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6. “Now That’s a Catchy Tune ” Christmas Day. It is based on Isaiah 52:7-10.
5. “Who Are You?” January 8, 2012, — Mark 1:1-15
4. “Promise Fulfilled” Christmas Eve service. It is based on Isaiah 9:2-7.
3. “One More Thing …”, September 4, 2011. Philippians 4:4-9.
2. “A Royal Wedding — You’re Invited ” October 9, 2011. It is based on Matthew 22:1-14.
1. “Don’t Waste Your Life ”, November 13, 2011, Matthew 25:14-30.
“Now That’s a Catchy Tune ” Christmas Day. It is based on Isaiah 52:7-10.
This prophet has some kind of imagination Most of us, most of the time, have trouble seeing any distance beyond the situation we’re in. When we’re in a deep hole, all we can see is the sheer surface that keeps us from crawling out of it. It so happens that at the time, this prophet was with the rest of his people in a very deep hole. And yet, he could see it clearly: salvation He was utterly convinced that the Lord had not abandoned them. He could picture the scene in his mind. The Lord would set them free. They would be released from bondage in Babylon and they would be able to make the long trip back home.
That was a lot to imagine all by itself. But he’s not done yet. He puts himself there in Jerusalem. He sees the procession of returnees. There’s the first one coming over the mountain in the distance. He’s running ahead of the rest, telling the good news of what the Lord has done for them. It’s a beautiful sight. Even the feet of this speedy messenger are beautiful in their own way because the news is so overwhelmingly good. In a word, Your God reigns! It’s all about God. God has demonstrated power, power over the nations, power to save. Your God reigns!
The prophet can see it all in his mind. The messenger leading the way. The watchmen in Jerusalem looking out at the horizon and upon seeing this procession, singing for joy. Then this prophet looks and listens further. Even in the depths, in the ruins of the city, which have become the waste places of Jerusalem, where hope has gone missing in action, in those places too he can hear a catchy tune, an upbeat song of praise.
It’s one thing to rejoice when the victory has been won, when the seconds tick off the clock and time expires, with your team in the lead. Anyone can sing and shout when the thing is done. But this prophet is so confident in the Lord’s faithfulness and power that he has no need to wait. He celebrates now. That’s some kind of imagination he has, isn’t it?
What does he celebrate? He celebrates salvation. Salvation is deliverance. It’s rescue from danger. It’s healing of disease. It’s peace in place of turmoil. He honors the messenger who publishes this salvation. But even more, he honors the Lord, because this is truly the salvation of our God.
Now there are a lot of different versions of salvation out there today. I think that a lot of our favorite books and movies are, when it comes right down to it, stories of salvation. But sometimes the salvation portrayed is weak and fleeting because it is based on a sudden romance, or more shaky still, it’s based on something within ourselves as though we are the source of our own salvation. When the situation is desperate, we need something more robust than that. We need help from outside ourselves.
This great prophet rejoices because the salvation he can see is the salvation of our God. The salvation that will benefit his people is an act of God. It’s literally an act of God. God is going to bare his holy arm before the eyes of all the nations. All the ends of the earth will see it. Baring your arm is an image of warfare. The Lord is portrayed here as a Warrior who wins a great victory, a great public victory.
At first glance, this prophet’s song of praise seems to be far removed from our celebration of Christmas. But it is, I think, a most timely word for us this morning. Consider this. Joy to the world! The Lord is come! The coming of the Lord is for our salvation. The Lord has come to set us free from bondage. This is good news, worth publishing far and wide, just as the salvation that the prophet could envision was also worth telling everyone.
One part of his picture may be hard for us to swallow: the Lord has bared his holy arm before the eyes of all the nations. We’re not accustomed to thinking of the coming of the Lord as an act of war, the Lord baring his holy arm. We’re drawn more to the peaceful scene of the baby in the manger, with gentle animals looking on. We like the thought of the lion and the lamb lying together peacefully.
But there is another side to the Christmas story. This is a story of cosmic conflict. C.S. Lewis calls it “the invasion.” What does he mean? He says, “This universe is at war … a civil war, a rebellion … we are living in a part of the universe occupied by the rebel.” You don’t have to look far to see that something has gone wrong. Different people have different explanations for our ailment. Lewis gives us a Christian account: “Enemy-occupied territory—that is what this world is. Christianity is the story of how the rightful king has landed, you might say landed in disguise, and is calling us all to take part in a great campaign of sabotage” (Mere Christianity, 36). The coming of the Lord is an assault on the enemy. It is an act of deliverance. And it is public. Like the salvation that the prophet envisioned, it can be seen before the eyes of the nations.
