Originally preached at Northminster Presbyterian Church - Roswell, GA, on December 24, 2002.
It was the Christmas Eve 11:30pm Candlelight Service, and we timed the service so that the sermon would end on Christmas Day - which it did, at almost exactly midnight.
Six hours later I was getting on a plane to Los Angeles, to enjoy the scene I describe at the beginning.
*****
Luke 2:8-14
8 In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.
9 Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.
10 But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people:
11 to you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Lord.
12 This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.’
13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,
14‘Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace among those whom he favours!’
Christmas – at my aunt and uncle’s house in Laguna Beach, California – looks like blue skies, white clouds, and an ocean view… it smells like a pine tree in the corner, my grandfather’s cologne, and a mix of scents from my aunt’s kitchen… it tastes like a honey-baked ham, my mom’s spinach dip, and a glass of wine… it feels like crisp napkins, tight ribbons, comfortable chairs – and it sounds like Bing Crosby singing, voices laughing, children playing, and people cheering for the football blaring on the television screen… Just thinking about my family’s Christmas makes me smile – and you can probably relate, with stories of your own.
If ever there was an appropriate use for the term, “Festive,” surely our Christmas celebrations have it: festivity, festivals, and feasts…
But I wonder just how festive it may have seemed during that very first Christmas, on that first Noel, in that Bleak mid-winter… picking up the story from verse 8, we read that
In that region – there were… a lot of people. We know that there were hundreds – if not thousands of people in the region to be registered. Because this was a family-based activity, everyone was returning home, like a giant reunion – seeing people they might not have seen for some time. Friends, relatives, young and old were descending upon Bethlehem to do their family thing: big meals were being cooked, large gatherings were being planned, long conversations were going on into the night, It was beginning to look a lot like Christmas. But Luke doesn’t tell us about the festivity of Bethlehem, instead he looks outside the city – to tell us that
there were shepherds – Shepherds have a good reputation in our tradition. You and I have both seen the pictures of Jesus holding a lamb, cradling it as carefully as he would a child. King David was renown for being a shepherd early in life – a traditional figure of simplicity, of perfect humility – the graceful pastoral image of a person caring for the animals.
We’ve treated shepherds well in our history, except that by all accounts, when Jesus said he was the “Good” shepherd – we should have paid attention, because in ancient reality, shepherds were a brutish, uncivilized crew. Usually made up of nomadic types, without families or connections to broader society, they were unjust businessmen, and essentially the contemporary equivalent of a drug dealer.
The Jewish law forbade Jews from doing business with shepherds, since they were known to be unscrupulous. By Roman law, they were not allowed to testify in legal proceedings – it was generally assumed they were liars. These men are living in the fields, not with their families. While everyone else is being registered they are in the hill country with the sheep. And, they aren’t just keeping watch – they’re living there. This is their home, there with the sheep – and they have probably forged their own community separate from the city. They are quite literally outsiders. Physically, legally, outside the civilized world.
It’s nighttime – they’re surrounded by utter darkness… watching – and listening – it’s dark, it’s quiet, except for the distant sounds of a busy Bethlehem rising over the hills.
And I want to know what they’re thinking.
Do they wish for a family in Bethlehem? A warm place to sleep? Are they jealous of the Bethlehemites, do they wish them harm, what do they think of all the commotion down the hill?
I wonder about all that when I watch the Dr. Suess classic “The Grinch who Stole Christmas” – the story of a miserable, bitter, creature, isolated from civilization, alone except for the animal he took care of… another outsider, on another hill, on a completely different Christmas, especially when I hear that
The Grinch hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!
Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right.
It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight.
But it’s thought that the most likely reason of all
May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.
But, Whatever the reason, His heart or his shoes,
He stood there on Christmas Eve, hating the Whos,
Staring down from his cave with a sour, Grinchy frown
At the warm lighted windows below in their town.
For he knew every Who down in Who-ville beneath
Was busy now, hanging a mistletoe wreath.
"And they're hanging their stockings!" he snarled with a sneer,
"Tomorrow is Christmas! It's practically here!"
Then he growled, with his Grinch fingers nervously drumming,
"I MUST find some way to stop Christmas from coming!"
and so he does – steals their ribbons, steals their tags,
steals their packages, boxes, and bags…
their Pop guns! And bicycles! Roller skates! Drums!
Checkerboards! Tricycles! Popcorn! And plums!,
he slunk to the icebox and stole the Who’s feast,
stole their who pudding, and the rare Who-roast beast…
and yet, Christmas came – somehow or other, it came, all the same…
Whatever the Grinch was thinking, he was wrong about Christmas – assuming, as he did, that it was a material object capable of being stolen… but he was right to be skeptical of whys and ways the Who’s went about their yuletide glee – he was looking for integrity, and it wasn’t until the Who’s were robbed of their trinkets and toys that he found the Christmas he was looking for.
And this is why I wonder what the shepherds were thinking about all the buzz in and around Bethlehem – and what were they thinking about before the angels dropped in on them – literally – to completely change the world as they knew it.
For this set of outsiders, Christmas started by sitting quietly in the darkness, on a hill on the outskirts of Bethlehem herds… and all was well, when suddenly the night comes alive with the glory of the Lord, and an angel stands before them to announce good news to all people – that Today is the new beginning.
The angel is saying to the shepherds, to the outsider, today your Savior is born – who is Christ the Lord; and the angel is then joined by a legion of angels, singing about two things – Glory to God, and peace on earth.
Glory to God because the Messiah – the one come to restore us to God is lying in a manger! Emmanuel, God-with-us, in a manger in that town right over there. And peace on earth, real, lasting peace in Christ – so that even as we are restored to God, we are also restored to one another.
This all happens TONIGHT.
TONIGHT the angels are singing the first gospel-tune.
TONIGHT the song is about reconciliation: between God and humans – and among humanity itself.
TONIGHT everything changes, and the outsiders aren’t outside anymore.
And this is the gospel message that God proclaims to us every day, and not just on Christmas. That EVERYDAY, God comes to the outsider and brings them in.
That EVERYDAY we are called out of our comfortable worlds, and to a manger where our Savior lies.
That EVERYDAY we come back to God, so we can reach out to each other.
It is the call of Christmas to be as shepherds - after seeing the baby in the manger, to make Him known to all we see,
And it is the call of Christmas to be as the Who’s – after losing their commercial Christmas, to still gather as one people, hold hands with our neighbor, and sing to the rooftops…
This is our call this Christmas morning, and every morning. As we celebrate our communion with God, and each other, to see beyond the tinseled festivity to the baby in the hay.
Friends, KNOW in Christ the priceless gift that God gave us two thousand years ago.
And BE in Christ that joyful family God created for us so long ago.
Extolling each of you to a truly wonderful Christmas Day – one worth singing about.
May God bless you this morning, and Merry Christmas!
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Sermon - "Trouble in the Vineyard"
My current church, Bel Air Presbyterian, is going through a series on the parables. Last week, Mark preached on Matthew 21:33-40 - The parable of the Wicked Tenants. It occurred to me that I had preached on the same text a few years back, so I thought I'd dig it up and post it, for the amusement of all my friends and neighbors.
This was the first sermon I preached at Northminster Presbyterian Church - on October 6, 2002 - the first of several well-received sermons I preached there. I like the storytelling aspect of it, the repetition of "there is trouble," and the little twist I deliver at the end... but I'd like to revisit it and add some more meat to it. Always the perfectionist. You were 26, Andy, give yourself a break...
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Matt 21:33-41
33“Listen to another parable. There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a watchtower. Then he leased it to tenants and went to another country. 34When the harvest time had come, he sent his slaves to the tenants to collect his produce. 35But the tenants seized his slaves and beat one, killed another, and stoned another. 36Again he sent other slaves, more than the first; and they treated them in the same way. 37Finally he sent his son to them, saying, ‘They will respect my son.’ 38But when the tenants saw the son, they said to themselves, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him and get his inheritance.” 39So they seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him. 40Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?” 41They said to him, “He will put those wretches to a miserable death, and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the harvest time.”
>>>>>
There is trouble in the vineyard.
After years of saving and planning, a landowner – let’s call him Alexander - bought a piece of property. Not too big, not too small, but just right. It was a beautiful piece of land – rolling hills, smooth ground, plenty of water from the creek that flowed through the middle of it. There were a few trees – just enough for the workers to rest under when they needed it – and the soil… was perfect for growing that choicest of crop – a vineyard. To protect his land, he built a wall around it – installed a tower to watch the property, and dug a winepress in the middle of it. And, leaving his property in the hands of the gardeners, he went on a journey.
When harvest time comes, all the neighbors are gathering in their produce – pressing their wine, going to market. Alexander sends his servants to accept the proceeds. Three should be enough to handle such a task – but when they arrive, the first is beaten, the second is killed, the third is stoned.
There is trouble in the vineyard.
An alarm goes off in Alex’s head – this isn’t good news… I’ll send more servants – a group of 5 – oh heck, I’ll send ten servants to see what the trouble is, and sort this whole thing out. And this second group is treated to the same sort of violence as the first.
Back at the house of Alexander, anxiety is running high: My best, most trusted servants have been killed – by people farming my land, their fingers are in my soil, they rest under my trees, refresh themselves at my streams, their animals chew on my grass – and my vineyards… the grapes of my vineyards are under their care… and they have killed my servants… but I will send my son.
Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, the apple of my eye, and the child in whom I delight. As close to me as my very own self – to my tenants, why – he might as well be me. I will send him – my flesh and my blood – he will go to our vineyard, and he will restore order. And so he goes – but he does not come back.
