basket and sets baby Moses down to float along the Nile hoping against hope for a miracle. Well, in an ironic twist, Pharaoh’s own daughter finds Moses and decides to keep him, which means, that Moses – the Israelite – is now the adopted grandson of Pharaoh himself – the one that originally wanted him dead.
Well, baby Moses grows up to discover that he’s living in two different worlds. On the one hand, he’s concerned for his own people – after all, he is an Israelite. But on the other hand, Moses is educated, trained, and raised – not only as an Egyptian – but as Egyptian royalty. Remember, he’s the adopted grandson of Pharaoh. We can assume he lives in a palace. He has nice food, nice clothes – I’m sure he has a few slaves of his own. But, he’s not an Egyptian. He’s an Israelite. Talk about a messed up situation – Moses’ own biological family are slaves in his own Kingdom. Today’s Old Testament reading comes from Exodus 3, but listen to what happens in Exodus 2.
When Moses had grown up, he went out to visit his people, the Israelites, and he saw how hard they were forced to work. During his visit, he saw an Egyptian beating one of the Israelite slaves. 12 After looking around to make sure no one was watching, Moses killed the Egyptian and buried him in the sand.
Now, some preachers give Moses’ act a positive spin, but the Bible just doesn’t support this position. God doesn’t tell Moses to kill this dude. He murders him in cold blood. Well, the following morning Moses makes the front page of the Egyptian Post, and Pharaoh – his own grandfather – puts a price on his head. And so Moses – a convicted murderer – runs for his life and flees to the land of Midian.
And so fast-forward a couple years. Moses is now in the witness protection program. Moses gets a new wife – a cute little thing by the name of Zipporah. He’s gets a new career – deciding to enter the Midian shepherd training program. And finally, Moses has a son. And so Moses – the runaway killer – gets a “second chance at life.”
That’s enough background for tonight’s Old Testament reading from Exodus. Moses has been in Midian for forty years, he has a whole life behind him that no one even knows about, a life he’s ashamed of, but one day everything changes. God comes to Moses and says, “I’m choosing you – Moses I want you, of all people, to be the one to confront Pharaoh. I choose you Moses to set my people free.” Do you see why Moses’ response makes sense? Who am I? I’m not special. I’m not strong. I clearly don’t have my shniz together. Who am I to do this work?
And he’s right. I mean, could God have chosen a more dysfunctional person? Moses has never met his parents. He’s adopted. Ethnically he’s an Israelite but he’s raised an Egyptian. Moses has identity issues. He doesn’t know who he is. With one hand he enslaves the Israelites, with the other he avenges their abuse. Moses is impulsive. He kills a man in cold blood. He’s also a coward. Not wanting to be a man and own up to his mistake, Moses runs away to Midian and begins living a lie. And if all that weren’t enough, we later learn that Moses stutters – probably a nervous tick that developed from his dysfunctional life in the palace. Years of therapy couldn’t sort this stuff out. Moses doesn’t have it all together. He doesn’t feel very strong and God knows he isn’t special. And so when God calls him and says “I’m choosing you” Moses naturally objects. “You’ve made a mistake. You obviously don’t know about my past. Who am I?”
In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul writes: “Consider your own call: not many of you were wise, not many powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God.” In other words, God doesn’t delight in calling the strong. He delights in calling the weak. Why? Because they are the perfect vessel to display His strength.
Now, I know we were raised to believe that the people in the Bible were heroes. But I’m going to give it to you straight. Abraham was a creepy old man. Jacob was insecure. Leah was ugly. Joseph was abused. Gideon was poor. Rahab was immoral. David was an adulterer. Elijah was suicidal. Jeremiah was depressed. Jonah was reluctant. John the Baptist was eccentric. Peter was impulsive. Martha was anxious. The Samaritan woman couldn’t hold together a marriage to save her life. Zacchaeus was unpopular. Thomas had doubts. Paul was a cripple. Timothy was timid. And I think you know where I stand with Moses. These are the people our God has chosen to work through. They’re not strong. They’re not special. They don’t have it all together. And that’s precisely why God chose them. They were the perfect vessel to display His strength.
I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that there are two things about your life that I know are true. First, you don’t have it all together. If you’re anything like me, you get lonely and anxious; you’re sinful and stubborn and scared and you fumble through life trying to balance serving God and managing your problems. One way or another, I know the world’s taken its toll on you. You don’t have it all together.
Second, you are called to do great work for God. I don’t know what that looks like, but none of you are called to be a shepherd in Midian. You’re called to confront Pharaoh, to bring God’s people to freedom, to taste that freedom for yourself, to speak with God face to face like Moses did. I know there’s a burning bush out there for you too and the reason I’m preaching this sermon is because I don’t want you to miss it. I know what you’re thinking – who am I that I should go to Pharaoh? I’m not strong. I’m not special. I don’t have it all together. Who am I? You are the perfect vessel to display God’s strength.
One of the curses of ordained ministry is that people assume that I have it all together – that because God called me to be a priest that somehow I must be special. They obviously don’t know me well. The truth is I get lonely and anxious. I’m sinful and stubborn and scared and fumble through life trying to balance serving God and managing my problems. But the assumption is that I’ve got it all together, that I’m a spiritual giant, that somehow I must be special. And logically, this makes sense. We live in a world where the best and the brightest have a competitive edge. In the Kingdom of the world, the more impressive our resume, the more likely we’ll get picked. That’s just how the Kingdom of the world works – but what about the Kingdom of God? Does God delight in calling the strong? Does God pick people who have it all together to do His work? Do we have to be special to do something great for God?
Tonight I want to tell you a story. It’s a story about God and about God’s work here on earth and about the people God uses to do that work. It’s a story that begins with a guy named Abraham and with a promise that God makes to him. “Through you and your descendants I want to bless the entire world.” That’s the promise. Now, in the context of this biblical story, humanity has fallen from grace, the world is out of joint, people don’t know God, they don’t love him, they’re not happy and so God draws up a rescue plan and chooses Abraham to be play a pretty key role. “Through you and your descendants I’m going to fix this mess. I’m going to use your descendants, your children, to bless the entire world.”
Well, by the time the Book of Exodus begins Abraham’s descendants – the Israelites – have been slaves in Egypt for four hundred years. And maybe a few of these slaves have heard about God’s promise, but I doubt they believe it because all they’ve known is slavery. Imagine being born in a prison cell and then hearing a story about your great, great, great, great, great grandfather who was promised by God in 1509 that one day you’d live in a palace. Would that story give you hope as you sat rotting in your cell? I seriously doubt it. And so as the book of Exodus opens, the situation looks hopeless.
Well, just when it seems things can’t get any worse they do. The Egyptian Pharaoh starts worrying about the Israelites because when God commands them to be “fruitful and multiply,” they’re like “heck yea.” These people have a lot of babies and pharaoh doesn’t want to be outnumbered – after all, that would be bad for national security – and so he gets Congress to pass a law – newly born Israelite boys will be killed and thrown into the Nile.
