The House Exchange

John 2:13-25

2^nd Sunday in Lent 2012

            There were many currency exchange houses along the way.  They popped up annually as throngs of Jewish people made pilgrimage to the Great Temple in Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover Feast.     Every adult Jewish male living within fifteen miles of Jerusalem was required by sacred law to make this pilgrimage.  Upon arrival, each and every one was required to pay taxes to the Temple.     These exchange houses on the outskirts of the city very wisely offered reasonable rates for the service of swapping foreign, ritually filthy loose change for officially sanctioned Temple shekels.       

            It’s safe to assume that Jesus made this compulsory journey to the Great Temple many times.  We can conclude that He dutifully did as was required of Him.    And He may well have stopped by any one of the conveniently located exchange houses on His way into the Holy City.   

            He certainly had time to do so on the particular pilgrimage mentioned in this morning’s Gospel lesson.    The second chapter of John tells us this particular journey was a week-long trek from Capernaum.     But based on what we are told happened when He arrived at the Great Temple, it’s a safe bet He didn’t patronize any of the pop-up exchange places.     He hadn’t been looking for any bargains, nor was He interested in doing business as usual.  

             He fully understood that He would be expected to pay his taxes.   He fully understood this requirement supported the day to day operations of the Temple’s time-honored system of offering sacrificial animal rituals on behalf of penitent pilgrims.     But this particular Passover, Jesus had no intention of dealing with conversions to Temple coins or the costs of institutionally sanctioned sacrifices.   On this visit to the Great Temple, He had no intention of paying the high priests anything in worldly currency or courtesy.

            We should understand that religious law wasn’t the only reason the Jewish people gathered together en masse for Passover.    Many also sojourned because it was tradition and a great way to be gathered together to honor and recall the people’s epic story of the exodus out of enslavement in ancient Egypt.    Specifically, they recalled the gracious moments of deliverance when God passed over the homes of their ancestors during days of sin-punishing plagues.   Back then, a bit of blood from a spring lamb above the doorpost of a faithful home was the sign of God’s protection. 

             So in addition to long-established religious law, Jesus’s journey to Jerusalem was also inspired by this potent liberation narrative of the people.   The living memory of liberation from an enslaving system likely fueled this particular journey every step of the way.    

            From what John tells us, this specific sojourn of Jesus to the Temple was not at all for the purpose of fulfilling an annual religious obligation to a religious institution.   He went to make change.   And He went absolutely filled with faithful fervor, with tremendous zeal to glorify and reveal the will of God the Father above all else.   This zeal protested the spiritual effectiveness of sacrificing lambs, and it even more so protested the fleecing of pilgrim people.   It had nothing to do with exchange houses … and everything to do with His exchanging the house of God, the Temple, with His holy body.    

            To appreciate the power of Jesus’ zeal in that historic moment, it’s helpful to know about something that has been generally written about the Great Temple by Bible scholars.    Namely, that it suffered corruption in two particular ways.   

            First, despite the convenience of exchange houses outside the city, many a spiritual pilgrim waited until they got to the Temple to swap their foreign currency for official shekels.    After all, what exchange agent could be more trustworthy than the one operating right in the Temple court, right?    But the money-changers working for the big city Temple apparently charged an exorbitant rate.    So the honest, pious, and very often quite poor pilgrims got wrangled into paying more than just their required taxes.    

            Secondly, the economic injustice was further evidenced by a rigged process for procuring sacrificial offerings.   Pilgrims were absolutely allowed to bring their own lambs to the Temple for the sacrificial offering.   This meant, however, bringing the bleating creature every step of the sojourn and so many did not do so.   The religious officials no doubt counted on this.

            They also, however, counted on the fact that even if an animal was brought in from the outside it was going to have to pass official inspection.   By law, it would only be accepted if it was regarded as perfect and unblemished.   And guess what?  There was a fee charged for the inspection.    And guess what else?   The Temple inspectors were apparently not inclined to pass any animal they inspected.   Pilgrims were therefore forced to purchase either a lamb or a pair of doves from sellers in the Temple court.    Go ahead and imagine what those prices were and who made a hefty profit!     One respected Bible scholar has called this whole entire process “bare-faced extortion at the expense of poor and humble pilgrims.”[i]    Bottom line, it seems the Temple accrued massive wealth during this mandatory religious holiday.   The good, faithful zeal pilgrims brought with them to the Passover Feast really got zapped. 

            Enter Jesus.   Enter the Son of God.   Enter the One with the authority to call out the Temple authorities for this fleecing.    In one of the most intensely dramatic scenes in Scripture, Jesus’ zeal was utterly unleashed in the outer court of the Great Temple (which, I understand, was about two football fields in length).     I enjoyed reading the way one Christian essayist described what happened as he imagined the disciple’s reaction.  He wrote, “No doubt the disciples tossed and turned a long, sleepless night that evening; it must have been terribly disconcerting to witness Jesus unhinged, throwing furniture, screaming at the top of his lungs, and flinging money into the air.  Perhaps they ran for cover with the crowd … did they look him in the eyes the next morning, or shuffle their feet, stare at the ground, and make small talk?”[ii]  

            Jesus’ holy zeal caused this great disturbance during what was otherwise a mechanically ritualistic, celebratory time -- not to simply be a nuisance or display some sort of spiritual showmanship;  not to only protest the corruption so as to hopefully transform the Temple system for the better.    He wasn’t there that particular Passover for renovation or even reform.      

