Weapons of Righteousness

2 Corinthians 6:1-13  

1 Samuel 17:32-49     

There is a film called, “In the Valley of Elah.” Tommy Lee Jones is a retired army sergeant, Hank, who is looking for his son, Mike. Mike has recently returned home from his tour in Iraq, and then disappeared. The film is about Hank’s search for Mike and the things he finds along the way. I had to watch it a couple of times before I understood the title.

I know it was in the valley of Elah that the army of Israel faced off against a monster, their worst nightmare. In the valley of Elah, the people of God faced Goliath and found they had nothing, no one to match, and they were paralyzed by fear. At the valley of Elah, Israel looked at their weapons, their armor, themselves, and saw that they came up short in a particular, fatal way. Both armies had bows and arrows. Both armies had spears and swords. Both armies had armor. But only one army had a giant, and the giant was challenging Israel to a duel.

They had no match for Goliath and, therefore, they could not defeat the army of the Philistines. These were the terms that had been set. They had all the conventional weapons, but without a giant of their own, Israel knew the battle was lost before it even began.

Because the challenge had been made. The terms had been set.

It wasn’t in the realm of the expected for the boy David to step forward and volunteer to fight Goliath. It wasn’t in the realm of possibility that David could win this battle against Goliath. When he presented himself as the one who would go out to meet this “uncircumcised Philistine,” King Saul dismissed him.  He said, “You can’t. It’s not possible.” But David persisted, and invoked his experience fighting off lions and bears; Goliath was just another predator like the lions and bears. With God’s help, David could strike him down too.

It still didn’t seem possible. But David was the only volunteer they had.

So they tried to prepare David for battle. Saul put his own bronze helmet and coat of mail on him. But David was just a boy, and the armor of a grown man weighed him down.

What could they do?

I think the problem the army of Israel had is the same problem we often have: we have trouble seeing anything other than the terms that have been set before us. The Philistines declared war on Israel and they saw no other option than to go to war against them. The Philistines put up a giant with a sword, and the Israelites saw no other option that to put up their own giant with a sword. What else can you do but follow suit?

In the film called “In the Valley of Elah,” while Hank is searching for Mike, he finds photos and videos Mike took while he was in Iraq. He is a seasoned soldier, himself, but what he sees in these videos is hard to watch. He sees good boys growing cruel and hard hearts in the face of the monster of war.

Our old Book of Common Worship has a prayer for our military in which we ask God to “keep our sons and daughters from hate that hardens.” We know this is a danger of war, and we pray that when they return they will not have grown into monsters, themselves.

This is a risk not only in war, though. It is a risk of living in this world. When faced with atrocities we are at risk of becoming an atrocity ourselves. Being overwhelmed by it, we may respond in kind.

The army of Israel took that little boy David and tried to outfit him in the armor of war. But David took off the armor. He walked down into the valley to meet Goliath with nothing but his sling and a pouch full of smooth stones.

David stood before the giant, the monster who wanted to destroy them, in the belief that God would protect him. An unconventional weapon, indeed.

David shrugged off Saul’s armor that day because he had the presence of mind to know that it just didn’t fit him. He had the clarity to see that the armor was not his, that to armor up was not him. He knew in his heart that he would not find his strength and security in chain mail and swords, but in the God who had always been with him. David trusted that God would be with him in the darkest places, even in the valley of Elah.

David knew that he did not need to accept the terms that had been set. There was a better way.

In the valley of Elah, when there appears to be no other way, this is where we have the chance to see God’s way.

There is a scene in the film where Hank tells this story about David and Goliath to a little boy. Then he tells him what he believes is the moral of the story: that you fight monsters by conquering your own fear and standing up against them. This is what he has always done – shove down your fear and go toe to toe with the monsters – and what he has always believed in. But by the end of the film, he knows different. He knows that there are times when we have to admit the inadequacies of our conventional weapons. We have to confess that we are unable to defeat evil on our own power. We need to call on the living God.

