John The Baptist, Coming Up

For the next two Sundays we’ll be hearing about, and from, John the Baptist. His fierce appearance and fiercer message seem so out of place in our time, when we approach Christmas with “holiday cheer”. So the lectionary reminds me that the we do not prepare for Christ the same way we prepare for Christmas, and that it’s the Word of God not the Word of Walmart that defines that preparation.

This Sunday’s reading is Luke 3:1-6. This is Luke’s description of John (John’s message itself will be the subject of the December 13 sermon) and here’s what struck me about it:

• Luke piles on the historical markers: “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judea, and Herod being tetrarch of Galilee, and his brother Philip tetrarch of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas…”  Luke could have more simply said “in the 15th year of Tiberius’ reign” and left out Pilate, Herod, Philip, etc. But instead he piles on the historical markers. Why? I’ll say more about this on Sunday, but for now I just want to point out that Luke is doing something here. This piling on is intentional. What’s the intention?
• Luke continues: “the word of God came to John the son of Zechariah” – something about this rang a bell with me, but I had to do some research before it became clear. I think this is an instance where a reference can go completely unnoticed in our culture, while it would have set off alarms in the ears of at least some of Luke’s hearers. So here’s some homework for you – compare Luke 3:1-2 with
  • Jeremiah 1:1
  • Ezekiel 1:1-2
  • Hosea 1:1
  • Joel 1:1
  • Jonah 1:1
  • Micah 1:1
  • Zephaniah 1:1
  • Haggai 1:1
  • Zechariah 1:1
    • what parallels and echoes do you see?
• Luke continues to describe John by quoting Isaiah 40. Question about “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight”: is this a command to all who follow Jesus, something we should be doing this time of year? Or is this a description of John the Baptist, a unique preparer for Christ?
• In Luke’s quote of Isaiah 40, who’s doing what? Who’s the subject of these verbs?

Good stuff. Let’s see what He’ll make of it for this Sunday!

March 15 – Jesus Cleanses The Temple

The gospel reading for this coming Sunday is John 2:13-22, the account of Jesus’ cleansing the Temple. Note that it’s one of the very few accounts related by all four gospels, though John adds his own spin and details.  For example, John alone mentions the sheep and oxen; John alone mentions Jesus making a whip; John alone records Jesus challenge about “destroy this Temple”, which, by the way, is a command (“do it”), not a subjunctive (“if you destroy”).

Most interesting to me is the slightly different explanation Jesus gives for his actions. In Matthew, Mark and Luke (the Synoptic gospels) with very slight variations, Jesus is quoted as saying “My house shall be called a house of prayer, but you make it a den of robbers.” (Mt. 21:13; Mk. 11:17; Lu. 19:46). In John, Jesus says “Take these things away; you shall not make my Father’s house a house of trade.”

John also includes Jesus’ challenge to the ruling authorities – “destroy this Temple and in three days I will raise it up.” While this is a key to understanding the cleansing of the Temple, this coming Sunday I want to ponder further the difference in Jesus’ quotations noted above. Is he objecting to the corruption (“den of robbers”), or is he objecting to the commerce, the buying & selling itself (“house of trade”)? Does it make any difference? And how would either “take” apply to us today?

More thoughts on Sunday – come get it live!

Is Jesus In Charge Or Not?

A few weeks ago I preached on the calling of the disciples in Mark 1 – wondering how the disciples could just drop everything and follow Jesus. The point in that sermon was that the disciples’ response had little to do with their interior attitude, psychology, etc., but everything to do with the fact that Jesus creates what he commands. He tells the storm to shut up, it does; he tells evil spirits to come out, they do; he tells a little girl to rise from the dead, she does. He creates what he commands.

But even back then a little voice was saying to me “are you sure you wanna say that?” Something gave me some reservation – and lo and behold, here in this coming Sunday’s gospel reading is an instance where Jesus commands – and the opposite happens! Mark 1:40-45 – Jesus heals a leper, then

“Jesus sternly charged him and sent him away at once, and said to him, “See that you say nothing to anyone, but go, show yourself to the priest and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, for a proof to them.” But he went out and began to talk freely about it, and to spread the news, so that Jesus could no longer openly enter a town, but was out in desolate places, and people were coming to him from every quarter. Mark 1:43-45 (ESV)

In this case, Jesus commands, and it was NOT so.