Well, one day an Israelite boy is born by the name of Moses and his mother can’t stand the thought of losing him. And so she hides him for three months, and when she can’t hide him anymore, she makes a little basket and sets baby Moses down to float along the Nile hoping against hope for a miracle. Well, in an ironic twist, Pharaoh’s own daughter finds Moses and decides to keep him, which means, that Moses – the Israelite – is now the adopted grandson of Pharaoh himself – the one that originally wanted him dead.
Well, baby Moses grows up to discover that he’s living in two different worlds. On the one hand, he’s concerned for his own people – after all, he is an Israelite. But on the other hand, Moses is educated, trained, and raised – not only as an Egyptian – but as Egyptian royalty. Remember, he’s the adopted grandson of Pharaoh. We can assume he lives in a palace. He has nice food, nice clothes – I’m sure he has a few slaves of his own. But, he’s not an Egyptian. He’s an Israelite. Talk about a messed up situation – Moses’ own biological family are slaves in his own Kingdom. Today’s Old Testament reading comes from Exodus 3, but listen to what happens in Exodus 2.
When Moses had grown up, he went out to visit his people, the Israelites, and he saw how hard they were forced to work. During his visit, he saw an Egyptian beating one of the Israelite slaves. 12 After looking around to make sure no one was watching, Moses killed the Egyptian and buried him in the sand.
Now, some preachers give Moses’ act a positive spin, but the Bible just doesn’t support this position. God doesn’t tell Moses to kill this dude. He murders him in cold blood. Well, the following morning Moses makes the front page of the Egyptian Post, and Pharaoh – his own grandfather – puts a price on his head. And so Moses – a convicted murderer – runs for his life and flees to the land of Midian.
And so fast-forward a couple years. Moses is now in the witness protection program. Moses gets a new wife – a cute little thing by the name of Zipporah. He’s gets a new career – deciding to enter the Midian shepherd training program. And finally, Moses has a son. And so Moses – the runaway killer – gets a “second chance at life.”
That’s enough background for tonight’s Old Testament reading from Exodus. Moses has been in Midian for forty years, he has a whole life behind him that no one even knows about, a life he’s ashamed of, but one day everything changes. God comes to Moses and says, “I’m choosing you – Moses I want you, of all people, to be the one to confront Pharaoh. I choose you Moses to set my people free.” Do you see why Moses’ response makes sense? Who am I? I’m not special. I’m not strong. I clearly don’t have my shniz together. Who am I to do this work?
And he’s right. I mean, could God have chosen a more dysfunctional person? Moses has never met his parents. He’s adopted. Ethnically he’s an Israelite but he’s raised an Egyptian. Moses has identity issues. He doesn’t know who he is. With one hand he enslaves the Israelites, with the other he avenges their abuse. Moses is impulsive. He kills a man in cold blood. He’s also a coward. Not wanting to be a man and own up to his mistake, Moses runs away to Midian and begins living a lie. And if all that weren’t enough, we later learn that Moses stutters – probably a nervous tick that developed from his dysfunctional life in the palace. Years of therapy couldn’t sort this stuff out. Moses doesn’t have it all together. He doesn’t feel very strong and God knows he isn’t special. And so when God calls him and says “I’m choosing you” Moses naturally objects. “You’ve made a mistake. You obviously don’t know about my past. Who am I?”
In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul writes: “Consider your own call: not many of you were wise, not many powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God.” In other words, God doesn’t delight in calling the strong. He delights in calling the weak. Why? Because they are the perfect vessel to display His strength.
Now, I know we were raised to believe that the people in the Bible were heroes. But I’m going to give it to you straight. Abraham was a creepy old man. Jacob was insecure. Leah was ugly. Joseph was abused. Gideon was poor. Rahab was immoral. David was an adulterer. Elijah was suicidal. Jeremiah was depressed. Jonah was reluctant. John the Baptist was eccentric. Peter was impulsive. Martha was anxious. The Samaritan woman couldn’t hold together a marriage to save her life. Zacchaeus was unpopular. Thomas had doubts. Paul was a cripple. Timothy was timid. And I think you know where I stand with Moses. These are the people our God has chosen to work through. They’re not strong. They’re not special. They don’t have it all together. And that’s precisely why God chose them. They were the perfect vessel to display His strength.
I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that there are two things about your life that I know are true. First, you don’t have it all together. If you’re anything like me, you get lonely and anxious; you’re sinful and stubborn and scared and you fumble through life trying to balance serving God and managing your problems. One way or another, I know the world’s taken its toll on you. You don’t have it all together.
Second, you are called to do great work for God. I don’t know what that looks like, but none of you are called to be a shepherd in Midian. You’re called to confront Pharaoh, to bring God’s people to freedom, to taste that freedom for yourself, to speak with God face to face like Moses did. I know there’s a burning bush out there for you too and the reason I’m preaching this sermon is because I don’t want you to miss it. I know what you’re thinking – who am I that I should go to Pharaoh? I’m not strong. I’m not special. I don’t have it all together. Who am I? You are the perfect vessel to display God’s strength.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
our citizenship is in heaven
Brothers and sisters, join in imitating me, and observe those who live according to the example you have in us. For many live as enemies of the cross of Christ; I have often told you of them, and now I tell you even with tears. Their end is destruction; their god is the belly; and their glory is in their shame; their minds are set on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will transform the body of our humiliation that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, by the power that also enables him to make all things subject to himself. Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved.
I’d like to begin tonight with a quiz, and if you know the answers, do me a favor and shout them as loud as you can. “There are some things money can’t buy. For everything else, there’s _____. Capital One: what’s in your _____. Geico: so easy a _____ (can do it). Subway: Eat _____. Taco Bell: think outside the _____. Wheaties: the breakfast of _____.” I’m impressed.
Round 2. Love means never having to say you’re _____. If you scratch my back then I’ll scratch _____. Everything I ever needed to know I learned in _____. Stand up for your _____. Nothing in life is _____. Wow, y’all are good.
Ok, time for the lightning round. For where your treasure is there you’ll find your _____ (heart). The Lord is the Spirit and where the Spirit of the Lord there is _____ (freedom). If you do what I command you then you are my _____ (friends). My God – what happened?
The slogans and proverbs in rounds 1 and 2 reflect values and attitudes that pervade American culture. You never studied them. You didn’t memorize them. But you know them. You’ve internalized them. Your mind has them stored. But round 3? Those come from the Bible and my guess is that even if you got a few of them right they didn’t come to mind as quickly. In other words, unless you’ve disciplined yourself to “set your mind” on the Biblical story – to study it, memorize it, know it, internalize it – you probably did better in the first two rounds.
Our world constantly bombards us with information. The average person consumes 33.8 gigabytes of information and well over a 100,000 words every single day. Here’s what’s fascinating – that doesn’t include school or work. From the moment we’re born until the day we die, billions of messages are sent our way – some subtle, some not so subtle. From parents, peers, preachers, politicians, and advertisers. Through television, the internet, youtube, and text messages. In songs, poems, publications and graffiti. Message after message, day after day, is filling our mind – messages that tell us how to live, who to trust, what gives us value, how we got here, what our purpose is, what’s wrong with our world, and what – if anything – can be done about it. Message after message. We never studied them. We didn’t memorize them. But we know them. We’ve internalized them. Our mind has them stored. The only problem is – most of these messages are destructive.