So what does the prophet do? What do we do? The prophet breaks out in song. But it’s not a solo. He anticipates that he will not be singing alone. He expects to be joined by the messenger leading the way, then by the watchmen who welcome the people returning from captivity, and even by the waste places themselves! Break forth into singing, you waste places of Jerusalem, he cries out. This reminds me of those old Hollywood musicals. You see life going on as usual. Something happens. Then one character, for no apparent reason, breaks out in song. And before long, another jumps in, and then another. Eventually, everyone gets in on the act. If it’s a catchy tune, you find your own toes tapping with the music and you may even end up humming along.
The salvation of our God, however, is not life going on as usual. It is an unexpected and gracious intervention. What God has done for us is news, good news. In those musicals, it seems that they sing even when there isn’t really much to sing about. In our case, though, there is something to sing about, salvation, peace, good tidings.
So when we’re told, break forth together into singing, it makes sense. Regardless of your personal circumstances, regardless of your present mood, there is something to sing about. That something is the coming of the Lord. The Lord’s coming is a mighty act of salvation. Rejoice, give thanks, and sing!
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January 8, 2012, “Who Are You?” — Mark 1:1-15.
Who are you? I’ve called this sermon “Who Are You?” because that’s one of the most important questions there is. Who are you really? There are a lot of ways to answer that question. If you don’t answer it, someone else will do it for you. For instance, advertisers know who you are. You’re a potential customer, you’re a consumer with money to spend. That is your identity. This is who you are. That’s true, I suppose, but is that who you really are? Aren’t you more, much more, than a consumer?
I find that, in Jesus’ first public appearance, which is his baptism, we have a more reliable and lasting answer to this identity question, his and ours alike. When Jesus was baptized, a voice from heaven spoke directly to him, saying, You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.
We’re focusing today on baptism, Jesus’ baptism in particular. We’ve moved forward from his birth all the way to his emergence on the public stage. And his first public act is to do what countless others are doing, which is to submit to the baptism with water administered by John the Baptist.
At Jesus’ baptism, two unusual things happen. The Holy Spirit comes upon him in the form of a dove, and the Father speaks to him about who he is.
Before I go any further, let me tell you where I’m headed. In Mark’s story of the way that Jesus got started, there is a pattern, one thing following another. I am convinced that the pattern we observe playing out in Jesus’ life also plays out in our lives. The pattern has three parts: baptism, temptation, and service. If we pay close attention to the story of Jesus, we’ll learn more about who he is, and we will also learn more about who we are. Knowing who we are, who we really are, makes a huge difference in the way that we live.
Like everyone else who came out to John, Jesus was baptized in water. But when Jesus came out of the water, he saw the heavens torn open, and the Spirit descended upon him like a dove. The baptism of the Lord tells who he is. Jesus is the Son of God who is accompanied and empowered by the Holy Spirit. Everything he will do from here on flows out of that Trinitarian relationship. Jesus was baptized. The Christian church still baptizes. Baptism is a very simple action. It consists of water and words. But in baptism there are lot of different things going on at the same time. It is a rite of initiation, the beginning of a lifelong journey. It is the way that newcomers are welcomed as part of the community. It is being identified with Jesus in his death and resurrection. But the one thing that I want to lift up today, which we see so clearly in the baptism of Jesus, is that baptism tells us who we are. Baptism answers the identity question that is so important and so difficult for us.
When the Father spoke to Jesus at his baptism, he said, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Our baptism, like the baptism of the Lord, tells us who we are. You are a child of God, you are beloved. As I said, there are many things going on in baptism. One of them is the naming of the one who is baptized. You are a child of God. Underneath all of the different answers to the question of who you are, this is your core identity. This is who you are amidst all the changing circumstances of life and amidst all the different roles you’ll play. You are a beloved child of God.
So far so good. The baptism of the Lord and our baptism are about identity. Who are you? You’re a child of God. Yet that identity is called into question constantly and has to be claimed afresh. This leads into the second part of the pattern that I see here in the story of Jesus, which is temptation. The same Spirit who came upon him in the form of a dove now drives him out into the wilderness where he is tempted for forty days. Following so closely on his baptism, the temptation is to reject the very words that were spoken on that occasion. John Burgess says, “Jesus’ core identity was put to the test.” For Jesus and for us, “Temptation attacks our core identity.” Here is the rub for us: “We are tempted every day to forget who we really are. … To succumb to temptation is to succumb to identity crisis.” The real force of temptation, and its danger, is the way that it denies the truth of who we really are. It substitutes another answer to the question of our identity. And once that happens, we’ll no longer live out our true identity as children of God.