Paul writes, in his letter to the Corinthians, that by the power of God we have weapons of righteousness, and these weapons look nothing like the conventional weapons. They are revealed in purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, truthful speech. This is the power of God.

This is the power of God. This is the armor that is available to us always.

David walked into the valley of Elah with the weapons of righteousness. And the battle was won before it had begun.

God Sees

1 Samuel 15:34-16:13

2 Corinthians 5:6-17   

An item that has been in the news for the past week, gaining in intensity, is about the detention centers where our government is keeping children who cross the border, and the fact that some of these children crossed with their parents, seeking asylum. But at the border, the children were separated from their parents – sometimes by deceit. We have heard from some of these parents that agents told them they were taking their children to be bathed. They simply never returned.

I don’t assume they lied to the parents out of meanness. Perhaps these agents simply couldn’t deal with having to tell them the truth.

The children who were taken from their parents were placed in detention centers, warehouse-like facilities where they are kept in fenced-in areas. Last week some congressional representatives and journalists were allowed into one of these facilities. One of the executives who runs the facility spoke with them before they were escorted in to see the kids. One thing he said to them gave me pause. “You might want to smile. The kids feel a little like animals in a cage, being looked at.”

Like animals in a cage, exhibits at the zoo. Have you ever felt that you are being looked at like an exhibit on display? I don’t think I have. I have felt overlooked, looked down upon, and looked askance at, but I have never been looked at as an animal in a cage.

I appreciate the empathy of this man who was tasked with leading the tour; he had some sensitivity to the humanity of these children. He cared, at least a little, about how they felt. And I guess he hoped that others would see these children as human beings. It doesn’t seem like too much to expect, does it?

This story from the book of Samuel, about the anointing of David, always makes me think about what we see when we look at another human being. The truth is, sometimes, we see others for how they are useful to us – or not. We see the parts of them, the aspects of them, that we care about for our own reasons.

I remember a young man I met when I was in college who looked at me and said, "you seem like the right size." He was looking for a girlfriend who could be a dance partner, someone he could lift. He thought he was Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing and I could be Baby. So he might date me just for that reason. But I couldn’t dance, and I wasn’t very teachable. I just wasn’t going to leap into the air trusting him to catch me. It wasn’t happening. He would have to keep looking for the right size woman to be his Baby, someone who was braver than I was. 

The story about Samuel looking over the sons of Jesse reminds us how we look at other people. The way Samuel looks at them is probably the same way we would look at them. When Jesse calls all his sons together and lines them up, oldest to youngest, they seemed to be an impressive lot. Like those strapping young men in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers – handsome, strong, eager to please.

Of course, when he looked at them, Samuel was still grieving the loss of Saul, the king that God’s Spirit had departed from. 

Remember how Samuel resisted giving Israel a king? He didn’t think this was the best way for Israel, and he was probably right. But he relented; Saul was the young man he chose. Samuel felt the Spirit of the Lord leading him to Saul, who is described as tall, broad shouldered, handsome. Saul looked the part of a king. 

Samuel tried to teach him to be a king. He took so much time and care with Saul, he gave him so much encouragement. But this situation was a little like me and dancing. Saul didn’t really have the confidence, the trust, the faith that he could do what was being asked of him. 

Saul looked the part, the right size and all, but it simply wasn’t in him. And Samuel was still grieving. But God said to Samuel, “Get over it. Fill your horn with oil and get out there. I’ll show you who I have in mind.”

And everything that happens after that is unexpected. 

God sends Samuel to Bethlehem – not an important place. Bethlehem was small, remote, not a likely place to find a king. Samuel is led to the family of Jesse – a famer. Samuel has come under false pretenses, saying that he is just there to perform the ritual of sacrifice to the Lord. No one knows he is there to find a new king, because, remember, the Spirit of the Lord has left Saul but the power of the kingdom is still very much with him.