            He was there to boldly, bodily declare that the existence of the Great Temple was no longer going to be needed as the place to be directly in the presence of God.  

            He was there to boldly, bodily declare an end to the time-honored sacrificial system that had become sinfully self-serving and therefore had ceased to honor the Almighty or righteously serve God’s people.   

            He was there to boldly, bodily declare that through Him, God was about to raze the ancient Temple house and its sacrificial system to the ground.    It was about to be replaced with His body—starting with the very first Easter morning – so all people would have direct, undefiled access to the merciful presence of God.     Spiritual pilgrimage henceforth would need only be made from a person’s heart to the heart of God known through Jesus, whose self-sacrifice was once … and for all.

            Stepping from the Bible to our present Lenten journeying -- if you were in the Temple that particular Passover day, on that day of house exchange, what would you have done?  Who would you have been?        

            Would you have been a Temple official, caught off guard by this disturbance, this bold challenge to your time-honored authority, spouting off defensive demands to Jesus in reply?            Would you have been a confused lamb or dove seller suddenly squeezed in the middle of an economic rebellion?   

            Or would you have been a poor, exhausted pilgrim ecstatic about someone with the right kind of honest, faithful zeal finally taking a stand for you, for liberating holy justice?    Amen.  

           

           

           

                       

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[i] William Barclay, Daily Bible Study Series, Gospel of John, Book 1

[ii] Dan Clendenin @ www.journeywithjesus.net, March 9, 2009

“Shaking A Fist While Holding Fast in Faith”

Psalm 22

Second Sunday in Lent 2012

    

            There I was again shaking a fist while holding fast in faith.   Perhaps you were doing exactly the same thing this past week.   It happens all the time, this indignant lamenting to God while at the same time hanging all hope on God.    Our hearts and minds rock back and forth between plaintiff cries and primal praise.   In the particular instance of Monday, February 27^th, the duel motion happened while reading the horrendously sad news headline coming out of Chardon, Ohio.   

            A .22 caliber pistol obeyed the hand of an extremely quiet seventeen year old by pounding ten bullets into a group of students just sitting in their High School cafeteria.    This perturbed teen from a deeply troubled home life had, I understand from reports, stolen the weapon from his uncle.    In the aftermath of this violence in which no community is completely protected, the lives of two sixteen year olds and one seventeen year old were so very suddenly, terribly sadly swiped away.     This entire news story – make that, human story -- is such a swift kick to the gut.  It’s perhaps even more acutely felt for those of us raising kids and grandkids right now that are in or about to be in high school.  

            My initial response when the news broke was to think, “No, not again.”   I felt anger before allowing any of the sadness to settle in.    The fist shaking came first.   Along with it came an inner-dialogue with our Almighty.    I didn’t blame or curse God because I accept the complex tensions between human free will and holy providence.   But I sure did let God know I was greatly aggrieved about the horror of the shooting, about all the dark dominoes that had toppled into the life and triggered the intentions of the shooter, and about the Chardon community being rapidly shot into the grip of all the grief.    I also did some self-reflection with God about the quiet, rage-filled teen from a troubled home that I was twenty-six years ago. 

            The fist shaking was held fast by faith.   I trusted God could handle the truth I was decrying.   I trusted God was already responding to this fresh bit of hell on earth with loads of loving mercy and holy comfort.  I recalled how strongly I had come to see and believe such divine care in all the other headline tragedies and personal moments cascading through my memory bank.    And through this recollection, I received fresh insight about God on the move. 

            It came in the form of reading about the humble assistant football coach who refused to be called a hero for just doing what was right and what he was trained to do in a crisis.   He told the families he was by the side of the victims, he prayed with them and that he knew God was there.   

            It came in the form of one of the mothers of a slain teen being asked what she would say to the shooter.  She replied, “I would tell him I forgive him.” She then went on to declare “It’s in God’s hands” and to report that her son’s donated organs had already saved the life of another child.  

             It came in many more forms as I read about ways the local and national community came together in the bonds of peace and love despite all the outraged cries for retribution.   

            This ever-present dance between plaintiff cries and primal praise is nothing new.   It’s the story of God’s people.   It’s found in most every passage of the Bible.   And it’s absolutely front and center in this morning’s passage, Psalm 22.    So much so that there was no way to just read a few verses from it.  We needed to experience it all, and I hope the dialogue way we offered the reading helped you hear both the deep lament and the steadfast faith.   

            The Psalmist’s life was under attack.    As a victim, he felt as dirty, down and squashable as a common worm.    He felt mocked, scorned, reduced to melted wax in a pile of disjointed bones.   The Psalmist was shaking a fist at what he descriptively identifies as encircling enemy bulls and as evildoing dogs that roll dice to lay claim to his very clothing.     Significantly, even though it very well might have been the great King David who wrote this Psalm, the lamenting voice identifies full with all of the earth’s poor and outcast.

            This entire fist shaking episode is companioned by steadfast affirmations of faithful trust in God.    It’s very important to notice that at no point in the Psalm are we told about a reversal of fortune.  The praise does not rise up from suddenly and miraculously having a safer, better life where evil has been undone.  It rises up from firm, faithful trust that God is listening, that God is indeed responding with loving mercy and justice, that God is and has been and always will be the safest haven in this sin-stained world.   The praise flows beautifully through affirmations about faithful ancestors being delivered from shame and about security in God being as intimate as a baby trusting in its mother’s breast.   This is bold affirmation that God does not despise the afflicted of any time and place.     It is clear invitation to praise and live for the Lord in whose good and holy dominion we all dwell … dust to dust, ashes to ashes, and on into the new life we have in Christ.