In tonight’s epistle Paul warns the Philippians how destructive the world’s message can be and here’s the gist of what he says: “there are a lot of people in the kingdom of the world whose message conflicts with the message of the cross. I’ve told you about them before, and through tears I tell you again – wake up! We are not part of this kingdom. We stand for a different one with a much more powerful king. We aren’t citizens of the world. Our citizenship is in heaven.” In other words, Paul knows the Philippians are constantly bombarded by bad ideas – that message after message is flooding their minds, and so he writes them a letter to remind them that most of these messages are destructive.
“Our citizenship is in heaven.” That is Paul’s message. Another translation of this verse, which I find more intriguing, is “we are a colony of heaven.” A colony of heaven – this metaphor the Philippians would have understood. Philippi was a Roman colony and everyone knew what citizenship meant – it meant embracing a certain message. In fact, it’s not unlikely that these Philippians – Paul’s audience – had become Roman citizens in the last generation or so. You see Philippi was a conquered city and one of the ways that Rome typically avoided revolt was to offer citizenship to newfound colonies. In scholarly circles this is known as “Romanization.” The idea of Romanization is to get the new colony, the conquered people, to conform to Roman ideals. They wanted these conquered people to adopt Rome’s message as their own. And of course, from Rome’s perspective, this was the whole point of colonizing in the first place – to extend Roman influence, to create cells and networks of people loyal to Caesar throughout the entire world – to create a world that lived and breathed the Roman message. Paul’s audience understood this – they were constantly bombarded by the Roman message, and it was seductive. A message that said “give your allegiance to Caesar, live to advance the Kingdom of Rome and your every appetite will be fed, your every need satiated, your every hunger filled.” So Paul writes them a letter. “Hey guys. We have a different King. We stand for a different kingdom. Our citizenship is in heaven.”
Paul’s concern is not with our passport. The great irony is that Paul himself was a Roman citizen. Paul’s concern is the kingdom for which we stand – he’s concerned about the message that’s shaping our hearts – the message we believe about who we are, how to live, who to trust, what gives us value, how we got here, what our purpose is, what’s wrong with our world, and what – if anything – can be done about it. And I have to give Paul credit – he’s a realist. Paul knows that we can profess Jesus with our lips and still worship Caesar in our hearts – that we can speak about heavenly things and still set our minds on earthly things. That’s what Paul’s getting at in tonight’s reading. He wants us to interpret life – he wants us to be guided – by the right message.
In another letter Paul writes, “Do not conform any longer to the patterns of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your minds so that you may discern the will of God – that which is good, acceptable and perfect.” In other words, don’t conform; transform. Don’t set your mind on earthly things; renew your mind with heavenly things. Don’t obliviously play out some script you’ve been handed; discern the will of God – that which is good, acceptable and perfect. After all, our citizenship is in heaven. We are called to be a colony of heaven.
To say that our citizenship is in heaven is to say something fundamental about who we are as a church. Paul’s not talking about how we’re waiting to be snatched up into heaven. He’s talking about heaven invading this earth, and about how Jesus’ reign – in an odd way – begins now. Through us. To say that our citizenship is in heaven is to say that we – the church – are a colony of heaven, that we’re a network of people loyal to Jesus – the true King – and that our job is to create a world of disciples that live and breathe Jesus’ message.
But do you see what that means? If you and I are citizens of heaven – if we live on earth with the values of heaven – then at times we’ll feel like aliens. Our behavior will just seem weird. In a world that says “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours,” citizens of heaven go out of their way to serve people that can’t pay them back. In a world that stands up for its rights, citizens of heaven stand up for their responsibilities, and for the rights of other people. In a world that teaches that nothing in life is free, citizens of heaven smile because they know that everything is free – that life is grace, that everything’s a gift – and because of that they’re generous with their lives. Citizens of heaven know that love means having to say we’re sorry; that everything we need to know isn’t learned in kindergarten but in the presence of our resurrected rabbi and that learning to be like Jesus is a lifelong process. Citizens of heaven call Jesus their friend. They live a life of freedom. Their treasure is in Jesus’ kingdom and that’s where you’ll find their heart.
I have to say, the irony of this sermon isn’t lost on me. It’s ironic to preach how you’re bombarded by bad information by bombarding you with more information. And so if you’re a little skeptical of tonight’s sermon – that’s cool. But for what it’s worth, here’s your homework for the week – or, more accurately, the homework of our lives. Set your mind on the Biblical story. I don’t mean join a bible study. I mean, set your mind on the Bible. Study it. Memorize it. Know it. Internalize it. All I’m asking is that you give Jesus’ message a fair shot. He’s got great stuff to say about how to live, who to trust, what gives us value, how we got here, what our purpose is, what’s wrong with our world, and what – if anything – is being done about it. Because whether you realize it or not, people are answering those questions for you every single day. I’ve told you about them before, but now I want to tell you again. Their minds are set on earthy things. But our citizenship is in heaven.
I’d like to begin tonight with a quiz, and if you know the answers, do me a favor and shout them as loud as you can. “There are some things money can’t buy. For everything else, there’s _____. Capital One: what’s in your _____. Geico: so easy a _____ (can do it). Subway: Eat _____. Taco Bell: think outside the _____. Wheaties: the breakfast of _____.” I’m impressed.
Round 2. Love means never having to say you’re _____. If you scratch my back then I’ll scratch _____. Everything I ever needed to know I learned in _____. Stand up for your _____. Nothing in life is _____. Wow, y’all are good.
Ok, time for the lightning round. For where your treasure is there you’ll find your _____ (heart). The Lord is the Spirit and where the Spirit of the Lord there is _____ (freedom). If you do what I command you then you are my _____ (friends). My God – what happened?
The slogans and proverbs in rounds 1 and 2 reflect values and attitudes that pervade American culture. You never studied them. You didn’t memorize them. But you know them. You’ve internalized them. Your mind has them stored. But round 3? Those come from the Bible and my guess is that even if you got a few of them right they didn’t come to mind as quickly. In other words, unless you’ve disciplined yourself to “set your mind” on the Biblical story – to study it, memorize it, know it, internalize it – you probably did better in the first two rounds.
Our world constantly bombards us with information. The average person consumes 33.8 gigabytes of information and well over a 100,000 words every single day. Here’s what’s fascinating – that doesn’t include school or work. From the moment we’re born until the day we die, billions of messages are sent our way – some subtle, some not so subtle. From parents, peers, preachers, politicians, and advertisers. Through television, the internet, youtube, and text messages. In songs, poems, publications and graffiti. Message after message, day after day, is filling our mind – messages that tell us how to live, who to trust, what gives us value, how we got here, what our purpose is, what’s wrong with our world, and what – if anything – can be done about it. Message after message. We never studied them. We didn’t memorize them. But we know them. We’ve internalized them. Our mind has them stored. The only problem is – most of these messages are destructive.