So what do you make of this? I suppose Arminians could use this as an example of people’s free will to obey Jesus or not. But then, is Jesus in charge? And what do we Reformed-theology types make of this?

I want to address this in this coming Sunday’s sermon – your comments, thoughts, etc. would be welcome. I promise not to quote you without your permission!

Jan. 25 – Mark 1

Jesus’ call of the first disciples in the gospel of Mark is the lectionary reading for this coming Sunday. Spare and lean, Mark gives no details about the call of Peter and Andrew, James and John; nothing about their internal psychological states; nothing about their virtues or vices. The way Mark paints it, Jesus simply comes by, calls them, they drop everything and go.

Until recently I’d seen this as just a rough depiction of the calling, a barebones sketch that’s filled out by other gospel writers. Now, I’m thinking that Mark knows what he’s doing; that this leanness of depiction is intentional; that the calling is, simply put, a stark demonstration of Jesus’ authority. Throughout the gospel of Mark, when Jesus speaks it was so, and thus he demonstrates his authority:

• 1:22 Jesus teaches (speaks) and people are astonished at his authority
• 1:24 Jesus speaks to a man with an unclean spirit “Be silent, and come out of him” and it was so
• 1:41 Jesus speaks to a man wit leprosy “Be clean”, and it was so
• 2:11 Jesus tells a paralytic to rise, pick up his bed, and go home, and it was so
• 4:41 Jesus commands the windstorm to be still, and it was so
• 5:8 Jesus commands Legion to come out, and it was so
• 5:41 Jesus commands “Talitha cumi”, and the dead is raised
• 7:37 Jesus sighs “Ephphatha, and the deaf hear
• 9:22 Jesus commands a mute spirit, and the dumb speak

It goes on: when Jesus speaks, he demonstrates his authority. Or to put it another way, Jesus creates what he commands. As in “let there be light”, as in “Lazarus, come out”, the words effect what they require. Jesus creates what he commands.

The calling of the first disciples, then, is NOT about the disciples – what was in their heart, whether they had heard Jesus preaching before, their complete willingness to drop everything. It IS about Jesus and his authority, an authority that creates what it commands.

So what? I think waay too often we assume that “it’s all about me”. We can get all balled up trying to discern our call, hear our call, wonder if we’re being called, or if we’re good enough to be called, or ready to be called, or willing to be called. Know what? It’s not all about me. It’s about Jesus Christ, who creates what he commands. As he gives me a new heart, so he creates willing disciples. Trusting that means I can stop worrying if I’m good enough or able enough, and just go where he leads, because he creates the disciples he demands.

Wise Men Do NOT Still Seek Him

Last Sunday we observed Epiphany, with the gospel reading from Matthew 2 re the “wise men” coming to Christ.  Seems to me that the idea that “Wise Men Still Seek Him” is not only wrong, but dangerously so. For three reasons:

1 – Matthew, a most Jewish gospel writer, would never have seen the magi as wise. According to the OT, they were condemned as sorcerers and practictioners of occult arts. They read tea leaves and tarot cards, not the Bible. I believe translating “magi” as “wise men” imports an idea that Matthew would not have meant. His point was that Jesus draws all kinds of folks, even pagans – not that these pagans were wise.

2 – Most “wise men” today don’t seek Jesus.  When you think of “wise” folks today, where are they? Academia. Think tanks. Places which, not coincidentally, are also full of materialists, atheists, scoffers. “Wise” people today are not, like Matthew’s magi, going way out of their way to find Jesus; not offering their gifts to him for his service, not risking themselves by not cooperating with the political powers that be. I’m overgeneralizing, but you get my point. A few Wise men may be seeking Jesus, but by and large the wise are seeking Jesus no more than fools are.

3 – There is a real danger in thinking that Wise Men Still Seek Him, a danger referred to not by Matthew but by Paul. Check 1 Corinthians 1:18-31 – God chose the FOOLISH things of the world to shame the WISE…so that no one may boast. Paul is pointing to why Wise Men Still Seek Him is spiritually dangerous – it subtly leads to boasting and a kind of pride. I understand it this way – if we believe Wise Men Still Seek Him, it’s just a tiny step to thinking that we seek him because we’re wise; we seek him because we’re virtuous, we seek him because we’re good. Isn’t that the pitch with Wise Men Still Seek Him? If you’re smart, savvy, with it, you’ll seek him too. And lo and behold, it’s no longer about Him but about us; not about his brightness but about our wisdom and perceptiveness. Dangerous stuff…

The magi came to Jesus not because they were wise, but because his light shone on them and they followed it.  So the question for us is not “Are you wise” but “have you seen His light?” Big difference in how we see ourselves, and how we see Him.

