Tuesday, July 12, 2011
reckless love
THE PARABLE OF THE SOWER
Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables, saying: "Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!
A few years back I bought a house here in Austin with a barren front yard. And after doing some research, it dawned on me that planting grass is pretty tough work. I’d have to loosen the ground and rake it into a thousand little furrows. The seed had to be scattered carefully and evenly. I would then put down wheat straw, which I was told would hold in the moisture before watering – which apparently is also a science. Not too much! The seeds will wash away. But not too little or the seeds won’t grow. Now, I never actually did any of this but I did learn a lesson. A careful farmer has knowledge, competency and skill. A careful farmer is diligent, patient and gentle. A careful farmer takes his time.
Now with that in mind, it’s worth asking, what’s Jesus doing in today’s Gospel by giving us a story about a farmer that just throws seed around like it’s confetti on New Year’s? On the path, the thorns, the rocky ground, the good soil – it doesn’t matter. The Farmer in Jesus’ parable throws seed around indiscriminately. He’s reckless, he’s wasteful and even seems to be in a hurry. Which is shocking – right? – Because we know who this Sower represents – God. In today’s Gospel, Jesus likens his Father to a reckless and wasteful farmer. And so here’s the question we need to ask. What is Jesus trying to say about the nature of God, and what’s he trying to tell us his disciples? Once again, what does this parable say about God, and what does this parable mean for us?
Now, you may think you know where I’m trying to take this. Be the good soil – don’t be hard hearted and shallow and materialistic like the other soils, but be the good soil. After all, this is a parable, which according to the dictionary is a short allegorical story that illustrates a well-known truth. That’s also what I was taught in Sunday school –that parables are just stories with moral lessons – and had I been a little older and a tad wiser I would have sued my church for malpractice. Why? – Because Jesus didn’t tell parables to illustrate a well-known truth. He told parables to shatter well-known truths. You see in Jesus’ day everyone thought they knew who it was that God favored – the right, the respectable, the religious, and the rule-keepers. And so to say that Jesus told this parable to confirm that belief, that He’s trying to scare us into being the respectable good soil is to entirely miss the point. Because the God Jesus reveals is not some methodical farmer looking only for the “best soil” to love. No, the God Jesus knows is like this Farmer – reckless, wasteful and in a hurry to sow His love wherever he can – on the path, the thorns, the rocky ground, the good soil – it doesn’t matter. The nature of God is to sow love everywhere!
You see, contrary to what we may have been taught, this isn’t a parable about good soil. It’s a parable about a good sower. And what Jesus is trying to say is that God isn’t cautious, strategic and calculated when it comes to sowing His love. Because He loves when we don’t love back. He blesses when we don’t say thanks. He sows when we’re surrounded by thorns. And that is what Jesus is saying about God – that He loves the rebellious and the religious as if they were the same. It doesn’t matter who you are or what you’ve done, whether you’re a regular or a visitor, whether you’re on top of the world or stuck in the pit – black/white, rich/poor, old/young, sober/addicted, popular/alone – none of that matters to this indiscriminate and reckless God. He is in a hurry to invest in you. In other words, this parable isn’t Jesus’ way of trying to convince us to be good. It’s his way of trying to convince us that God is good.
Brennan Manning, who’s one of my favorite authors, tells the true story of an Irish priest who stumbles upon a peasant praying by the side of the road. And so the priest, who’s impressed, says to the peasant, “You must be really close to God.” And this is how that peasant responded. “I am, because God is very fond of me.” How sweet would life be, how many problems would disappear, how many rocks would be removed and how many thorns would be uprooted if we only believed that? If we believed that God is fond of us –not that we’re forgiven, or accepted, or tolerated – but that we are all the apple of His eye. I sure hope you’ve heard that before – that God is so very fond of you. Because Jesus was under the impression that hearing this good news and understanding it was half the battle. After all, the good soil in today’s parable aren’t the ones that are perfect – they’re people that hear the word and understand it. Is the God we believe in legalistic? Does the God we know only favor the right, the respectable, the religious, and the rule-keepers? Because Jesus’ intention in telling this parable was to demolish that God. The God He knows is reckless, wasteful and in a hurry to sow His love among thorny, rocky, and hard-hearted people. Why? Because God is so very fond of everyone.
Now, if we believe that, there is a second question we need to ask. What does this parable mean for us, for this community here at St. James? Well, a lot but I’ll mention two things.
First, sow love everywhere. Our God is reckless and generous and He sows love indiscriminately. If you and I are serious about being a disciple of Jesus, we will do the same. I mean, can you imagine how exciting and transformative churches would be if they poured into their community like the sower in today’s parable? Or how rich and joy-filled we would be if we loved and blessed the people in our lives like God loves and blesses us? Now, I know that’s easier said than done. And as we all know, to have our love fall on rocky, arid or weed-infested ground has the capacity to break our hearts. But here’s what I’d like to say about that. Isn’t that what Jesus did for us? Did he not offer words of blessing as the crowds mocked him? If we sow love like the farmer in Jesus’ parable it will break our hearts from time to time. But you know what? It’s also going to loosen the soil of our hearts so that the love that God’s pouring in can bear fruit. Sow love everywhere – it will not return to you empty.
Second, this parable is a call to be patient. God is a farmer that sows seeds; not some general that demands change. You see all earthly kingdoms come quickly, visibly and through force, but not the Kingdom of God, it grows slowly, secretly and quietly – like a seed buried in the ground. And so be patient with yourself, and be patient with the people you’re investing in! Because the truth is, each one of us is a mix of good soil, thorns and rocks. And we need to know that God is still working on our thorny, rocky places. In fact, in the Gospel of John Jesus compares God to a gardener that prunes those places in us that need to bear more fruit. But pruning takes time, and only God has the knowledge, competency and skill to do it. And so be patient.
And so here’s what I’d like to leave you with this morning. The point of today’s parable isn’t primarily to convince us be good. It’s to help us understand that God is good. And it’s also a parable about a miraculous yield! Remember, the parable ends by reminding us that God knows what He’s doing – that all this sowing will reap a hundredfold – and of that we can be certain. After all, the Christian Gospel is not about many seeds being sown but about One Seed in particular – about One Seed in particular that embodied the fullness of God’s love and was buried beneath the earth only to be raised that first Easter morning – which is our guarantee of just how fond God is of us all. Black/white, rich/poor, young/old, sober/addicted, popular/alone, thorns/rocks – none of that matters – God is reckless with his love. Be reckless with yours, too. Sow love everywhere. It will not return to you empty. God is good, and He is so very fond of you.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
in the image of (a Triune) God
TO LISTEN:
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/trinity.mp3
“So God created humankind in His image, in the image of God he created them.”
I want to begin by introducing myself. My name is John Newton, and I currently serve as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation. It is really great to be with you this morning at Trinity Church on Trinity Sunday to preach a sermon on … drumroll … the Trinity. As John Wesley once said, “bring me the worm that can comprehend a man, and I’ll show you the man that can comprehend the Trinity.” Perhaps no Christian doctrine is more intellectually challenging than the Trinity. And so now that we’re clear that I don’t understand the subject matter, let’s dive in.
What I admire the most about kids is their questioning nature, because once they learn the word why they can’t really seem to unlearn it. “Time to go to bed. Why? Because I said so. Why? Because I’m in charge. Why?” Of course, those are all small why questions, but eventually we get to the big ones. Why are we here? Why did God create us? Why were we made? After all, those big why questions are built into our D.N.A.
I’ll never forget the first hopeless answer I ever got to that question. It was my first semester of college, and we had to read a British Philosopher by the name of Bertrand Russell, who got famous for his response to the big why question. “Man,” He said, “is nothing but the outcome of accidental collocations of atoms.” Why are we here? We’re here because of a molecular accident. A hopeless answer to the why question indeed.
But then again, most people throughout history have given such an answer. In fact, if you had been born in the ancient near east around 1200 BC, just before the Book of Genesis was written, your world would have been an incredibly hopeless one. There were many gods, or so it was believed, and they all were at war. And so as a kid, you probably asked your parents why the gods created you. After all, there’s not a kid in the world that doesn’t ask that question. But every answer had a similar hopelessness. We were created because the gods were bored; because they were lonely; because the gods were lazy and needed free labor. In other words, if you were born in the ancient near east, there was no why.
Well, it was into this horribly hopeless world that these words were first recorded. “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth and saw that it was good.” And then the kicker – “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them.” In other words, what we have in today’s reading from Genesis is an answer to that big why question that revolutionized this world. Why are we here? Why did God create us? Why were we made? We were created to reveal God. We were created to reflect God. We were created to image God.
You see contrary to the polytheistic beliefs of its time – where many gods existed that were all jockeying for power – the Bible reveals a supra-personal, loving God – a God that has three distinct personalities on the one hand, and yet at the same time is too unified to be more than one. And of course, I’m talking about the Trinity – that doctrine that says that the God we worship is a perfect community of love. And what our reading from Genesis reveals is that it was this Triune God that created both us and our world. As Genesis 1:1 tells us, “God created,” which we attribute to the work of the Father. And in verse two, the Spirit of God hovers over the waters, which is same language the Gospels use to talk about the Holy Spirit hovering over the water at Jesus’ baptism. And finally, Genesis 1:3 tells us that God creates by speaking His Word. Creation is not something that God thinks into existence. No, God speaks His word. And of course in the Gospel of John we learn that this “Word” is expressed fully in the person of Jesus Christ. And so it’s important to see that from the outset of our sacred story, we find one God existing in a relationship that is harmoniously intact and perfect.