In tonight’s epistle Paul warns the Philippians how destructive the world’s message can be and here’s the gist of what he says: “there are a lot of people in the kingdom of the world whose message conflicts with the message of the cross. I’ve told you about them before, and through tears I tell you again – wake up! We are not part of this kingdom. We stand for a different one with a much more powerful king. We aren’t citizens of the world. Our citizenship is in heaven.” In other words, Paul knows the Philippians are constantly bombarded by bad ideas – that message after message is flooding their minds, and so he writes them a letter to remind them that most of these messages are destructive.
“Our citizenship is in heaven.” That is Paul’s message. Another translation of this verse, which I find more intriguing, is “we are a colony of heaven.” A colony of heaven – this metaphor the Philippians would have understood. Philippi was a Roman colony and everyone knew what citizenship meant – it meant embracing a certain message. In fact, it’s not unlikely that these Philippians – Paul’s audience – had become Roman citizens in the last generation or so. You see Philippi was a conquered city and one of the ways that Rome typically avoided revolt was to offer citizenship to newfound colonies. In scholarly circles this is known as “Romanization.” The idea of Romanization is to get the new colony, the conquered people, to conform to Roman ideals. They wanted these conquered people to adopt Rome’s message as their own. And of course, from Rome’s perspective, this was the whole point of colonizing in the first place – to extend Roman influence, to create cells and networks of people loyal to Caesar throughout the entire world – to create a world that lived and breathed the Roman message. Paul’s audience understood this – they were constantly bombarded by the Roman message, and it was seductive. A message that said “give your allegiance to Caesar, live to advance the Kingdom of Rome and your every appetite will be fed, your every need satiated, your every hunger filled.” So Paul writes them a letter. “Hey guys. We have a different King. We stand for a different kingdom. Our citizenship is in heaven.”
Paul’s concern is not with our passport. The great irony is that Paul himself was a Roman citizen. Paul’s concern is the kingdom for which we stand – he’s concerned about the message that’s shaping our hearts – the message we believe about who we are, how to live, who to trust, what gives us value, how we got here, what our purpose is, what’s wrong with our world, and what – if anything – can be done about it. And I have to give Paul credit – he’s a realist. Paul knows that we can profess Jesus with our lips and still worship Caesar in our hearts – that we can speak about heavenly things and still set our minds on earthly things. That’s what Paul’s getting at in tonight’s reading. He wants us to interpret life – he wants us to be guided – by the right message.
In another letter Paul writes, “Do not conform any longer to the patterns of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your minds so that you may discern the will of God – that which is good, acceptable and perfect.” In other words, don’t conform; transform. Don’t set your mind on earthly things; renew your mind with heavenly things. Don’t obliviously play out some script you’ve been handed; discern the will of God – that which is good, acceptable and perfect. After all, our citizenship is in heaven. We are called to be a colony of heaven.
To say that our citizenship is in heaven is to say something fundamental about who we are as a church. Paul’s not talking about how we’re waiting to be snatched up into heaven. He’s talking about heaven invading this earth, and about how Jesus’ reign – in an odd way – begins now. Through us. To say that our citizenship is in heaven is to say that we – the church – are a colony of heaven, that we’re a network of people loyal to Jesus – the true King – and that our job is to create a world of disciples that live and breathe Jesus’ message.
But do you see what that means? If you and I are citizens of heaven – if we live on earth with the values of heaven – then at times we’ll feel like aliens. Our behavior will just seem weird. In a world that says “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours,” citizens of heaven go out of their way to serve people that can’t pay them back. In a world that stands up for its rights, citizens of heaven stand up for their responsibilities, and for the rights of other people. In a world that teaches that nothing in life is free, citizens of heaven smile because they know that everything is free – that life is grace, that everything’s a gift – and because of that they’re generous with their lives. Citizens of heaven know that love means having to say we’re sorry; that everything we need to know isn’t learned in kindergarten but in the presence of our resurrected rabbi and that learning to be like Jesus is a lifelong process. Citizens of heaven call Jesus their friend. They live a life of freedom. Their treasure is in Jesus’ kingdom and that’s where you’ll find their heart.
I have to say, the irony of this sermon isn’t lost on me. It’s ironic to preach how you’re bombarded by bad information by bombarding you with more information. And so if you’re a little skeptical of tonight’s sermon – that’s cool. But for what it’s worth, here’s your homework for the week – or, more accurately, the homework of our lives. Set your mind on the Biblical story. I don’t mean join a bible study. I mean, set your mind on the Bible. Study it. Memorize it. Know it. Internalize it. All I’m asking is that you give Jesus’ message a fair shot. He’s got great stuff to say about how to live, who to trust, what gives us value, how we got here, what our purpose is, what’s wrong with our world, and what – if anything – is being done about it. Because whether you realize it or not, people are answering those questions for you every single day. I’ve told you about them before, but now I want to tell you again. Their minds are set on earthy things. But our citizenship is in heaven.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
fat-cow disease (amos)
Fat-cow disease (amos)
Now, I know you kids are far too young to remember, but there was a time – many, many years ago – before the iPod was invented. Now children, these were dark years. We had the Internet, but it was dial up and it ran through a phone jack connected to the wall. Back in the day we called them “landlines.” Anyway, back in the dark ages – or as its known in scholarly circles, 1992 – music was stored on a compact disk, or what some of us called a “CD.”
As you can imagine, CD’s were popular, but they were also expensive – unless, of course, you stole them from Columbia House. You see all you had to do was fill out a form, embellish the truth, and then wait for 20 CD’s to arrive in the mail on credit. Sure there was a one form per person rule, but I got my younger brother involved, we had two homes, we had friends, and over time our collection grew to over 75 CD’s, which I kept locked in my room. Now, that was a lot but it wasn’t enough, I wanted more, and so I made a plan. My younger brother was obsessed with our collection and so one day I made what I told him was a super secret proposal. For $300, I’d give him full ownership of the CD’s, with one exception – the CD’s would stay under my control and he could only listen to the CD’s with my permission. He was 8 years old at the time. The $300 was money he had saved from past Christmases and birthdays – we had a generous grandmother. Anyway, my defenseless brother gave me the $300. I then wrote a fake title of ownership. Weeks later I resold half the CD’s without telling my bother. I wish that were the end. I then stole the fake title that I gave him, and in the process secured a place for myself in hell. Anyway, I took advantage of my brother. I got richer at his expense. He, of course, got poorer.
The prophet Amos would have ripped me apart. God used Amos to give the people of Israel a serious wake up call. You see Amos’ time wasn’t that unlike our own – the rich kept getting richer and the poor kept getting poorer. In fact, the rich would use unjust economic practices to take advantage of the poor and over time they grew complacent. They thought God didn’t notice, or perhaps that He didn’t care. That is until one day Amos shows up with a message from God – “the injustice in your land makes me sick. You cannot worship me with one hand, and oppress the poor with the other. I love the poor and the defenseless and if you love me, then you have to love them too.”