And it’s reported that when his son arrived at the gate of the vineyard, the tenants seized him, threw him off the property, and killed him. Bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh – killed by the tenants he had trusted.
There is trouble in the vineyard.
Three times the owner of the vineyard sends a representative to see about the harvest, three times the tenants kill whomever comes their way.
And Jesus asks the elders, what happens when the owner himself comes, to see about the trouble? We hear their answer in verse 41, “he will bring these wretches to a wretched end.” The Greek word – interestingly – being the same word used later to order Jesus’ death. These unjust tenants should get the execution they have earned. And after that – trust the Vineyard with someone who’s trustworthy.
Good answer – a legal answer, a lawful answer. The elders are the experts when it comes to laws of the metaphorical vineyard – the laws of God’s kingdom. And in this world – as in a vineyard writ large – they know just what to do to make something – or someone righteous. They’ve cornered the market on Spirituality: they know how God is wired – they follow the rules, they worship at the appointed times, and that makes them better than anyone else. That gives them authority.
Like the tenants of the vineyard, the temple elders think they’ve got it all figured out – that they can “work the system” for their own advantage. When they speak with Jesus, it is in terms of authority – hierarchy – social standing.
Probably what bugs the temple elders more than anything is that Jesus entered Jerusalem only yesterday. He went directly to the temple and chased the merchants out of the worshipping space. And still the people shouted “Hosanna!”
The temple leaders want to know where he gets off healing people. “By what authority do you do these things?”
Jesus challenges the temple leaders at the very point of their response to God’s law - not only to talk the talk of faith… but to walk the walk. “What’s it about?” he seems to ask, “Is it about your rulebook, and coloring within the lines, or is it about the wholeness of God’s children, and bringing redemption to the world?”
In Matthew 22, Jesus summed up all the law and the prophets in two commandments, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest commandment, and a second is like it, you shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”
We know that these elders and chief priests can talk the talk – but they do not walk the walk. It’s one thing to KNOW what it means to be God’s people – it’s quite another to know what it means to BE God’s people. It’s all the difference between talking the talk – and walking the walk.
And if these temple elders are the folks in charge of God’s vineyard – well, then there’s trouble.
So Jesus announces the reassignment of the kingdom of God: a redefinition of God’s people, and an explosion of the Vineyard’s boundaries out into eternity.
That new creation in Christ which is inclusive of all believers: Jew and Gentile alike. The new life in Christ which is dependent solely on the grace of God – the steadfast love of the Lord that never ceases – that righteousness which looks to the cross: not to the rulebooks.
There is still trouble in the vineyard – even now.
There are folks who worship the Bible instead of God. There are others who worship their denomination instead of the head of the church: Jesus Christ. There are people actively distorting the Word of God for their own ends; folks who put a price on God’s mercy, and still others who seem to want the Vineyard to themselves – and kill anyone coming their way.
There are things that delay us in the vineyard – things placed in our way, things that we put in our own way.
But the gospel is this: that the son who comes to bring in the harvest, the very flesh and blood of the landowner – is present with us in our travels, and by the power of the Holy Spirit, is present today in the sacrament laid out before us – to provide Spiritual Food for our journey.
That, in Christ, we have the strength to face whatever comes our way when there’s trouble in the Vineyard. Amen.
This was the first sermon I preached at Northminster Presbyterian Church - on October 6, 2002 - the first of several well-received sermons I preached there. I like the storytelling aspect of it, the repetition of "there is trouble," and the little twist I deliver at the end... but I'd like to revisit it and add some more meat to it. Always the perfectionist. You were 26, Andy, give yourself a break...
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Matt 21:33-41
33“Listen to another parable. There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a watchtower. Then he leased it to tenants and went to another country. 34When the harvest time had come, he sent his slaves to the tenants to collect his produce. 35But the tenants seized his slaves and beat one, killed another, and stoned another. 36Again he sent other slaves, more than the first; and they treated them in the same way. 37Finally he sent his son to them, saying, ‘They will respect my son.’ 38But when the tenants saw the son, they said to themselves, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him and get his inheritance.” 39So they seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him. 40Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?” 41They said to him, “He will put those wretches to a miserable death, and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the harvest time.”
>>>>>
There is trouble in the vineyard.
After years of saving and planning, a landowner – let’s call him Alexander - bought a piece of property. Not too big, not too small, but just right. It was a beautiful piece of land – rolling hills, smooth ground, plenty of water from the creek that flowed through the middle of it. There were a few trees – just enough for the workers to rest under when they needed it – and the soil… was perfect for growing that choicest of crop – a vineyard. To protect his land, he built a wall around it – installed a tower to watch the property, and dug a winepress in the middle of it. And, leaving his property in the hands of the gardeners, he went on a journey.
When harvest time comes, all the neighbors are gathering in their produce – pressing their wine, going to market. Alexander sends his servants to accept the proceeds. Three should be enough to handle such a task – but when they arrive, the first is beaten, the second is killed, the third is stoned.
There is trouble in the vineyard.
An alarm goes off in Alex’s head – this isn’t good news… I’ll send more servants – a group of 5 – oh heck, I’ll send ten servants to see what the trouble is, and sort this whole thing out. And this second group is treated to the same sort of violence as the first.
Back at the house of Alexander, anxiety is running high: My best, most trusted servants have been killed – by people farming my land, their fingers are in my soil, they rest under my trees, refresh themselves at my streams, their animals chew on my grass – and my vineyards… the grapes of my vineyards are under their care… and they have killed my servants… but I will send my son.
Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, the apple of my eye, and the child in whom I delight. As close to me as my very own self – to my tenants, why – he might as well be me. I will send him – my flesh and my blood – he will go to our vineyard, and he will restore order. And so he goes – but he does not come back.
And it’s reported that when his son arrived at the gate of the vineyard, the tenants seized him, threw him off the property, and killed him. Bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh – killed by the tenants he had trusted.
There is trouble in the vineyard.
Three times the owner of the vineyard sends a representative to see about the harvest, three times the tenants kill whomever comes their way.
And Jesus asks the elders, what happens when the owner himself comes, to see about the trouble? We hear their answer in verse 41, “he will bring these wretches to a wretched end.” The Greek word – interestingly – being the same word used later to order Jesus’ death. These unjust tenants should get the execution they have earned. And after that – trust the Vineyard with someone who’s trustworthy.
Good answer – a legal answer, a lawful answer. The elders are the experts when it comes to laws of the metaphorical vineyard – the laws of God’s kingdom. And in this world – as in a vineyard writ large – they know just what to do to make something – or someone righteous. They’ve cornered the market on Spirituality: they know how God is wired – they follow the rules, they worship at the appointed times, and that makes them better than anyone else. That gives them authority.
Like the tenants of the vineyard, the temple elders think they’ve got it all figured out – that they can “work the system” for their own advantage. When they speak with Jesus, it is in terms of authority – hierarchy – social standing.
Probably what bugs the temple elders more than anything is that Jesus entered Jerusalem only yesterday. He went directly to the temple and chased the merchants out of the worshipping space. And still the people shouted “Hosanna!”
The temple leaders want to know where he gets off healing people. “By what authority do you do these things?”
Jesus challenges the temple leaders at the very point of their response to God’s law - not only to talk the talk of faith… but to walk the walk. “What’s it about?” he seems to ask, “Is it about your rulebook, and coloring within the lines, or is it about the wholeness of God’s children, and bringing redemption to the world?”
In Matthew 22, Jesus summed up all the law and the prophets in two commandments, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest commandment, and a second is like it, you shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”
We know that these elders and chief priests can talk the talk – but they do not walk the walk. It’s one thing to KNOW what it means to be God’s people – it’s quite another to know what it means to BE God’s people. It’s all the difference between talking the talk – and walking the walk.
And if these temple elders are the folks in charge of God’s vineyard – well, then there’s trouble.
So Jesus announces the reassignment of the kingdom of God: a redefinition of God’s people, and an explosion of the Vineyard’s boundaries out into eternity.
That new creation in Christ which is inclusive of all believers: Jew and Gentile alike. The new life in Christ which is dependent solely on the grace of God – the steadfast love of the Lord that never ceases – that righteousness which looks to the cross: not to the rulebooks.
There is still trouble in the vineyard – even now.
There are folks who worship the Bible instead of God. There are others who worship their denomination instead of the head of the church: Jesus Christ. There are people actively distorting the Word of God for their own ends; folks who put a price on God’s mercy, and still others who seem to want the Vineyard to themselves – and kill anyone coming their way.
There are things that delay us in the vineyard – things placed in our way, things that we put in our own way.
But the gospel is this: that the son who comes to bring in the harvest, the very flesh and blood of the landowner – is present with us in our travels, and by the power of the Holy Spirit, is present today in the sacrament laid out before us – to provide Spiritual Food for our journey.
That, in Christ, we have the strength to face whatever comes our way when there’s trouble in the Vineyard. Amen.
Friday, September 18, 2009
How's Your Life?
This is a talk given to the College Group ("Quest") at Bel Air Presbyterian Church on September 16, 2009. The text was Philippians 3:2-11.
*****
Philippians 3:2-11.
What we’ve got in this passage is 8 verses of build-up to that final sentence, and I don’t want you to miss it.
This is a description of life-beyond-life. Your life – death. Your former self – gone. Which raises the question: how’s your life? Not your list of accomplishments, or your goals, or your bullet points of stuff, but how’s you: how’s the who you are? Do you know who you are? Do you know what you want to know?