We were not created because God is bored. We were not created because God is lazy. We are not a molecular accident. No, you and I exist because at the heart of all reality is this wonderful and dynamic life that we call the Trinity, and that because this God is generous and kind and good, He decided to create us to be what Karl Barth called, “a parable of His own life.” We were created to reveal, reflect and image God.
But here’s the catch – because God is a perfect community, we simply cannot reflect God alone. Because if God is a perfect community, and we were created to image this God, that means that the doctrine of the Trinity is not just an intellectual challenge – it’s an ethical one. Because to the extent that we grasp that the very thing that holds up this universe is a perfect community of love, we’re going to be challenged to be more thoughtful about how we relate to other people. After all, we were created for perfect, intact, and harmonious relationships – with God, and with each other.
And course that’s what the second chapter of Genesis is all about. Adam and Eve were both naked, but not ashamed – which apparently means that the Garden of Eden was the first nudist colony. The point being made is that both Adam and Eve were totally exposed and known. No masks. No hiding. No lies. They were in perfect communion with each other.
But at the same time, Adam and Eve were in perfect communion with God. After all, what the Bible suggests is that God was in the garden with both of them the entire time. In fact, a rabbinic tradition taught that every evening God and Adam would take a walk together. And I can only imagine they talked about how beautiful Eve was and about how great it was to be with her. And as for Eve, I bet she felt really safe and loved and cherished – not used or taken for granted – but appreciated and admired for who she was because she knew that she was seen for who she was. That is, after all, what Eden represents – perfect, intact, and harmonious relationships.
Now, I know what you could be thinking. “I’m not sure what world you’re living in, but the world you just described, that’s not the real one!” And you’re right, it’s not. Unless it is.
You see in today’s Gospel Jesus gives his disciples the Great Commission. “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” What I’d like to suggest this morning is that the Great Commission has two meanings, and what I’d like to do is say a word about the interpretation you probably haven’t heard. You see that Greek word translated baptize – it doesn’t just mean to immerse in water. It also means to overwhelm. And that Greek word translated “Name,” – that’s not just a baptismal formula, because in the Bible, to do anything in someone’s name means to do it with their character – to do it with their spirit. Do you see how that changes our view of mission? “Go and make disciples of all nations overwhelming them with the character of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. That is our mission as a church – to overwhelm the world with loving character of this Triune God so that the world is irresistibly drawn to follow Jesus as their Lord.
The Book of Genesis revolutionized our world with its answer to the big why question. The question I leave us with this morning is has it revolutionized our lives? Because the world we live in – the people we work with, spend time with and live with – they are so desperate for a hopeful answer to the big why question. And what I would like to suggest today is that the most compelling answer to that question has little to do with what we say and much more to do with how we live. The Trinity is far more of an ethical challenge than it is an intellectual one. When we jockey for power and position, when we run around with a mask, when we use criticism or sarcasm or lies to shield people from seeing us for who we are, we are not imaging the Trinity. It’s when we form deep, vulnerable, and non-violent relationships; it’s when we invest in someone we don’t know; it’s when we stop seeking to live self-sufficient lives; those are the moments when we reflect God most clearly, the moments that make it possible to overwhelm the world with God’s love.
At the center of all reality is a perfect, intact and harmonious relationship. We were made to both experience and reflect that relationship to each other and to the creation in a way that is overwhelming. That is the reason we are here. And so here’s my question. Are harmonious relationships at the center of our lives and if not … why?
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/trinity.mp3
“So God created humankind in His image, in the image of God he created them.”
I want to begin by introducing myself. My name is John Newton, and I currently serve as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation. It is really great to be with you this morning at Trinity Church on Trinity Sunday to preach a sermon on … drumroll … the Trinity. As John Wesley once said, “bring me the worm that can comprehend a man, and I’ll show you the man that can comprehend the Trinity.” Perhaps no Christian doctrine is more intellectually challenging than the Trinity. And so now that we’re clear that I don’t understand the subject matter, let’s dive in.
What I admire the most about kids is their questioning nature, because once they learn the word why they can’t really seem to unlearn it. “Time to go to bed. Why? Because I said so. Why? Because I’m in charge. Why?” Of course, those are all small why questions, but eventually we get to the big ones. Why are we here? Why did God create us? Why were we made? After all, those big why questions are built into our D.N.A.
I’ll never forget the first hopeless answer I ever got to that question. It was my first semester of college, and we had to read a British Philosopher by the name of Bertrand Russell, who got famous for his response to the big why question. “Man,” He said, “is nothing but the outcome of accidental collocations of atoms.” Why are we here? We’re here because of a molecular accident. A hopeless answer to the why question indeed.
But then again, most people throughout history have given such an answer. In fact, if you had been born in the ancient near east around 1200 BC, just before the Book of Genesis was written, your world would have been an incredibly hopeless one. There were many gods, or so it was believed, and they all were at war. And so as a kid, you probably asked your parents why the gods created you. After all, there’s not a kid in the world that doesn’t ask that question. But every answer had a similar hopelessness. We were created because the gods were bored; because they were lonely; because the gods were lazy and needed free labor. In other words, if you were born in the ancient near east, there was no why.
Well, it was into this horribly hopeless world that these words were first recorded. “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth and saw that it was good.” And then the kicker – “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them.” In other words, what we have in today’s reading from Genesis is an answer to that big why question that revolutionized this world. Why are we here? Why did God create us? Why were we made? We were created to reveal God. We were created to reflect God. We were created to image God.
You see contrary to the polytheistic beliefs of its time – where many gods existed that were all jockeying for power – the Bible reveals a supra-personal, loving God – a God that has three distinct personalities on the one hand, and yet at the same time is too unified to be more than one. And of course, I’m talking about the Trinity – that doctrine that says that the God we worship is a perfect community of love. And what our reading from Genesis reveals is that it was this Triune God that created both us and our world. As Genesis 1:1 tells us, “God created,” which we attribute to the work of the Father. And in verse two, the Spirit of God hovers over the waters, which is same language the Gospels use to talk about the Holy Spirit hovering over the water at Jesus’ baptism. And finally, Genesis 1:3 tells us that God creates by speaking His Word. Creation is not something that God thinks into existence. No, God speaks His word. And of course in the Gospel of John we learn that this “Word” is expressed fully in the person of Jesus Christ. And so it’s important to see that from the outset of our sacred story, we find one God existing in a relationship that is harmoniously intact and perfect.
We were not created because God is bored. We were not created because God is lazy. We are not a molecular accident. No, you and I exist because at the heart of all reality is this wonderful and dynamic life that we call the Trinity, and that because this God is generous and kind and good, He decided to create us to be what Karl Barth called, “a parable of His own life.” We were created to reveal, reflect and image God.
But here’s the catch – because God is a perfect community, we simply cannot reflect God alone. Because if God is a perfect community, and we were created to image this God, that means that the doctrine of the Trinity is not just an intellectual challenge – it’s an ethical one. Because to the extent that we grasp that the very thing that holds up this universe is a perfect community of love, we’re going to be challenged to be more thoughtful about how we relate to other people. After all, we were created for perfect, intact, and harmonious relationships – with God, and with each other.
And course that’s what the second chapter of Genesis is all about. Adam and Eve were both naked, but not ashamed – which apparently means that the Garden of Eden was the first nudist colony. The point being made is that both Adam and Eve were totally exposed and known. No masks. No hiding. No lies. They were in perfect communion with each other.
But at the same time, Adam and Eve were in perfect communion with God. After all, what the Bible suggests is that God was in the garden with both of them the entire time. In fact, a rabbinic tradition taught that every evening God and Adam would take a walk together. And I can only imagine they talked about how beautiful Eve was and about how great it was to be with her. And as for Eve, I bet she felt really safe and loved and cherished – not used or taken for granted – but appreciated and admired for who she was because she knew that she was seen for who she was. That is, after all, what Eden represents – perfect, intact, and harmonious relationships.
Now, I know what you could be thinking. “I’m not sure what world you’re living in, but the world you just described, that’s not the real one!” And you’re right, it’s not. Unless it is.
You see in today’s Gospel Jesus gives his disciples the Great Commission. “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” What I’d like to suggest this morning is that the Great Commission has two meanings, and what I’d like to do is say a word about the interpretation you probably haven’t heard. You see that Greek word translated baptize – it doesn’t just mean to immerse in water. It also means to overwhelm. And that Greek word translated “Name,” – that’s not just a baptismal formula, because in the Bible, to do anything in someone’s name means to do it with their character – to do it with their spirit. Do you see how that changes our view of mission? “Go and make disciples of all nations overwhelming them with the character of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. That is our mission as a church – to overwhelm the world with loving character of this Triune God so that the world is irresistibly drawn to follow Jesus as their Lord.