Let me give you a little more from John Burgess: “To succumb to temptation is to succumb to identity crisis. We begin to wonder who we really are and what we are supposed to be doing with our lives. We begin to doubt that our lives are worth much. We see only our limitations and dwell on our failures. As our inner core weakens, we become vulnerable to powers and forces that are all too ready to tell us who we really are, promising us that we will never have to worry about it again. A lifestyle, a political allegiance, or a racial or class label comes to define us, instead of our baptism” (After Baptism, 6).
You can appreciate the wisdom of Martin Luther when he counseled Christians of his day to resist temptation by remembering their baptism. He said, “Let everybody regard his Baptism as the daily garment which he is to wear all the time” (“The Large Catechism”). Remember your baptism. Remember who you are. You are a child of God.
Jesus was baptized, then he was tempted. There is a third part of the pattern that I want you to see. Baptism, temptation, then service. Jesus claimed his baptismal identity by resisting temptation, then he began to preach the gospel of God.
Jesus’ baptism moves him into temptation and then into service. The same pattern holds for all who are baptized. I want you to hear this clearly: All who are baptized. We’re thinking today about service, particularly the service of those who are our ordained leaders. But if the pattern that we see in Jesus is repeated in all who are baptized, then all of us are called into service. We can speak truthfully of the ministry of the whole people of God. Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon put it well: “All Christians, by their baptism, are ‘ordained’ to share in Christ’s work in the world. … Ministry originates in baptism. Ministry is the vocation of all Christians” (Resident Aliens, 113, 118).
Within that one calling of all Christians, some are summoned to particular forms of service which help the whole church to do its job. We call these ordered ministries, and they’re important for the health of the whole church. But today I want us to see the broad pattern that includes every believer: baptism, temptation, and service.
With that pattern in mind, let’s now go back to the original question. Who are you? Who are you really? There are so many ways to answer that question, and there is truth in a lot of them. I am an American, an Arizonan, a Phoenician. I am a taxpayer, a consumer, a motorist. I am a son, a husband, and a father. On and on it goes. But who am I really? What is my core identity? A child of God. It’s good to know who you are. You are a child of God. As we see in Jesus himself, knowing who you are propels you into action. As a child of God, you serve.
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“One More Thing …”, September 4, 2011. Philippians 4:4-9.
For a long time, this short passage from the book of Philippians has been a great favorite of mine. I’ve opened it up more times than I can count, for my own encouragement or for the encouragement of someone I’m visiting in a hospital or care center. I’m drawn especially to the call for prayer instead of worry, and the promise of a peace that passes understanding.
It’s a great passage, but we usually read it by itself, forgetting that Paul wrote it as part of a letter. These words are placed here for a reason. They’re part of the flow of this remarkable letter of friendship that Paul wrote to the Philippians. They come toward the end, as he’s starting to wrap up. Paul has now covered all the major issues he has in mind, except for one thing that he’s saving for the very end, so as to leave it ringing in their ears after the letter is read aloud to the church. We’ll take up this one last thing next week.
In the part we’re reading today, we find a whole series of instructions. They’re short and pointed, one after the other. Do this. Don’t do that. Over and over, this is what we have here. It’s what friends, and especially mentors, do when it’s time to depart. The train is pulling out of the station, and you’re leaning out of the window to say one more thing. We do this all the time at the end of a phone conversation. Take care of yourself. Get plenty of rest. Don’t let them get you down. Be sure to take your pills.
In this short passage with these sharp instructions given in quick succession, Paul covers a lot of territory. One matter immediately follows another. But in Paul’s case, it’s not a thoughtless dose of free
advice that you can write off with no great loss. I know that, sometimes, when a friend keeps saying, And one more thing, we just keep nodding our heads but we don’t really take it seriously. We’re trying to get away. In this passage, though, Paul’s quick bits of counsel amount to something more substantial. I think that he’s actually speaking, even here, to some real dangers that his friends are facing in their Christian life. And I think that if we put all of his sharp commands together, we can come up with a rather complete and compelling picture of Christian life.
The dangers that Paul’s friends in Philippi are facing are significant. The obvious one is the opposition that they encounter every day from their neighbors. Philippi’s fanatic loyalty to Rome caused people to view Christians with suspicion. Christians claimed a Savior and Lord other than the Roman emperor. So the church there faced the prospect of persecution.
In such a situation, other dangers can emerge. One is the breakdown of relationships within the church. The external pressure can produce undesirable tensions in the community. Leaders start throwing their weight around in unhelpful ways, looking out for themselves only.
