Coming Home to You, Part 5: Be Bold

 

Mark 10:46-52  

In our session meeting last week we talked about inclusivity, about bringing people in from the margins. Which isn’t always easy. Sometimes we just don’t know how to approach them. Usually it requires making some changes to how we do things, to accommodate the needs or comfort level of the ones we want to include.

We haven’t always thought about things this way; there was a time, not that long ago, when we didn’t worry too much about who was being excluded from our activities. When I was young there was no such thing as mainstreaming children with disabilities. They went to school somewhere else, if they went to school at all.

Back in Jesus’ day, if folks thought at all about disabilities, such as blindness, they were disturbed by it. So much that people like Bartimaeus were shunned. They believed blindness was a punishment dealt by God because of sin. With Bartimaeus, they might have assumed that he was blind because, somehow, he deserved it. Somehow, somewhere in his life he had lost his sight, and it must have been because of something he did.

They treated him accordingly. If he spoke, they told him to shut up. They generously allowed him to sit on the side of the road with his cloak in his lap, receiving the coins people might drop in it, but only because the law demanded it. That was it. He could exist, but not much more than that.

I find it surprising that Bartimaeus seemed to feel he had a right to more.

Have you ever noticed that the way other people see you can eventually change the way you see yourself? If people keep telling you not to sing because you are a lousy singer, pretty soon, you will start telling others, “I can’t sing. Don’t ask me to sing; I’m a horrible singer.”

If people are constantly saying what a klutz you are, you will probably start to drop things and trip over things even more than you did before. Because you are a klutz.

If people tell you to stop talking because no one wants to hear what you have to say, then you will probably, eventually, stop talking.

But Bartimaeus did not.

Actually, he probably stayed quiet most of the time. People would be more likely to drop their coins in his lap if he played his part right. The sight of him sitting beside the road in his poverty would have evoked their pity, or at least a reminder that giving alms was their duty. Maybe they didn’t give to him generously, but they gave enough. A blind man didn’t need much, they would have thought; just a bit of food to eat, and his cloak.

Everything was probably pretty normal that day, people coming and going, about their business. Bartimaeus, patient, beside the road with his cloak. until Jesus and his disciples came through. And they were followed by a large crowd. Perhaps Bartimaeus asked someone, What’s going on? What’s all the commotion? and he was told, It’s Jesus, from Nazareth.

And somehow, hearing this, Bartimaeus knew. Jesus of Nazareth is Jesus, Son of David. Jesus of Nazareth can heal him. Bartimaeus begins crying out, Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me! He has found his voice and he shouts, Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me! He won’t stop shouting. He won’t be quiet. He will be heard: Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!

His shouts are disturbing to the good people of Jericho, the good people following Jesus on his way. They sternly tell him to quiet down, but this time Bartimaeus ignores their commands; he shouts even louder, Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!

And Jesus hears him. He stops and listens. He speaks to his followers: Call him here.

Suddenly, everyone wants to help Bartimaeus! If Jesus wants to see this man, then they will make it their job to get Bartimaeus before him. They called out to Bartimaeus, Take heart, man; get up, he is calling you. Someone went to him to help him find his way to Jesus. Someone reached out a hand to him, to help him to his feet. But Bartimaeus sprang up, throwing off his cloak, and ran to Jesus.

What do you want me to do for you? Jesus asks Bartimaeus. And the blind man says, My teacher, let me see again.

Jesus tells him, Your faith has made you well. And the blind man’s sight is restored, because he is bold enough to ask.

And this is an important message for all of us who seek to be disciples of Jesus: to be bold. To listen to the urgings of our hearts, of the Spirit that whispers to us, even when the world around us is telling us something different.

The world told Bartimaeus to shut up because no one wanted to hear him, but Bartimaeus knew that Jesus wanted to hear him. The world told Bartimaeus he was a worthless sinner who deserved little, but Bartimaeus knew he was worth more.

But something else. When Jesus asks you what you want him to do for you, are you bold enough to say what you really need?

You know, just a few verses earlier we heard Jesus ask the very same question of James and John: What do you want me to do for you? The answer they gave to his question was almost obscene: Let us sit one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.  Let us be the first; give us the seat of privilege; give us the glory.

And it strikes me that James and John were just as blind – if not more blind – than Bartimaeus the beggar.  The only difference was that they did not want to see.  James and John sounded bold, but they were really afraid.