The Book of Genesis revolutionized our world with its answer to the big why question. The question I leave us with this morning is has it revolutionized our lives? Because the world we live in – the people we work with, spend time with and live with – they are so desperate for a hopeful answer to the big why question. And what I would like to suggest today is that the most compelling answer to that question has little to do with what we say and much more to do with how we live. The Trinity is far more of an ethical challenge than it is an intellectual one. When we jockey for power and position, when we run around with a mask, when we use criticism or sarcasm or lies to shield people from seeing us for who we are, we are not imaging the Trinity. It’s when we form deep, vulnerable, and non-violent relationships; it’s when we invest in someone we don’t know; it’s when we stop seeking to live self-sufficient lives; those are the moments when we reflect God most clearly, the moments that make it possible to overwhelm the world with God’s love.
At the center of all reality is a perfect, intact and harmonious relationship. We were made to both experience and reflect that relationship to each other and to the creation in a way that is overwhelming. That is the reason we are here. And so here’s my question. Are harmonious relationships at the center of our lives and if not … why?
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
what now?
To listen online
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/whatnow.mp3
When the apostles had come together, they asked Jesus, "Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?" He replied, "It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.
I want to begin by introducing myself and saying what a pleasure it is to be with you this morning at St. Aidan’s. My name is John Newton, and I currently serve as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation. Thank you so much for having me – it is really great to be with you.
Once upon a time, in a land of fear and confusion, some exciting news began to circulate. It was the good news of the big race. This race had long been anticipated by the people’s ancient oracles, and the prophecies were clear -- anyone that persevered in running this race was promised restoration, support and strength (1 Pet 5:10).
Well, the day of the big race finally arrived, and when the opening gun sounded, everyone began running with all of their might. But then something happened. There was this guy who, after just taking a few steps, fell to his knees, and began to rejoice. “This is the happiest day of my life! I’ve crossed the starting line.” And then all the others, sure enough, followed suit – they too stopped running and began to celebrate. “I’m a race runner! I’m a race runner!” they all shouted in joy. And on and on went their celebration just feet from the starting line. Well, the joy of that opening gun eventually wore off and, before they could even explain what had happened, they were all back in the land of fear and confusion. And so as the story goes, they stared at the sky and said, “What now?”
I don’t know about you, but this story resonates with my own experience, and I think it’s a pretty accurate portrait of where many of us find ourselves. We remember the initial joy that came with first encountering Christ – when that opening gun sounded and we took those first steps with all that we had. But before we could even explain what happened, something put us back in that inner place of fear and confusion, leaving us staring at the sky and asking what now?
Jesus’ disciples, of course, felt the same way. According to Luke – the author of the Book of Acts – the forty days following Jesus’ resurrection left the disciples scared, confused and not quite sure of what they were supposed to do next. After all, that first Easter week was spent in an upper room with a deadbolt lock. According to the Gospel of John the disciples eventually left that Upper Room, but only to return to a life of fishing. Scared, confused and uncertain, Jesus’ resurrection left the disciples not with an answer but with a question –
What now?
Could you hear it in their voice in today’s reading from Acts? “Lord,” they say, “is this the time you’re going to restore the Kingdom?” “No? Okay, uhh, and you’re flying away? What are we supposed to do now?” But you see, Jesus did not intend his Ascension – that is, his resurrected body leaving this earth – Jesus did not intend his Ascension to spark that what now question. Jesus intended his physical leaving to answer that “what now” question. What now? “You,” Jesus said to his disciples – “you,” Jesus says to us – “You will be my witnesses.”
And so what exactly does that mean – to be a witness for Jesus? It’s an important word. In fact, Luke uses it 13 times to sum up the Christian life. Well, the Greek word translated “witness” is martus, which is where we get the word martyr, and a martyr, as you probably know, is someone that loses their life for Jesus.
One can’t help but see the irony of these words spoken to the first disciples. Peter was crucified upside down. James was stoned. Bartholomew was beheaded. Of the eleven listed in today’s reading, only John died a natural death. The other ten lost their life for Jesus. Could they have avoided such a death? Probably – but what better witness could they have given to our world that their Lord was still alive? That’s what a witness is – someone that loses their life for Jesus.
CS Lewis, who wrote the “Space Trilogy” novels, was once asked to comment on the morality of humans living on other planets, assuming such a thing we possible. Lewis thought carefully before giving this response: “Let’s pray that the human race never escapes the Earth to spread its iniquity elsewhere.” Here’s what I think Lewis was trying to say. This world that we live in is so desperate – so desperate – for witnesses who are willing to die to self to show the world that Christ is still alive. We live in a world of fear and confusion. War, famine, and violence are the realities that characterize life for many in our world. Now, we may be shielded from someone else tearing our homes and families apart, but many of us have experienced homes and families torn apart from the inside. We live in a world where the gentle art of being kind and thoughtful, sensitive and generous is going out of fashion, a world that believes that the secret to life is to get ahead, even at the expense of someone else. “You’ve got to look out for number one.” That’s the mantra of our world. And so in light of that, there’s something today’s reading from Acts raises for us. What is the nature of our presence in the midst of this world? In other words, if it’s true that our lives speak, what story do they tell? Because it’s never a question of whether or not we are a witness. The question is always what are we witnessing to?
In his book The Jesus I Never Knew Phillip Yancey writes about the connection between the Ascension and the mission of the Church, and this is what he says. “Jesus knew that the world he left behind would include the poor, the hungry, the prisoners, and the sick. The decrepit state of the world did not surprise him, and he made plans to cope with it. The long-range plan involves his return, in power and great glory, to straighten out this planet, [but] the short-range plan means turning it over to [the church]. He ascended so that we would take his place.” He then said something that blew my mind. “Where is God when it hurts, I have often asked. The [Ascension] answers that question by asking another – where is the church when it hurts?” In other words, we ask God – “Will you? Will you change this? Will you restore this?” To which Jesus replies, Will you? Will you be my witnesses? Will you now do what I’ve already done? I lost my life for you. Will you now lose your life to bear witness to the truth of the Gospel?
Now, I don’t know what losing your life for Jesus’ sake will mean for you. I seriously doubt it’ll mean capital punishment, though we shouldn’t forget that for many in our world it still does. But our faith should cost us something. As Bonhoeffer once noted, “grace is free but it certainly is not cheap.” We should be able to look at our friendships and our calendar and our bank statement and our reputation and be able to see the cross. Our faith in Christ should cost us something, and when we start to sense that, it’s little wonder we stop running after only a few steps in the Christian life. We look ahead in the distance and see a cross and get scared. But here’s what I think we fail to see, what I always fail to see when my faith grows stagnant. Rather than being something we have to endure or “get over,” the sacrifices we make to bear witness to the Gospel are not something that diminish our joy. They’re the source of our joy. To put it differently, joy in the Christian life only grows as we move away from that starting line and run towards that cross as Jesus’ witness along the way. As our reading from 1 Peter put it, “Beloved,” he says, “don’t be surprised when you suffer but rejoice for you are sharing Christ’s sufferings. Cast all your anxiety on Him, because he cares for you. And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace will himself restore, support, strengthen and establish you.”
The good news of the Christian Gospel is that there is a long-term plan to permanently end all fear and confusion. As the angels told the disciples, “this same Jesus, who was taken up into heaven, will indeed come back in the same way that you saw Him leave.” When will that be? “It is not for us to know,” Jesus said, “that time set by the Father’s own authority.” Because there is after all a short term plan – and that plan involves us – not because Christ is now absent from the world, but because we are the ones in whom Jesus now chooses to be present to the world. We are Jesus’ witnesses. Understanding the privilege of that call – and joyfully accepting it – that’s what the good news of the race is all about.
And so here’s the question I leave us with this morning – what now? I suppose we can stand still and just stare at the sky, or, as the author of Hebrews writes, we can “run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” You see it’s never a question of whether or not we are a witness. The question is always what are we witnessing to?
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/whatnow.mp3
When the apostles had come together, they asked Jesus, "Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?" He replied, "It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.
I want to begin by introducing myself and saying what a pleasure it is to be with you this morning at St. Aidan’s. My name is John Newton, and I currently serve as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation. Thank you so much for having me – it is really great to be with you.
Once upon a time, in a land of fear and confusion, some exciting news began to circulate. It was the good news of the big race. This race had long been anticipated by the people’s ancient oracles, and the prophecies were clear -- anyone that persevered in running this race was promised restoration, support and strength (1 Pet 5:10).
Well, the day of the big race finally arrived, and when the opening gun sounded, everyone began running with all of their might. But then something happened. There was this guy who, after just taking a few steps, fell to his knees, and began to rejoice. “This is the happiest day of my life! I’ve crossed the starting line.” And then all the others, sure enough, followed suit – they too stopped running and began to celebrate. “I’m a race runner! I’m a race runner!” they all shouted in joy. And on and on went their celebration just feet from the starting line. Well, the joy of that opening gun eventually wore off and, before they could even explain what had happened, they were all back in the land of fear and confusion. And so as the story goes, they stared at the sky and said, “What now?”
I don’t know about you, but this story resonates with my own experience, and I think it’s a pretty accurate portrait of where many of us find ourselves. We remember the initial joy that came with first encountering Christ – when that opening gun sounded and we took those first steps with all that we had. But before we could even explain what happened, something put us back in that inner place of fear and confusion, leaving us staring at the sky and asking what now?