As we work though this scripture tonight, I want you to think about your life: where you place your confidence, what you’re working toward, and where Jesus Christ fits into that whole mix – assuming he does at all. And I’ll tell you right now: keep those Bibles out.
We’re going to talk about death tonight, but not in a physical sense. I want to talk about the things of this world that draw our life out of us – the vampire style of our world that drain us of who we’re called to be, and brings everlasting death with it every day. Leave us as zombies in this world, sort of going through the motions of our every day – adding our relationship with Jesus Christ to the long list of “to-dos” we have on our little checklist.
So really, I want to talk about life – what that really means… and what Paul calls “the surpassing value of knowing Jesus Christ my Lord.” And those are no trivial words. And – like death - we’re starting at the end of this passage, because to appreciate where Paul is going, it’s helpful to know where he ends up.
Reading verse 11 in English – if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead - conjures up an image of the Haunted Mansion: weird spirit things rising up from various headstones, pushing a coffin-top back with a bony hand, and some sort of Wes Craven non-metabolizing ghoulie finding movement. It’s the zombie phrase of the New Testament. And – we don’t usually spend a lot of time on it because … it’s weird.
Paul uses this phrase in his letters to capture no fewer than 8 different ideas about the concept of resurrection. Mercifully, in 1 Corinthians he comes right out and just calls it a “mystery” but here: in Phil 3:11, the Greek phrase is ek nekron – literally “out from the dead ones.” The Greek expression is a much better mental picture than English - it’s literally “standing up from the midst of corpses.”
And this is how you know Christ? What Paul is coming up against is a reality that’s impossible to describe. Knowing Christ combines two things – the power of his resurrection and yet also the sharing of his sufferings. It’s equal parts exhilarating and exhausting, and you get there by attaining the resurrection? OH YEAH! It’s a life after death, of a type – that Paul is trying to describe. It’s identification with Christ that is so complete, so intimate, so life-changing, that words alone cannot capture the dynamic. He almost can’t do it. It is life beyond life.
It is Christ himself – the transcendent reality of it is beyond this world. And if this is the first time in a Presbyterian church you’ve heard a pastor use the word “transcendent” to describe a relationship with Jesus Christ, I hope it’s not the last.
And the question comes back – how’s your life? Are you standing up from the midst of corpses, does your life in Christ defy explanation, does it push the boundaries of the known world? Or do you feel more like you’re just one of the multiple dead things lying around?
Hold on to that – let’s go back.
Let’s jump back to verse 2.
The fun thing about the New Testament is not so much that it was written in Greek – which it was, obviously – and that’s fun, also obviously - but that it was written by people, and these folks were primarily Jewish. They had minds that operated in Hebrew.
In the Hebrew language, there are no suffixes to add emphasis – there’s no way to say, for example, fast, faster, fastest. The adjectives don’t change – they just repeat themselves. To say, for example, “pure gold,” in Hebrew, you say gold gold. We do this in English when we’re being stupid – Sure I like her, but I don’t like her like her? If it is the ultimate in – whatever – you repeat it three times. You get triple emphasis: Holy, Holy, Holy – Lord God Almighty. Literally nothing is holier than God. He is the holiest.
Dustin Hoffman is one of my favorite actors, and one of my favorite lines is from the movie “Hook,” where he growls “Oh I hate being disappointed Smee, and I hate living in this flawed body, and I hate living in Neverland, and I hate, I hate, I HATE Peter PAN!!! Triple emphasis – twice-over. Hoffman’s Jewish – he went to Hebrew school – the Bible nerd in me wonders if it was intentional, or if it just felt right to him.
I bring it up because Greek is a language of logic; Hebrew is a language of poetry. Anytime a man who thinks in Hebrew – like Paul, for instance - is writing in Greek, and repeats an idea three times – pay attention. Paul goes through a 3-part emphasis FIVE times in this passage. He’s not doing it by accident.
He calls them 1) dogs (a derogatory term that Jews use for non-Jews that Paul is co-opting to say these aren’t Christians), 2) workers for evil, 3) mutilators of the flesh – some polite translations will say “false circumcision.” There’s some Greek word-play here: the word Paul uses – rather than being peritomei, circumcision – is katatomei, or concision: dividers. Dogs; evil-workers; dividers: Bad, bad, bad.
So - no, Paul says - WE are the peritomei – the circumcision – WE are the chosen people of God, not them. First, we worship in the Spirit of God. We boast in Jesus Christ (you’re either boasting in yourself or in Christ), and 3) we’re not seeking a reason for our salvation in the flesh. We’re different, Different, DIFFERENT
Then Paul kind of steps to the side here, saying "4even though I, too, have reason for confidence in the flesh." Like – look, if you’re glorying in the flesh, I get it: I’ve been there.
We live in a high-achiever culture. We make resumes, we apply to schools, we pile up achievements, we have trophies – it’s like our life is a big game and we keep an eye trained on the scoreboard.
What’s the second question you ask someone – after you find out their name? Where are you from, where do you go to school, what are you studying, what do you do? Please categorize yourself for me.
How fully are you invested in the achievements of this world that being like Christ – having a “new life in Christ” is just one more? WWJD? No – not at all. That’s not it at all!!
If anyone knew about a life of achievements, obviously it was Paul. Look at this list: orthodox circumcision (it’s the mark of Abraham and Isaac), of the chosen people of Israel, and a Benjamite – Benjamin was the only patriarch born in the holy land, it’s the most elite of the tribes of Israel: the Shekinah – the divine Glory of God was believed to dwell in the tribe of Benjamin, and it was the tribe of the first King. Paul is a Hebrew; born of Hebrews – not a Greek-speaking Jew who knows a bit of Hebrew, no – linguistically, culturally he’s one of them. He’s a Pharisee – a master of the law trained by the Rabbi Gamaliel – the greatest Hebrew scholar of the day. And was he passionate? He was present at the stoning of Stephen – the first Christian martyr, and as for keeping the law – blameless. He had it down pat.
The triple-emphasis is here twice, and parallels verse 2: Paul was circumcised, of the chosen people, of the divine tribe. jewish, Jewish, JEWISH. And here are the parallels: he was a Pharisee of the law – obedient as a dog; a persecutor of the church – working in evil; blameless in righteousness – tore himself to shreds keeping the law.
Paul. Was. The Man.
You see what he’s built up here – three levels of triple emphasis, starting with what to beware, and using examples from his own life to point out his status as an individual, and the success of his achievements. Here’s who we oppose; here’s who I am; here’s what I’ve done. I have every reason to be confident in the flesh, three times over – every single one. I could be the king of all Judaizers.
YET.
The fun thing about Greek is that they have prepositions that bring logical flow to a screeching halt. Our words in English – yet, but, although, however… all kind of have a conjunctive – connective – property… the ideas sort of keep on going. Not in Greek. The word here is al-LA - yet. Usually the word for but, for, yet is de in Greek, which is a soft way of transitioning to the next thought. You’ll get that word in verse 13 to say “not that I have already obtained it, but I press on etc…”
Here Paul is building this house: Beware the dogs, the evil workers, the flesh mutilators, and I get it – I’m orthodox, of Israel, of Benjamin; a Pharisee, a zealot, blameless!
And then al-LA – Stop. Yet! HOLD ON!! It’s like the end of a cheap rollercoaster at a second-rate carnival. He pulls the E-brake, everything in the car goes flying into the foot wells, you come to a stop – just as you’ve arrived at the pinnacle!
God did something in Paul’s life and grabbed him.
Let me very clear on this point: Paul is not saying that he tried to get to God through the law and failed, far from it. Paul did the law – he DID IT. He was blameless – he had no reason to turn his back on it. It was done.
BUT! God has shown forth his righteousness in Christ and laid hold of Paul through that – which far surpasses the righteousness through the law that Paul achieved. THAT’s the problem now – everything he did before has to stand in contrast to Christ. In that light - what he realizes about all that stuff – his life, his achievements – is that it’s trash.
1) All those things that were gains before – are now losses.
2) More than that – the second layer – everything (not just the gains) is considered a loss in view of knowing Christ.
3) But wait – there’s more! Not only are his gains a loss, not only is everything else viewed as a loss in light of Christ – but FOR HIS SAKE - in the transcendence of identification with Christ – everything else is sewage.
Verse 8 is huge here.
The three sentences from 7-8 layer up, expanding to every part of Paul’s life. His achievements are a loss; everything is a loss; for the sake of Christ everything of the world has been metabolized by the cosmic digestive tract and is discarded like the most common scat – not good enough to fertilize a daisy. It does not get more earthy than this. When he describes a transcendent life, he means it – your life in Christ is literally beyond this world; the life you had before has been sent out the back. It is no longer a source of life for you – it is worthless, has no value, it is the waste, the chaff, the excrement of your metabolism.
And all these things – but for the single purpose of being found in Christ.
verse 9
On this verse, John Calvin writes, “as soon as Christ shines forth, all those things which formerly dazzled our eyes with a false splendor instantly vanish.” Or as I heard Brennan Manning describe it a few years back, “The day you experience the love and heart of Christ, nothing will ever taste / look / be / love the same, or satisfy you more, than that experience.”
When he says, in verse 3, that “it is we who are the circumcision, who worship in the Spirit of God and boast in Christ Jesus and have no confidence in the flesh” this is what he means. Nothing we do can compare to Christ.
“Beware of the dogs, beware of the evil workers, beware of those who mutilate the flesh!” Why – because the goods they sell are nothing but complete BS. They sell you on the achievements of the law, the strivings of your flesh, the pursuit of worldly gain, and ignore – at their peril! – the singular identification with Christ that transforms your life, transcends the world, and transfigures you into the resurrection of Christ. That brings you out of the dead ones – out of the death of this life.