With all of that trouble within and without swirling around, church members can become quite anxious. They worry more and they pray less. There is a huge gap between what they’ve been taught to do and their actual conduct. Then and now, there can be a huge disconnect between the standard set before us and our actual practice.
With all of these potential dangers, it is no wonder that Paul unfolds such a list of things to do and things to avoid.
The first item on Paul’s list is something he’s said before: Rejoice in the Lord. But now he adds to the basic instruction: Rejoice in the Lord always. Then for good measure, again I will say, Rejoice. Do you get the impression that this is important to Paul? It sounds like Paul has been reading the Psalms, in which God’s people are invited and summoned to rejoice in the Lord. God is worthy of praise, always. Even if you’re in a hard situation in a place like Philippi, rejoice in the Lord. Give thanks to the Lord. Bless the name of the Lord. All the time.
The next command shifts from our relationship to God to our relationships to others. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. That is, when you’re out there rubbing shoulders with people inside and outside the Christian community, you will be seen as one who treats others with respect. You don’t trample over them. You’re patient and gentle.
The third instruction is a negative, something to avoid. Do not worry about anything. Anything? Does Paul have any idea what he’s talking about? It sounds to me like he’s been reading Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount. As he thinks about his friends in Philippi, he realizes that anxiety can sap their strength. Not that there aren’t plenty to things you could worry about. In fact, there is no end of matters to make you anxious. Paul wants us, though, to be non-anxious, to be peaceful instead.
We need to move quickly to the next item on his list because it is the positive alternative to worry. You can see this in the way that he connects the two. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. The alternative to worry is prayer. Perhaps one drives the other out. Notice how Paul speaks as broadly as possible. Do not worry about anything, but in everything pray. Notice also how we pray with thanksgiving even while we’re making our requests. That practice of rejoicing in the Lord accompanies us even while we’re bringing our needs before the Lord. Paul wants them, and us, to be grateful all the time.
The next thing that Paul gives us to do is quite different. It pertains to our thought patterns. He wants us to take into account whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is just, whatever is commendable … any excellence … anything worthy of praise. Here he sounds like a Greek moral philosopher of the day who would talk just like this. In other words, whatever out there in your culture is good, grab hold of that. There are worthwhile things all over the place that fit well in a Christian’s life. You have to draw the line, though, and this can be very tricky. What is really worthy of praise? Does this work of art, this book, this film, convey truth? Paul calls us be open to good things wherever they’re found, but also to be discerning.
The last of the instructions that Paul gives is all-encompassing. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me. Be sure to do these things. No disconnect between what you profess and what you do. Practice what you preach. It’s so easy to talk a good game, but never get around to doing anything about it. This is a call to basic consistency in the way we live.
So Paul, as he’s getting ready to sign off, gives them this rapid-fire set of what to do and what not to do. Together, these words give us a fairly complete picture of Christian life. He includes our relationship to God, our relationship to other people, our thinking, our praying, and our general bearing in the world.
But if I stopped right here, something really important would be missing. In fact, at this point, we could go completely wrong. Without the missing piece, all of the above is utterly impossible. It would be a matter of our own doing, and we know how that always falls short of the goal. What I haven’t told you yet, and must tell you now, is that in the midst of Paul’s urgent instructions on how to live, he also give us some help. He shows us what makes it all possible.
Three times, Paul gives us a word of assurance that God will provide what we need. Without God’s provision, we would be left to our own devices. But we are not stranded. Here is the help we need. The Lord is near. The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. The God of peace will be with you. These are all statements of fact. Here, Paul isn’t giving us anything to do. He’s telling us what God is doing. He is affirming the presence and the power of God. This means that all the other things that I’ve been talking about are possible for us to do because God is here. The Lord is near. The Lord is already here through the work of the Spirit. And the Lord will one day come again in glory. Then there is a play on words between the peace of God and the God of peace. Both of these are ways of describing what God is doing for us now to keep us from being overwhelmed with worry.
This short passage gives us a compelling and fairly comprehensive picture of current Christian life. It gives us plenty to do. It’s clear enough to keep us from squirming out of its strong claims upon us. But it also shows us that we are given the help we need. In other words, this life we’re called to live is not our own doing, but the gift of God. Therefore, we can say with great confidence, in the words of the hymn, “It is well, it is well with my soul.”
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“Don’t Waste Your Life ”, November 13, 2011, Matthew 25:14-30.
Maybe you’ve heard this saying, or something like it: Don’t waste your life. The idea is that you’ve received a great gift and it’s not to be squandered. Don’t waste your life.