Jesus’ disciples, of course, felt the same way. According to Luke – the author of the Book of Acts – the forty days following Jesus’ resurrection left the disciples scared, confused and not quite sure of what they were supposed to do next. After all, that first Easter week was spent in an upper room with a deadbolt lock. According to the Gospel of John the disciples eventually left that Upper Room, but only to return to a life of fishing. Scared, confused and uncertain, Jesus’ resurrection left the disciples not with an answer but with a question –
What now?
Could you hear it in their voice in today’s reading from Acts? “Lord,” they say, “is this the time you’re going to restore the Kingdom?” “No? Okay, uhh, and you’re flying away? What are we supposed to do now?” But you see, Jesus did not intend his Ascension – that is, his resurrected body leaving this earth – Jesus did not intend his Ascension to spark that what now question. Jesus intended his physical leaving to answer that “what now” question. What now? “You,” Jesus said to his disciples – “you,” Jesus says to us – “You will be my witnesses.”
And so what exactly does that mean – to be a witness for Jesus? It’s an important word. In fact, Luke uses it 13 times to sum up the Christian life. Well, the Greek word translated “witness” is martus, which is where we get the word martyr, and a martyr, as you probably know, is someone that loses their life for Jesus.
One can’t help but see the irony of these words spoken to the first disciples. Peter was crucified upside down. James was stoned. Bartholomew was beheaded. Of the eleven listed in today’s reading, only John died a natural death. The other ten lost their life for Jesus. Could they have avoided such a death? Probably – but what better witness could they have given to our world that their Lord was still alive? That’s what a witness is – someone that loses their life for Jesus.
CS Lewis, who wrote the “Space Trilogy” novels, was once asked to comment on the morality of humans living on other planets, assuming such a thing we possible. Lewis thought carefully before giving this response: “Let’s pray that the human race never escapes the Earth to spread its iniquity elsewhere.” Here’s what I think Lewis was trying to say. This world that we live in is so desperate – so desperate – for witnesses who are willing to die to self to show the world that Christ is still alive. We live in a world of fear and confusion. War, famine, and violence are the realities that characterize life for many in our world. Now, we may be shielded from someone else tearing our homes and families apart, but many of us have experienced homes and families torn apart from the inside. We live in a world where the gentle art of being kind and thoughtful, sensitive and generous is going out of fashion, a world that believes that the secret to life is to get ahead, even at the expense of someone else. “You’ve got to look out for number one.” That’s the mantra of our world. And so in light of that, there’s something today’s reading from Acts raises for us. What is the nature of our presence in the midst of this world? In other words, if it’s true that our lives speak, what story do they tell? Because it’s never a question of whether or not we are a witness. The question is always what are we witnessing to?
In his book The Jesus I Never Knew Phillip Yancey writes about the connection between the Ascension and the mission of the Church, and this is what he says. “Jesus knew that the world he left behind would include the poor, the hungry, the prisoners, and the sick. The decrepit state of the world did not surprise him, and he made plans to cope with it. The long-range plan involves his return, in power and great glory, to straighten out this planet, [but] the short-range plan means turning it over to [the church]. He ascended so that we would take his place.” He then said something that blew my mind. “Where is God when it hurts, I have often asked. The [Ascension] answers that question by asking another – where is the church when it hurts?” In other words, we ask God – “Will you? Will you change this? Will you restore this?” To which Jesus replies, Will you? Will you be my witnesses? Will you now do what I’ve already done? I lost my life for you. Will you now lose your life to bear witness to the truth of the Gospel?
Now, I don’t know what losing your life for Jesus’ sake will mean for you. I seriously doubt it’ll mean capital punishment, though we shouldn’t forget that for many in our world it still does. But our faith should cost us something. As Bonhoeffer once noted, “grace is free but it certainly is not cheap.” We should be able to look at our friendships and our calendar and our bank statement and our reputation and be able to see the cross. Our faith in Christ should cost us something, and when we start to sense that, it’s little wonder we stop running after only a few steps in the Christian life. We look ahead in the distance and see a cross and get scared. But here’s what I think we fail to see, what I always fail to see when my faith grows stagnant. Rather than being something we have to endure or “get over,” the sacrifices we make to bear witness to the Gospel are not something that diminish our joy. They’re the source of our joy. To put it differently, joy in the Christian life only grows as we move away from that starting line and run towards that cross as Jesus’ witness along the way. As our reading from 1 Peter put it, “Beloved,” he says, “don’t be surprised when you suffer but rejoice for you are sharing Christ’s sufferings. Cast all your anxiety on Him, because he cares for you. And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace will himself restore, support, strengthen and establish you.”
The good news of the Christian Gospel is that there is a long-term plan to permanently end all fear and confusion. As the angels told the disciples, “this same Jesus, who was taken up into heaven, will indeed come back in the same way that you saw Him leave.” When will that be? “It is not for us to know,” Jesus said, “that time set by the Father’s own authority.” Because there is after all a short term plan – and that plan involves us – not because Christ is now absent from the world, but because we are the ones in whom Jesus now chooses to be present to the world. We are Jesus’ witnesses. Understanding the privilege of that call – and joyfully accepting it – that’s what the good news of the race is all about.
And so here’s the question I leave us with this morning – what now? I suppose we can stand still and just stare at the sky, or, as the author of Hebrews writes, we can “run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” You see it’s never a question of whether or not we are a witness. The question is always what are we witnessing to?
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
God's great reminder
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/godsreminder.mp3
CS Lewis was fond of saying, “people in the church don’t need to be instructed; they need to be reminded.” In other words, part of the Gospel’s difficulty is its simplicity, and the great task of the Christian is not to absorb the latest ideas but to return – time and time again – to the simple truth of the Gospel. Swiss theologian Karl Barth was among the most influential theologians of the 20th century, and over his life he wrote 13 volumes, which took 35 years, to explain the meaning of the Christian faith. He was once asked by a reporter if he could summarize those 13 volumes in a few sentences, to which Barth replied, “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” The Gospel’s difficulty is its utter simplicity, and we who call ourselves Christians don’t really need to be instructed, we need to be reminded.
Today, what I’d like to do is look at Paul’s speech to the Athenians, because in it I see for key reminders at the heart of Christian discipleship. And those four reminders can be stated as follows.
Everyone’s religious.
God can’t be served.
We were created to seek.
To the extent that we find we will repent.
Everyone’s religious
First, all people are religious. “Athenians,” Paul says, “I see how extremely religious you are in every way.” You see Paul’s been walking around the city and can’t help but notice all of the shrines. There was a shrine to Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty; Ares the god of war; Artemis, the goddess of wealth; and of course many more. Now, you and I live in a world that thinks there are religious people and there are secular people, but is that really how the world works?
You see that word religion – it comes from the Latin ligare, which means to “bind or to connect.” In other words, our religion is that which we bind or connect our hearts to in order to feel secure. Now, I seriously doubt you worship the god of war. But are you ever tempted to rely on your power and sense of accomplishment in order to feel secure? I know I am. And I seriously doubt that any of you have a statue of Athena, the goddess of wisdom, in your home. But is your wisdom – your knowledge and ability to speak eloquently about science or politics or something else – is that your primary source of meaning? We are all extremely religious. We all bind or connect our hearts to something or to someone to feel secure. That’s not the question – the question is always to what; the Living God or some other shrine made by human hands?
As Timothy Keller puts it, “We may not physically kneel before the statue of Aphrodite, but many young women today are driven into depression and eating disorders by an obsessive concern over their body image. We may not actually burn incense to Artemis, but when money and career are raised to cosmic proportions, we perform a kind of child sacrifice, neglecting family and community to … gain more wealth and prestige.” In other words, it’s never a question of whether or not a person has faith. The question is always, who or what is our faith in?
God can’t be served.
That brings us to our second key point – God cannot be served. In the words of Paul, God is not “served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mortals life and breath and all things.” Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. Doesn’t the Bible call us God’s servants? Isn’t “serving God” a good thing? And of course the answer is yes – and no. Today, I just want to point out one aspect of the servant metaphor that we need to avoid.
You see Athenians were incredibly superstitious. In fact, that Greek word translated religious can also be translated superstitious. For instance, no one worshiped the God of war because of the intrinsic beauty and splendor of Ares. No, they worshiped Ares when they were on the verge of going to battle – they served that God in the hope that Ares would return the favor in the form of a military victory.
Here’s the point that Paul’s trying to make. Every so-called god makes us work for them, makes us serve them. The perfect example of this is the Enuma Elish, which is the Babylonian Creation Myth, written about the same time as the Book of Genesis. In the Enuma Elish, there’s a battle of the gods, which the god Marduk wins. And so Marduk – to celebrate – decides to slash open the belly of one of the defeated gods, and from that dead god’s belly comes the earth – if you’re a young Babylonian student, this is just science 101. Anyway, Marduk decides to allow the other gods to live on the earth and enjoy its recourses. The only problem is, keeping up the earth is hard work, and so what do the gods do? They create humans to do all the work they were too lazy to do. Now, that’s just one example, but it does capture the worldview of the pagan world, and a lot of people in our world – we were created to serve the gods. But not the Living God, Paul says. The Living God is different.