He asks Jesse to call his sons so they can have a proper assembly for the ritual. They all line up and Samuel begins to look them over, one by one. 

Samuel was looking at these young men as if they were part of an exhibit. He might have disguised it well, he might have remembered to smile at them in a friendly way, but they were an exhibit – contestants for the role of king of Israel.

And the story says each one Samuel looked at – tall, handsome, strong – he heard God in his ear saying to him, “Not that one, Samuel. Not this one, either. You’re looking the wrong way. Look as the Lord looks. See what the Lord sees.

Samuel is looking at their stature, but the Lord does not look on the outward appearance – the Lord looks on the heart. 

Samuel is looking at their bone structure, but the Lord does not look on the outward appearance – the Lord looks on the heart.

Samuel is looking at the size of their muscles, but the Lord does not look on the outward appearance – the Lord looks on the heart.

Samuel is only looking at these young men the same way anyone else would. No one even thought to call David to the assembly. He was too young, too small, too insignificant to matter. But as Samuel looks over each one of Jesse’s sons, and each time fails to sense the Spirit of God alighting on him, Samuel looks at Jesse and asks, “Is this all there is?”

Jesse admits, well, there’s David, who is out tending the sheep. But they send for David, even though no one would have assumed that it mattered for him to be there. After all, he was a child.  

When Samuel looked at him he knew right away that this was the one God had chosen. Samuel took his horn of oil and anointed David in the presence of his father and his brothers.

Mortals look on the outer appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart. And David was, as the scriptures say, a man after God’s own heart.

Maybe younoticed something odd in the story. The text can’t resist saying that David was handsome. So, although God does not look on the outward appearance, apparently the narrator does.

How difficult it is for us to see as God sees. How often do we really look at someone and see them? We see aspects of a person that put them into categories: we see skin color, we see age, we see clothing. We see how pleasant a person is to look at – eyes, nose, hair. We see physical fitness or strength, and we judge a person on the basis of all these things. And, you know, you can do that a whole lot more quickly than the alternative. Because it takes time to really see someone, and begin to get a glimpse of their heart.

Jill Duffield, a Presbyterian minister who is editor of the Presbyterian Outlook, wrote this week about the undocumented youth who are being kept in these detention centers. There is a poet who has worked with the youth in one of the centers, encouraging them to write poetry. He has compiled a volume of their poems. One of the young poets wrote a poem titled I Want to Support:

I want to support the
poor and end
hunger. I'd like to give
a great place to live
to those
without one, and also
to the animals.

I wonder – if we walked into that detention center and looked upon the young person who wrote this poem, I wonder what you and I would see. Would we see an animal in a cage? An exhibit? An object to observe?

Perhaps we would we see a label. What would that label say? illegal? deportee? burden on American taxpayers? What would you and I see?

Paul writes to the Corinthians a reminder that in Christ we are given the chance to be made new. In Christ there is a new creation, and we no longer regard anyone from a human point of view. In Christ, we are to know that there is no value – there is nothing to be gained – from looking on the outward appearance. In Christ we are given the gift of being able to look on the heart, just as God looks on the heart.

Blessed is the one who seeks out the heart, in Jesus’ name. 

Photo provided by Custom and Border Protection; Detention Facility in McAllen, Texas.

Life with the King

1 Samuel 8:4-20

2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1

A friend once said to me, “It’s always the third generation that runs the family business into the ground.” Well, in the case of Judges of Israel, it seems to have been the second generation. We saw it with Eli and his sons. Now we see it with Samuel and his sons. 

“You are old, and your sons do not follow in your ways,” they tell Samuel bluntly. They might not have been so blunt, except for the fact that they have seen this picture before and they know how it ends. Samuel’s predecessor, Eli, appointed his lousy sons as judges over Israel and it was a disaster. They were corrupt and greedy, lacking wisdom and integrity. Under their leadership Israel lost the ark of God to the Philistines and were devastated. Samuel rose up to be a good moral leader of Israel. But now we see history repeating. 