Jesus’ parable, which is directed toward his disciples, people like ourselves, is quite disturbing because it tells of a man who does just that. He wastes his life.
He is given a great treasure. One talent is a significant sum of money. A talent weighs seventy-five pounds. Seventy-five pounds of silver is worth a lot. You would have to work at least fifteen years to earn the amount of money that this man is given. Well, not exactly given. He’s not the actual owner. But he is given a great deal of latitude for the use of that money. He’s in charge of it as a steward or a manager. It’s a great responsibility but it’s also a great opportunity.
The man who placed that talent at his disposal must be some kind of happy-go-lucky tycoon After all, this man has given even greater sums to two others who are in his employ. But here’s the problem with the man who is given one talent to take care of. He thinks that the one who gave it to him is some kind of monster. He thinks that his master is a ruthless, heartless criminal.
As a result of his distorted thinking, when the wealthy source of all that money goes away, this man is shaking in his boots. He is not able to play with this vast fortune. Not at all. He doesn’t even take it to the bank to earn a little bit of interest. He is given a great privilege and a great responsibility, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do something fun and worthwhile, and he ducks. He’s too scared. So he digs a big hole in the back yard, big enough to handle seventy-five pounds of silver. Down it goes into the hole. And the man, entrusted with the vast sum, settles in for a long wait, until the dreaded day of reckoning arrives.
And when that day finally does arrive, it is bad, even worse than he had imagined. He mutters something about how he was afraid, afraid because his master is really a heartless brute. This does not go over well. Not well at all. He ends up being tossed out completely. A terrible ending for him, but it didn’t have to be this way.
This parable is Jesus’ word to his disciples, people like us. Here we are with time on our hands. Our Master has ascended to the Father’s right hand, and we’re awaiting his return. But we’re not empty-handed, not at all. A great treasure has been entrusted to us, the gift of salvation, of life itself. And what’s more, we who have been welcomed into the kingdom are given resources to use, the gift of time and all sorts of interests and skills to fill that time up. Each week we’re given one hundred sixty-eight hours. What a gift And every one of us receives it. True, though we’re equal in the sense that we’ve all received the gift of life and the same number of hours, the exact resources at hand vary from person to person. We’re not identical. Jesus’ parable recognizes that these servants have abilities that differ. Thus, one is given five talents, one is given two, and another one talent. But they’re all entrusted with treasure, and they’re all given great control over what they’ll do with it.
Phillip Cary makes some pointed comments about the amazing position we’re in. “The talents become an image of all the abilities and resources God has put into our hands, which we are responsible to use for his glory. … We are stewards of our talents and we have no right to surrender our stewardship until the Lord returns” (Good News for Anxious Christians, pages 40-1). It’s a great honor to be entrusted with such a treasure, but it’s a great responsibility to manage it well.
Jesus’ parable doesn’t end well for the servant who was so fearful that he wasted his life. But it ends very well for the other two servants. Let’s take a closer look at them. They do not waste their lives. They take the treasure that is in their care, and they play with it. And look what happens. It grows. They’re not afraid. They’re not worried about how harsh their master might be. They aren’t paralyzed by fear. They take and use the resources they’ve been given for the whole time their master is away.
When the master returns, they don’t have any need to cower in fear. They give a simple, matter-of-fact account of what has been happening during his absence. Then they both hear the all-important words, Well done, good and faithful servant; you have been faithful over a little, I will set you over much; enter into the joy of your master. The one who added five talents and the one who added two heard the same words, indicating perhaps that the amount of money isn’t the most important thing. I want to focus on
two words that they hear from their master: faithful and joy.
Alexander Maclaren observes, “The eulogium on the servants is not ‘successful’ or ‘brilliant,’ but ‘faithful,’ and both alike get it” (Expositions of Holy Scripture, page 200). There is a lot going on in life over which we have no control. Sometimes the good and faithful servant is wildly successful, but not always. Robert Roberts imagines a different sort of ending for the servant who is given one talent. Listen to this and see what you think:
Imagine the third servant in a different scenario. He takes the one talent and works his fingers to the bone with it, so as to please the master, and everything is going swimmingly until the sweet potato crop fails and he loses all he’s gained, and the original talent to boot. Now the master calls for a reckoning, and the servant comes to him empty-handed. If the master is the Lord he won’t say, “You wicked and useless servant. You lost my money. If you’d been more conservative and invested with the bankers, I’d still have my money. Go to Hell.” No, he won’t say that. He’ll say, “Well done, good and faithful servant. Your heart was with me, both in the joy of your early success and in your sorrow about the failure of the sweet potato crop. You have been faithful in a little, and I want you to continue to be my servant. Take one of the talents earned by the servant with five talents, and give it to this boy so he can get started again. Enter into the joy of your master.” (Spiritual Emotions, page 127).