Philippians Sermon Series Starts Soon!

I enjoyed the last series on Daniel so much, I want to do another. So starting in October, we’ll walk through Paul’s letter to the Philippians. The series will go thru November and take us right up to Advent. Here’s the schedule of readings:

October 5: 1:1-11

October 12: Guest Speaker

October 19: 2:1-11

October 26: 2:12-18

November 2: 3:1-11

November 9: Guest Speaker

November 16: 3:12-4:1

November 23: 4:10-23

November 30: ADVENT BEGINS

$71,983,000

Last Sunday I preached on Daniel 7. The four beasts in Daniel’s vision are symbolic of human rule or government (they arise “from the earth”), and the four seem progressively worse as they appear. At least, the 4th is the worst, but all the rest are bad, perversions of God’s creation. The conclusion I drew was, more or less, that all human government is corrupt, tending toward violence and inhumanity (beastliness). Including ours.

That was a bit hard for me to say, as I’m a Republican, a patriot, a lover of my country. But, as I said in the sermon, the question isn’t “how are we” compared to the Third Reich or Communist China; the question is “how are we” in the eyes of God? Can we see ourselves, as a nation, as corrupt? (easy for lefties!)

Something jumped up and down in my mind as I remembered a P-D article from some time ago. After hunting around the ‘net for a while, I found what I recalled. $71,983,000 – that, according to the Missouri Gaming Commission, is the Adjusted Gross Receipts for the four St. Louis area casinos FOR THE MONTH OF MAY 2008. Nearly $72 million, playing, in one month. This does NOT include admissions or meals. It’s gross receipts from games & devices, LESS WINNINGS PAID TO WAGERS.

We can think of nothing better to do with $72 million a month? And how would this look in the eyes of God? Can anyone say “Matthew 25?”

For more financial information see the Missouri Gaming Commission website, or just go here: http://www.mgc.dps.mo.gov/rb_fin_nav/mo_mkt_anal_nav.htm

July 6, 2008 – Daniel 6

Daniel 6, the “lion’s den” story, is one of the most well known and well used – in Sunday School and through the ages. The sermon this coming Sunday will be focussed on just a couple of items from among many that could be gleaned from this text.

1. The main issue is not “will Daniel get eaten by the lions”; the main question is “will Daniel pray to Darius”?
2. I’m so struck that all these stories in Daniel 1-6 are about living faithfully in exile. Mainline Christians in North America have not been in exile, but I think we may be getting there, living in a culture that’s becoming increasingly strange and possibly hostile. Anyway, one of the points about Daniel praying not to Darius but to God while facing Jerusalem is that Daniel will not forget where he’s from. He will not be co-opted by exilic cultural values. He will wear Babylonian clothes and speak the Babylonian language, but when it comes to where the roots of life lie, Daniel refuses to forget that ‘this world is not my home’.
3. Consequently, while I’m a patriot, it seems appropriate on this coming July 4 weekend to say that if we think we’re Christians because we’re Americans, we have it bass-ackward; if we think our political system guarantees our religious freedom, we have it bass-ackward. If we think we’re Americans first and Christians second, we’re cutting ourselves off from the only protection we have from human systems that are inevitably corrupt.

June 22, 2008 – Daniel 5

Daniel 5, the famous “handwriting on the wall” story, is the text for this coming Sunday. Like every other chapter of Daniel, it’s full of potential preaching themes, and I have to make some choices as to which to take up. So one question I’d have of you, dear posting one, is: if you chose one idea or theme from Daniel 5, what would it be?

Right now I’m heading in the direction of “judgment”. Daniel 5 is the story of the end of the Babylonian empire, the end of Belshazzar’s reign. It’s a story of incredible arrogance and blasphemy; Nebuchadnezzar had also been arrogant and blasphemous, but Belshazzar takes it to new heights, and in chapter 5 God will have no more of it. The message of the chapter, I think, is the message on the wall, written by the finger of God, and would be a seemly message for a sermon: mene, mene (doubled for emphasis)/tekel/parsin.