Jesus asks the hard questions of his friends, questions like What do you want me to do for you? and it is up to us, then, to answer him. Are we bold enough to ask for what we really need? To know love in its fullness, peace that passes understanding, life that is really life?  To be drawn in from the lonely margins, into the center of love? Do you want to have that lonely place inside of you filled?

Are we bold enough to ask for vision?

As we come home to the Lord this fall, are we able to see what we really need and then boldly ask for it? So much of the time it feels as though the church has lost its way, that we are too busy seeking after the things we don’t really need and neglecting the deep hungers of our heart. But if we will be still, if we will listen, we will hear Jesus asking –

What do you want me to do for you?

Photo by Emily Morter on Unsplash

Coming Home to You, Part 4: To Cultivate a Servant Heart

 

Mark 10:35-45  

I have been listening to a podcast for the past few weeks about a church that fell apart. It rose to great heights and then came crashing down almost overnight.

It was started in the spring of 1996 by three men. They began meeting in homes, and then graduated to borrowing space in a local church. by fall of that year they were up to about 160 people.

The next year they began holding two weekly services. Two years later they were averaging about 350 in worship, and in a few more years they transitioned to a multi-site church, with video hook-up at each campus streaming in the sermons of Lead Pastor Mark Driscoll.

Of the three men who started up Mars Hill Church, Mark Driscoll soon emerged as the front man. He was a very gifted speaker, had a strong vision for the church and natural leadership skills. And in the early years, Mark had a good, solid message. He was all about Jesus and what it meant to be a disciple of Jesus. He didn’t seem to think that growth for the sake of growth was what it was all about. In fact he was very critical of some mega churches that he perceived as being that way. Mark wanted to keep Jesus at the center of things and not let it become all about himself. But that changed over time.

Mark liked the power. He liked being the authority. In his sermons he began boasting about the church’s numbers – attendance, conversions, buildings, bank account balances. He enjoyed the success, and the people who attended seemed to enjoy being a part of something so successful.

And then signs began showing that perhaps it wasn’t really all about Jesus anymore. People started speaking up about Mark’s abusive behavior. He bullied others; he was intolerant of dissent. If an elder of the church challenged him in any way, he essentially fired them and decreed that they should be shunned by the church. In his preaching it began sounding like he was telling his congregation that they should submit not to the authority of God, but to the authority of Mars Hill Church and Pastor Mark Driscoll.  

It seemed pretty clear that Mark wanted not to serve but to be served. He looked more like a tyrant than a servant leader. It is said that a good governance model can protect the people from a bad leader, while a bad governance model can protect a bad leader from being held accountable. Mars Hill found itself in the latter situation.

At the top of its game, Mars Hill had 12 campuses in four different states, with 100 paid staff. They reported weekly attendance of about 13,000. This was in early 2014. By the end of that year, Mars Hill Church was gone.

This is not a singular tale, of course. There have been others like Mark and there will be more to come. It is the nature of human beings to enjoy power and all its privileges. Even little children show the signs. Power is thrilling, intoxicating. When given the opportunity people are tempted to abuse it.

But what’s more, and what we really can’t turn aside from seeing, is that it wasn’t only Mark. There were thousands of people who just loved being a part of something so big and successful and powerful. There was power just in being a part of it all. They sat in the room and listened to his sermons every week. When he said abusive things, they laughed. When he made veiled threats to his elders, they laughed. It didn’t matter, they liked being on the side of something so powerful.

James and John wanted power and privilege; even after hearing from Jesus repeatedly that it wasn’t going to be like that; that his work would take him not to the seats of worldly power, but right to the cross and the grave, yet they still wanted it. It was like they didn’t really believe him. Or that the lust for power warped their minds.

It’s not that they hadn’t heard about where things were heading. Back in chapter 8, right after Peter proclaimed that Jesus is the Messiah, Jesus began to speak about the suffering and death that was to come for him. Peter rebuked him for speaking this way, I suppose because that just didn’t fit into his notion of what the Messiah is. Jesus rebuked him right back and then turned to the crowd and said: any who want to follow me must take up their cross.

It happened again in chapter 9, where Jesus was teaching his disciples about his suffering and death. They did not understand and unfortunately were afraid to ask questions. Then, strangely enough, they were caught arguing amongst themselves about which of them is the greatest. Jesus said to them: whoever wants to be first must be last of all, servant of all.

And once again we see it happen in chapter 10. He tells them again: many who are first will be last and the last will be first. Knowing that they still do not understand, once again he begins to tell them about the suffering to come – in a bit more vivid detail this time:

“See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.”