            We are in the church season of Lent.   We are all the wounded walking toward the final, dark, despairing hours of Jesus.   Now, whether it’s Lent or not,  if I ask a bunch of people at random if they can quote one thing Jesus said I’m guessing more than a few would answer, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”    That the all-time most faithful representative of the human race felt abandoned by God is something that really resonates with a whole lot of folks.   “Sweet Jesus, you mean you’ve had fist shaking times too?”  

            There is a problem with this, however.    Historical studies indicate that Jesus never intended for us to stop at the lament, at the fist-shaking part of his tortured time on the Cross.    In the tradition of His days, “Citing the first words of a text was a way of identifying an entire passage.”[i]  I suppose, then, it’s kind of like my saying, “Jesus loves me this I know …” and suddenly the rest of the words pop in your head.    

            So what was Jesus quoting in his final hour that He wanted us to fully recall?    Let’s go back to the first verse of Psalm 22, shall we?   “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”   Our Lord had Psalm 22 – all of it – going through His mind as he was dying for our sin.    He had endured this dire experience by identifying himself as one being mocked and scorned, whose meager clothes would gambled over, as one in complete solidarity with all the poor and outcast of the world.    Most powerfully, He bridged us to salvation by exhaling a last breath that was a resolute reminder and declaration of divine deliverance and dominion.  

            Jesus knew the power of Psalm 22 for our lives too.   It was a final teaching in the last moments of his fully embodied presence on earth.    He wanted us, His disciples, to understand that this Scripture “combines prayer and praise, language of suffering and celebration, in one arc of unity so as to say the one is not to be understood apart from the other.”[ii]     As we experience everything in our lives and learn about all that’s happening in this wonderful but also wounded world, we should not box ourselves into either only lamenting or only praising God.    Plaintiff cries and primal praises are looped together all in and around our hearts and minds.   This is nothing new.  It’s the story of God’s people.

            I’ll leave you with an inspiring quote about this from a more contemporary voice.    A man named Daniel McConchie was struck down by a hit-and-run accident back in the summer of 2007.     He survived, but was left paralyzed from the waist down.   Hear what he’s been saying since that traumatic, life-altering day …

             "God has not healed my affliction, but he has taught me the power of lamenting to him about it.   To our detriment, one of the most overlooked portions of Scripture in modern-day America are the psalms of lament. However, [King] David repeatedly demonstrated that laments make obvious our intense faith in God, that he can and will intervene in our time of need. They demonstrate just how deep our relationship with the Father really is. After all, we don't communicate our grief and mourning to strangers. We save that for those we truly know and love.”    Amen.

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[i] Theology Today, Vol. 42., No. 3, October 1985 “Prayer and Christology: Psalm 22 as Perspective on the Passion.”

[ii] ibid.

One Potent Preview!

Mark 9:2-10

Transfiguration Sunday 2012

 My family is all abuzz about an upcoming movie.   The Hunger Games, based on the trilogy of books by Suzanne Collins, is set to be released to theaters on March 23^rd.     We feel Rebecca and Crosby are too young to read the content of these books or see this movie … but Stefanie, Anna, and I happily devoured them and are super eager to see the movie on opening day.    So eager, in fact, that for the past few months we’ve been repeatedly gluing our eyes to previews available on the computer.  

It was especially thrilling when the first preview made its debut.   We had well-hewn visions in our heads for all the book characters, so we were keen to know how well a big Hollywood casting director would honor our imaginations.    We also brought vivid visions for the settings in the book and just had to know if this all was going to satisfactorily translate to the big screen.     Anticipation was high about how authentically the written word would be adapted to a fuller vision of the author’s work.  

I’m glad to say we aren’t disappointed.    It looks fantastically well-done and true to the written narrative.  It’s going to be epic.   Were we surprised that one of the main characters, a stylist named Cinna, is being played by rock star Lenny Kravitz?  Sure … but Cinna is a very soulful figure in the story’s very violent superficial world, and Kravitz certainly carries soul in his manner, his music and his acting (for anyone who saw the movie Precious, he played Nurse John).    Generally, everything we’ve seen in preview of this dramatic dystopian tale has served its purpose extremely well – our excitement has been built up along with our anticipation and impatience.  We cannot wait to experience the full release!

Today is Transfiguration Sunday.   For the universal Church, this means the Magi-cal season of epiphany is ending and the soul-searching, sin-wrestling season of Lent is quickly settling upon us.   We are moving from awe to ash.    We are entering is a designated time to give extra prayerful attention to the human misery such as is highlighted by The Hunger Games story.   We do so while waiting for the big, epic release of Easter.    We’ve celebrated the birth of Jesus in the world, celebrated His presence with gift giving, and now in Lent we are about to walk even more intentionally beside Jesus in his ministry to sin-sick souls.   We will do so on through the arduous end of his life and into the glorious Good News that will be released on April 8^th.  

The transfiguration account found in today’s lesson from Mark’s Gospel directly inaugurates our shift into Lent in a very potent way – by giving us a preview.