As in many other places in Daniel, scholars have several interpretations of these words. Apparently the words are open to more than one level of meaning. On a superficial level, the words are units of money: mina/shekel/half (half mina? half shekel?). Moreover, they are nouns. Daniel interprets them more deeply, however, making the words verb forms (something like participles): numbered/weighed/divided. Or, as another interpreter has put it: God has paid out/you are too light/Persia! Belshazzar doesn’t know it, but he’s a dead man walking; same could be said for his entire empire.

For reasons why, note the story’s emphasis not just on Belshazzar’s partying on the eve of destruction – he’s partying with the goblets taken from the Jerusalem Temple by Nebuchadnezzar. It’s like spitting on God. But I think it’s more than just this one act. This one act is a result of a long series of acts. In any case, in chapter 5, time’s up for Babylon. And it’s God who’s calling a halt to it.

So, in preaching on this text to us 21st century North Americans – is time up for us? Without being too apocalyptic, I wonder. Thinking about Belshazzar’s use of the Temple goblets for his own partying, using holy things for unholy purposes – I wonder about parallels in our time. What about trophy Bibles, gathering dust on the shelf or coffee table? What about using worship for entertainment? What about times at communion when we’re more concerned with using napkins than with the body and blood of our Lord?

I have a lot more to think about at this stage, but this is the general direction I’m heading right now. Jesus, of course, had a lot to say about judgment. But things are different after the cross than before it. So here’s my question for you: what’s the same about OT judgment and NT judgment? And what’s different?

June 1, 2008 – Daniel 1

This is the start of an eight week series from Daniel. Early on it became apparent to me that I couldn’t take just a few verses to preach from. The first 6 chapters are stories, each taking a whole chapter. So starting this Sunday we’ll be reading only one Scripture reading, and that being a chapter from Daniel.

Chapter 1 is an introduction to the entire book.  Daniel’s taken into captivity, trained up and educated by the Babylonians, decides eating the king’s food would defile him, then finds a way to maintain his purity while not confronting the king or the powers that be.  At the end of chapter 1, Daniel winds up pleasing both God and man.

Several things strike me about Daniel 1:

• however metaphorical we want to get, we white middle class north Americans are NOT in exile. As a middle aged white guy, this story of exile speaks to me as I consider this society and how increasingly strange it’s becoming to me. But even that’s a far cry from being a “stranger in a strange land”, and having to deal with an overtly hostile culture (as Christians are doing in other parts of the world today). But even though the text may not relate directly to my life situation, I can still learn from it about the ways of God.
• If you think of Daniel as a prophet (and it’s not clear that the ancient Israelites did), it’s strange that Daniel doesn’t confront the heathen Babylonian king. Jeremiah, Amos, Isaiah, Hosea – all took a head-on confrontational approach in speaking to the powers that be. But not Daniel. At least, not in chapter 1. Here Daniel is submissive (what a dirty word in our world!) – he asks permission to fast from Babylonian meat, he doesn’t go public with a hunger strike, he doesn’t insist on his “rights” but rather on his purity. He’s not “going along to get along”; but he is finding ways to maintain his relationship with God (purity) and with the king (politics).  In chapter 1 God blesses this effort.

In the commentaries I’ve read, there’s been no consensus about exactly why Daniel won’t eat the meat from the king’s table. Some say Daniel’s keeping kosher – but kosher rules don’t apply to wine, which Daniel also abstains from. Others say it’s because the food has been offered to idols – but Daniel has no problem eating the vegetables. Perhaps we’re not getting all the details here. Perhaps it’s not important to know precisely WHY Daniel abstained, but that he did – he drew a line and said “beyond this I won’t go”. Have I ever done that? Have you?

May 18, 2008 – Trinity Sunday – Mt. 28:16-20; 2 Cor. 13:11-13

This coming Sunday is one of the few in the Protestant lectionary cycled that’s devoted to a doctrine rather than to an event in salvation history. The readings are chosen because they reflect the Trinity – Jesus names them in Matthew 28, Paul’s benediction does too.

The word “Trinity” doesn’t appear in the Scripture. The doctrine itself was formulated in the early 3rd century in response to the charge that Christians were not monotheists, and to help explain how Jesus was divine.