I’ll just ask it this one last time – how’s your life?
Is your entire soul bent on knowing Christ and moving beyond this world, or are you stuck among the dead, trying to go it on your own?
But when you truly stand in the light of Christ and experience the love of God that plumbs depths further than you’ve ever known were possible. Nothing – I promise, nothing – in your life, will ever be the same again.
If you don’t know Christ tonight, that love I’m talking about – I challenge you to ask him into your life tonight and find out. Talk to me, Chris, Keenan, your goofy Christian roommate – possibly – it’s worth it. He’s worth it.
Far more than anything this world has to offer.
Let’s pray.
Small Group Questions:
3) Andy used a quote from John Calvin that said, “So soon as Christ shines forth, all those things that formerly dazzled our eyes with a false splendor instantly vanish.” Has this been your experience? If not – are there things in your life holding you back?
*****
Philippians 3:2-11.
2 Beware of the dogs, beware of the evil workers, beware of those who mutilate the flesh! 3For it is we who are the circumcision, who worship in the Spirit of God and boast in Christ Jesus and have no confidence in the flesh— 4even though I, too, have reason for confidence in the flesh.
If anyone else has reason to be confident in the flesh, I have more: 5circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; 6as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless.
7 Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ. 8More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ 9and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but one that comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God based on faith. 10I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, 11if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.
What we’ve got in this passage is 8 verses of build-up to that final sentence, and I don’t want you to miss it.
10I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, 11if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.
This is a description of life-beyond-life. Your life – death. Your former self – gone. Which raises the question: how’s your life? Not your list of accomplishments, or your goals, or your bullet points of stuff, but how’s you: how’s the who you are? Do you know who you are? Do you know what you want to know?
As we work though this scripture tonight, I want you to think about your life: where you place your confidence, what you’re working toward, and where Jesus Christ fits into that whole mix – assuming he does at all. And I’ll tell you right now: keep those Bibles out.
We’re going to talk about death tonight, but not in a physical sense. I want to talk about the things of this world that draw our life out of us – the vampire style of our world that drain us of who we’re called to be, and brings everlasting death with it every day. Leave us as zombies in this world, sort of going through the motions of our every day – adding our relationship with Jesus Christ to the long list of “to-dos” we have on our little checklist.
So really, I want to talk about life – what that really means… and what Paul calls “the surpassing value of knowing Jesus Christ my Lord.” And those are no trivial words. And – like death - we’re starting at the end of this passage, because to appreciate where Paul is going, it’s helpful to know where he ends up.
vv.10-11
“I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.”
What does he want to know? “Christ – and the power and the sharing” how? By becoming like him, if somehow…”
“I want to know Christ… by becoming like him”The word there “becoming like him” literally is transformation: – the Greek is summorphidzomenos – say that five times fast – tucked in there – summorphidzomenos – is the word “morphos” – you’re literally morphed – into Christ. The contrast Paul draws here is between a life lived unto the world – unto a value drawn on your personal effort, and the value of knowing Christ completely.
Reading verse 11 in English – if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead - conjures up an image of the Haunted Mansion: weird spirit things rising up from various headstones, pushing a coffin-top back with a bony hand, and some sort of Wes Craven non-metabolizing ghoulie finding movement. It’s the zombie phrase of the New Testament. And – we don’t usually spend a lot of time on it because … it’s weird.
Paul uses this phrase in his letters to capture no fewer than 8 different ideas about the concept of resurrection. Mercifully, in 1 Corinthians he comes right out and just calls it a “mystery” but here: in Phil 3:11, the Greek phrase is ek nekron – literally “out from the dead ones.” The Greek expression is a much better mental picture than English - it’s literally “standing up from the midst of corpses.”
And this is how you know Christ? What Paul is coming up against is a reality that’s impossible to describe. Knowing Christ combines two things – the power of his resurrection and yet also the sharing of his sufferings. It’s equal parts exhilarating and exhausting, and you get there by attaining the resurrection? OH YEAH! It’s a life after death, of a type – that Paul is trying to describe. It’s identification with Christ that is so complete, so intimate, so life-changing, that words alone cannot capture the dynamic. He almost can’t do it. It is life beyond life.
It is Christ himself – the transcendent reality of it is beyond this world. And if this is the first time in a Presbyterian church you’ve heard a pastor use the word “transcendent” to describe a relationship with Jesus Christ, I hope it’s not the last.
And the question comes back – how’s your life? Are you standing up from the midst of corpses, does your life in Christ defy explanation, does it push the boundaries of the known world? Or do you feel more like you’re just one of the multiple dead things lying around?
Hold on to that – let’s go back.
Let’s jump back to verse 2.
2 Beware of the dogs, beware of the evil workers, beware of those who mutilate the flesh! 3For it is we who are the circumcision, who worship in the Spirit of God and boast in Christ Jesus and have no confidence in the flesh—
The fun thing about the New Testament is not so much that it was written in Greek – which it was, obviously – and that’s fun, also obviously - but that it was written by people, and these folks were primarily Jewish. They had minds that operated in Hebrew.
In the Hebrew language, there are no suffixes to add emphasis – there’s no way to say, for example, fast, faster, fastest. The adjectives don’t change – they just repeat themselves. To say, for example, “pure gold,” in Hebrew, you say gold gold. We do this in English when we’re being stupid – Sure I like her, but I don’t like her like her? If it is the ultimate in – whatever – you repeat it three times. You get triple emphasis: Holy, Holy, Holy – Lord God Almighty. Literally nothing is holier than God. He is the holiest.
Dustin Hoffman is one of my favorite actors, and one of my favorite lines is from the movie “Hook,” where he growls “Oh I hate being disappointed Smee, and I hate living in this flawed body, and I hate living in Neverland, and I hate, I hate, I HATE Peter PAN!!! Triple emphasis – twice-over. Hoffman’s Jewish – he went to Hebrew school – the Bible nerd in me wonders if it was intentional, or if it just felt right to him.
I bring it up because Greek is a language of logic; Hebrew is a language of poetry. Anytime a man who thinks in Hebrew – like Paul, for instance - is writing in Greek, and repeats an idea three times – pay attention. Paul goes through a 3-part emphasis FIVE times in this passage. He’s not doing it by accident.
2 Beware of the dogs, beware of the evil workers, beware of those who mutilate the flesh! 3For it is we who are the circumcision, who worship in the Spirit of God and boast in Christ Jesus and have no confidence in the flesh—The folks he’s talking about in verse 2 are commonly referred to as the Judaizers – basically it’s a group of people who believe Christ is the Messiah, but you still have to be fully Jewish – follow the law, become literally circumcised (a physical mark of being part of the chosen people of God) – in order to be saved. Paul spends a lot of time opposing them in Galatians, a church that was having more trouble in this area, but here – for the Philippians – he’s really just bringing them up to serve a larger point.
He calls them 1) dogs (a derogatory term that Jews use for non-Jews that Paul is co-opting to say these aren’t Christians), 2) workers for evil, 3) mutilators of the flesh – some polite translations will say “false circumcision.” There’s some Greek word-play here: the word Paul uses – rather than being peritomei, circumcision – is katatomei, or concision: dividers. Dogs; evil-workers; dividers: Bad, bad, bad.
So - no, Paul says - WE are the peritomei – the circumcision – WE are the chosen people of God, not them. First, we worship in the Spirit of God. We boast in Jesus Christ (you’re either boasting in yourself or in Christ), and 3) we’re not seeking a reason for our salvation in the flesh. We’re different, Different, DIFFERENT
Then Paul kind of steps to the side here, saying "4even though I, too, have reason for confidence in the flesh." Like – look, if you’re glorying in the flesh, I get it: I’ve been there.
If anyone else has reason to be confident in the flesh, I have more: 5circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; 6as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless.Now – I’ll drop that question again. How’s your life?
We live in a high-achiever culture. We make resumes, we apply to schools, we pile up achievements, we have trophies – it’s like our life is a big game and we keep an eye trained on the scoreboard.
What’s the second question you ask someone – after you find out their name? Where are you from, where do you go to school, what are you studying, what do you do? Please categorize yourself for me.
How fully are you invested in the achievements of this world that being like Christ – having a “new life in Christ” is just one more? WWJD? No – not at all. That’s not it at all!!
If anyone knew about a life of achievements, obviously it was Paul. Look at this list: orthodox circumcision (it’s the mark of Abraham and Isaac), of the chosen people of Israel, and a Benjamite – Benjamin was the only patriarch born in the holy land, it’s the most elite of the tribes of Israel: the Shekinah – the divine Glory of God was believed to dwell in the tribe of Benjamin, and it was the tribe of the first King. Paul is a Hebrew; born of Hebrews – not a Greek-speaking Jew who knows a bit of Hebrew, no – linguistically, culturally he’s one of them. He’s a Pharisee – a master of the law trained by the Rabbi Gamaliel – the greatest Hebrew scholar of the day. And was he passionate? He was present at the stoning of Stephen – the first Christian martyr, and as for keeping the law – blameless. He had it down pat.
The triple-emphasis is here twice, and parallels verse 2: Paul was circumcised, of the chosen people, of the divine tribe. jewish, Jewish, JEWISH. And here are the parallels: he was a Pharisee of the law – obedient as a dog; a persecutor of the church – working in evil; blameless in righteousness – tore himself to shreds keeping the law.
Paul. Was. The Man.