It is clear to the people of Israel that it will not go well to have Samuel’s sons in charge. They see what they see, they know what they know, they have been hear before. So they speak bluntly to him about what they don’t want – and also what they do want. They want to have a king. They have seen it work for other nations. Why should it not be good for Israel? 

This thing they were asking displeased Samuel, so says the text. To put it bluntly: Samuel hates the idea. He is frustrated, exasperated, and detests the direction they are going. And it is not just because the people have pointed out his flaws and rejected his sons. There is that, but it’s not only personal; there is something. Samuel knows Israel does not need a king. Israel already has a king.

So when they say to Samuel, “Give us a king,” Samuel goes to God, like, “Oy, these people! You know what I’m saying?” and God says, “I know, I know. You better tell them what it’s gonna be like.”

So, of course, he does. You want to know what a king will do? He will take and take and take from you. And then he will take some more. You think my sons are bad? You know nothing … yet.

Even after Samuel’s speech they continued to insist on a king even after Samuel warned them about the realities of monarchy. It was like they didn’t hear him. It was like they were too afraid to hear him. And they were.

There were times in Israel’s life when they felt that God had wandered away from them, that God had left them alone. Those were terrible times. They felt abandoned, forsaken, helpless. They didn’t want to ever feel that way again.

It reminds me of the ads I used to see in the back of the comic books I read as a kid. The skinny guy at the beach who gets sand kicked in his face; he goes home and sends away for some mail-order miracle cure that will make him big and strong, just like the bullies. It works, he fights back against the bullies, and as an added bonus, he gets the girls, too.

Israel wanted some of that miracle cure. They wanted to be strong in the midst of the other nations. They never again wanted to feel vulnerable, and they thought they could make sure it never happened again. They could have a king. 

They could have a ruler here on earth, one who fought their wars, protected them from enemies, safeguarded their property. They could have a strongman, and a strongman is what they wanted. 

So, God said to Samuel, “Listen to their voice and set a king over them.” Soon, they had their king. Samuel anointed the first king of Israel,Saul, who was apparently very handsome. But he never did sit easily on the throne. 

Monarchy was not a terribly good fit for Israel. But that is not to say that the kings were all rotten. The Bible sings the praises of King David, even while acknowledging his flaws. King Solomon built the first temple of God. King Josiah reestablished the law of God long after it had been abandoned by a string of bad kings. Sometimes the kings did good things, but in between there was a lot of corruption – a lot of kings who fought the wars for their own gain, who safeguarded the property for their own use. Being a good king of Israel was hard because being a good king meant being a righteous man, a servant leader, and effectively pointing the people away from themselves and toward their true king – God.

Eventually, the kingdom collapsed. Israel was overrun by other strongmen and their armies. They got to know what it was like to be under the thumb of foreign occupiers, other greedy men who sought to enlarge their power and possessions. Some never stopped wanting a king, never stopped wanting to fight the same battles with the same weapons that had failed them before.

Some never did understand what Jesus meant when he said “my kingdom is not of this world.”

Some are still fighting these same battles with the same old weapons, thinking there will be a different outcome this time. 

We want the miracle cure so we can go back out on the beach and beat the bully at his own game. Yes, I think we are still fighting these battles.

However, right now all around us a different kind of battle is going on.

This battle is being fought with different weapons. It is not a fight for self-enrichment, it is a fight that pushes aside fear and greed – because fear never did make a wise decision and greed never made a moral one. It is a fight that turns away from these baser instincts and takes up the cause of the least, the lost, and the last. It is called the Poor People’s Campaign: A National Call for Moral Revival. And we are right in the middle of it.

For six weeks, churches of all denominations, along with other faith communities, are focusing energy on the needs of the poor in this land. 

Why? 