Here’s my question for any who wish to help me write this Sunday’s sermon: what difference does the Trinity make to you? Or has it made any real difference in your daily walk?

Daniel – Summer 2008

Here’s the ad for this summer’s series on Daniel – in Word format:

daniel3

Summertime OT Series

For the last few weeks I’ve been asking our folks in worship to let me know which OT book they’d like to hear a series on. There’s been a smattering of responses – Genesis, Esther, Psalms – but it looks like Daniel is the one most requested.

So starting in June we’ll have a series on Daniel which I expect to run through the summer (with some Sundays off for 150th Anniversary guest preachers and a couple of Sundays when I’m out of town).  Right now I’m thinking that instead of 3 scripture readings on Sunday, we’ll have a responsive psalm, then one somewhat longer reading from Daniel. The entirety of chapter 1 for example. I’d like us to get further into the book than little snippets here and there. Plus, the first half of the book consists of stories (the lion’s den, the fiery furnace, etc.) and I don’t see how we can do justice to these stories without reading them in their entirety. Same with the second half of Daniel, which consists of apocalyptic visions.

Of course I want to encourage people to read Daniel in its entirety – it’s not that long, just 12 chapters. But what else can we do to immerse people and encourage them to study? E.g.

• have the text printed in the bulletin
• encourage people to bring their Bibles and follow along in the reading and preaching
• have a “Daniel memorization” contest for the youth
• publish “Daniel trivia” – e.g. common phrases that come from Daniel, like “feet of clay” and “the handwriting’s on the wall”
• have a real lion on church on Sunday – what an idea, we’re facing real danger not just little annoying kitties…

Your thoughts, ideas and comments would be appreciated!

May 4, 2008 Ascension Sunday – Luke 24:44-53; Acts 1:1-11

The Ascension of Christ is not something I grew up with, so perhaps for mainliners it’s just one of those esoteric Christian details that we can live just fine without, thank you. But in my reading and preparation for this coming Sunday I’m seeing three aspects of the Ascension that are important for us.

1. The Ascension means the restoration of the glory that the Son had before the Incarnation. It’s the return of Christ to sit at the right hand of the Father from when he REIGNS. Therefore it’s not just a human guy Jesus we remember and admire when he walked the earth once upon a time. It’s the risen and reigning Christ in glory that we worship.

2. The Ascension is the glorification of human nature in a way that had not happened before. Note well that the Word did not “unbecome” flesh – Jesus didn’t shuck off his “mortal coil” but transformed it into a spiritual body, and ascended into heaven with that body. In this way he points to our own destiny: not just heaven but a “new heaven and a new earth”; not just spirits but spirits with spiritual bodies. The “pioneer and perfecter of our faith” shows us our path and destiny in the Ascension.

3. The Ascension is the start of a reign that had not existed in that form before. Certainly the Word was at creation and all things were made through him. But not until the Ascension did the Word, still in the “new creation” flesh, begin its ministry of intercession for us. He intercedes with the Father on our behalf.

I think all of this flies in the face of modernism, which assumes it’s all pretty much up to us; that there is no operating sovereignty.  In that view, Jesus left us and gee we admire him, and want to help him out as best we can (or have time for!), and we sure hope it all comes out alright. But the Ascension teaches that Jesus is the glorified Christ who rules, reigns, prepares a place for us, and actually prays for us. That alone boggles my mind, that the glorified One who broke the bars of hell and death, is now pulling for me.

Often at night before I go to bed I keep Jesus in my prayers. What a different mindset to meditate on the fact that I’m in his prayers.

March 30, 2008 – John 20:19-31

The gospel reading for this Sunday is the third in a 3-part series of resurrection appearances in John 20: Peter and John at the empty tomb; Mary Magdalene; Thomas and the other disciples.

Thomas is named two other times in John, and neither pictures Thomas negatively. I don’t think his reaction in John 20 (“unless I see the mark of the nails…”) should be taken negatively either. In my Easter sunrise sermon, I took these three responses to the resurrection as relating to evangelism: John believes on the merest of evidence; Mary Magdalene believes when Jesus calls her name; Thomas believes when he sees the wounds. John seems to be pointing up that people come to belief in different ways, and therefore evangelism is not a “one size fits all” kind of thing. John needs the slightest evidence (perhaps a logical proof?), while Mary needs to be known and loved, and Thomas needs to see the wounds. In all cases, the point or aim is belief (John 20:31) but that belief is arrived at in different ways. I think it would be well for churches and Christians to consider what type of person they’re evangelizing (a John, a Mary, a Thomas) and tailor the message accordingly.