You see what he’s built up here – three levels of triple emphasis, starting with what to beware, and using examples from his own life to point out his status as an individual, and the success of his achievements. Here’s who we oppose; here’s who I am; here’s what I’ve done. I have every reason to be confident in the flesh, three times over – every single one. I could be the king of all Judaizers.
YET.
The fun thing about Greek is that they have prepositions that bring logical flow to a screeching halt. Our words in English – yet, but, although, however… all kind of have a conjunctive – connective – property… the ideas sort of keep on going. Not in Greek. The word here is al-LA - yet. Usually the word for but, for, yet is de in Greek, which is a soft way of transitioning to the next thought. You’ll get that word in verse 13 to say “not that I have already obtained it, but I press on etc…”
Here Paul is building this house: Beware the dogs, the evil workers, the flesh mutilators, and I get it – I’m orthodox, of Israel, of Benjamin; a Pharisee, a zealot, blameless!
And then al-LA – Stop. Yet! HOLD ON!! It’s like the end of a cheap rollercoaster at a second-rate carnival. He pulls the E-brake, everything in the car goes flying into the foot wells, you come to a stop – just as you’ve arrived at the pinnacle!
God did something in Paul’s life and grabbed him.
Let me very clear on this point: Paul is not saying that he tried to get to God through the law and failed, far from it. Paul did the law – he DID IT. He was blameless – he had no reason to turn his back on it. It was done.
BUT! God has shown forth his righteousness in Christ and laid hold of Paul through that – which far surpasses the righteousness through the law that Paul achieved. THAT’s the problem now – everything he did before has to stand in contrast to Christ. In that light - what he realizes about all that stuff – his life, his achievements – is that it’s trash.
vv.7-8These are accounting terms – he’s adding stuff up that was an asset in his account before, and he’s taking another look:
7 Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ. 8More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ
1) All those things that were gains before – are now losses.
2) More than that – the second layer – everything (not just the gains) is considered a loss in view of knowing Christ.
3) But wait – there’s more! Not only are his gains a loss, not only is everything else viewed as a loss in light of Christ – but FOR HIS SAKE - in the transcendence of identification with Christ – everything else is sewage.
Verse 8 is huge here.
For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain ChristThe word here translated rubbish is “skubala,” and it is used once in the entire Bible: right here. The only place we see this word pop up in Greek texts of the period is to describe excrement, refuse, the most offensive crap of the ancient world. There are other words for “rubbish” if rubbish is what you’re trying to say; skubula... means... “excrement.”
The three sentences from 7-8 layer up, expanding to every part of Paul’s life. His achievements are a loss; everything is a loss; for the sake of Christ everything of the world has been metabolized by the cosmic digestive tract and is discarded like the most common scat – not good enough to fertilize a daisy. It does not get more earthy than this. When he describes a transcendent life, he means it – your life in Christ is literally beyond this world; the life you had before has been sent out the back. It is no longer a source of life for you – it is worthless, has no value, it is the waste, the chaff, the excrement of your metabolism.
And all these things – but for the single purpose of being found in Christ.
verse 9
9and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but one that comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God based on faith.It’s only in Christ that you’re found. St. Augustine said “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” Everything we thought we had in the past, were under the impression were of some advantage, are surpassed and overwhelmed by the discovery of Christ. Not meeting God’s standard by working up to it, but by having that standard given to us, as God’s gift to us – the righteousness, or justice – balance of the scales – as a gift from God. As Paul says in Ephesians 2 -
8For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God— 9not the result of works, so that no one may boast. 10For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.”WE ARE WHAT HE HAS MADE US – he has made us righteous through Christ, he has balanced the scales, done the work, surpassed everything that came beforehand – everything we thought we had before.
On this verse, John Calvin writes, “as soon as Christ shines forth, all those things which formerly dazzled our eyes with a false splendor instantly vanish.” Or as I heard Brennan Manning describe it a few years back, “The day you experience the love and heart of Christ, nothing will ever taste / look / be / love the same, or satisfy you more, than that experience.”
When he says, in verse 3, that “it is we who are the circumcision, who worship in the Spirit of God and boast in Christ Jesus and have no confidence in the flesh” this is what he means. Nothing we do can compare to Christ.
“Beware of the dogs, beware of the evil workers, beware of those who mutilate the flesh!” Why – because the goods they sell are nothing but complete BS. They sell you on the achievements of the law, the strivings of your flesh, the pursuit of worldly gain, and ignore – at their peril! – the singular identification with Christ that transforms your life, transcends the world, and transfigures you into the resurrection of Christ. That brings you out of the dead ones – out of the death of this life.
I’ll just ask it this one last time – how’s your life?
Is your entire soul bent on knowing Christ and moving beyond this world, or are you stuck among the dead, trying to go it on your own?
I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection.Folks – the God we worship will far surpass everything in this world you’re striving for. Not to say that he makes the hard stuff go away, or makes it any easier. From a human experience perspective, it may actually be harder. That’s certainly been true in my life.
But when you truly stand in the light of Christ and experience the love of God that plumbs depths further than you’ve ever known were possible. Nothing – I promise, nothing – in your life, will ever be the same again.
If you don’t know Christ tonight, that love I’m talking about – I challenge you to ask him into your life tonight and find out. Talk to me, Chris, Keenan, your goofy Christian roommate – possibly – it’s worth it. He’s worth it.
Far more than anything this world has to offer.
Let’s pray.
Small Group Questions:
3For it is we who are the circumcision, who worship in the Spirit of God and boast in Christ Jesus and have no confidence in the flesh1) What is the difference between boasting in Christ and having confidence in the flesh? What does it look like in your life?
If anyone else has reason to be confident in the flesh, I have more: 5circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; 6as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless.2) Do you have a list like Paul’s – things that make you “more religious” than the next person? What’s on your list?
3) Andy used a quote from John Calvin that said, “So soon as Christ shines forth, all those things that formerly dazzled our eyes with a false splendor instantly vanish.” Has this been your experience? If not – are there things in your life holding you back?
Friday, September 11, 2009
There's a Bottle of Glenlivet Missing!
This is another entry from my sermon files. This one was delivered at the Memorial Service of my grandfather, Kenneth Jackson Silberberg: affectionately referred to as "Papa," who entered the Lord's presence on October 1, 2006. He enjoyed drinking Scotch, hence the sermon title, but you ought to know that my Grandmother ("Granny") strongly disapproved of it at the time:
"Papa would have loved it, Gran"
"But he's not going to be there!"
"Okay Granny. I'll take it out."
So - the title didn't make it into the program, but it stayed on my preaching copy, and I know that it fit with Papa's very dry sense of humor; much like his scotch. I still miss him, as I know my entire family does.
*****
Our reading from the Hebrew Bible comes from the 23rd Psalm, out of the King James version. Hear the Word of the Lord.
1The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3He restoreth my soul:
he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil:
for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:
thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.
(Let us pray)
Bless us, Oh God, with a reverent sense of your presence,
that we may be at peace.
And Grant that the Word you speak this day
may take root in our hearts,
and bear fruit to your honor and glory,
for the sake of Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.
My mom called to deliver the news I’d known would be coming – and she mentioned that it happened rather quickly, in the sense that one moment Papa was breathing and then – he wasn’t. When it comes right down to it – that really is the distance between that place and this one. You’re here, and then you’re not.
We’re told that while we have these times with each other we ought to enjoy them. And I think it’s fair to say, looking over it, that Papa was a man who in addition to having a life filled with years – was certainly a man who had years full of life.
My memories of Papa usually involve other family members – you see, holidays are a big deal in our family. Thanksgiving and Christmas especially, but then in early Spring we’d get together for the birthdays of Anne, Marshall, Meghan, Sally, and George. We’d usually combine Father’s Day with Papa’s birthday in June, and on the 4th of July we’d be at Lacy Park to watch fireworks. In the fall we would celebrate Ryan, me, Granny and for the past twelve years my brother-in-law Duane’s birthdays.
Then we’d be back at Thanksgiving and Christmas – combining Christmas with Scott’s and Linda’s birthdays – much to their chagrin - and starting the whole calendar over again. Really – I’m not sure we were all that concerned about celebrating the big events as much as we just wanted to get together – in fact, I’m not convinced that it’s the holidays that are such a big deal in our family as much that it’s family that’s a big deal in our family. At any rate, at every season in life we were together – and at the head of everything was Papa.
I learned from him about all the things you’re supposed to learn from your grandfather. I learned about fishing, golf, cigars and the joy of a very-old scotch opened up with just a splash of water. These are also the things Presbyterians love talking about from Methodist Pulpits – and I think he would get a kick out of hearing me speak of them.
When I was younger, I’d go to Granny and Papa’s house with my parents, and he would bring me into his dark room as he was developing film, usually after he and Granny had come home from one of their trips. He’d have taken hundreds of pictures – in the days before digital cameras when taking pictures involved actual film and actual talent and actual surprise when you got home and saw the pictures for the first time. As he developed the film he’d tell me about what they did and where they’d been – a lot like a slide show, but with chemicals, darkness, and strange smells from bottles and trays… it had a bit of mad-scientist flair to it, and it was pretty cool. Papa knew how to entertain us when we were small, educate us as we grew, and encourage us as adults – it’s like he always knew what we needed, and was always there.
He was injured during the War, as we know, which brought him home, but didn’t bring him down. He had a stroke in the 80’s which gave him pause – a bit - and then cancers of assorted varieties that tried to get him – but didn’t. And after a while, even though he was moving slower, it just seemed like nothing would ever stop him.