As with all good previews, we readers in the audience to this historic event are looking for authenticity as well as a build-up of excitement for the full big picture.   We are not disappointed, nor were the first disciples.   

What immediately strikes us in this stunning, dramatic preview is Jesus’ appearance.   We are told He had climbed a mountaintop with Peter, James and John.   Once there, we are then informed that the entirety of his sweaty, dirty, simple garb suddenly transformed into a vision of pure and dazzling white.    In case anyone ever asks you if the Bible mentions bleaching, point them to this text, for we are told that his clothes were brighter than any bleach on earth could accomplish!     

The purpose of this bizarre, brilliant display was to give Peter, James and John, and by extension, to give us, hope.    It’s a holy preview of the coming climax of all history … the time beyond all sinful suffering when all reality will be fully transformed by our Savior’s powerful, purifying light.   It’s a sneak peak of His ultimate purpose and eternal glory … a resplendent revelation of resurrection … an angelic adaptation of the Author of Life’s original plan.  

Up to this magnificent mountaintop point in time, God’s original plan for humanity was primarily known through the historic, poetic, wise and prophetic writings of the Old Testament.    Those first followers of Jesus had been students of this Scripture, and so they kept an ear open and kept watch for how His story developed from God’s word as they knew it best.    Given that they were under the oppressive thumb of the Roman Empire and the agitating Temple authorities, they needed every assurance that Jesus was authentically who He projected himself to be, that he was indeed the long-hoped for Messiah.    They had put their entire lives on the line for Him and the hope He represented.  

Peter, James and John received holy authentication on that day of Transfiguration.     It came not only in the form of the glorious glowing of Jesus, but also by both Moses and Elijah being present in this miraculous preview.    How exactly these two colossally important faith figures appeared in this vision will always be a holy mystery to us.     But what it meant to Peter, James and John on that mountaintop couldn’t be any clearer.   The presence of their greatness pointed the way to Jesus indeed being the only One to follow on the path to the full release of God’s plan of salvation.  It’s like they held a sign saying, “Pay attention to this preview, trust in its holy authenticity, let it fill you with hope for the journey, and the glory will come!” 

We read that this all so overwhelmed Peter (terrified him, really) that he momentarily lapsed into believing he could set up tents for Moses, Elijah and Jesus to camp out atop that mountain.    He got so lost in the moment he forgot it was all vision, all preview.    But when frightened, overwhelmed, and confused, don’t we also try to scramble for some measure of security?    Even if we some part of us knows it’s irrational?   

           

Peter had most likely found himself clinging to the security of a ritual from of one the Jewish Festivals, called the Feast of the Tabernacles.  This was when men and their sons spent time in temporary huts as a way of remembering the time Israel spent in the wilderness before being delivered to a promised land.     Perhaps this was Peter’s way of hoping and coping with the fact that the mountaintop experience wasn’t going to last … that it was going to be a wild, perilous journey with Jesus before one day being delivered into glory after Him.  

           

One of the tough truths about previews is that they are short.    My longed-for time in the futuristic world of The Hunger Games has so far been limited to two minutes and thirty-six seconds.     The preview of Christ’s final full release also unfolds swiftly.   Mark doesn’t give us to time to linger in it.    It quickly progresses from brilliant brightness to the frightening yet authenticating presence of Moses and Elijah.    And then, just when everything Peter, James and John ever hoped for was in view, it all got swiftly covered up by a great cloud.   

           

Fortunately, this cloud was likely not at all ominous to them.  It was another big and necessary part of the preview, for just as in Old Testament times, it was a reassuring manifestation of the Almighty that appeared in a time of confusion and fear.    Through the cloud, and in faith, they somehow heard holy words identifying Jesus as God’s Son, as the Beloved (the chosen one), whom they must listen to.  And then, just as suddenly as Jesus was transfigured and they were in the company of faithful legends, they were suddenly alone again with Jesus.  

           

The preview ends with Jesus descending from the mystical mountaintop experience.   He knew well it was not yet His time to stay aglow in glory.   Vital life-giving teaching, holy healing, and radical faith revolution had to take place during the time between preview and full release.    So He descended back into the ash-shaded world.    He came down, as one Bible commentator has nicely stated it, “into the mundane nature of everyday life … into the nitty-gritty details of misunderstanding, squabbling, disbelieving disciples … into the religious and political quarrels of the day … into the jealousies and rivals both petty and gigantic that color our relationships … down into the poverty and pain that are part and parcel of our life in this world.”[i]    Jesus came down to finish offering the preview to the Greatest Story Ever Told.

           

His disciples descended by his side.    After all of that overwhelming, mysterious revelation, however, they did so with a fresh and powerfully sustaining hope.   The unforgettable memory of the transfiguration would serve to sustain them as they learned from Jesus, obeyed his commandments, endured their own suffering in His name, and awaited the full release of resurrected life. 

           

Where are we today?  We can’t stay atop the mystical mountain with Jesus either.    We who have been baptized in His name and who commune together around His supper, have to watch for and trust in and serve Jesus down here.    By grace and through our faith, we’ll one day experience His full glory, be bathed in that greater-than-bleached blessed life.    Until then, may our faith journeys be guided by and find great hope in His potent mountaintop-projected preview.     Amen.