This coming Sunday I’ll be trying to relate this story of Thomas to the 3:16 campaign. The theme for this Sunday is God’s love (the first in Max Lucado’s summary “He loves, he gives, we believe, we live). One direction I’m thinking of is that the love of God, unlike human love, is strong enough to bear the scars of loving us. (love “bears all things, endures all things”). When I consider the cross, it comes to my mind that it cost Jesus something to love me. That cross, and the remembrance of his wounds, does not leave me frozen in guilt, however, or despairing about my own sinfulness. Instead, the cross reminds me of the magnificent strength and durability of God’s love. Therefore it makes me less afraid.

On a different note, here’s one place I disagree with Lucado. His take in his 3:16 book is that 1) you can’t win God’s love; 2) you can’t lose God’s love; 3) you can resist God’s love. I’m quite in agreement with #1 and #2, but since I’m predestined to be a Calvinist I quibble with #3. Classic Reformed theology holds that God’s grace is irresistible.

In the short run, we all resist God’s grace and love. Biblical examples abound: Moses, Jeremiah, Peter, Paul, etc. But in the long run God’s grace cannot be resisted.

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,Isaiah 55:10-11 (ESV)

If God’s grace can be resisted, then He may fail. If He may fail, why bother with faith?

Your thoughts are welcome in all this – the sermon isn’t written yet!

March 16, 2008 – Palm Sunday, John 3:16, Mt. 21:1-11

This Sunday will be the beginning of our 6 week campaign and sermon series on John 3:16. It’s going to be interesting because I’ve never preached 6 sermons in a row on one text. And I’ve never tried to relate John 3:16 to Palm Sunday. Do they relate?

Over the years I’ve tended to see Palm Sunday as a display of people’s misunderstanding of Jesus and what he’s up to. In many churches it’s a Sunday when the “C&E” Christians come to warm up for Easter. They skip Holy Week, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday – they skip the blood and passion of Christ and go from Palm Sunday hoopla to Easter whoopee. I see that in the Palm Sunday text itself – people expecting a triumphant Messiah, waving palms and singing, only to run when the blood hits the fan.

I’m coming to see Palm Sunday differently now. When I see that Jesus is aware of all this and comes anyway, I realize that my/our misunderstanding of him and his mission is no obstacle to him and his mission. For me that’s the real triumph of Palm Sunday. Jesus accepts our faulty and misguided praises and parades. He does not let them deter him from his purpose. And in doing so it transforms my awareness of what he’s doing. Way too often I put too much pressure on myself to “get it” – to understand, to be right, to be clear. Jesus needed none of that when he rode into Jerusalem. He does not depend on my right understanding, my right praise (that’s what “orthodox” means BTW – right praise), my anything. In seeing that, I’m relieved of the burden of being right and can depend more on His being right. So let the Palms wave. Let the “hosanna’s” ring. No matter how long we study or follow, we will never capture his glory, his goodness, completely. It will always be “in part”. But he can take my partial understanding and work through it to display his power and majesty – that works through “jars of clay” to reveal the true treasure.

This Sunday I’m going to be using John 3:16 as an answer to why Jesus does Palm Sunday. Why does he go through all this – the Palm Sunday pomp & circumstance? The mistaken pretensions of people who think they’re worshiping because they show up? The flogging, the humiliation, the pain, the cross? Why? From what motivation? For what purpose? John 3:16…

For those of you reading this, I’d appreciate your thoughts – on Palm Sunday, on John 3:16, and how they relate.

More on Palm Sunday

From one of my previous Palm Sunday sermons:

Do you notice that amid all the clamor of the first Palm Sunday and all the crowds shouting “Hosanna”, and their attempts to make him King – that Jesus makes no acceptance speeches?Throughout Palm Sunday Jesus says nothing at all. Later, amid the clamor of the crowds shouting “Crucify”, Jesus makes no rebuttal. He says nothing at all.

Amid all the noise and hoopla of human life, the celebrations and degradations, Jesus is not distracted from his purpose – neither by the admiration nor the condemnation of people. He is not detoured from his mission by the shifting hearts of human beings.  He’s going to do what he’s going to do not because of anything we shout or say or because of anything we do, but because of who he is.