Because fifty years ago, another King, the Rev. Martin Luther King, said we have come to the point where the problem is really bigger than race. It is bigger than civil rights, it is about human rights. It is about the unacceptable truth that too many people live and die in poverty in a land of abundance. Reverend King called for a Poor People’s Campaign in 1968. And fifty years later, we look around and see that the same challenges are still with us. Some voices in the church have decided it is time for another one – a new revival. 

Perhaps some of us worry that it might not be appropriate for the church to get involved in public policy. Perhaps we don’t think that it is the church’s place to tell us how we should organize our society. Perhaps we want to respond to the biblical stories by saying, “That was different – a different time, a different place, a different world.” Yes, it was different. But it was also much the same.

When we read the stories about ancient Israel and their shortcomings and failures, it would serve us well to see how we share these same shortcomings and failures. It would be good for us to remember that God’s law was designed with the needs of the least, the lost and the last in mind. And even though we don’t pine after kings – although we do have a fascination with the goings-on of the royals abroad – we continue to seek power and security at the expense of others. We continue to allow our leaders to exploit the vulnerable, ignoring their cries.

We need a moral revival in our land. Because those in power try to blame the poorest among us for our budget shortfalls. Because tens of thousands of Americans are still denied basic healthcare. Because the city of Flint still does not have clean water. There are systemic problems in our society that only good public policy can fix. Just like the kings of Israel, our leadership has the choice to work on behalf of the people they govern, or just for their own benefit. Is there a right and a wrong in this?

Think about it: Eli’s sons were bad priests because they exploited the people they were meant to serve. Samuel’s sons were bad judges because they exploited the people they were meant to serve. God does not smile on leaders who exploit the ones they are meant to serve.

What kind of leadership will we ask for? What will we demand of our leaders? The scriptures demand over and over again that we try to keep our eyes fixed on the needs of this world God loves, caring for it and calling on our leaders to care for it. And if we can do that, I think we will find, as Paul says to the Corinthians, that our inner nature is being renewed day by day. 

All glory and honor, power and love, be to our true king – creator, redeemer, and sustainer of our life. Amen.

God Calls

1 Samuel 3:1-10

2 Corinthians 4:5-12   

Who does God call? Christians do not all agree about this. Some people do not seem fit to be called, so it’s hard for us to imagine them as potential instruments of God’s divine power and love. Doe God call people worthy of the call?

Graham Greene addressed this question quite well in a story called The Power and the Glory. It takes place in Mexico in the 1930’s, a time when the church was being persecuted by the government. There is a priest who travels from place to place to administer the sacraments, all the while trying to evade capture and execution. You might say he is a hero, but he is an unlikely hero.

He is never given a name – Greene refers to him as the whiskey priest. He is not what you would call a stellar example of a man. He is a drunk, a gossip, careless about his own spiritual habits, and he is not especially courageous. But he bears the identity of one called to priesthood, so he carries out the functions expected of him – not always well, not always gladly.

The people to whom he ministers do not think much of him. They don’t hold him in high regard, because he’s kind of a mess. They roll their eyes and they sigh. But he has what they need and they have faith in his ability to provide it.

They believe that he has been called by God, and that God does not necessarily call the most impressive candidates. This whiskey priest was never a man anyone would expect to see among the chosen. He is proof that God can take a good-for-nothing and make him good for something. And leave the warts in place for the world to see.

We ought to believe that too, if we pay attention to the stories of scripture. Time and time again the stories show God choosing the one we don’t expect. God chooses the second-born son – not the first-born. God chooses the smallest one – not the big and strong one. God chooses the one who killed a man in a fit of anger and then ran from the law, took on a new identity out in the wilderness, and settled into a life of tending his father-in-law’s sheep. Then, when God called him, answered with excuses for why he couldn’t do want God wanted him to do. Yes, Moses was not the most likely candidate.

God calls the ones we don’t expect and in the story of Samuel, this child is the unlikely candidate. 

Those were dark days. The word of the Lord was rare in those days, the story says, and so most of the candidates were unlikely. It was not a high point in Israel’s history.