Amos came onto the scene around 750 BC. He’s the first of the writing prophets. Elijah and Elisha were prophets before him, but we only know about their lives through other people. But Amos tells us a lot about himself. He was a farmer from Tekoa – a little town outside of Bethlehem – and one day God tells Amos to leave his sheep, to go to Samaria, and to give a message to the people of Israel. Now remember, God’s family got a divorce – there is a northern kingdom and a southern kingdom. Samaria is the capital city of the northern kingdom. It’s the center of wealth and power in Israel, kind of like Washington DC and New York City combined. But not only that, Israel is experiencing a time of peace and growth and economic prosperity. If you’re an upper-middle class citizen, you’re wealthy and really happy with your life. To put things in modern terms, the market is up and you’re making a killing. There’s only one problem – you’re killing the poor in the process. But if you’re making money, who cares? Amos’ message is simple. God does. Here’s just a portion of what Amos says to Israel’s elite, upper class.
They buy and sell upstanding people. People for them are only things—ways of making money. They'd sell a poor man for a pair of shoes. They'd sell their own grand mother! They grind the penniless into the dirt and shove the luckless into the ditch. They've extorted from the poor and … they sit around drinking wine they've conned from their victims. Amos 2:6-8, The Message
Amos is clear. The sin of Israel isn’t blatant idolatry, as it was when Elijah prophesied. The sin of Israel is how they treat the poor. And so Israel is back to worshipping God, they’re back to reading their bible so to speak. But their spiritual life is out of balance. They may be worshiping rightly, but they are living wrongly. God has blessed them with abundance and instead of helping the poor out of that abundance they are hoarding God’s provision from themselves. They are living a life of luxury, poverty is all around them, and they don’t even care. And God sends Amos to tell Israel that their greed is breaking His heart. You see, the people are worshipping God, they’re going to church on Sundays, but the same things that break God’s heart are not breaking theirs. Their spiritual life is out of balance, and I think it’s important that we understand why. You see, when the people of Israel were still in the desert, before they entered the Promised Land, this is what God told them. It’s from Deuteronomy.
Make sure foreigners and orphans get their just rights. Don't take the cloak of a widow as security for a loan. Don't ever forget that you were once slaves in Egypt and God got you out of there. I command you: Do what I'm telling you. When you harvest your grain and forget a sheaf back in the field, don't go back and get it; leave it for the foreigner, the orphan, and the widow so that God will bless you in all your work. When you shake the olives off your trees, don't go back over the branches and strip them bare—what's left is for the foreigner, the orphan, and the widow. And when you cut the grapes in your vineyard, don't take every last grape—leave a few for the foreigner, the orphan, and the widow. Don't ever forget that you were a slave in Egypt. - Deuteronomy 24: 17-22, The Message
The reason their spiritual life is out of balance is because they’ve forgotten who they are. The Israelites have spiritual amnesia. They used to be poor and God made them rich. They used to be slaves and God made them free. They used to be exiles and God brought them home. And so before they enter the Promised Land God tells them, “I saved you from your oppressors, not because you deserved it, but because I love you. And so don’t you dare go and become the oppressor when you enter the Promised Land.” But that’s exactly what they did. They became the oppressor.
One of the most common commands in scripture, believe it or not, is a single word. Remember. Throughout the bible, and the Old Testament in particular, God tells his people to remember. Remember that when you were oppressed in Egypt, I showed you compassion. Remember that because I showed you compassion, you need to show compassion to the oppressed, the outcast, and the needy. Remember that I’m saving you to reveal my heart to the world, and so extend the same grace and the same justice to others that I’ve extended to you. Don’t forget that who you are cannot be separated from what I’ve done. Remember.
In Deuteronomy, God lists three people in particular – the foreigner, the orphan, and the widow. Historically speaking, foreigners immigrated to the land of Israel. Like modern day illegal immigrants without US citizenship, they had no rights and no privileges. Orphans were a lot more common in Amos’ day and because the orphanage had not yet been invented, God tells his chosen people to provide for the orphans. And finally, widows are mentioned, because in a patriarchal society, a woman with no husband had no voice and no money.
The word for people like this in our day is marginalized people. By definition, marginalized people are groups that will most likely be forgotten, mistreated, oppressed and taken advantage of unless someone speaks up. And the reason God is concerned for them is because they need someone to help them, to defend them, to love them.
Now, there’s a something each of us needs to face. The nature of sin is to marginalize certain people – to find people without power and to push them to the margins, out of the way. In the days of Amos, it was the foreigner, the orphan and the widow. Our responsibility as Christians is to figure out who the marginalized in our society are, and then to extend our compassion and our love to them – to seek justice for those who are treated with injustice. And it could be anyone – persons of color, senior citizens, immigrants, the homeless, people with physical or mental disabilities, prisoners, workers whose pay keeps going down but whose workload keeps going up – it could be anyone. It is so important that we understand the heart of God toward these people and that we communicate God’s love for them.
You see, Amos was sent to a people that saw injustice all around them and just didn’t care. In fact, they even felt good about their lives and their faith because they worshipped God on a regular basis. The word for this is complacency. The people Amos preached to were asleep in their complacency. And here’s just a portion of what Amos says to wake them up.
Listen to this, you cows of Bashan, grazing on the slopes of Samaria. You women! Mean to the poor, cruel to the down-and out! Indolent and pampered, you demand of your husbands, “bring us a tall, cool drink.” This is serious – I, God, have sworn by my holiness! Be well warned: Judgment Day is coming! Amos 4:1-2, The Message
I’m not sure whether you picked up on Amos’ tone or not, but for the record, this is not a compliment. In this passage Amos is speaking to the wives of wealthy and powerful men and he calls them “cows of Bashan.” Bashan was a very fertile area. The cows of Bashan were famous for being, how should I say this, “well fed.” And so “cows of Bashan” is Amos’ way of telling the Israelites – men and women – that they’re a bunch of fat cows.
Most biblical scholars agree that they didn’t take it well. But this is not just random name-calling on Amos’ part. Think about the nature of a cow. Cows are not really known for their good deeds. In fact, they’re not really known for anything except for their eating. A cow is a walking appetite, an eating machine. In fact, cows actually have four stomachs. They consume – that’s it. The only question a cow ever asks itself is, “where can I get more?”
Now let’s be honest. We live in a society that encourages us to live like cows of Bashan. Think about the commercials and billboards and magazines that we see on a day-to-day basis. They’re always trying to sell us something. In the same way that a cow eats grass all day, our media culture wants us to become a walking appetite for food, money, and pleasure. They want us to become like a cow that only asks itself one question – “where can I get more?”
How can I get a larger house? How can I get a larger salary? How can I drive a newer car? How can I have greater sexual pleasure? How can I be more attractive? Our consumerist culture is an expert at producing cows of Bashan. And the thing about cows – they never say “enough.” A cow never asks, “Where can you get more?” A cow’s only concern is where can I get more. And that’s fine for a cow. But if we listen to Amos’ voice, being a cow of Bashan is not fine for you and for me.
Remember, Israel’s problem was that they didn’t see the connection between the way they treated the poor and the way they worshipped God. And I think it’s really easy for us to fall into this same pattern. We far too often assume that Christianity is about accepting Jesus. But it’s not. Christianity is about obeying Jesus. And from the mouth of Jesus himself, “what you do to the least of these my brothers and sisters you do also to me.”