And right after this, James and John get together and decide the time is right to make their demands. Jesus, we want you to appoint each of us to sit beside you in glory.

They want the power; they want the glory. They want to be at the top of the heap looking down on everyone else, all the losers of the world. James and John believe that this is a privilege they have earned, and they are boldly claiming it.

Jesus’ words in response to them are brimming with poignancy. You do not know what you are asking.

They did not know what they were asking, because they still did not know what it meant to be a follower of Jesus.

The others were no wiser. They got angry at James and John, probably because they would have asked for it themselves if they had thought of it. Everyone wants to be on top. I am strong enough, committed enough; I can drink the cup too. Promote me, Jesus. I want to be your right-hand man.

The church has struggled with this desire for power and privilege all throughout its history. Rather than conform ourselves to the image of Jesus, we try to conform Jesus to something he never was and never will be. We are like fans in the bleachers chanting, “We’re number 1!” Forgetting his words about being last instead of first, about serving rather than being served because it feels incongruous. And inconvenient.

It is usually preferable to serve ourselves rather than someone else. Wouldn’t we rather sit down on the couch in the evening and watch TV or read a book than to go to a church meeting? Wouldn’t we rather go out for lunch with friends than spend that hour serving a meal to the homeless?

Wouldn’t we rather complain about the way others are doing things than to step in and join the effort to make it better? Wouldn’t we rather complain that the church isn’t doing enough to meet our needs than to stand up and say, Hey, I see a problem and I want to be a part of the solution?

It’s just too hard to make a difference, we would rather someone else do that. It’s too hard being a part of a team. Other people might shoot down your ideas. You might have to submit to the group consensus, or else quit. There really isn’t enough glory in it.

And yet, whoever wishes to be a Christian must know this: to be a follower of Jesus is to lift others up, rather than to lift ourselves up. It is to work for the well-being of the whole – especially the weaker parts of the whole. It is to, in some sense, lay down one’s life so others may live.

This fall as we come home to our sanctuary, how is Christ calling you to lay down your life? As we begin to rekindle the life of this church after a harsh and difficult 20 months, how is Christ calling you to serve? How will we join together to be the church Jesus is calling us to be?

Coming Home to You, Part 3: All In

Mark10:17-31  

One of the favorite films in our family is The Princess Bride. We can watch it together over and over and always enjoy.  It’s a story about a princess who has been kidnapped by some bad guys who hope to set off a war in the kingdom.  Either that or it’s a story about true love.  Or else it’s a story about a grandfather reading a fairy tale to his grandson.  Whatever it is, it’s funny and sweet. 

The character Vizzini, a Sicilian mastermind criminal played by the actor Wallace Shawn, has kidnapped the princess Buttercup.  Inigo Montoya, a Spanish swordsman and Fezzik, a giant, assist him in his criminal endeavors.  They are all being pursued by a mysterious man in black.  Vizzini tries to outwit the man in black, but every time they look back they discover he is still on their trail and gaining on them.  Each time Vizzini exclaims, “Inconceivable!”  Finally, after this has happened several times and Vizzini has pronounced it inconceivable, Inigo Montoya says,  “You keep using that word.  I don’t think it means what you think it means.”

A few years ago, we were in Chicago visiting family and we went to the Art Institute.  Our son Joe and his girlfriend went down to the café for a cup of coffee and when they came back, they said, “Guess who we saw in the café having coffee with his wife: Wallace Shawn.”  And I said, “Inconceivable.”  I couldn’t resist it.  I’ll bet he hears that word a lot more than he cares to.

The thing that is inconceivable to us, and to Jesus’ disciples, is the notion of a camel going through the eye of a needle.  I have grown quite farsighted, and I have trouble enough getting even a thread through the eye of a needle.  I can’t envision a camel small enough or a needle large enough to allow this to happen.  And, as impossible as this is, Jesus says it is even more impossible for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.

There have been some valiant attempts by Bible scholars to let us off the hook.  Some have suggested that the eye of the needle here referred to is a gate in Jerusalem, which was smaller than the other gates.  The size of it made it very challenging for travelers to get their camel through it.  Packs needed to be unloaded, a certain amount of gymnastics needed to be performed by the animal in order to get it through.  But it was possible.  Difficult, but possible.