Which, of course, made it so strange a few years ago when he started to stop. And if it seemed strange to us, it was doubly strange for him. Not that he’d admit it, of course: he bore the weight of his failing body with the same dogged determination that drove him across the dunes of Iwo Jima. And you got the sense he wasn’t ready – he wasn’t done – there were things he still wanted to do; that he loved life, he loved his family and he wanted more of both.
I was thinking about this last week, and was reminded of a work by the poet Dylan Thomas:
“DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT”
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Papa looked at me on Father’s Day, and from a pair of tired eyes said simply, “it’s no fun getting old,” and I think he knew somewhere deep down that what had previously held him up was now giving way. I think the great tragedy of his passing is the obvious one – that it wasn’t so much that Papa stopped, but that his body, tired with its long raging, and spent from a life of not going gently – finally went, finally left.
Someone named John Calvin once said that “True and solid Wisdom, consists… of two parts: the knowledge of God and of ourselves.” Knowing ourselves reminds us of our limitations – our mortality. Knowing God reminds us of hope, and our eternal destination.
It’s situations like this when we are reminded that we are human, and God is not. When, echoing the sentiments of David who wrote the 23rd Psalm a better part of 3,000 years ago, we come back to knowing that we are but sheep in a pasture, and the Lord is our shepherd.
On the subject of sheep, I was reminded of my time in Ireland a few years ago. I decided I wanted to have my picture taken with some real Irish sheep, and as my friends and I were looking at some ruins in a field, there were sheep about 50 yards away; so I wandered over to say hello.
About 49 yards out, they saw me coming and wandered away. I started walking a little faster, and so did they. I saw that this was not going to go well, so naturally I did what any mature adult would do in the middle of an Irish pasture. I started chasing sheep.
Now sheep aren’t too bright, but they know who they belong to, and I was not that person. I was not their master, they did not know my voice. It probably also didn’t help that I was wearing an overcoat made of black wool, and that probably made them very nervous on a whole other level. But they have one defense mechanism – and it is housed entirely in their feet. A sheep in danger runs away.
But with a shepherd, there is nothing they lack. He has a rod to protect them, and a staff to guide them. There is food, drink, rest, and life. A sheep without a shepherd is a sheep in trouble. A sheep who wanders alone is not going to make it very far.
Halfway through his Psalm David shifts perspective from 3rd person to 2nd – from talking about the Lord to talking to the Lord. We move from the imagery of a sheep to that of a refugee. We know from the story of David’s life that he experienced both worlds – he started out in the fields as a shepherd, and then he killed Goliath and achieved notoriety to make the current King Saul jealous. Saul, of course, decided that if he couldn’t be more popular than David, he could at the very least have him killed – so David went into hiding.
And it’s from this life – begun in the fields guiding and protecting sheep, and running from powerful figures bringing death in their wake, that David writes this metaphor of dependence on God – recognizing who we are, and who we are not.
Scripture tells us – not just here – but everywhere from beginning to end, that God is our provider, supplier, guide, guardian – through darkness, beside stillness, in the presence of evil, that he restores our soul and overfills our cup….
On the night he was betrayed Jesus told his disciples, “I go to prepare a place for you” and as the Good Shepherd Jesus pointed into eternity he indicated – that’s where this all ends up, and that’s what this is all about. By the next evening Jesus had been killed, and three days after that he rose from the grave on that first Easter morning to break open the reality that eternity is our destination, and by faith in Him through his gracious, unconditional gift we will live in the house of the Lord forever.
And not because we’ve done anything special, or behaved appropriately – Lord knows it’s not because we behaved appropriately – but it’s because God’s goodness and mercy pursue us all the days of our lives – this shepherd does not lose track of his sheep. We will dwell there forever because he chose us, and by his grace we know that when our time in the pasture is through, we’ll go home to our place that Jesus has been preparing for us.
The sheep in Ireland knew I was not their shepherd, and they ran away, probably looking for him. If we are sheep – in God’s big pasture – it raises a question… can you tell the difference between the Lord as your shepherd, and something else? And – if you are on your own, or relying on something else – how’s that working out for you?
If you’ve felt something pulling at your heart, I wonder whether it might be a shepherd’s staff giving you a nudge. And if it is – my fellow sheep – maybe it’s time to let the shepherd take the lead, and stop trying to go it alone.
The great writer Henry Van Dyke, reflecting on the meaning of death and immortality, writes: “I am standing on the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says, “there she goes!”
“Gone where?” Gone from my sight – that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and span as she was when she left my sight and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination. Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, “There she goes!” there are other eyes – watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, “Here she comes! Here she comes!” on the other shore.
After a long, full life Papa has gone home – and as we say to ourselves, “there he goes,” we know that somewhere on the other side a great chorus is ringing “here he comes!” “Here he comes!” Would that we all recognize the Lord as our shepherd, and that we all shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Amen.
"Papa would have loved it, Gran"
"But he's not going to be there!"
"Okay Granny. I'll take it out."
So - the title didn't make it into the program, but it stayed on my preaching copy, and I know that it fit with Papa's very dry sense of humor; much like his scotch. I still miss him, as I know my entire family does.
*****
Our reading from the Hebrew Bible comes from the 23rd Psalm, out of the King James version. Hear the Word of the Lord.
1The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3He restoreth my soul:
he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil:
for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:
thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.
(Let us pray)
Bless us, Oh God, with a reverent sense of your presence,
that we may be at peace.
And Grant that the Word you speak this day
may take root in our hearts,
and bear fruit to your honor and glory,
for the sake of Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.
My mom called to deliver the news I’d known would be coming – and she mentioned that it happened rather quickly, in the sense that one moment Papa was breathing and then – he wasn’t. When it comes right down to it – that really is the distance between that place and this one. You’re here, and then you’re not.
We’re told that while we have these times with each other we ought to enjoy them. And I think it’s fair to say, looking over it, that Papa was a man who in addition to having a life filled with years – was certainly a man who had years full of life.
My memories of Papa usually involve other family members – you see, holidays are a big deal in our family. Thanksgiving and Christmas especially, but then in early Spring we’d get together for the birthdays of Anne, Marshall, Meghan, Sally, and George. We’d usually combine Father’s Day with Papa’s birthday in June, and on the 4th of July we’d be at Lacy Park to watch fireworks. In the fall we would celebrate Ryan, me, Granny and for the past twelve years my brother-in-law Duane’s birthdays.
Then we’d be back at Thanksgiving and Christmas – combining Christmas with Scott’s and Linda’s birthdays – much to their chagrin - and starting the whole calendar over again. Really – I’m not sure we were all that concerned about celebrating the big events as much as we just wanted to get together – in fact, I’m not convinced that it’s the holidays that are such a big deal in our family as much that it’s family that’s a big deal in our family. At any rate, at every season in life we were together – and at the head of everything was Papa.
I learned from him about all the things you’re supposed to learn from your grandfather. I learned about fishing, golf, cigars and the joy of a very-old scotch opened up with just a splash of water. These are also the things Presbyterians love talking about from Methodist Pulpits – and I think he would get a kick out of hearing me speak of them.
When I was younger, I’d go to Granny and Papa’s house with my parents, and he would bring me into his dark room as he was developing film, usually after he and Granny had come home from one of their trips. He’d have taken hundreds of pictures – in the days before digital cameras when taking pictures involved actual film and actual talent and actual surprise when you got home and saw the pictures for the first time. As he developed the film he’d tell me about what they did and where they’d been – a lot like a slide show, but with chemicals, darkness, and strange smells from bottles and trays… it had a bit of mad-scientist flair to it, and it was pretty cool. Papa knew how to entertain us when we were small, educate us as we grew, and encourage us as adults – it’s like he always knew what we needed, and was always there.
He was injured during the War, as we know, which brought him home, but didn’t bring him down. He had a stroke in the 80’s which gave him pause – a bit - and then cancers of assorted varieties that tried to get him – but didn’t. And after a while, even though he was moving slower, it just seemed like nothing would ever stop him.
Which, of course, made it so strange a few years ago when he started to stop. And if it seemed strange to us, it was doubly strange for him. Not that he’d admit it, of course: he bore the weight of his failing body with the same dogged determination that drove him across the dunes of Iwo Jima. And you got the sense he wasn’t ready – he wasn’t done – there were things he still wanted to do; that he loved life, he loved his family and he wanted more of both.
I was thinking about this last week, and was reminded of a work by the poet Dylan Thomas:
“DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT”
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Papa looked at me on Father’s Day, and from a pair of tired eyes said simply, “it’s no fun getting old,” and I think he knew somewhere deep down that what had previously held him up was now giving way. I think the great tragedy of his passing is the obvious one – that it wasn’t so much that Papa stopped, but that his body, tired with its long raging, and spent from a life of not going gently – finally went, finally left.
Someone named John Calvin once said that “True and solid Wisdom, consists… of two parts: the knowledge of God and of ourselves.” Knowing ourselves reminds us of our limitations – our mortality. Knowing God reminds us of hope, and our eternal destination.
It’s situations like this when we are reminded that we are human, and God is not. When, echoing the sentiments of David who wrote the 23rd Psalm a better part of 3,000 years ago, we come back to knowing that we are but sheep in a pasture, and the Lord is our shepherd.
On the subject of sheep, I was reminded of my time in Ireland a few years ago. I decided I wanted to have my picture taken with some real Irish sheep, and as my friends and I were looking at some ruins in a field, there were sheep about 50 yards away; so I wandered over to say hello.
About 49 yards out, they saw me coming and wandered away. I started walking a little faster, and so did they. I saw that this was not going to go well, so naturally I did what any mature adult would do in the middle of an Irish pasture. I started chasing sheep.