And that’s something to shout about.

March 2, 2008 – John 9:1-41

John 9:1-41: Jesus heals a man born blind. One of the things that struck me as central in this story is the fact that this man was born blind. His blind birth is referred to 6 times in these 41 verses (1, 2, 3, 19, 20, 32). Verse 32 specifically highlights this fact. So why is that important? What’s the big deal about his being born blind? I think it’s a sign of rebirth. As the man was born blind, it was his nature to be blind (like we say “God made me this way”). It’s not that he lost his sight and Jesus restored it. Blindness was part of who the man was. So when Jesus gave him sight, he was changing the man’s nature; he was changing who the man was. This, I think, was the engine of the debate that followed. A magician or healer could restore sight. Only God can give it. When Jesus gave him sight, the man was re-born.

Hence the idea in my sermon that there are two kinds of blindness: physical and spiritual. We can overcome the first; only God can overcome the second.

Isn’t this a picture of our condition? Being born spiritually blind, then given sight to see the Light by the power of the Light? Just as we are naturally born spiritually dead, and given life by the power of the Life.

So why do you think the religious authorities of the day were so adamant that either:

• this couldn’t really happen (the man wasn’t really born blind)
• the one who did it was of the Devil?

March 9 2008 – John 11:1-45

The gospel reading for this Sunday is another long one – the raising of Lazarus. This powerful passage raises so many questions in my mind, some of which don’t necessarily help me understand the text (e.g. why is this story only in John? Did Matthew, Mark & Luke miss is? Consider it unimportant? – at this point in my life questions like that are vaguely interesting but basically I don’t care!). Other questions that the text practically screams to be asked:

• When Jesus heard that his friend Lazarus was ill, why did he wait two days before going to him?
• When Jesus is met outside of town by Martha, why does he wait there and make Mary come out to him?
• Does the raising of Lazarus mean that Mary & Martha will experience two bereavements, pay for two funerals?

While there are answers to these questions, they’re worth considering and making the subject of your prayers.

One question that I’ve spent time on in past sermons is – why does Jesus weep? Consider that in the gospel of John, Jesus is in charge. Jesus is in control. He lays down his life and takes it up again. It may strike us strange, then, that this kind of Jesus weeps – since we tend to think of emotional displays as a matter of losing control. Did Jesus lose control when he wept?

Over the years I’ve read three explanations for why Jesus wept:

1. He’s expressing grief at the unbelief around him. He knows that life is coming and that some will not believe and so he grieves for them. There’s something to this, but if it’s the case I wonder why Jesus didn’t weep when Nicodemus came at night, when the rich young ruler turned away, when the disciples don’t understand what he’s saying. I think there’s truth in this answer, but I think there’s more to it.
2. He’s showing he’s human, expressing the pain of losing a friend. The text does say, twice for emphasis, that Jesus was “greatly disturbed”. Similarly to the waters of baptism, then, the water of his tears display his humanness. Again, there’s truth in this answer, but for some reason I still think there’s more.
3. He’s showing “how he loved him”. Jesus’ tears are a sign of love, that love is not a way around pain or to avoid pain, but is the way thru pain.

These are all good, worthy answers – but what strikes me now is a key element I think is behind each of these answers. It has to do with Jesus being in charge, with Jesus setting the agenda. He’s not going to the tomb wondering how it’s all going to turn out! He’s knows what’s going to happen, even before he leaves for Bethany. Jesus knows he’s going to raise Lazarus back to life as surely as we know the sun will rise tomorrow. Yet he weeps!? If you knew for a fact you’d be seeing grandma tomorrow, would you be weeping at her funeral today? What sense does that make? Then it hit me – Jesus weeps because he chooses to. He’s not overcome by feelings, he’s not breaking down into tears. He chooses to weep, just as he chose the cross, because he chooses not to spare himself the pain of being human.

I’ve said to my congregation several times, but I’m not sure that it’s sunk in – that Jesus is FULLY human; we’re only partially human. While Jesus’ divinity shines like a beacon throughout the gospel of John, his fully human nature is evident too. Being fully human doesn’t mean having no pain. It means knowing the reason, the aim and end of the pain, the joy to which the pain is designed to lead us.

Jesus accepts his limits as a fully human being because he’s unafraid of them.

How ’bout you?