It has also been suggested that Jesus was misheard.  When they thought he was saying camel he was really saying rope.  That’s right, rope.  Well, the words sound similar in Greek, so it’s not as absurd as it sounds. Now, this makes for a slightly more fathomable image.  A rope is at least the right type of object to pass through the eye of the needle.  And I can imagine that it might be possible to get it through the eye of a needle, although with great difficulty.  Again, it’s possible.

If we were really audacious, we would say that Jesus is actually talking about rope, not camels, and furthermore, he is referring to the gate, not an actual needle.  So now we are looking at a length of rope passing through a small gate.  I don’t know what the big deal is about that. 

And just like that, we have stripped the story of any meaning at all, haven’t we? We can breathe easier, though.

How does a camel get through the eye of a needle?

Some years ago I read about an art installation in a Las Vegas museum that showed a life-size camel, knitted out of wooly yarn and standing in a desert made of glued together matchsticks, facing a needle.  How does the camel get through?  I’ll bet you would like to know how.

It’s a riddle that’s hard to answer.  It’s trying to make the impossible possible.  How does a camel get through the eye of a needle?  How does a ship get in a bottle?  How do the Orioles win the World Series? Is the impossible ever possible?

The answer to the question might be on your lips right now – the answer Jesus gives the disciples:  with God, all things are possible.  Surely all things are possible with God, but that’s not the answer to the question that is really vexing us.  That question is –

How?

It’s a question that I need to have the answer to because there is a lot at stake for me.  I am that rich person. 

Most of us are the rich person in this story because we are all rich by world standards.  We may not feel that way when we compare ourselves to our bosses, our politicians and celebrities, or even our neighbors.  But when we look around the world and compare ourselves to our global neighbors, we are rich.  We have an awful lot to be grateful for, and an awful lot of room for generosity.  You might be surprised.

There was an American woman living in Calcutta.  One day a local woman came to her door with a request.  She was going to be working in the mountains over the winter and she would need a pair of warm slacks.  She had no slacks, so she was asking this American woman to give her one of her pairs.  The American woman balked at the request because she only had two pairs, herself, not exactly a superfluous number of slacks.  Yet the woman standing in her doorway looked at her and said, “You have two pairs.  I need one.  That will still leave you with one.  Won’t you share your extra pair with me?”

This was a level of giving the American woman never expected to be asked to do. I don’t think any of us expect to ever have to give quite so much.  Aren’t there reasonable limits?

I imagine the rich young man in the story also wondered, as he walked away from Jesus, about reasonable limits.  He knew the law and the law did not require him to give everything away.  Why would Jesus ask for so much more than what the law requires?

We wonder if there was something peculiar about this rich young man that made Jesus respond to him in that way.  Was there something about him that was different from us, which would make it reasonable to ask him to give everything away?  What I mean is, is there some way of seeing ourselves as exempt from this requirement?

If there is, the text doesn’t give us any clues.  Jesus simply says what he says:  it is easier for a camel to get through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.  So what is the solution?

His disciples are suddenly flooded with despair, because what Jesus said defies everything they have been taught about what it means to be in the Lord’s favor.  The Hebrew Bible teaches us to look at material blessings as a sign of God’s favor.  So if even those whom God has smiled upon cannot enter the kingdom of heaven, who in the world can be saved?

And Jesus answers them, “You cannot save yourselves – that’s impossible.  But for God, all things are possible.”

That takes us right back to the original question posed by the young man.  What must I do to inherit eternal life?  He wanted a list.  What must I do to earn my salvation? 

Jesus looked him in the eyes and he loved him. He loved this earnest young man who wanted to be as good as he could be, he wanted to make God proud.  Jesus loved him enough to want to save him, so he said there is one more thing: sell all your possessions and give them to the poor, then follow me.  Get rid of everything that is getting between your heart and your God.  Whatever is claiming any part of your loyalty, get it out of the way because God is asking you to go all in.

You see, our possessions are not bad things.  Every good thing we have is a gift from God, meant to be used for the glory of God.  But the problem is that all too often our possessions become our masters.  There is an addictive quality to material consumption.  Once you start, you can never have enough.

In a land of such great abundance, one of the hardest parts of living a life committed to Christ is to live as though you have enough.  Yes, there are blessings in material wealth but there are also dangers.  The land of material excess is also a spiritual desert.  The question we must ask ourselves is how shall we handle the blessings we have received?  This is not a casual question.  We must earnestly seek the answer to this question – just as earnestly as the rich man sought answers to his question.  And this is why I want an answer to the riddle: how does a camel get through the eye of a needle?