I like this imaginative retelling of the story because it brings out the crucial thing, which is to be faithful. Faithfulness means not wasting your life but doing something with it, hoping for good results but knowing that sometimes it doesn’t work out as planned.
There there is the joy. The master tells his faithful servants that they will enter into his joy. In Christian life, we are promised joy. We enter into our Lord’s own joy. When does this joy begin? In the story, you might get the sense that it’s all drudgery until the master returns from his journey, and then, at long last, the faithful servants get joy as a reward.
But let’s think about this. If you’re one of those servants who have been given such a treasure to manage, and if you are convinced that your master is really kind and generous, won’t you have some enjoyment all the way through? Robert Roberts recalls how important The Joy of Cooking was to his mother, and how she really did have a lot of joy in the activity itself. Our joy, then, comes not only at the very end, but even now while we’re putting the treasure to work.
It all depends on our view of God. I’m afraid that a lot of people have an inaccurate view of God, and that shapes the way that they live. If you think that God is unfair or harsh or stingy, that will make you miserable all the time. But if God is something like that master in the story, who is extremely generous and who gives real responsibility to his servants, then we can enjoy what we’re doing while we’re doing it.
I want to conclude this sermon with a part of one of my favorite readings of all time, from Howard Thurman’s meditation on this parable:
We are never under obligation to achieve results. … There are many forces over which the individual can exercise no control whatsoever. A man plants a seed in the ground and the seed sprouts and grows. The weather, the winds, the elements, cannot be controlled by the farmer. The result is never a sure thing. So what does the farmer do? He plants. Always he plants. Again and again he works at it—the ultimate confidence and assurance that even though his seed does not grow to fruition, seeds do grow and they do come to fruition. The task of men who work for the Kingdom of God, is to Work for the Kingdom of God. (The Inward Journey, pages 64-5).
Don’t waste your life!
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“A Royal Wedding — You’re Invited ” October 9, 2011. It is based on Matthew 22:1-14.
Have you heard the news? Not long ago, there was a royal wedding held in Westminster Abbey. I would have been there, but somehow, the invitation didn’t get to me in time. How about you? Imagine actually being invited to a royal wedding. What would you do? Would you take a look at the invitation, and then toss it into the recycling bin? I don’t think so. Would you open up your calendar, and upon discovering that the wedding is scheduled for laundry day, decide to take a pass, maybe next time? I don’t think so. Or if you did hold on to the invitation and if you did have the time available, but didn’t have enough money for the flight, what would you do? Would you give up? Or would you think of something, anything, to raise the funds? Maybe a car wash, a very large car wash I think that if you or I ever were invited to a royal wedding, our response would be to do anything and everything necessary to take part.
Jesus tells a tale about a royal wedding. A king’s son is getting married, and there will be a great banquet. Jesus says that this story sheds some light on the kingdom of heaven. When you put these two things together, kingdom of heaven and wedding, you’re talking about the popular image of the messianic banquet. When people thought of the coming kingdom in which the Messiah would reign, they likened it to a great marriage feast. People would come from east and west, and sit at table together in the kingdom of God.
So Jesus connects with the great hope of the messianic feast. But he does something surprising. He turns it into a story of what happens when the invitations go forth. He sheds light on those who are invited to this great royal wedding, and also on those who were not on the original guest list.
In Jesus’ tale, something outrageous happens. To really appreciate it, you have to know that in those days, when you had a big wedding celebration, there were really two invitations. The first one was more general. I’m going to throw a big party, and you’ve invited. Details to follow. You know that it’s happening. You can begin to prepare yourself. But a little later, a second invitation will come. Now is the time. In other words, it’s time to saddle up and get going. You’ve already said Yes to the first invitation. When the second one comes, of course you’ll wrap up what you’re doing and head on over to the big party.
But not in this story. The messengers arrive. Now is the time. Some of the people who were invited all of a sudden have work that must be done. Some of them are completely indifferent. When told that the meat is on the grill, they yawn and turn aside. This is outrageous. Then it gets worse. The poor messengers, whose only crime is reporting the news, are abused and then killed. What these invited guests do is beyond belief. And in Jesus’ story, they pay a steep price for their behavior. The king now sends in his troops, and they make short work of the town that these ungrateful people inhabit.