It’s sad but a lot of people in our world worship on a regular basis, read their bible, and tithe their money and yet still have a hard heart toward the poor and the outcast. And what Amos tells us is that God wants us to feel the same compassion for the poor that he does, that God wants us to live lives where we notice the marginalized and the needy and then respond with generosity and compassion.
One of the bible’s most famous verses is Amos 5:24, which reads, “let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” Martin Luther King, Jr. alluded to this verse in his famous “I have a dream” speech. Dr. King lived in a world where people of color were marginalized, but because he was deeply rooted in scripture he knew the heart of God, and because of that Dr. King spoke the word of God to complacent Christians who, over time, had lost touch with God’s heart. And as we all know, Martin Luther King’s impact was great. And ours can be as well.
But if our impact is to be great, we need to listen to the message of Amos, especially where he calls us cows of Bashan. Because if our world has it’s way with us, we will live our life with fat cow disease.
You may be wondering what to do, as I’m sure Amos’ audience was, and so I’ll leave you with two practical disciplines that you can work into your life as you see fit.
(1)
Be generous with your money and your time. Don’t let 100% of your money and time be spent on yourself. Things may seem tight right now, your calendar may be full and your bank account may be low. But, and I’m sorry to break the news, things will never change. Be generous, not because someone else needs your money and your time, but because you need to give it.
(2)
Reach out. Form a relationship or a friendship with someone our culture marginalizes. Jesus spent a lot of time with prostitutes. I go on record saying, you have my permission to do the same, assuming you do it in the same Spirit that Jesus did. And so prayerfully reach out and show love to someone that our culture doesn’t love – not because they need the love, but once again, because you need to give it.
And so in closing, there’s only one medicine that cures fat cow disease. REMEMBER. That’s it – we have to remember. The people of Israel forgot that they used to be poor, and so they didn’t love the poor. The people of Israel forgot that they used to be outcasts, and so they didn’t love the outcasts.
Let’s not make the same mistake. As people who believe that in Christ we are alive, let us never forget that first, we were dead in our sins. And so remember. Remember that God saved us to reveal his heart to the world and that our privilege is to extend the same grace and the same justice to others that God has extended to us.
And so “let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”
Monday, February 22, 2010
Jesus' faithfulness (Lent I)
Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.’ Jesus answered him, ‘It is written, “One does not live by bread alone.” Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, ‘To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.’ Jesus answered him, ‘It is written, “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.” Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, “He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you”, and “On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.” ’ Jesus answered him, ‘It is said, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.” ’ When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.
A couple of years ago, 20/20 aired a special on temptation. In an experiment with kids, child after child was led in a room and given four M&M’s. They were then told to wait – that in ten minutes someone would be back – and that if all four M&M’s were still there then the child would get four more. Basically, these kids had a choice – 4 M&M’s now or 8 M&M’s later. Well, when the adult left each one of them got restless, unable to just sit there in their hunger. The vast majority ate the four M&M’s, which left them scared and depressed and guilty because they knew they had failed the test.
If you haven’t read the Torah – spoiler alert – the people of Israel are like those kids. After 400 years of Egyptian slavery, they’re given a vision of a better future – but to get to the Promised Land they had to travel through the wilderness. And immediately following the Exodus that’s exactly where God led them – into the wilderness to test their faithfulness. But in the wilderness were certain “M&M’s” which, if eaten, would seriously jeopardize their future – the future God desired them to have. But if the people couldn’t resist temptation, if they could not remain faithful to God, the exodus-experiment would end and the Promised Land would be forfeited.
Well, Israel ate the M&M’s in front of them. When confronted with the wilderness they didn’t trust in God’s provision. You see immediately following their exodus from Egypt the Israelites started to get restless. They were in the wilderness and there wasn’t any food. And so one minute, the Israelites are rejoicing and thanking God for parting the Red Sea and the next minute, they’re complaining because they’re hungry. According to the book of Exodus, this is a paraphrase of Israel’s conversation with God.
The whole community began to grumble against God saying, “We’d be better off dead in Egypt, where, by the way, there was plenty of food, but you God have brought us into the wilderness to starve us to death.” Then the Lord responded, “I tell you what. I’m going to send bread from heaven BUT there’s a catch. I’m going to test you. I only want you to gather enough bread for one day at a time. Wake up, gather your daily bread and then when tomorrow comes I’ll send more. (Exodus 16: 2-5)
I’m sure you know what happens next. God sends the Israelites bread but instead of gathering a one-day supply they hoard as much as they can. Why? Because they don’t believe that God will send more. Imagine a kid eating dinner with his parents and stuffing dinner rolls in his jacket because he’s scared they’ll never feed him again. Pretty messed up. But that’s exactly what the Israelites do. God saves them from Egypt. Israel thinks God is trying to kill them. God sends bread from heaven and tells them “the supply will never end.” The Israelites anxiously grab as much as they can like a squirrel storing nuts for the winter. They try and provide for themselves. The moment they feel hunger – literally and symbolically speaking- they start to stuff themselves. They couldn’t just sit there in their hunger. They don’t trust in God’s provision. They all failed the test.
Last week we talked about Jesus’ mission to lead God’s new exodus – that through his death in Jerusalem Jesus accomplished what the Old Covenant was powerless to do – the defeat of sin. We talked about how the Red Sea of death was split with a cross. We said that in the “new exodus” Jesus leads his people to the Kingdom of God – the ultimate Promised Land. For Jesus to lead this new exodus he has to succeed where the Israelites failed. He has to prove himself faithful. After all, when the M&M’s get eaten then the experiment is over. When Israel failed to trust God in the wilderness, in a very real sense the whole exodus experiment was ruined. Did Israel make it to the geographic “Promised Land”? Sure. But did they fully attain God’s vision for their future? Did God use them to bless and redeem the nations – to make His name known and cherished throughout the world? No – not even close.
In tonight’s Gospel the Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness, just like the Israelites before him. For Jesus to lead God’s new exodus he must prove faithful where Israel didn’t. He cannot fail any test, He must fully trust in God’s provision. And in tonight’s Gospel that is exactly what happens. Israel was tempted and sinned. Jesus was tempted and did not sin. Israel, when confronted with hunger, looked back to Egypt. Jesus, when confronted with hunger, looked forward to the cross. Jesus fully trusted in God’s provision.
Now perhaps you’re wondering why any of this matters. In tonight’s reading from Romans we heard that “if you confess with your lips and believe in your heart you will be saved.” In other words, we’re saved by faith in Christ, which of course is true. But when the Bible says that we’re save through faith in Christ we’re only hearing half the story. Because another translation of the Greek tells us that “faith in” could also be written, “faithfulness of.” We are saved by our “faith in” Christ on one hand, but on the other hand, we’re saved by the “faithfulness of” Christ. We’re saved by faith in Christ. We’re saved by the faithfulness of Christ. Once again, the Bible can be translated either way and both translations are true. But in my humble opinion, the second translation is where our focus should be as we enter into Lent. It takes the emphasis off of us and places it onto Jesus. In other words, we’re not saved because we are faithful. We’re saved because Jesus is faithful.