           

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[i] David Lose @ www.workingpreacher.org

I Cannot Walk In These

1 Samuel 17:31-40

          

            The tribal chief of a large unchartered territory in central Africa did not greet the man standing before him by saying, “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”    He instead stood there silently and expectantly, waiting for the nineteenth century Scottish medical missionary, explorer and evangelist to follow the local custom.    There would be no access to the vast territory until the chief was allowed to survey, choose and keep something from Dr. Livingstone’s personal belongings.    He would then give something of his own to the missionary in return.

            So clothing, books, a watch, and several other items from the doctor’s sparse possessions were spread out before the chief.    He also made available something he truly needed – a goat whose milk helped sooth the doc’s chronic stomach condition.    You can guess exactly what the chief wanted to keep.   Despite his dismay, and for the sake of the Gospel, Livingstone gave up the goat.    He then waited with high expectation that he’d be given something equally valuable in return.

            The chief gave him … a stick.   Well, more precisely, a walking stick.   The doctor’s bubble of expectation evaporated in bitter disappointment.  He couldn’t grasp how a walking stick could do anything for him compared to the goat that kept him well.    He felt angry – at the bum exchange and even at God.   But then a local tribesman offered a word of explanation.    The chief’s gift was not some wooden crutch whatsoever.  It was his very own scepter, the very item that made it possible to enter into every village in his vast territory.   Dr. Livingstone had presumed wrong.   He had not been cheated by the chief or by God.   He and his mission of expanding the Gospel had instead been very greatly honored and blessed.   

            When our expectations of others and of certain plans burst, a couple things can typically happen.   We can sink into resentful disappointment and despair over what we do not have.   We can trap ourselves inside a narrative about being cheated.   And most perplexing and unhealthy of all, we can fail to acknowledge and appreciate the significance of good and helpful things that have been provided for our benefit.     

            This all also applies to our faithful expectations.      We can easily get to griping about God failing to provide us something we felt sure we had need of, something we expected to be blessed with.    When caught up in this griping, we can then sadly lose sight of the good things and greater (though perhaps yet unknown) purposes of what God has given us already.

            Our scripture lesson today has to do with expectations.   It is from the familiar story of David, divinely anointed king of Israel in his youth, and the Philistine giant warrior, Goliath of Gath.    The Veggie Tales animated kids version of this story is the most entertaining … you just can’t beat the site and sound of Goliath as a giant pickle and David as an asparagus sprout!

            This is a heroic story.   We love it when our expectations are surprised and reversed as the little guy, the underdog, rises up to successfully beat the odds.    It gives us hope for the times we feel small and up against a wall.    And David – who according the Bible’s description was a beautiful-eyed, handsome, lyre-instrument playing shepherd boy – sure was in this jam when he chose to go up against the enormously sized and life-long trained enemy warrior.    

            What I find most inspiring and heroic, however, isn’t his remarkable and commonly recalled victory via a very accurate sling-shot of a wadi stone.   This was the method, but the integrity of the means is what most matters.   David glorified God and helped advance God’s good dominion simply by being true to himself.    He was true to who God created him to be and to God’s calling in his life.   He didn’t size up the task and then start some sort of radical, Rocky eating raw eggs and running up and down the Philly Art Museum routine to transform himself for the epic battle.   He didn’t puff himself up with pride and bravado intent on proving himself to his three older brothers.   He didn’t present himself as anyone or anything other than the faithful sheep corralling kid from Bethlehem, the youngest and least likely to fight son of Jesse.  

            How wonderful to have young David’s faith – to have such confidence and courage in yourself, in your God-given and blessed abilities, and in your steadfast belief that the power of God is your true strength and shield, the protector of your family and your people.    

             This inspiring portrait of young David is reinforced by what I find to be one of the most comical scenes in all of Scripture.  Again, he didn’t suffer the weight of expectations.  Until, that is, Israel’s King Saul placed some upon him.  Literally.     And these expectations did not fit.  It happened right after David argued before the king that his volunteering to take on Goliath wasn’t as crazy as it sounded.    His shepherding of sheep in Bethlehem fields also meant he had to fight off wild beasts.    He hadn’t just been lazing about strumming the lyre all night and day.   “Whenever a lion or bear came and took a lamb from the flock,” he explained, “I went after it and struck it down, rescuing the lamb … the Lord, who saved me from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear, will save me from the hand of this Philistine.”   For David, volunteering to do combat with this enormous enemy threat was really just an extension of his regular shepherding duties under the care of the Almighty.    

            His words were enough to convince the king to send him.    Saul stated his expectation that the Lord would be with David and then the king did something else in line with his expectations.  To fight Goliath, he expected David to wear the right protective gear.    So this is what he placed upon the lamb defending lad.    

            Here’s where it becomes a comical read to me.  Just picture a strong but smallish boy standing there outfitted in the adult-sized armor of a king.  Picture him with an oversized bronze helmet on his head, with a sword probably at long as he was tall strapped to him, and draped in chain mail.   It’d be a little like outfitting me with Brandon Jacobs uniform (you had to know I’d slip in some Super Bowl winning Giants reference in a story about a Giant).    David knew right away how ridiculous it was to try and be somebody else in this situation.   So he cast off the king’s expectations and bluntly declared, “I cannot walk in these.”   He then removed it all and walked ahead in his own skin and simple shepherding garb.   He knew he didn’t need all that added protection and garb of expectation … since his faithful expectation of God’s protection was more than enough!