Has anyone ever told you that God has no hands but you and that if you don’t come through for Him then God’s in trouble? If that’s really the case we’re in trouble. Because we don’t come through, and aside from our anxiety and our sin and our fear, there is nothing we can give God that He doesn’t already have. There is big a difference between Jesus Christ and Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam won’t enlist you in his service unless you’re healthy. Jesus won’t enlist you unless you’re sick.
We were created to seek.
Which brings us to key point #3. If God didn’t put us here to serve him, then why are we here? We were created to seek God. We were created to love God. We were created to know God. As Paul puts it today, God created us to “search for God and perhaps grope for him and find him.” Now, I had to look up that word grope because, well, it just sounded creepy. The Greek word literally means to “reach out expectantly hoping to feel something.” I spent Friday night with my goddaughter, who isn’t even 18 months old, and each time I picked her up she started reaching, sometimes pretty forcefully, in an attempt to grab my nose. That’s the image Paul’s trying to give us. We are infants in the arms of God. We are his “offspring” – it is in God that we live and move and have our being – and God created us to reach out, day after day, to find him.
Richard Foster wrote a great book called Prayer and in that book this is what he says. “Today the heart of God is an open wound of love. He aches over our distance and preoccupation. He mourns that we do not draw near to him. He grieves that we have forgotten him. He weeps over our obsession with muchness and manyness. He longs for our presence.” In other words, God wants to be wanted. God seeks to be sought. He longs for our presence. Augustine once said, “Our souls are restless O Lord until they rest in thee.” But, according to Foster and according to Paul, God also longs for us. His soul is restless until we rest in Him. We were created to seek him, for “we too are his offspring” – children created to reach out for God.
Now, what exactly seeking God looks like will differ for each one of us. We’re all different, and God deals with us differently. But I do know that at least three things are nonnegotiable – intentionality, scripture and community. Intentionality is obvious. No one drifts into a deep, sustainable relationship with God. Scripture – we can’t live the story if the story doesn’t live in us. And community – our faith may be personal but it definitely isn’t private. We need other Christians to help us find Christ.
To the extent that we find we will repent.
Now, to the extent that we do find – or to the extent that we’re found – we will repent, and that of course is key point number four. Now, the word repent – it does not mean to say we’re sorry or to feel bad for our mistakes. Both may be fine things to do, but it’s not what repentance is. The word repent literally means “to change our mind,” or “to turn.” Repentance is about changing our mind. It’s about changing our mind about the things we’ve bound or connected our hearts to and to acknowledge that they can’t give us whatever it is that they promise. It’s about changing our mind about the many ways we try and barter with God and to acknowledge the good news that we are not needed – just loved and celebrated and cherished, but not needed. It’s about turning away from a self-seeking life to a God-seeking life, and to acknowledge that God wants to be wanted, and seeks to be sought, and that God longs for our presence.
After all, Paul is clear – “God has fixed a day on which he will have the world judged in righteousness.” But for the Christian, that great Day of Judgment is not something that will happen. It’s something that has happened – once and for all – on Golgotha Hill. To quote Karl Barth again, “the Judge was judged in our place.” For that cross is God’s great reminder that God himself is also extremely religious, for he has bound His heart to us and will stop at nothing to get us back.
The only way we can serve this God is to know – and I mean know – that the Living God lives to serve us. And so as we go out into the world seeking God, may we never forget that God is always seeking us. And finally, in light of all this, as we ponder what it means to repent – to turn to the Living God – may we be reminded that in Christ the Father has already repented – He’s already turned – towards us with arms open.
CS Lewis was fond of saying, “people in the church don’t need to be instructed; they need to be reminded.” In other words, part of the Gospel’s difficulty is its simplicity, and the great task of the Christian is not to absorb the latest ideas but to return – time and time again – to the simple truth of the Gospel. Swiss theologian Karl Barth was among the most influential theologians of the 20th century, and over his life he wrote 13 volumes, which took 35 years, to explain the meaning of the Christian faith. He was once asked by a reporter if he could summarize those 13 volumes in a few sentences, to which Barth replied, “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” The Gospel’s difficulty is its utter simplicity, and we who call ourselves Christians don’t really need to be instructed, we need to be reminded.
Today, what I’d like to do is look at Paul’s speech to the Athenians, because in it I see for key reminders at the heart of Christian discipleship. And those four reminders can be stated as follows.
Everyone’s religious.
God can’t be served.
We were created to seek.
To the extent that we find we will repent.
Everyone’s religious
First, all people are religious. “Athenians,” Paul says, “I see how extremely religious you are in every way.” You see Paul’s been walking around the city and can’t help but notice all of the shrines. There was a shrine to Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty; Ares the god of war; Artemis, the goddess of wealth; and of course many more. Now, you and I live in a world that thinks there are religious people and there are secular people, but is that really how the world works?
You see that word religion – it comes from the Latin ligare, which means to “bind or to connect.” In other words, our religion is that which we bind or connect our hearts to in order to feel secure. Now, I seriously doubt you worship the god of war. But are you ever tempted to rely on your power and sense of accomplishment in order to feel secure? I know I am. And I seriously doubt that any of you have a statue of Athena, the goddess of wisdom, in your home. But is your wisdom – your knowledge and ability to speak eloquently about science or politics or something else – is that your primary source of meaning? We are all extremely religious. We all bind or connect our hearts to something or to someone to feel secure. That’s not the question – the question is always to what; the Living God or some other shrine made by human hands?
As Timothy Keller puts it, “We may not physically kneel before the statue of Aphrodite, but many young women today are driven into depression and eating disorders by an obsessive concern over their body image. We may not actually burn incense to Artemis, but when money and career are raised to cosmic proportions, we perform a kind of child sacrifice, neglecting family and community to … gain more wealth and prestige.” In other words, it’s never a question of whether or not a person has faith. The question is always, who or what is our faith in?
God can’t be served.
That brings us to our second key point – God cannot be served. In the words of Paul, God is not “served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mortals life and breath and all things.” Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. Doesn’t the Bible call us God’s servants? Isn’t “serving God” a good thing? And of course the answer is yes – and no. Today, I just want to point out one aspect of the servant metaphor that we need to avoid.
You see Athenians were incredibly superstitious. In fact, that Greek word translated religious can also be translated superstitious. For instance, no one worshiped the God of war because of the intrinsic beauty and splendor of Ares. No, they worshiped Ares when they were on the verge of going to battle – they served that God in the hope that Ares would return the favor in the form of a military victory.
Here’s the point that Paul’s trying to make. Every so-called god makes us work for them, makes us serve them. The perfect example of this is the Enuma Elish, which is the Babylonian Creation Myth, written about the same time as the Book of Genesis. In the Enuma Elish, there’s a battle of the gods, which the god Marduk wins. And so Marduk – to celebrate – decides to slash open the belly of one of the defeated gods, and from that dead god’s belly comes the earth – if you’re a young Babylonian student, this is just science 101. Anyway, Marduk decides to allow the other gods to live on the earth and enjoy its recourses. The only problem is, keeping up the earth is hard work, and so what do the gods do? They create humans to do all the work they were too lazy to do. Now, that’s just one example, but it does capture the worldview of the pagan world, and a lot of people in our world – we were created to serve the gods. But not the Living God, Paul says. The Living God is different.
Has anyone ever told you that God has no hands but you and that if you don’t come through for Him then God’s in trouble? If that’s really the case we’re in trouble. Because we don’t come through, and aside from our anxiety and our sin and our fear, there is nothing we can give God that He doesn’t already have. There is big a difference between Jesus Christ and Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam won’t enlist you in his service unless you’re healthy. Jesus won’t enlist you unless you’re sick.
We were created to seek.
Which brings us to key point #3. If God didn’t put us here to serve him, then why are we here? We were created to seek God. We were created to love God. We were created to know God. As Paul puts it today, God created us to “search for God and perhaps grope for him and find him.” Now, I had to look up that word grope because, well, it just sounded creepy. The Greek word literally means to “reach out expectantly hoping to feel something.” I spent Friday night with my goddaughter, who isn’t even 18 months old, and each time I picked her up she started reaching, sometimes pretty forcefully, in an attempt to grab my nose. That’s the image Paul’s trying to give us. We are infants in the arms of God. We are his “offspring” – it is in God that we live and move and have our being – and God created us to reach out, day after day, to find him.
Richard Foster wrote a great book called Prayer and in that book this is what he says. “Today the heart of God is an open wound of love. He aches over our distance and preoccupation. He mourns that we do not draw near to him. He grieves that we have forgotten him. He weeps over our obsession with muchness and manyness. He longs for our presence.” In other words, God wants to be wanted. God seeks to be sought. He longs for our presence. Augustine once said, “Our souls are restless O Lord until they rest in thee.” But, according to Foster and according to Paul, God also longs for us. His soul is restless until we rest in Him. We were created to seek him, for “we too are his offspring” – children created to reach out for God.
Now, what exactly seeking God looks like will differ for each one of us. We’re all different, and God deals with us differently. But I do know that at least three things are nonnegotiable – intentionality, scripture and community. Intentionality is obvious. No one drifts into a deep, sustainable relationship with God. Scripture – we can’t live the story if the story doesn’t live in us. And community – our faith may be personal but it definitely isn’t private. We need other Christians to help us find Christ.