We’re told that Jesus spoke to them in parables. That is, he is aiming this story at some very tough customers who have been giving him a hard time. Jesus is speaking to the chief priests and the Pharisees, two very different groups. The chief priests have the raw political power. They are in tight with the Romans. The Pharisees, on the other hand, have the power of a disciplined life. They are highly respected by the populace. But when it comes to Jesus, in this season they hold their respective noses and work together against their common enemy.
Jesus fights back, with parables. This parable is given in the attack mode. They, the chief priests and the Pharisees, are the people who have been invited. They have been given every opportunity to take part in the inbreaking of the kingdom of heaven. They had the prophets and then they had the wilderness ministry of John the Baptist, and finally Jesus himself. But they’ve been turning a cold shoulder. God’s grace has been lavished upon them. An open door has been placed before them. They have, however, declined to walk through it. Instead, they have acted out with hostility. They’ve turned down an amazing invitation. It’s like taking that invitation to the royal wedding at Westminster Abbey, and running it through the shredder. In this story, Jesus is pointing his finger at them, saying, That’s you !
What happens next? In the story, violence leads to more violence. The king’s kindness in inviting them turns to wrath upon their wholesale refusal to come to the party. That’s a chilling development. But this king isn’t done yet. He still has some messengers who haven’t been killed, and he sends them out on a mission. Don’t limit yourself. Go out and hunt for others who will come and join us at this royal wedding. So it happens that people who never expected to go anywhere near a royal wedding are given an engraved invitation. It’s unusual behavior for a king. It’s indiscriminate, inviting anyone and everyone to the party of the year. It’s like another parable in which a sower goes out to sow, and he tosses seed every which way.
The reinforcement messengers do what they’re told. They go out into the mean streets of town and tell the least likely people they can find, This is your lucky day! They gathered all whom they found, both bad and good. So it is that the wedding hall is finally filled up. Every seat is occupied, but to say the least, the crowd is a mixed bag. Both good and bad are gathered. Don’t leave your valuables lying around when you’re in company like this. But there you have it. The king is determined to have a crowd on hand for this wedding feast, and sure enough, he has a crowd.
Jesus is aiming his words at those who oppose him, telling them that they’re doing what the people in the story did. But there are others who do respond favorably, who make their way to the wedding hall. They include both bad and good. Who is Jesus talking about? Perhaps Gentiles and Jews who heard the good news and responded in faith. From the perspective of Jesus’ questioners, Gentiles were plenty bad. No way they can get in on the messianic feast!
But by the time that the Gospel of Matthew is written, there are people who have been invited and have made their way. They’re a mixed bag, both bad and good, both Gentiles and Jews. But there they are, fellow members of the church. It’s the church he’s talking about. So even though there is a lot of bad news in this story, there is some good news too. We are all privileged because an amazing invitation has come our way. Yes, there is good news in this story, plenty of it. We get in on something we never could have anticipated. It’s like being given an invitation to the royal wedding, and getting a plane ticket and hotel room tossed in for good measure. So we’re glad to come to this point in the story, with the wedding hall filled with guests.
But Jesus doesn’t stop there. There is what you might call the rest of the story. The parable doesn’t end with everyone enjoying the feast, and dancing the night away. If it ended that way, we who are the happy latecomers could feel pretty satisfied with ourselves. We could say, what a deal ! We could take Jesus’ story as a merciless attack upon his vocal opponents. They are charged with not only ignoring God’s overtures toward them, but acting out with irrational hatred. We can’t stop here, though. We aren’t allowed to gloat in our good fortune.
In Part 2 of the parable, Jesus is turning toward the very people who said Yes, and issuing a solemn warning. Here is what happens. The king enjoys seeing his hall filled up, with everyone having a good time. As he floats from table to table, he is brought up short by something that spoils the mood. At one table, there is one man who is missing something. No wedding garment. When questioned, he has nothing to say for himself. He is without excuse. Then he suffers severely for his lapse in judgment. He is tied up and then tossed out into the alley with the trash.
The first part of Jesus’ parable is his attack on the chief priests and the Pharisees. Now in this second part, he is attacking again, but he is aiming at those who have said Yes to his invitation. They have taken their place. So far so good. But something is missing. No wedding garment. And this one pays dearly for his omission.
Here is a sober warning to church members who have heard the good news and responded positively. It’s a warning about what happens when we think we can come in and remain unchanged. The wedding garment is, you might say, a change of clothes. You’re not just inside the building, you’re a changed person. Unless, that is, you’re not. Dietrich Bonhoeffer lashed out against the nominal Christianity of his day. He called it cheap grace. It’s thinking we can get forgiven and then go on living the way we always have. It’s the attempt to have Jesus in our lives and still hold on to our sins.