            Everything that happened after that is what is most remembered in this historic, heroic story.    Sling. Thump. Surprise. Triumph.  The radical rite of passage for Israel’s divinely anointed future King complete.     Exciting stuff.   But may we never overlook the heart of the matter that prepared his heart and mind to faithfully lead the flock of Israel.   David’s crucial decision to go forth to the glory of God just by being his blessed self and by faithfully trusting in the good and helpful things God had provided for him means everything to this story.    

            How much time have you spent time getting to know who God intends you to be?   How intentional have you been about making time to assess your God-given giftedness and how this can help advance the Gospel even if others don’t expect it of you?   Every time you say the Lord’s prayer, do you deeply trust you will be delivered from evil?    Do you, and do we have together, faith enough to see simple things such as walking sticks and sling shots, shared prayers and modest budgets, kind words and helpful hands … as more than what we could ever possibly expect them to be in service to our Lord?   Amen.  

             

Believe and Be Confident

 Psalm 27

            A few years ago, I was blessed to see the Mary Poppins production that is still on Broadway.   The music, of course, was totally infectious and amazing.   The cast was stellar and the stagecraft exceeded all expectation.    What I loved the most were the many truly magical moments.  We need those now and again in life, don’t we?   For me, chief among such  moments is when Bert -- the chim-chiminey-chim-chiminey-chim-chim-cheree friend of Ms. Poppins -- taps and sings his way up the side of the stage then straight across the top of it.   At one point, he was tapping and singing on center stage fully suspended upside-down!   This stunt fully supports one of the musical’s central themes – anything can happen.

            As my mind replays that scene, I am inspired by the strong confidence British actor Gavin Lee had to have had to perform Bert so perfectly.   He had to have had strong confidence in himself, in the stage crew responsible for his harness, and in the producers for spending money on quality safety equipment.    I believe a lack of confidence would have showed and dimmed the shine of the dazzling production.

            Having confidence in yourself and in others is a rather big key to lots of things we do and to living an overall contented life.     Do you consider yourself a confident person?   A person who clings to intimate trust in particular truths about yourself, a special someone, other people and social systems in your life?  Even more to the point this morning, let me ask you this – are you confident in God’s care for you?

            The magnificent Psalm we just heard, rock solid #27, is a help and reminder for all of us to be completely confident in the caring, saving grace of our God.    Its fourteen verses can be broken out to help us more fully understand what this means.

            Verses 1 – 6 make up one of the strongest, most remarkable professions of faith in all of Scripture.   It is, I’ve discovered, the only place in the entire Old Testament where God is referred to as “my light.”   There are plenty of other general references to God as a great light.   Isaiah 9:2 comes to mind – “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.”  But none is so direct and intimate as we find in Psalm 27:1.    Instead of an entire nation, the spotlight falls on one single, special soul.   This soul has made the choice to live in faith rather than fear, to have complete confidence in the care of God.

            In this opening section, verse 3 has long been a personal favorite of mine.    I’ve read it to myself in many a precarious emotional moment and I’ve read it aloud on many pastoral visits.   “Though an army encamp against me,” it reads, “I shall not fear; though war rise up against me, I will be confident.”   Stated in the lighter, contemporary tone of biblical interpreter Eugene Peterson, it reads, “When I am besieged, I’m calm as a baby; when all hell breaks loose, I’m collected and cool.”   

            Like King David, the likely author of this Psalm, many folks I’ve known and cared for have been physically in a military war zone with real life enemies encamped around them.   Great is the power of recalling these holy words during such a time.    Other folks have lived in domestic war zones where emotional and physical violence encamped around them.   Great is the power of recalling these holy words during such a time.    

            As I’ve mentioned from time to time as part of my witness to the amazing grace of God, I grew up in an environment where every day and night I felt besieged by abusive words.  I lived with a good amount of fear.   Yet I have this special memory about how I used to hang sun-catchers on my bedroom windows throughout those growing years.  They were splendid, save for when the little suction cup thingy let loose, sending the catcher crashing down in the middle of the night.

             I also had this very special crystal-like tear drop a close friend gave me in high school.    In fact, I just found this while cleaning out closet space a few days ago.   I spent many hours staring at this, the way the sunlight would strike it and disperse itself into tiny fragments of hope all across my room and life.  Not having ever attended church, I didn’t have the faithful language then to say the Lord is my light … but I sure experienced divine presence.    I felt bathed in bright confidence … confidence in myself to survive and thrive and more importantly in something greater and beyond that would guide and deliver me.

            After verse 1-6 the language in the Psalm shifts subtly but significantly.   It’s a shift is from a broad profession of faith to a precise plea-filled prayer for help.   It shifts from speaking to us, as in “One thing I asked of the Lord” to speaking for us and directly to God, as in “Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud … do not hide your face from me … teach me your way … lead me on a level path.”   This is intense salvation language conveys a message of bold interior confidence that God will protect and deliver.  

            Can you recall a time when you cried out a similar sort of prayer?  Made a dramatic, faithful appeal to the Almighty?  How was it answered?  Were you lead from a valley or a rocky ridge to a level path? 

            By the time the Psalm moves into its final verses, everything shifts back to a more general profession of faith.  In a good way, it’s downright preachy.   It is personal witness and full-on exhortation rolled into one holy nugget – “I believe I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living … wait for the Lord, be strong, let your heart take courage!”