To the extent that we find we will repent.
Now, to the extent that we do find – or to the extent that we’re found – we will repent, and that of course is key point number four. Now, the word repent – it does not mean to say we’re sorry or to feel bad for our mistakes. Both may be fine things to do, but it’s not what repentance is. The word repent literally means “to change our mind,” or “to turn.” Repentance is about changing our mind. It’s about changing our mind about the things we’ve bound or connected our hearts to and to acknowledge that they can’t give us whatever it is that they promise. It’s about changing our mind about the many ways we try and barter with God and to acknowledge the good news that we are not needed – just loved and celebrated and cherished, but not needed. It’s about turning away from a self-seeking life to a God-seeking life, and to acknowledge that God wants to be wanted, and seeks to be sought, and that God longs for our presence.
After all, Paul is clear – “God has fixed a day on which he will have the world judged in righteousness.” But for the Christian, that great Day of Judgment is not something that will happen. It’s something that has happened – once and for all – on Golgotha Hill. To quote Karl Barth again, “the Judge was judged in our place.” For that cross is God’s great reminder that God himself is also extremely religious, for he has bound His heart to us and will stop at nothing to get us back.
The only way we can serve this God is to know – and I mean know – that the Living God lives to serve us. And so as we go out into the world seeking God, may we never forget that God is always seeking us. And finally, in light of all this, as we ponder what it means to repent – to turn to the Living God – may we be reminded that in Christ the Father has already repented – He’s already turned – towards us with arms open.
Monday, May 23, 2011
The Truth
TO LISTEN TO LIVE VERSION:
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/truth.mp3
Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth and the life.”
I want to begin by introducing myself and saying what a pleasure it is to be with you this morning at St. Christopher’s. My name is John Newton, and I currently serve as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation. And I need apologize in advance if this sermon isn’t very good. I’m not sure if you’ve been following the news, but the world was supposed to end yesterday and so instead of writing a sermon I spent all of last week eating Mexican food. That being said and I guess I mean this in more way than one – I am really glad to be here. Thank you for having me.
On October 2, 2006 ten young girls were taken hostage in an Amish schoolhouse in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. All ten were shot, five were killed and the gunman committed suicide. But as you may recall, that wasn’t the story – what most of us remember. What we all remember was the response of the Amish community, who expressed forgiveness toward the killer, took up a collection for the killer’s widow and her three young children, and even attended the killer’s funeral. As one author put it, “Several Amish families, who had buried their own daughters just the day before, were in attendance as they hugged the widow and … other members of the killer’s family.”
Here’s the question I’d like to wrestle with this morning – how? In the face of unspeakable tragedy, where did this Amish community get the heart to respond with such forgiveness, love and compassion? I mentioned that my primary focus is in Christian formation, which has to do with that process by which our hearts are formed into Jesus’s heart – which is a heart that forgives, that loves and that absorbs pain rather than returning it. But how do our hearts actually change? Or, perhaps another example, how do we become someone like Stephen who, as the rocks pummel his body, still managed to pray, “Lord, don’t hold this sin against them.” In a world where people hurt us and where we hurt people, how do we forgive? How do we love? How do we take the stones thrown at us rather than mindlessly just hurling them back? In other words, how do we acquire the heart of Jesus?
Here’s how the author of John’s Gospel would answer that question. We have to know the truth. Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth and the life.” To live this life with Jesus’s heart – which is a heart that forgives, that loves and that absorbs pain instead of just inflicting it back – we have to know the Truth.
Now, if you’re like me, you’re probably suspicious of people that claim to have the truth, and the consensus of our culture is that we should all be free to figure out for ourselves what is true. As the U.S. Supreme Court declared back in 1992, “the heart of liberty is the right to define one’s own concept of existence.” In other words, choose for yourself what is true – or the reason you exist – and you’ll be free. It’s that simple. Freedom, we think, is about choosing our own truth.
If it’s okay I’d like to meander for a bit, because it’s worth mentioning two philosophers in particular that were incredibly influential in shaping our culture’s view of truth – Nietzsche and Foucault – and this is what they said. “All truth claims are power plays. When people claim to have the truth, their real motive is to get power over others and control their behavior.” Now, perhaps you think I’m going to disagree and say what a bunch of hogwash but I’m not because on numerous occasions Jesus said the exact same thing. In particular, I’m thinking about the Pharisees. They were pretty obsessed with “God’s truth” and about who was in line and who wasn’t and time and time again Jesus had to tell the Pharisees that all they really cared about was controlling people and maintaining their power. I mean, why do you think they stoned Stephen? Because the truth Stephen preached was a threat to their power. And so Nietzsche was right. The people most outspoken about what’s true are often the most violent and coercive. I mean, let’s face it – Nietzsche, Foucault and Jesus Christ can all agree on something – it’s just got to be true! But – that doesn’t mean we can walk the way of relativism because in today’s Gospel Jesus is outspoken. “I am way. I am the life. I am the truth.”
You see, the greatest power play of all is to go around telling everyone that their idea of truth is a power play, and the problem with Nietzsche and Foucault is that they went around popping everyone else’s balloon but never popped their own because there’s something they failed to see – we all make truth claims – we all hold deep beliefs about who we are and the reason we exist – and so it can’t be the belief in truth itself that kill freedom. It’s what’s in the truth claim we’re making. To put it a bit differently, we’re all fundamentalists. The only question is this – what’s our fundamental? What fundamental – what truth – is at the center of our life?
Now, stay with me because I know what you’re all thinking – “what in the world does any of this have to do with the Amish?” I’m getting there. You see, what we hold as the deepest truth about this world and the reason we exist will always shape how we live (2X). And John actually begins his Gospel by giving us that reason. “In the beginning was the Word – or the logos in Greek – and the logos was God and the logos was with God and the logos became flesh and dwelt among us.” Now, that Greek word logos – it’s where we get the word logic and the word reason. In other words, John begins his Gospel by telling us that there is a reason we exist, a logic behind the universe, a Truth with a capital T that each one of us were made for, and that this absolute truth is not a philosophy or a principle or an abstraction or set of commandments or even a creed, but a Person – a Person that embodied the fullness of God Himself, a Person whose commitment to truth led not to someone else’s death but His own.
And so once again, how do we acquire the heart of Jesus? How do we live this life with Jesus’s heart – forgiving, loving, and absorbing the pain other’s inflict on us instead of inflicting it back? Here’s where I think the Amish can help. After all, what we hold as the deepest truth about this world and the reason we exist will always shape how we live. For the Amish, the deepest truth they held in their hearts was a story about a man that embodied the fullness of God and yet still chose to empty himself and die for his enemies rather than crushing them. The deepest truth they held in their hearts was that they could have confidence that those little girls’ lives would go on after death because Jesus was preparing a place for each one of them in His Father’s house. For the Amish, the deepest truth they held in their hearts was that their mission in life – what made them “successful or unsuccessful” people – had nothing to do with power or status or money but with how well their lives pointed the world to Jesus. That was the deepest truth they held in their hearts. What’s yours?
I’d like to share a quote from the late Henry Nouwen. “In our world of loneliness and despair, there is an enormous need for men and women who know the heart of God, a heart that forgives, that cares, that reaches out and wants to heal. In that heart there is no suspicion, no resentment and not a tinge of hatred. It is a heart that wants only to give love and receive love in response. It is a heart that suffers immensely because it sees the magnitude of human pain and the great resistance to trusting the heart of God who wants to offer consolation and hope.” (In the Name of Jesus, 24)
To be a Christian is to believe that that heart – God’s heart – is the deepest truth behind this universe, and that this same heart was made flesh in the person of Jesus Christ. It was on the part of God a powerless play. And in this world of loneliness and despair, there is an enormous need for men and women that know the heart of God. The Amish knew God’s heart. Stephen knew God’s heart. The question is, do we? Because I would submit that the heart of liberty is not to define our own concept of existence. The heart of liberty is to know the reason for our existence. In the beginning was the Reason – and the Reason was God and the Reason was with God and the Reason became flesh and dwelt among us – not to kill, but to be killed – full of grace and truth.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Good shepherd, good news
To listen:
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/goodnews.mp3
I want to begin by introducing myself and saying what a pleasure it is to be with you tonight at St. Mark’s Between the Bayous. My name is John Newton, and I currently serve as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation. Thank you so much for having me – it is really great to be with you.
There’s a question I’d like to reflect on tonight. What makes us valuable? In other words, why are we important? What makes us special? What gives us worth? Well, I want to begin answering these questions by reading you the first paragraph of an article entitled, “450 Sheep Jump to their deaths in Turkey,” which the Associated Press ran back in 2005. In case you’re wondering, the article’s about how 450 sheep jumped to their death in Turkey. This is how it begins. “First one sheep jumped to its death. Then stunned Turkish shepherds, who had left the herd to graze while they had breakfast, watched as nearly 1,500 others followed, each leaping off the cliff. In the end, 450 dead animals lay on top of one another in a billowy white pile. Those who jumped later were saved as the pile got higher and the fall more cushioned.”
In tonight’s Gospel when Jesus likens us to sheep – it’s not really a complement. You see most animals when released will either go wild or just find their way back home. But sheep are different. The truth is, they’re not very smart, and sheep have absolutely no sense of direction. That’s why a good shepherd doesn’t leave his sheep because if he does they jump off a cliff.