It is God’s grace that people like us, who were hanging out in the streets, both bad and good, are included in the first place. No question about it. But God has something in mind for our continuing life, and when it’s missing, we’re in serious trouble. There are difficult theological questions about what happens when believers go astray. Can you lose your salvation? Or is it once saved, always saved? I don’t want to read too much into this parable on the questions about the possibility of losing your salvation. Rather, I think that the Gospel of Matthew has a practical purpose here, and that is to stir us up to live in a way that matches our high calling.
We’ve been invited to a royal wedding. We are in no way deserving of such an honor. But here we are, by the grace of God. Our part, now, is to let that invitation change our lives.
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“Promise Fulfilled” Christmas Eve service. It is based on Isaiah 9:2-7.
Like everyone else, Isaiah had high hopes. Their previous ruler, Ahaz, had been a huge disappointment. Now Ahaz’s son, Hezekiah, was taking office. On the day of his coronation, Isaiah the prophet composes a poem. To get a feel for it, call to mind the poets who have sometimes shared the platform in Washington on a cold January inauguration day. They speak words of optimism and hope for a great future with this new and promising leader. Isaiah borrows the Egyptian practice of conferring throne names on the new king: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. These are lofty titles, too lofty for any mere mortal. But it’s better to aim too high than to aim too low. And everyone knows that the need for fresh and vital leadership has never been greater. Moral and spiritual conditions are in the gutter. On top of that, ominous world powers are threatening the nation.
So let’s hope that Hezekiah comes through in the clutch. Let’s hope that he rivals the greatness of king David. With high hopes, the eminent prophet and poet Isaiah utters these words: For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government will be upon his shoulder, and his name will be called “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”
Hezekiah was, as it turned out, a great king. Among the kings who reigned in the centuries after David, only Hezekiah and Josiah are worthy of praise. Hezekiah loved the Lord, and guided by that love, he reformed the worship life of the nation. He got rid of some pagan practices that had gained a foothold over the years. And he promoted good things that had been long forgotten.
But like rulers before him and rulers after him, Hezekiah was not perfect. Over the ensuing years, Isaiah himself was critical of some of his political moves in relation to the surrounding nations. Hezekiah was a good king in an impossible situation. He was good, but he fell short of the great expectations that people had on the day of his coronation. Wonderful Counselor? Mighty God? Everlasting Father? Prince of Peace? No, not by a long shot.
Every elected leader who takes office has made campaign promises. A chicken in every pot Morning again in America! Lower taxes and more services at the same time! Sometimes you are in the happy position of having the leader you voted for actually win the election. So you’re hopeful, like Isaiah and the rest of them were in the days of Hezekiah. Happy days are here again But what will you be saying a year from now? Will the new leader’s approval ratings take a dive? Chances are, you’ll have some disappointment because no mortal is able to do all that we hope for.
You have to feel for king Hezekiah. Good as he was, he left a lot to be desired. There is a gap between the hope and the reality. There always is. But tonight, Christmas Eve, we’re saying that there is one exception to the rule. Or rather, there is one who stepped into that gap between the prophet’s impossible dream for the new king and the reality of his reign.
When you think about it, you have to marvel at the boldness of what the Christian church has been claiming for a long time. We say that, at the very point where Hezekiah fell short, there is one who actually fulfills the promise of these four lofty throne names: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
G.F. Handel composed his music,“The Messiah,” to accompany these words. Whenever we hear a choir singing, “And his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor,” we are not thinking of Hezekiah. Hezekiah was a great king, but he fell short in a lot of ways. No, when we hear these words sung or read, we are thinking of the one whose coming we celebrate tonight, Jesus Christ.
From the outside looking in, it is odd that we make such a claim. It’s odd that, in this day and age, we affirm that there really is a king who is worthy of our devotion. We all know that 2011 has not been kind to authoritarian rulers. Yet here we are, saying that there is one exception to the rule. There is one who is no disappointment. There is one, a true King, who fulfills our highest hopes.
We’re willing to be somewhat out of step with the drift of our culture when we say that Jesus Christ is Lord. We hear these extravagant words spoken originally in hope for what Hezekiah might have been, and we are convinced that their true fulfillment came hundreds of years later in Jesus Christ.
What we celebrate is not only a birth, but the true greatness of the one who came. We hear these words of Isaiah, and we find that they are not merely figures of speech, poetic exaggeration composed for a special day. We affirm that these words are true, but in a way that the prophet could never have imagined. So my message for you tonight is the same message that Christians have proclaimed from the very beginning: Jesus is Lord!
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