            That the powerful prayer song that is Psalm 27 ends with a command to wait on the Lord is not something to quickly gloss over when reading and meditating on it.  This is an invitation to return to your confidence in God time and time again, if not daily.  It’s an invitation to closely examine and re-examine where you place your most intimate, faithful trust and confidence.  If you are waiting for the Lord, you are believing in the Lord as your light and salvation.   Not just as a distant reality that happens at the time of death, but shining in the land of the living.    Where do you go to receive resplendent reassurance that God totally cares for you?

            Rev. Bill Davis, our Pastor Emeritus, and I both share a fondness for Celtic spirituality.    Evidence of this is found at the Celtic cross right outside the sanctuary door.   In general, this branch of Christian spirituality focuses on our having very personal and less formalized faith.   In a word, it’s more “folksy.”  It is strongly centered in the revelations of God’s light and love that are interwoven throughout nature, while at the same time guarding sacred mysteries.   

            I mention this in the context of Psalm 27 because this tradition has a helpful expression for where we go to find and re-find God’s light and life.   It speaks of “thin places.” 

            A “thin” place is both physical and metaphysical, earthbound as well as otherworldly.   It is a place where people go because they experience God as nearer there than in other locations.   It is a place where past, present and future are perceived as being very thinly divided.   According to one Presbyterian colleague, as this tradition grew from the fifth and sixth centuries and then out beyond actual locations around the Irish Sea, the phrase “thin place” came to encompass any “moments when the holy became visible to the eyes of human spirit … where a person is somehow able to encounter more ancient and eternal reality within the present time.”[i]

            Do you have at least one “thin place” in your life?   Every inch of nearby Camp Johnsonburg’s 400 acres works this way for me, especially the outdoor prayer labyrinth located in the middle of the woods.   

            I pray this sanctuary and all the ministry spaces of FPC fall into the “thin place” category for you.    When our building spaces and the time we spend in them giving time and talent are perceived in this way, they become centers of holy light and of growing spiritual confidence that the Lord cares for us all.   This same faithful perception can be oriented to your home and workplace as well.   “Thin places” help sustain our deepest most intimate confidence in the nearness of the Lord.   As I believe the Psalmist knew well, they transform all sorts of spaces and situations from being dark dens of despair into bright beacon-lit harbors of hope and salvation.  

            I wonder if hanging upside down, center stage, while singing and tapping is a thin place for Gavin Lee.   It sure would be for me!  I’d have the utmost confidence in God to keep me safely suspended by working through the good gifts of everyone involved in the entire production.   Say, come to think of it, this is quite a good illustration of how our church life should be in the divine production of our Lord’s light and salvation in the world.   So may the Lord first and foremost be the true confidence of all our lives, and of our life together as Fairmount Presbyterian Church, as Faithful People in Christ!  Amen.  

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[i] Rev. Dr. Agnes Norfleet, www.day1.net

Which Way Are We Dragging Divine Nets?

 Mark 1:14-20

                When’s the last time you felt like a day or an experience was just dragging along?   Were you at work?  Stuck in a traffic jam or some other long line?    I sure hope it wasn’t a recent time here in worship!     

            We speak of feeling like days and experiences are dragging because we know what it means to literally drag an object.   I very recently dragged this year’s beautiful six foot Christmas tree out of our home and down into the backyard woods.    Fortunately, I remembered it needed to be undecorated first.   

            Dragging – whether feeling it or doing it -- is part of life.  Though it can seem boring and burdensome to experience, it can also benefit our lives and our being part of community.   So when time seems to be moving slowly, it can also bring about the blessing of some extra rest or extra productivity.   That needle-dropping tree sure needed to be liberated from our living room and returned to its wooded home.   And long lines just might be the result of good safety measures.   

            I mention all this because I find it quite fascinating that Jesus’ very first disciples were professionals of the dragging process.    The one primary skillset they all had in common was one that Jesus knew would be most helpful to this divine purpose.     They were all skilled at dragging fishing nets.

            According to the Gospels, Jesus’s three year ministry happened all around the great freshwater lake in Galilee.    He was from this region.  He knew the vital importance of life on the shoreline and how the community had to intricately work together to support itself.   Fish was the staple diet of the people.    Catching fish was therefore very big business, business needed to feed and employ families as well as make a profit for the Roman Empire that ruled the land.       It really isn’t at all surprising that He first found fishermen to be his followers.    There were plenty of them!

            From what I’ve come to understand, one of the nets fisherman used in that day was a kind of trawl net.   It was let out from the end of boat and was weighted in a way that it sort of stood in the water.   When the boat moved forward, the nets four corners were drawn together.   In this way, it became like a big bag moving through water and enclosing fish.[i]  This process required of the fisherman a willingness to work long, hard hours on the water.   It required skill and patience and hope that the haul would be worth all the effort.    I suspect there were times when long days of dragging felt as if they were, well, dragging. 

            As we read in this morning’s lesson from the first chapter of Mark, Jesus first approached two sets of sibling fisherman – Simon (later called Peter) and Andrew, as well as James and John.   He did so to offer them a radical invitation.   He invited them to leave their livelihood behind and start a new vocation.   He asked in a way that exhorted them to do so immediately.    No two week notice.  No checking with their families first.    Immediately.   There is more to this historical experience than Mark is telling us, but the point is they indeed dropped their nets and got immediately caught up in what Jesus asked of them.    We have to wonder what was so very compelling that they would make such a big, life-altering decision.