And so in the ancient near east – which was Jesus’ world – a sheep with no shepherd or a sheep with an incompetent shepherd was completely hopeless and vulnerable. And so to speak of Jesus as our shepherd – this isn’t really a sentimental image. But it is a powerful one. Perhaps you’ve heard the 23rd psalm. “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters. He revives my soul, and guides me along right paths.” What makes this psalm so powerful is that it speaks to the deepest desire of the human heart. I mean, isn’t that what we all yearn for – someone to take care of us that knows us better than we know ourselves and that wants to give us abundant life? A Shepherd who, in the midst of a world full of fear and anxiety and uncertainty and war and death and disease, longs to lead us to calm places so we feel safe and satisfied and at peace. I don’t know about you, but for me this image awakens something so deep within. Because I would submit that we’re all following someone; that each one of us is tuning in to someone’s voice – or to multiple voices, which are probably contradictory and scattered – to make sense of who we are and what gives us value. Tonight, I’d like to focus on Jesus’s voice, and to tune in to what he says about value.
That word value – it’s a word tied to worth and importance. In other words, to say that we’re valuable is to say that we’re important – that we’re “worth something,” which let’s face it, is something we all need to know. There’s no depression like the depression of thinking our life isn’t valuable, and even though I seriously doubt that’s where most of us are, that doesn’t mean we don’t ask the question, if only at the subconscious level. Why am I important? What makes me special? What gives me worth?
Ernest Becker won the Pulitzer Prize for his book The Denial of Death, which he begins by making the claim that a child’s need for self-worth “is the condition of his life.” And God knows we seek that worth from whoever we think can give it to us. I know I do. As Brene Brown puts it, we “steal worth.” We become the funny one or the attractive one or the athletic one or the rich one or the smart one or the successful one because if we’re not that then who are we?
Well, at the heart of the Christian Gospel is an answer to this question – this question of what makes us valuable. Remember, that word Gospel means good news, which is not the way we always feel about our relationship with God. Far too often we get stuck in that dead paradigm that says Jesus came to offer us good advice – advice on how to be good or to get in good with God – but Jesus did not turn the world upside down by offering good advice. No, His Kingdom revolution began when he went public with some very good news – good news that’s captured in part by something he says tonight. “I call my own sheep by name.” I’ll say that again. “I call my own sheep by name.”
What makes us important? What makes us special? What gives us worth? Here’s what I think tonight’s Gospel is getting at. What makes us valuable, what makes us important, what gives us a “name” has nothing to do with us and everything to do with Jesus’s call. We matter not because we’re good but because God is; not because we’re lovely but because we’re loved; not because of what we do but because of what Jesus did on our behalf. “I lay down my life for my sheep.” What gives us a “name” has nothing to do with us and everything to do with Jesus’s call.
But hearing that call and re-learning how to live this life deeply centered in that call – that’s a different story. After all, there are so many wolves and hired hands and incompetent shepherds and thieves out there, and they’re all out to steal, kill and destroy our real sense of worth by offering us a false one. “Try harder. Follow the rules. Lose ten pounds. Be good. It’s a dog eat dog world. If you want someone to scratch your back then scratch someone else’s. Be funny. Be smart. Be pretty. Don’t be boring. Nothing in life is free. Obey your thirst. Just do it.” There’s a lot of bad advice out there, and Jesus doesn’t have time for any of it. When it comes to that question of what gives us worth Jesus refuses to offer advice. But he does offer us news. Good news. “I know my own. I call each sheep by name. I know my sheep. I love my sheep. I lay down my life for my sheep.”
I want to go back to that article and read you some quotes from the shepherds themselves. “There’s nothing we can do.” “They’re all wasted.” “It’s going to be hard for us.” You see what these quotes capture is how devastating the loss of these sheep was to the shepherds. Because like in Jesus’ world, these sheep weren’t pets. They were the shepherd’s life! You see a shepherd’s wealth, livelihood, and glory were bound up with the safety and care of his flock, and what tonight’s Gospel is trying to get at is simply this – that Jesus, the One for whom and the One through all things were created – feels this way about each one of us. There’s this great verse from Ephesians, where Paul prays that we’d know the riches of Jesus’ glorious inheritance among the saints. Most people, when they hear that verse, mistakenly assume that Paul prays that we would know that Jesus is our inheritance and be thrilled with how great that all is, but that isn’t at all what text actually says. It doesn’t say that Jesus is our inheritance. It says that we are Jesus’ inheritance. And that’s what Paul wants us to see – that Jesus sees us, that He calls us by name – because we are His inheritance. And to me that is so important, because before we can ever live for Jesus we have to know that Jesus lives for us. We are His wealth. We are His livelihood. We are His glory.
And so I’m not going to end this sermon by offering any advice. There’s far too much of that already, but I will give you some good news – news that perhaps you’ve never heard, or that you may just need to hear again. You are not your reputation. You are not what you feel. You are not your mistakes. You are not your achievements. You are not your portfolio. You are not your IQ. Your name – your worth – has nothing to do with that. Because you – you are Jesus’ inheritance. You are worth dying for. You are his wealth. You are his livelihood. You are his glory. The God of the universe knows your name. And because of that, you are far more precious than you could ever dare dream.
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/goodnews.mp3
I want to begin by introducing myself and saying what a pleasure it is to be with you tonight at St. Mark’s Between the Bayous. My name is John Newton, and I currently serve as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation. Thank you so much for having me – it is really great to be with you.
There’s a question I’d like to reflect on tonight. What makes us valuable? In other words, why are we important? What makes us special? What gives us worth? Well, I want to begin answering these questions by reading you the first paragraph of an article entitled, “450 Sheep Jump to their deaths in Turkey,” which the Associated Press ran back in 2005. In case you’re wondering, the article’s about how 450 sheep jumped to their death in Turkey. This is how it begins. “First one sheep jumped to its death. Then stunned Turkish shepherds, who had left the herd to graze while they had breakfast, watched as nearly 1,500 others followed, each leaping off the cliff. In the end, 450 dead animals lay on top of one another in a billowy white pile. Those who jumped later were saved as the pile got higher and the fall more cushioned.”
In tonight’s Gospel when Jesus likens us to sheep – it’s not really a complement. You see most animals when released will either go wild or just find their way back home. But sheep are different. The truth is, they’re not very smart, and sheep have absolutely no sense of direction. That’s why a good shepherd doesn’t leave his sheep because if he does they jump off a cliff.
And so in the ancient near east – which was Jesus’ world – a sheep with no shepherd or a sheep with an incompetent shepherd was completely hopeless and vulnerable. And so to speak of Jesus as our shepherd – this isn’t really a sentimental image. But it is a powerful one. Perhaps you’ve heard the 23rd psalm. “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters. He revives my soul, and guides me along right paths.” What makes this psalm so powerful is that it speaks to the deepest desire of the human heart. I mean, isn’t that what we all yearn for – someone to take care of us that knows us better than we know ourselves and that wants to give us abundant life? A Shepherd who, in the midst of a world full of fear and anxiety and uncertainty and war and death and disease, longs to lead us to calm places so we feel safe and satisfied and at peace. I don’t know about you, but for me this image awakens something so deep within. Because I would submit that we’re all following someone; that each one of us is tuning in to someone’s voice – or to multiple voices, which are probably contradictory and scattered – to make sense of who we are and what gives us value. Tonight, I’d like to focus on Jesus’s voice, and to tune in to what he says about value.
That word value – it’s a word tied to worth and importance. In other words, to say that we’re valuable is to say that we’re important – that we’re “worth something,” which let’s face it, is something we all need to know. There’s no depression like the depression of thinking our life isn’t valuable, and even though I seriously doubt that’s where most of us are, that doesn’t mean we don’t ask the question, if only at the subconscious level. Why am I important? What makes me special? What gives me worth?
Ernest Becker won the Pulitzer Prize for his book The Denial of Death, which he begins by making the claim that a child’s need for self-worth “is the condition of his life.” And God knows we seek that worth from whoever we think can give it to us. I know I do. As Brene Brown puts it, we “steal worth.” We become the funny one or the attractive one or the athletic one or the rich one or the smart one or the successful one because if we’re not that then who are we?
Well, at the heart of the Christian Gospel is an answer to this question – this question of what makes us valuable. Remember, that word Gospel means good news, which is not the way we always feel about our relationship with God. Far too often we get stuck in that dead paradigm that says Jesus came to offer us good advice – advice on how to be good or to get in good with God – but Jesus did not turn the world upside down by offering good advice. No, His Kingdom revolution began when he went public with some very good news – good news that’s captured in part by something he says tonight. “I call my own sheep by name.” I’ll say that again. “I call my own sheep by name.”
What makes us important? What makes us special? What gives us worth? Here’s what I think tonight’s Gospel is getting at. What makes us valuable, what makes us important, what gives us a “name” has nothing to do with us and everything to do with Jesus’s call. We matter not because we’re good but because God is; not because we’re lovely but because we’re loved; not because of what we do but because of what Jesus did on our behalf. “I lay down my life for my sheep.” What gives us a “name” has nothing to do with us and everything to do with Jesus’s call.