You see I’m not so sure we should place too great an emphasis on our faith at all. In fact, I’m not sure we should place any emphasis on ourselves at all. The emphasis should be on Christ – on his faithfulness and not our own – because at the end of the day we’re just like the Israelites. We’re just like the kids with four M&M’s on our plates. The moment we feel hunger – I’m talking about physical hunger, spiritual hunger, emotional hunger or mental hunger – we stuff our faces and minds and hearts with junk food – the types of food that God doesn’t want us to have and certainly not the food that He alone can provide. Our M&M’s are different – food, shopping, school, work, TV, gossip, a need to take care of people, a need to correct people – but we all use something to take our minds off the hunger that only God can fill.
The good news of the Gospel is that Jesus did not. He sat in his hunger. He waited in his hunger. He prayed in his hunger. He obeyed in his hunger. Jesus was tempted in every way as we are yet did not sin. And because of Jesus’ faithfulness – and not our own – God’s new exodus moves forward.
And so here’s your homework for the week. On this first Sunday of Lent join Jesus in the wilderness and remember that what we’re celebrating – his faithfulness and not our own. Lent is about Jesus’ sinlessness. His obedience. His perfect submission to His Father’s will. And so when hungry for food, turn to the One that refused to turn stones into bread. When hungry for power, turn to the One that refused the kingdoms of the world. When hungry for recognition, turn to the One that refused to win fame by flying off the temple.
You see at the end of the day we’re not really hungry for any of these things – for food or power or recognition or any other spiritual junk food. No, I think we’re restless for something else. Our world hungers for a greater reality. Love. Our world is starving for love. What Lent reminds us is that love is known through the faithfulness of Christ – through his sacrifice for our sins on the hard wood of the cross. Lent isn’t a test. It’s not about exercising our own moral muscle and then getting scared and depressed and guilty when we see we’ve failed the test. No, Jesus has already passed every test on our behalf and so Lent isn’t a test. It’s an invitation – an invitation to join Jesus in the wilderness. An invitation to look forward to the cross. An invitation to trust in the provision of God and to follow Jesus to the Promised Land.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
god's great accomplishment
About eight days after Peter had acknowledged Jesus as the Christ of God, Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah"--not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.
I recently visited a really cool church with ten minutes of “open space” built into the service. The idea of “open space” is that we need a chance to listen to Jesus in our own creative way, and open space, by definition, is open – you can do whatever you want. Draw, paint, write a poem, pray, be silent, drink coffee, journal – you can even dance, which, of course, is the option that I chose. Just kidding, I prayed, and I was even given a question to pray about in my open space with Jesus. “God, what do you want me to accomplish in the coming year?” That was my prayer, and a really cool thing happened. I heard a voice – an unmistakable word spoken directly to my spirit. “God, what do you want me to accomplish?” And you know what God’s answer was? LESS. “I want you to accomplish less.”
At first, I thought God was talking about my lifestyle – about how I need to slow down and learn to “say no” and be a little bit more spontaneous – you know, that I needed to “do” less. But then it dawned on me. That wasn’t my question. I didn’t ask God what He wanted me to do. I asked God what He wanted me to accomplish.
So I thought about it. And I figured out that we only accomplish things that are hard. To accomplish something is to complete something that’s hard to complete. For example, I don’t care how skilled you are at tying your shoes – that is not an accomplishment, unless of course you went to A&M. And that’s when it hit me. Accomplishing something is great when it comes to our hobbies, our work, and to the personal goals we set in life. But when it comes to our spiritual life, or to our character – we can accomplish nothing. When it comes to the sins and the flaws and the inner-defects that enslave us – when it comes to throwing off the shackles of anger or lust or contempt or greed – when it comes to our hearts – we can accomplish nothing.
Think about it. Try not getting angry or anxious or jealous or lustful or bitter for an entire week. That would be quite the spiritual accomplishment. If you can do it then I stand corrected. But unless you’re a robot, you’re going to fail. Now don’t get me wrong –you’re still responsible for how you handle your anger or what you do with your anxiety or how you respond to your jealousy – but ridding yourself of them? Not going to happen. That’s just not something we have the power to accomplish.
In today’s Gospel Jesus takes Peter, James and John mountain climbing and something amazing happens when they reach the top. Jesus, upon praying, catches fire from within, his face and clothes become dazzling white, and Moses and Elijah appear in glory to have a conversation with Jesus. And Luke even tells us what they talked about. “They … were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.” In other words, Moses and Elijah are speaking to Jesus about his impending “departure,” whatever that means. But not only that – they’re talking about Jesus’ departure like it’s going to be a really great accomplishment. But what about leaving Jerusalem would be such a great accomplishment?
The word departure is an embarrassing translation. It’d be like taking the Greek word for killer whale and translating it as goldfish. And so when you get home tonight find your bible, cross out the word departure and write the following word in its place – exodus. Elijah and Moses and Jesus were talking about the exodus he would accomplish at Jerusalem.
Now, I’m not just being nit-picky. This is a distinction we have to make because the Old Testament revolves around the Exodus that God accomplishes through Moses. And remember, the Exodus is about being set free from slavery. The people of Israel were slaves in Egypt for hundreds of years until God parted the Red Sea, which made it possible for God’s people to go to the Promised Land. If you haven’t read the Old Testament, 98% of it, in one way or another, is about the Exodus. It either looks forward to it, or describes it, or looks back to it. And so if I had to summarize the Old Testament in a sentence it really wouldn’t be that hard. In the Old Testament, the Exodus is God’s great accomplishment.
Now, I know this seems like a tangent, but stay with me, because over time, the prophets started speaking about a new exodus – a new exodus that God would accomplish to set us free once and for all. You see they came to realize something that’s pretty profound. Their problem was a lot bigger than they thought. The problem wasn’t slavery between people. It was slavery within people. The real problem was the sins and the flaws and the inner-defects that enslave humanity – in other words, whatever it is inside our hearts that even makes enslaving other people a possibility. The shackles of Egypt were not the problem. But it was the inner-shackles – the chains of anger and lust and contempt and greed and jealousy and hate – this, they said, was humanity’s real problem. And it was a big one – far too hard for humanity to deal with on their own. The sin within was the real enemy and only a new exodus would accomplish its defeat.
Now, with that in mind, let’s go back to that mountain and to Jesus’ conversation with Moses and Elijah. “They … were speaking of his exodus, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.” See what’s happening in today’s Gospel? Moses and Elijah have come to tell Jesus that His mission, His purpose, is to lead God’s new exodus – that in Jerusalem He will accomplish what the Old Covenant was powerless to do. Like Moses before him Jesus would be the One to set God’s people free. Moses set them free from the shackles of Egypt, but Jesus will set them free from the inner shackles of sin; from the shackles of death. And that, they said as they talked on the mountain, would be God’s greatest accomplishment: “the Red Sea of death would be split with a cross and Jesus would lead his people through.” (Barbara Brown Taylor)
Now with that in mind, let’s go back to where we started – with a God calling us to accomplish less. What God wants us to realize – the heart of our Christian faith – is that through Jesus God has accomplished everything. And that’s what the new exodus is all about – the defeat of sin and the defeat of death through the cross of Jesus Christ. And unlike the first exodus, which is a weak shadow of the new one, God’s new exodus is the final exodus. It’s what 100% of the New Testament is all about. It is God’s greatest accomplishment.