Visions from the Lord were not widespread, and the priest, Eli, was losing his vision. And I think we can understand this to have a figurative as well as a literal meaning. Perhaps there was a time when Eli was a strong, visionary leader of Israel, but this was no longer true. 

Eli had problems – not least among them were his sons. The priesthood was sort of a family business back then, but it was becoming evident that Eli’s sons would not be able to carry this tradition forward. They abused the power that was entrusted to them; they treated the people with cruelty, concerned only for their own gain. They would not be leaders of Israel. It wasn’t just because they were good-for-nothings, because as we have already said, God can take a good-for-nothing and make him good for something. No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was they were not even listening. They would not listen.

There was sadness, darkness, in Eli’s life. It was a dark time in Israel – but there was still hope because, as the text says, the lamp of God had not yet gone out.

It is night and Samuel lay down to sleep on the floor in the temple, and he hears a voice calling his name. He assumes it is Eli – what else would he think? Eli is his master. Three times he hears his name, three times he goes to Eli and says, “Here I am.” It takes three times before the old man Eli recognizes this as a call from the Lord – but finally he does. He tells Samuel, to wait for the call to come again and answer, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”

Eli teaches Samuel how to listen. 

God uses all kinds of imperfect, flawed vessels to carry God’s word into the world. God might call anyone. God might call any of us.

But we all need someone to help us learn how to listen. 

Years ago, I asked a group of Sunday school children to draw a picture of somewhere they hear God speaking. Most of the children drew pictures that were not surprising – the church sanctuary or Sunday school room, scenes of nature, like flowers or a mountain. But one child drew a picture of the Weis Market, which was the local grocery store. And another drew a picture of some telephone wires. I never followed up with those children to ask them how they heard God, or what they heard from God, in the telephone wires or the supermarket. I think I suspected that they wouldn’t be able to articulate it. But I wonder if I should have asked. Maybe these children were hearing God’s call in a special way, and maybe they needed someone to teach them how to listen.

Children, especially, need someone older to teach them how to listen. We do that pretty well in some ways. Parents teach their children to listen to their voices and obey them. Teachers train their students to listen to the teacher’s voice and respond. But do we teach our children to listen to the voice of God?

That isn’t a particularly easy thing to do. Perhaps we, like Eli, have vision that is failing, and hearing that is not very sharp anymore. And we, like Eli, are not accustomed to hearing the voice of God. 

But remember, even though the word of God had been distant for some time, Eli still believed it could happen. Even though it had not happened for Eli in many years, he knew what was happening for Samuel, and he showed him how to listen and respond.

The lamp of God has not yet gone out. The Lord is still speaking. Will we allow ourselves to be called and used by God for God’s purposes?

We hear stories sometimes about children who listen and respond in extraordinary ways. Just last week I heard a story about a five-year-old girl who had seen the plight of the homeless when her church sponsored the emergency winter shelter. She was moved to help them in some way, and with the help of the adults in her congregation, she put together health kits to give to the men and women in this community who need them. She saw, she heard, she listened, and she responded. But she could not have done it without the help of her faith family.

God may very well be calling you to hear and respond. Even if God is not calling you directly to minister, to prophesy, to evangelize, God could be calling you to guide and support someone else – someone who needs you to help them listen. 

It is not too late for us to teach our children to listen to the word of God. There are children in our midst, and they need teachers, they need models, they need mentors and guides. 

God could be calling you, regardless of whether or not you feel equipped to be called. None of us does, really. 

As Paul said to the ornery and prideful Corinthians, we carry this treasure in clay jars, we are but humble vessels, holding this power. For we proclaim not ourselves, we proclaim not ourwisdom and glory, but we proclaim Christ and the power of his resurrection.

These are dark days, as dark as Eli’s days. There are still men and women who use the power that has been entrusted to them for greedy purposes. But the lamp of God has not yet gone out. We must watch, we must listen. For God is still speaking.

photo credit: Islamic broken jar, Metropolitan Museum of Art