But hearing that call and re-learning how to live this life deeply centered in that call – that’s a different story. After all, there are so many wolves and hired hands and incompetent shepherds and thieves out there, and they’re all out to steal, kill and destroy our real sense of worth by offering us a false one. “Try harder. Follow the rules. Lose ten pounds. Be good. It’s a dog eat dog world. If you want someone to scratch your back then scratch someone else’s. Be funny. Be smart. Be pretty. Don’t be boring. Nothing in life is free. Obey your thirst. Just do it.” There’s a lot of bad advice out there, and Jesus doesn’t have time for any of it. When it comes to that question of what gives us worth Jesus refuses to offer advice. But he does offer us news. Good news. “I know my own. I call each sheep by name. I know my sheep. I love my sheep. I lay down my life for my sheep.”
I want to go back to that article and read you some quotes from the shepherds themselves. “There’s nothing we can do.” “They’re all wasted.” “It’s going to be hard for us.” You see what these quotes capture is how devastating the loss of these sheep was to the shepherds. Because like in Jesus’ world, these sheep weren’t pets. They were the shepherd’s life! You see a shepherd’s wealth, livelihood, and glory were bound up with the safety and care of his flock, and what tonight’s Gospel is trying to get at is simply this – that Jesus, the One for whom and the One through all things were created – feels this way about each one of us. There’s this great verse from Ephesians, where Paul prays that we’d know the riches of Jesus’ glorious inheritance among the saints. Most people, when they hear that verse, mistakenly assume that Paul prays that we would know that Jesus is our inheritance and be thrilled with how great that all is, but that isn’t at all what text actually says. It doesn’t say that Jesus is our inheritance. It says that we are Jesus’ inheritance. And that’s what Paul wants us to see – that Jesus sees us, that He calls us by name – because we are His inheritance. And to me that is so important, because before we can ever live for Jesus we have to know that Jesus lives for us. We are His wealth. We are His livelihood. We are His glory.
And so I’m not going to end this sermon by offering any advice. There’s far too much of that already, but I will give you some good news – news that perhaps you’ve never heard, or that you may just need to hear again. You are not your reputation. You are not what you feel. You are not your mistakes. You are not your achievements. You are not your portfolio. You are not your IQ. Your name – your worth – has nothing to do with that. Because you – you are Jesus’ inheritance. You are worth dying for. You are his wealth. You are his livelihood. You are his glory. The God of the universe knows your name. And because of that, you are far more precious than you could ever dare dream.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
living water
TO LISTEN ONLINE:
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/living_water.mp3
“If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘give me a drink,’ you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.”
In Philadelphia on the east bank of the Schuylkill (skoo-kel) River there’s a statue of a pilgrim with a Bible, and by that pilgrim is a stream that flows down a really steep hill into the River. And by the stream is a path that leads up the hill, and by hiking up the hill you find the stream’s source – a spring of water. And by that spring is a stone, and on that stone an inscription, which says this: “Whosoever drink of this water will surely thirst again.” Of course, this is a reference to tonight’s Gospel where Jesus Christ says, “Those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty again.”
We are spiritually thirsty people. We thirst for love, for acceptance, for purpose. We thirst to be at home – at home in this world, at home with ourselves, at home with God. It is our spiritual thirst, and the many ways we seek to satiate that thirst that Jesus addresses in tonight’s Gospel. “From what well,” Jesus asks us, “are you drinking?”
One of my favorite verses in the Bible is Psalm 42:1. “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul thirsts for you, O God.” It reminds me of Augustine’s famous prayer, “Our souls are restless, O Lord, until they rest in you.” You see Jesus knows how restless we are, because we’re always trying to satiate that deep spiritual thirst ourselves. The message of our world is clear. “Nothing in life is free. It’s a dog eat dog world. You only get what you give.” In other words, if you want to be loved then be lovable. If you want to be accepted then perform. If you want your life to have purpose then create it. Be funny or smart or successful or attractive or popular. Be the best in your field. Roll up your sleeves, hike up that hill and find the water yourself! That’s the world’s message, to which Jesus gently replies – “whosoever drink of that water will certainly be thirsty again.” But “the water that I will give them will become a gushing and eternal spring, and whoever drinks of My water – the Living Water – will never be thirsty again.”
Before we talk about the only thing that’s ever going to satisfy our deep spiritual thirst – the living water Jesus offers us – we need to acknowledge how conditioned we are to believe that the living water is something we merit – something we earn. It start’s early. “Good boy” our parents told us, when we did something good. Our teachers “graded” us – we were classified and ranked based on our intellect and performance. Our peers classified and ranked us based on how attractive we were or how funny we were or how athletic we were. As one author puts it, “When every person in every situation in every day of our lives treats us on the basis of how we look, act, and perform, it is difficult not to project that onto God.” And so regardless of what we say we believe about grace, it is so easy for our hearts to believe that God’s love, God’s acceptance, are tied to our moral performance. If only at a subconscious level, we assume the living water must be earned. Well tonight, Jesus shatters that assumption. “If you knew the gift,” Jesus says, “if you just knew the gift of God,” you’d never be thirsty again.
That’s what’s so amazing about the woman in tonight’s Gospel. According to the cultural and religious rules of the day, no one deserved God’s love less than she did. First, she’s a Samaritan – a group that melded Judaism with paganism. No Jew in Jesus’ day liked Samaritans – no Jew, that is, except for one. Second, she’s a woman and women in Jesus’ world had no status. No respectable rabbi would ever address a woman in public – no rabbi, that is, except for one. Third, she’s alone, coming to the well at the hottest part of the day when no one else is around. Back in the day women went to the well to draw water in groups. It was the place to see and be seen, and so why is she alone? Because she’s an outcast, a moral failure. She doesn’t want to see anyone and no one wants to see her – no one, that is, except for Jesus. This woman has done nothing to deserve God’s love – she knows it, the disciples know it, and Jesus knows it. “But if you knew the gift,” Jesus told her, “you’d see that the love of God has nothing to do with what we deserve.
CS Lewis was once asked by a group of his colleagues what made Christianity different from all the other religions of the world. Lewis responded with a single word. “Grace.” Christianity is about grace. It’s not about us hiking up some hill to find water. It’s about God hiking down to give water to us. You see the good news of the Gospel is not merely that God forgives us, although that is certainly true. The good news of the Christian Gospel is that in Christ God celebrates us; that He lives for us; that God thirsts for us. As Richard Foster puts it, “the heart of God is an open wound of love. He longs for our presence.” In other words, psalm 42 talks about how we thirst for God but the living water – what Jesus is talking about tonight – is that God thirsts for us. That is the living water! The gift! Our call – the whole point of our faith – is to know that gift; to drink of the truth of how deeply we’re loved so that we can share God’s gift with the world like this woman. Of course, the question is how – how do we know the gift of God? How do we taste the living water that only Jesus can give?
Well first, we need to be honest about the empty wells we keep drawing from. For this woman it was men. You see, when Jesus says, “Go and get your husband” he isn’t being mean. After all, Jesus likes this woman and he would never try and shame her. That just isn’t Jesus’ way. But what Jesus does do is ask her to look at where she keeps dropping the bucket of her soul – at where she’s seeking to satisfy the deepest longings of her heart, and for her it’s men. Jesus takes this woman to a very vulnerable place. Has he taken us yet – to that vulnerable place? Have we let him? Now just for a second, imagine yourself standing at that well in the presence of Jesus. And to everyone’s surprise, even your own, He likes you. He wants to talk. Jesus shows you his thirst. But then, he shifts gears and tries to show your own – your own spiritual thirst and the broken cisterns you keep drinking from to satiate that thirst. To the woman he said “go and get your husband.” What is Jesus saying to you? “Go and get your career. Go and get your family. Go and get your need to be liked, your need to be in control, your need to be appreciated. Go and get your obsession with appearance, knowledge, competence, notoriety, success, friends, pleasure, wealth, status. Go and get it and put it right next to me,” Jesus says, “because it can never give you what I can.” To taste the living water we first have to stop drinking from empty wells.
Now, that being said, there’s a second piece we need to look at, because the gift of God isn’t ultimately about our thirst at all – it’s about Jesus’ thirst. You see the only reason this woman had an encounter with Jesus that changed her life was because, practically speaking, Jesus was thirsty. I mean, that’s why Jesus stopped at the well and said “give me a drink” in the first place. But in the Gospel of John, which is loaded with symbols, everything has a double meaning. You see twice in the Gospel of John Jesus says that he’s thirsty. The first we heard read tonight. The second we’ll hear read on Good Friday, where Jesus cries out in agony from the cross, “I thirst.” And that thirst was the great thirst. For on the cross not only did Jesus experience that cosmic thirst we rightly deserve for our sins, but as he stretched out his arms on that cross, Jesus showed us just how deep God’s thirst for us goes.
The psalmist tells us that there “is a river whose streams make glad the city of God.” By those streams is a path, which leads up Golgotha hill. And if you hike up that hill you’ll find streams Source – the Son of God crucified thirsting for the world. God give us grace to know that gift and to ask Jesus to give us the living water, and to hear yet again the word of our Lord: “come to me all you that are weary and heavy burdened and I will refresh you.”
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