Now sheep aren’t too bright, but they know who they belong to, and I was not that person. I was not their master, they did not know my voice. It probably also didn’t help that I was wearing an overcoat made of black wool, and that probably made them very nervous on a whole other level. But they have one defense mechanism – and it is housed entirely in their feet. A sheep in danger runs away.
But with a shepherd, there is nothing they lack. He has a rod to protect them, and a staff to guide them. There is food, drink, rest, and life. A sheep without a shepherd is a sheep in trouble. A sheep who wanders alone is not going to make it very far.
Halfway through his Psalm David shifts perspective from 3rd person to 2nd – from talking about the Lord to talking to the Lord. We move from the imagery of a sheep to that of a refugee. We know from the story of David’s life that he experienced both worlds – he started out in the fields as a shepherd, and then he killed Goliath and achieved notoriety to make the current King Saul jealous. Saul, of course, decided that if he couldn’t be more popular than David, he could at the very least have him killed – so David went into hiding.
And it’s from this life – begun in the fields guiding and protecting sheep, and running from powerful figures bringing death in their wake, that David writes this metaphor of dependence on God – recognizing who we are, and who we are not.
Scripture tells us – not just here – but everywhere from beginning to end, that God is our provider, supplier, guide, guardian – through darkness, beside stillness, in the presence of evil, that he restores our soul and overfills our cup….
On the night he was betrayed Jesus told his disciples, “I go to prepare a place for you” and as the Good Shepherd Jesus pointed into eternity he indicated – that’s where this all ends up, and that’s what this is all about. By the next evening Jesus had been killed, and three days after that he rose from the grave on that first Easter morning to break open the reality that eternity is our destination, and by faith in Him through his gracious, unconditional gift we will live in the house of the Lord forever.
And not because we’ve done anything special, or behaved appropriately – Lord knows it’s not because we behaved appropriately – but it’s because God’s goodness and mercy pursue us all the days of our lives – this shepherd does not lose track of his sheep. We will dwell there forever because he chose us, and by his grace we know that when our time in the pasture is through, we’ll go home to our place that Jesus has been preparing for us.
The sheep in Ireland knew I was not their shepherd, and they ran away, probably looking for him. If we are sheep – in God’s big pasture – it raises a question… can you tell the difference between the Lord as your shepherd, and something else? And – if you are on your own, or relying on something else – how’s that working out for you?
If you’ve felt something pulling at your heart, I wonder whether it might be a shepherd’s staff giving you a nudge. And if it is – my fellow sheep – maybe it’s time to let the shepherd take the lead, and stop trying to go it alone.
The great writer Henry Van Dyke, reflecting on the meaning of death and immortality, writes: “I am standing on the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says, “there she goes!”
“Gone where?” Gone from my sight – that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and span as she was when she left my sight and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination. Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, “There she goes!” there are other eyes – watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, “Here she comes! Here she comes!” on the other shore.
After a long, full life Papa has gone home – and as we say to ourselves, “there he goes,” we know that somewhere on the other side a great chorus is ringing “here he comes!” “Here he comes!” Would that we all recognize the Lord as our shepherd, and that we all shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Amen.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Unwitting Prophecy
As you'll see from the post below, I found a sermon hiding in a box at my parents' house. It had been in storage, like so many other things, since I moved back to Los Angeles from Atlanta back in 2003. The truly strange thing about this sermon, though, is that I completely forgot I had written it.
When I found it, the pages were in reverse order (which made for an interesting first read), that means I had not touched the manuscript since I preached it. I put it away, and didn't look back.
What's stranger? I preached this sermon exactly 7 years ago today.
Let me tell you: re-reading it was so good for me, especially in light of how my time in Atlanta came to an end. Seven years can do a lot to a man, but it can't do much to truth preached from God's Word.
I can't tell you how many times in that transition I was crying with my whole heart, "Save me, O God, by your name" - the opening line of the Psalm text for this sermon. If only I had read this while I was packing my apartment, while I was crying on the floor of my bedroom, my kitchen, my friend's house... when the whole world seemed exhausting, and every day was a new breath of failure and darkness. It wouldn't have made anything better, but I know it would have spoken to me in pretty powerful ways.
Give it a read: pass it to a friend if you like.
Sola Deo Gratia - to God alone be the Glory.
When I found it, the pages were in reverse order (which made for an interesting first read), that means I had not touched the manuscript since I preached it. I put it away, and didn't look back.
What's stranger? I preached this sermon exactly 7 years ago today.
Let me tell you: re-reading it was so good for me, especially in light of how my time in Atlanta came to an end. Seven years can do a lot to a man, but it can't do much to truth preached from God's Word.
I can't tell you how many times in that transition I was crying with my whole heart, "Save me, O God, by your name" - the opening line of the Psalm text for this sermon. If only I had read this while I was packing my apartment, while I was crying on the floor of my bedroom, my kitchen, my friend's house... when the whole world seemed exhausting, and every day was a new breath of failure and darkness. It wouldn't have made anything better, but I know it would have spoken to me in pretty powerful ways.
Give it a read: pass it to a friend if you like.
Sola Deo Gratia - to God alone be the Glory.
Don't Let the Ziphites Get You Down!
Let us Pray:
To the Leader with Stringed Instruments.
[Selah]
But - surely, God is my helper, the Lord is the upholder of my life.
*****
"Humble yourselves, therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you."
This is the Word of the Lord
*****
How were you taught to pray? Were you in a group, or by yourself?
If you’re like me, you learned to pray as a young child while there were people around you. You might have sat very still in worship next to your parent or grandparent - with your head bowed, eyes closed, and hands folded.
Peeking during prayer was about the most scandalous thing you could think of.
You might have learned in this time - as I did - that prayer needed to be proper. Wise; Collected; Splendid even. Very... grown-up. Impressive, sophisticated, detached.
But maybe you didn't learn to pray in a group. Maybe you learned to pray - I mean really pray - when you were by yourself: when you were suddenly without work; when your child was in the hospital, or you couldn't shake the haunting feeling that you were completely alone in the world, and no one understood your pain.
When words in prayer were all the words you had left.
You can here it in our text, can't you?
"Save me, O God, by your name!"
Our prayers become simpler, don't they, when our overriding emotion is just pure fear...
Tradition holds that these were the words of David.
His father-in-law, King Saul, is trying to kill him - has, actually, tried to kill him three times already, and failed.
For the second time, David has brought freedom to a group of people by kicking out the Philistines among them, and for the second time is thanked... with betrayal.
So here he is in the wilderness, fleeing for his life - again - and there's nothing standing between him and certain destruction other than the faithfulness of the Lord.
So out of his mouth spills the most simple of prayers:
"Save me, O God, by your name!"
Now, truth be told, we don't know that this was the exact prayer David used when the Ziphites ran off and told Saul about their guest.
The ascription to David at this specific time, like all the Psalmic ascriptions, was added later by a Hebrew scholar. The goal of the ascription was simply to give context to the emotion - the raw feeling - behind the songs. They tell us what might have been going on when the Psalm was written - so that we know who we might be when we come before the Lord.
So - when we're there in the wilderness with David: when the heat of the sun is pounding on our backs as we stumble through the sand, when we're sticky with perspiration, desperate with fear... not only can we hear the voice of David on the run, but we hear the voice of our own hearts.
What we find in this Psalm is a prayer that is at the same time both brutally honest and completely faithful. It holds nothing back - the entire situation is laid out before the Lord: every fear and uncertainty is there, every secret wish is exposed. At the same time, it clings desperately to God - resolution will come not from any human efforts, but only from the Lord whose faithfulness and mercy are never ending.
I think our most extraordinary prayers - the ones we remember - our most intimate prayers - the ones that are most special - are those we pray by ourselves; when they rise, almost by themselves, from the deepest parts of our need, when we have nothing left to cry except,
"Save me, O God, by your name!"
and there is no one by the Lord to listen. When we are, at our very least, most honest with God.
These solitary prayers of grief or fear are some of the most profound gifts of faith we can ever lay at the throne of God.
We are never more vulnerable, more naked, more completely exposed than when we are alone in prayer before the Lord. We are never more faithful than when we pair the urgency of our need with our complete reliance on God.
I think, in some ways, these are our best prayers, because they tell us who we are.
When we can answer "Save me, O God, by your name!" with, "Surely God is my helper," we reveal ourselves as fundamentally God's.
When we find ourselves at our wit's end, and find God there waiting to take up our slack.
It is total honesty met with total faith.
"Surely God is my helper; the Lord is the upholder of my life"
You can imagine, I'm sure, the tear-stained face of a downtrodden soul, rising from the floor of the temple in reflection on this phrase, and those former tears of desperation feeding new seeds of resolve.
In 1st Peter, the writer makes very elegant use of the themes in this Psalm when he says, "Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you."
He knows this Psalm: We can be free to approach the throne of God with all of ourselves, just as we are, and give all our anxieties, suffering, terror, and trial to the God who became human. God is not afraid of our troubles - even if we are - the proof is that he cares for us with his very self, in the body of his only son.
I remember the events in my life that have taught me how to pray - that have taken me to my wit's end, and had me using the words of the Psalmist. But I was never really in doubt, I suppose, because when I was at the end of my rope, I still went back to the Lord - and God was still there.
But I'm sure that you, as well, can remember those events that have stretched your faith - simplified your prayer life - crafted a new honesty with the Lord, taught you how to pray... maybe that's where you are right now.
The good news of the Gospel is that God's mercy extends far beyond all the imaginations of humanity, and far beyond even our most tragic disasters. Sometimes hat we have is a reluctant faith - a faith which is afraid - but is still faith, nonetheless.