            Mark’s Gospel indicates they did so because they faithfully believed Jesus’ proclamation that the Kingdom of God was at hand.   To fully understand what the biblical meaning of the “Kingdom of God” is we’d honestly all have to sit and have a lengthy class of study together.    It’s really good seminary lecture stuff.    For our limited time together here this morning in worship, I find it most helpful to point out that this does not refer to a place but a way of living.    It’s not a cloudbank up above with gold-bricked streets and a gorgeous castle with a dazzling-crowned King Jesus just sitting around waiting to be served.

            Jesus’ bold invitation was to follow His radically active and different kind of reign.    Instead of dragging fishing nets, He asked his first disciples to drag a divine net.  Not to entrap people as we might immediately come to think.    Not to force people into being the oppressed subjects of a self-serving empire such as was true for so many of God’s children living under the thumb of the Roman Empire.   Jesus words and actions, His Lordship, focused instead on liberation from the sin that creates institutional injustice.   

            The divine net He asked his disciples to take up was for the purpose of catching more and more children of God up in long-promised holy plans for love, peace, hope, justice and redemption.

            Jesus asked because He was the flesh and bone fulfillment of this promised peaceable dominion.   With their hard work ethic and their faithful hopes of a better life for their families and all the kin of their historic faith, those first fisherman needed no second prompting from Jesus.  They did not drag themselves into this new way of life. 

            How are we modern day disciples doing with our dragging of the divine net?  What are we doing to stay caught up in the holy kingdom living of our Lord?   How much are we doing to catch others up in the loving, just, hope-filled, redeeming way of life?    Are we dragging with joyful immediacy in every moment, believing Christ is truly present among us and indeed reigns over all the sin and evil of our world?   Or are we dragging our feet, passively and unproductively waiting on the reign of Christ to just happen sometime in a distant future?  

            Earlier this week, I read a compelling article on discipleship and church life today by Professor David Lose of Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota.   Church is, as I’ve always understood it, where we gather together to be in the boat and learn how to cast the divine net of peace, hope, love and justice in Christ.   The professor lifts up the sobering reality that church participation continues its past 40 years of being in decline.   Of the many studies on this topic – and I do try hard to keep up with the reading – he points to one particular reason why the immediacy of discipleship, of casting out kingdom living in this world, is dragging.    He writes,

            “We’ve moved from an age of duty – where you do things because you know you’re supposed to – to the age of discretion – where, nearly overwhelmed with choices about how to spend your time, you exercise discretion based on how it helps you make sense of and get the most out of your life.”

            He then boils his point down further to say, “Attending church isn’t a cultural given anymore and there are a whole lot more options on how you might profitably spend your Sunday morning.” [ii] 

            Since I agree with this based on my past fourteen years of ordained ministry, let me immediately say how grateful I am that all of you have gathered here this morning!   Especially on a day when two beautiful new disciples in this family boat that is FPC have been welcomed by the waters of baptism.    As to how we all might be an even more positive, productive holy fishing crew together to help offset the decline in dragging the divine net of peace and justice, here are three things we can focus on.  These are based on a book I’m currently reading and discussing with colleagues in Newton Presbytery called From the Outside In, Connecting to the Community Around You.

            First, we need to become even more fully immersed in mission.    This means that we keep our focus foremost on what the reign of Jesus we are taught by Mark’s Gospel is all about.  Namely, “bringing healing, liberation, and renewal”[iii] to more and more people’s lives.  This involves our remaining active with and adding to our social justice ministries such as IHN, ASP and Open Cupboard, and it also means seeing our everyday ordinary actions and interactions in kingdom context.

            Second, we should take even more seriously our role as witnesses to the Way of Jesus within our culture.   This should be a holistic endeavor, not a narrow and programmatic one.  How are we salt and light for one another in this congregation?  In our neighborhoods?  In our places of work and recreation?    We should be willing to “add the flavor of the Gospel to daily dialogue … therefore enhancing the human experience of God.”[iv]

            Third and finally, for this morning anyway, we need to keep focused on ministry being the calling of every person in the church.   We are all in the boat working to cast forth Christ vision and action -- ordained Ministers of Word and Sacrament, ordained Elders and Deacons, faithful laypersons, worship and prayer chain participants, folks who donate time and talent in a myriad of small ways.   All of us need to energetically and resourcefully pool together to expand the focus of ministry to “every issue within the human experience” and for the purpose of “reflecting the concern of Jesus that all person may have life in abundance.”[v]

            The dragging process of being disciples of Jesus is a necessary, beautiful, positive, productive gift to the world.   It may well feel burdensome at times, but I find is a healthy indicator of passionate, dedicated work being done.   It may well lead to feeling bored and stuck at other times, but I find this is always a spiritual summons to promptly pick-up and cast the good divine net further.    Jesus keeps urgently commanding we follow, for the Kingdom of God is in the holy of right now.    May we do so with fresh energy, faithful imagination, strong ropes of hope, and above all, abundant and immediate demonstrations of divine love.   Amen.  

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[i] William Barclay, commentary on the Gospel of Mark from the Daily Bible Series

[ii] http://www.workingpreacher.org/dear_wp.aspx?article_id=546

[iii] http://wwwstaff.murdoch.edu.au/~loader/MkEpiphany3.htm

[iv] From the Outside In, by Ronald W. Johnson, p.22.

[v] ibid.