And so here’s your homework for the week, and I’m cheating because I stole it from Luke, but that’s okay because Luke stole it from God. “This is my son, my Chosen; listen to him!” That’s your homework. Listen to Jesus. If you accomplish nothing else in life but this – if you learn to listen to Jesus – your life will be a wild success. I know it’s counter-intuitive, but don’t worry too much about your anger or greed or lust or whatever else it is that enslaves you. Let Jesus worry about that. He is, after all, the One leading the new exodus. It’s not our job to worry. Our job is to listen.
To put it differently, following Jesus isn’t about accomplishing anything at all. Following Jesus is about following Jesus and about letting Jesus accomplish transformation in our hearts. But what that means is that we have to create some open space in our lives. Open space to bathe in scripture. Open space to wait in silence. Open space to listen to Jesus and for him to accomplish what He wills to accomplish in each and every one of us.
I recently visited a really cool church with ten minutes of “open space” built into the service. The idea of “open space” is that we need a chance to listen to Jesus in our own creative way, and open space, by definition, is open – you can do whatever you want. Draw, paint, write a poem, pray, be silent, drink coffee, journal – you can even dance, which, of course, is the option that I chose. Just kidding, I prayed, and I was even given a question to pray about in my open space with Jesus. “God, what do you want me to accomplish in the coming year?” That was my prayer, and a really cool thing happened. I heard a voice – an unmistakable word spoken directly to my spirit. “God, what do you want me to accomplish?” And you know what God’s answer was? LESS. “I want you to accomplish less.”
At first, I thought God was talking about my lifestyle – about how I need to slow down and learn to “say no” and be a little bit more spontaneous – you know, that I needed to “do” less. But then it dawned on me. That wasn’t my question. I didn’t ask God what He wanted me to do. I asked God what He wanted me to accomplish.
So I thought about it. And I figured out that we only accomplish things that are hard. To accomplish something is to complete something that’s hard to complete. For example, I don’t care how skilled you are at tying your shoes – that is not an accomplishment, unless of course you went to A&M. And that’s when it hit me. Accomplishing something is great when it comes to our hobbies, our work, and to the personal goals we set in life. But when it comes to our spiritual life, or to our character – we can accomplish nothing. When it comes to the sins and the flaws and the inner-defects that enslave us – when it comes to throwing off the shackles of anger or lust or contempt or greed – when it comes to our hearts – we can accomplish nothing.
Think about it. Try not getting angry or anxious or jealous or lustful or bitter for an entire week. That would be quite the spiritual accomplishment. If you can do it then I stand corrected. But unless you’re a robot, you’re going to fail. Now don’t get me wrong –you’re still responsible for how you handle your anger or what you do with your anxiety or how you respond to your jealousy – but ridding yourself of them? Not going to happen. That’s just not something we have the power to accomplish.
In today’s Gospel Jesus takes Peter, James and John mountain climbing and something amazing happens when they reach the top. Jesus, upon praying, catches fire from within, his face and clothes become dazzling white, and Moses and Elijah appear in glory to have a conversation with Jesus. And Luke even tells us what they talked about. “They … were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.” In other words, Moses and Elijah are speaking to Jesus about his impending “departure,” whatever that means. But not only that – they’re talking about Jesus’ departure like it’s going to be a really great accomplishment. But what about leaving Jerusalem would be such a great accomplishment?
The word departure is an embarrassing translation. It’d be like taking the Greek word for killer whale and translating it as goldfish. And so when you get home tonight find your bible, cross out the word departure and write the following word in its place – exodus. Elijah and Moses and Jesus were talking about the exodus he would accomplish at Jerusalem.
Now, I’m not just being nit-picky. This is a distinction we have to make because the Old Testament revolves around the Exodus that God accomplishes through Moses. And remember, the Exodus is about being set free from slavery. The people of Israel were slaves in Egypt for hundreds of years until God parted the Red Sea, which made it possible for God’s people to go to the Promised Land. If you haven’t read the Old Testament, 98% of it, in one way or another, is about the Exodus. It either looks forward to it, or describes it, or looks back to it. And so if I had to summarize the Old Testament in a sentence it really wouldn’t be that hard. In the Old Testament, the Exodus is God’s great accomplishment.
Now, I know this seems like a tangent, but stay with me, because over time, the prophets started speaking about a new exodus – a new exodus that God would accomplish to set us free once and for all. You see they came to realize something that’s pretty profound. Their problem was a lot bigger than they thought. The problem wasn’t slavery between people. It was slavery within people. The real problem was the sins and the flaws and the inner-defects that enslave humanity – in other words, whatever it is inside our hearts that even makes enslaving other people a possibility. The shackles of Egypt were not the problem. But it was the inner-shackles – the chains of anger and lust and contempt and greed and jealousy and hate – this, they said, was humanity’s real problem. And it was a big one – far too hard for humanity to deal with on their own. The sin within was the real enemy and only a new exodus would accomplish its defeat.
Now, with that in mind, let’s go back to that mountain and to Jesus’ conversation with Moses and Elijah. “They … were speaking of his exodus, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.” See what’s happening in today’s Gospel? Moses and Elijah have come to tell Jesus that His mission, His purpose, is to lead God’s new exodus – that in Jerusalem He will accomplish what the Old Covenant was powerless to do. Like Moses before him Jesus would be the One to set God’s people free. Moses set them free from the shackles of Egypt, but Jesus will set them free from the inner shackles of sin; from the shackles of death. And that, they said as they talked on the mountain, would be God’s greatest accomplishment: “the Red Sea of death would be split with a cross and Jesus would lead his people through.” (Barbara Brown Taylor)
Now with that in mind, let’s go back to where we started – with a God calling us to accomplish less. What God wants us to realize – the heart of our Christian faith – is that through Jesus God has accomplished everything. And that’s what the new exodus is all about – the defeat of sin and the defeat of death through the cross of Jesus Christ. And unlike the first exodus, which is a weak shadow of the new one, God’s new exodus is the final exodus. It’s what 100% of the New Testament is all about. It is God’s greatest accomplishment.
And so here’s your homework for the week, and I’m cheating because I stole it from Luke, but that’s okay because Luke stole it from God. “This is my son, my Chosen; listen to him!” That’s your homework. Listen to Jesus. If you accomplish nothing else in life but this – if you learn to listen to Jesus – your life will be a wild success. I know it’s counter-intuitive, but don’t worry too much about your anger or greed or lust or whatever else it is that enslaves you. Let Jesus worry about that. He is, after all, the One leading the new exodus. It’s not our job to worry. Our job is to listen.
To put it differently, following Jesus isn’t about accomplishing anything at all. Following Jesus is about following Jesus and about letting Jesus accomplish transformation in our hearts. But what that means is that we have to create some open space in our lives. Open space to bathe in scripture. Open space to wait in silence. Open space to listen to Jesus and for him to accomplish what He wills to accomplish in each and every one of us.
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