In faith, we make our daily prayers to God, we worship and serve the Lord, claiming his unending faithfulness. In faith, we boldly declare that we will be delivered from present distress and ultimately be delivered from whatever force is causing us pain.
We do these things because we know God cares for us more than we can ever imagine. We do these things because in Christ, our suffering is known, and through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are being completed in Christ's image.
So, really knowing how to pray is being able to take all of ourselves to the throne of God and be authentically us, in all of our tantrums, fits, frustrations and fears, and "cast all our anxiety on him, because he cares for us."
More than we can possible imagine. And deliver our total honesty with total faith.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Guide us, O God,
by your Word and Spirit,
That in your light we may see light,
In your truth find freedom,
and in your will discover your peace;
Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.
Our first reading is of Psalm 54, described in its ascription as follows:
Our first reading is of Psalm 54, described in its ascription as follows:
A Maskil of David, when the Ziphites went and told Saul, "David is in hiding among us."
And our second reading will be 1st Peter 5:6-7
Hear the Word of the Lord
And our second reading will be 1st Peter 5:6-7
Hear the Word of the Lord
"Save me, O God, by your name, and vindicate me in your might!
Hear my prayer, O God; give ear to the words of my mouth.
For the insolent have risen against me,
the ruthless seek my life;
They do not set God before them.
[Selah]
But - surely, God is my helper, the Lord is the upholder of my life.
He will repay my enemies for their evil.
In your faithfulness, put an end to them.
With a freewill offering I will sacrifice to you;
I will give thanks to your name, O Lord, for it is good.
For he has delivered me from every trouble,
and my eye has looked in triumph on my enemies."
*****
"Humble yourselves, therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you."
This is the Word of the Lord
(Thanks be to God)
*****
How were you taught to pray? Were you in a group, or by yourself?
If you’re like me, you learned to pray as a young child while there were people around you. You might have sat very still in worship next to your parent or grandparent - with your head bowed, eyes closed, and hands folded.
Peeking during prayer was about the most scandalous thing you could think of.
You might have learned in this time - as I did - that prayer needed to be proper. Wise; Collected; Splendid even. Very... grown-up. Impressive, sophisticated, detached.
But maybe you didn't learn to pray in a group. Maybe you learned to pray - I mean really pray - when you were by yourself: when you were suddenly without work; when your child was in the hospital, or you couldn't shake the haunting feeling that you were completely alone in the world, and no one understood your pain.
When words in prayer were all the words you had left.
You can here it in our text, can't you?
"Save me, O God, by your name!"
Our prayers become simpler, don't they, when our overriding emotion is just pure fear...
Tradition holds that these were the words of David.
His father-in-law, King Saul, is trying to kill him - has, actually, tried to kill him three times already, and failed.
For the second time, David has brought freedom to a group of people by kicking out the Philistines among them, and for the second time is thanked... with betrayal.
So here he is in the wilderness, fleeing for his life - again - and there's nothing standing between him and certain destruction other than the faithfulness of the Lord.
So out of his mouth spills the most simple of prayers:
"Save me, O God, by your name!"
Now, truth be told, we don't know that this was the exact prayer David used when the Ziphites ran off and told Saul about their guest.
The ascription to David at this specific time, like all the Psalmic ascriptions, was added later by a Hebrew scholar. The goal of the ascription was simply to give context to the emotion - the raw feeling - behind the songs. They tell us what might have been going on when the Psalm was written - so that we know who we might be when we come before the Lord.
So - when we're there in the wilderness with David: when the heat of the sun is pounding on our backs as we stumble through the sand, when we're sticky with perspiration, desperate with fear... not only can we hear the voice of David on the run, but we hear the voice of our own hearts.
What we find in this Psalm is a prayer that is at the same time both brutally honest and completely faithful. It holds nothing back - the entire situation is laid out before the Lord: every fear and uncertainty is there, every secret wish is exposed. At the same time, it clings desperately to God - resolution will come not from any human efforts, but only from the Lord whose faithfulness and mercy are never ending.
I think our most extraordinary prayers - the ones we remember - our most intimate prayers - the ones that are most special - are those we pray by ourselves; when they rise, almost by themselves, from the deepest parts of our need, when we have nothing left to cry except,
"Save me, O God, by your name!"
and there is no one by the Lord to listen. When we are, at our very least, most honest with God.
These solitary prayers of grief or fear are some of the most profound gifts of faith we can ever lay at the throne of God.
We are never more vulnerable, more naked, more completely exposed than when we are alone in prayer before the Lord. We are never more faithful than when we pair the urgency of our need with our complete reliance on God.
I think, in some ways, these are our best prayers, because they tell us who we are.
When we can answer "Save me, O God, by your name!" with, "Surely God is my helper," we reveal ourselves as fundamentally God's.
When we find ourselves at our wit's end, and find God there waiting to take up our slack.
It is total honesty met with total faith.
"Surely God is my helper; the Lord is the upholder of my life"
You can imagine, I'm sure, the tear-stained face of a downtrodden soul, rising from the floor of the temple in reflection on this phrase, and those former tears of desperation feeding new seeds of resolve.
In 1st Peter, the writer makes very elegant use of the themes in this Psalm when he says, "Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you."
He knows this Psalm: We can be free to approach the throne of God with all of ourselves, just as we are, and give all our anxieties, suffering, terror, and trial to the God who became human. God is not afraid of our troubles - even if we are - the proof is that he cares for us with his very self, in the body of his only son.
I remember the events in my life that have taught me how to pray - that have taken me to my wit's end, and had me using the words of the Psalmist. But I was never really in doubt, I suppose, because when I was at the end of my rope, I still went back to the Lord - and God was still there.
But I'm sure that you, as well, can remember those events that have stretched your faith - simplified your prayer life - crafted a new honesty with the Lord, taught you how to pray... maybe that's where you are right now.
The good news of the Gospel is that God's mercy extends far beyond all the imaginations of humanity, and far beyond even our most tragic disasters. Sometimes hat we have is a reluctant faith - a faith which is afraid - but is still faith, nonetheless.
In faith, we make our daily prayers to God, we worship and serve the Lord, claiming his unending faithfulness. In faith, we boldly declare that we will be delivered from present distress and ultimately be delivered from whatever force is causing us pain.
We do these things because we know God cares for us more than we can ever imagine. We do these things because in Christ, our suffering is known, and through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are being completed in Christ's image.
So, really knowing how to pray is being able to take all of ourselves to the throne of God and be authentically us, in all of our tantrums, fits, frustrations and fears, and "cast all our anxiety on him, because he cares for us."
More than we can possible imagine. And deliver our total honesty with total faith.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Unpacking Boxes...
So my mom calls - for probably the 8th time - and says, "when you get the chance, if you could come home and sort through your stuff in the garage..."
What she's referring to is an enormous pile of my boxes and belongings from a move 6 years ago. Long story - to be told in another place (and I'll even link to it from here) - but suffice to say, I moved home to LA, and dropped a ton of boxes at my parents' house.
This past week, I returned some borrowed camping equipment, and as I was standing in my parents' garage, I started "sorting through my stuff." My big decision was to return to Culver City with my books, which, as an English major who also got a Theology degree, you can imagine the stockpile of literature and reference material I amassed over 8 years of higher education.
It's true: I own a small library.
It's weird what you pack, not knowing what you'll need, thinking it's important. Some of my discoveries amazed me:
- A stack of bills - obviously unpaid - neatly piled in a box with stuff from my desk.
- A complete set of audio tapes from Forest Home's college Briefing '97 (I think) - with Brennan Manning speaking. Thank God I drive a 1999 Toyota with a tape deck.
- A journal from college. Oh, the things I wrote about that girl. And the terrible poetry we write in college. I mean - really awful stuff. If you're my friend, someday we'll drink wine and read it and laugh hysterically.
- My copy of Against Forgetting, edited by Carolyn Forche - a wonderful, powerful book of 20th century poetry written in the midst of some of the worst suffering imaginable. I was so afraid I'd lost this book, and so glad to find it again. And - while we're on Carolyn Forche - read her poetry. It's phenomenal.
- 5 years of GQ Magazines. Truly. I packed, and paid to ship, probably 200 pounds of fashion and style advice from 6-10 years ago. Really? Really.
- I own 9 copies of the Bible. 6 versions. Not including my Greek New Testament (hey - where's my Septuagint? Next box...) and Hebrew Testaments (I have 2 of those). If you're buying me a present, for mercy's sake, skip the Bible aisle. Unless it's a version I don't have, in which case it's totally cool.
- I have a copy of every Hymnal the Presbyterian Church has published since 1933. Which means I own 3 Hymnals, including the 1990 doggerel, with that time honored favorite "Earth and All Stars" with the epic line "Loud boiling test tubes... sing to the Lord a new song"
. Why I keep that trash is beyond me; perhaps its so I can write lines like this, and use words like "doggerel." - I didn't know I owned a copy of The Catcher in the Rye. I was so glad to see it - tucked away under MacBeth, Hamlet, Othello, Measure for Measure, and the Tempest (in addition to a host of others). Holden would riot if he knew that's where he lived for 6 years. Part of me is wondering if I packed it that way to be ironic.
It's interesting. Each box has its mystery and discovery and "ooh what's next" quality. It's a bit like Christmas, without the wrapping. Also, I'm finding that my bookshelves are not as vast and limitless as I once thought: my humidor may have to be moved to make room for the stampeding hordes.
One last thing: my bookshelves are wood with glass shelves. I really hope they don't break. And I hope Crate and Barrel still sells them; I might need more.
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