That wooly camel in the Las Vegas art gallery? It was being unraveled, a stitch at a time, and passed through the eye of the needle.  And as it passed through the needle it landed in a heap of yarn on the floor.  As it turns out, the camel can get through the eye of the needle quite easily, but it must come undone.  In the end, every bit of the original camel will be on the other side of the needle, but it will have an entirely different shape.

How about us camels?  If we go all in? Having been shaped by our material lifestyle, we will be reshaped.  Having been defined by our possessions, we will be redefined.  For any one of us to enter the kingdom of God we must be transformed – radically, humbly transformed – and this can only happen by the power of God.  We must open the hand that holds tightly to the things of this world to receive the kingdom of God.

 Photo by SUNBEAM PHOTOGRAPHY on Unsplash 

Coming Home to You, Part 2: Measuring Value

 

Mark 10:13-16  

Patience is a virtue, without doubt. But in these verses, we have the evidence that even Jesus could lose his patience. As I have said before, we sometimes forget that he was fully human. And humans sometimes run out of patience.

The evidence here is in the word indignant. Jesus was indignant.

He’s in the middle of teaching, and he looks over to his leadership team and sees them standing in front of the little children blocking their way to the Lord. They seem to think they are the bouncers at the door of Jesus’ club. And he’s like,

What part of “whoever welcomes a child in my name welcomes me” did you not understand?

What part of “if you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you to have a millstone hung around your neck and be thrown into the sea” did you not understand?

What was it about the many times you saw me heal a sick or dying child that didn’t seem important to you?

What did I ever do that convinced you I would like you to stop the children from coming to me? No, let the little children come to me for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.

And he took them in his arms and blessed them.

And then he sent them off to the nursery.

Oh, that’s not in there, is it?

Of course, there are arguments to make in the disciples’ defense, if we want to. We could consider the fact that caring for children, throughout most of human history, has been women’s work. As a man, Jesus would have been assumed to have much more important things to do; surely there was a woman somewhere who could have dealt with these children and their needs. His disciples were simply trying to help him delegate and prioritize. Although, if they were watching him and listening to him they surely would have known he didn’t share their priorities.

It really is a matter of priorities, how he measured value. And how difficult it was for his followers to get that.

For us, having the benefit of the written gospels, and two thousand years to absorb them, we are in a better place to be able to understand it. Most of us can easily cite the words he said about how the last should be first and the greatest take their place at the end of the line. We know that humility is a Christian virtue and pride is a sin.

If we have heard enough sermons and attended enough Bible studies, we are probably aware that Jesus did nothing less than turn the social and economic order upside down with his words and his actions. And that this played an important part in the events that led to his death.

Jesus had different priorities than the world around him did. Jesus measured value differently than society did. And he wanted to teach his followers to have the very same priorities and values he did.

When Jesus spoke, his words meant something real – real enough for him to put his life on the line. The challenge for us as his followers is to understand what his words mean for us.

What does it mean to bless the children in Jesus’ name? At the very least, wouldn’t it mean checking to see if the kids are alright? Are they alright?

I need to tell you I am not at all sure that they are. Too many of the kids are not alright.

During the last year and a half of pandemic our children in America have lost a lot. Not being in school for so long, they have lost out academically, socially, emotionally and psychologically – even economically. The children have paid a price and continue to pay a price.

Parents have told me how hard it was for children to engage with teachers and classmates on a screen. How hard it was for them to carry out their independent work, on their asynchronous days. Some children had trouble attending their online classes because they were also responsible for helping younger siblings while their parents were at work.

Some high school students were trying to attend class on their phones while they were working shifts in warehouses, supermarkets, or in their delivery jobs. One principal said she called local businesses and begged them to stop scheduling her kids during school hours.

We have heard stories from people in rural areas about the challenge of participating in virtual school when there is inadequate cell or internet service. School districts tried to provide families with hot spots, which may or may not have been adequate. I spoke with one teacher in a rural part of our county for whom no hot spot could do the job she needed. She made the hard decision to quit her job and homeschool her kids.

We have heard about the challenges of ensuring that kids in poor families have the computers they need to attend virtual classes. Our district was mostly successful in that. In other parts of our nation, the schools simply did not have enough money to get the kids what they needed.

The kids are not alright. We know from early test results that they underperformed last year. Parents felt helpless as they watched their children failing – not because they lacked the ability but because they lacked the resources.

Kids are mostly back in schools now, thanks be to God. But it is clear that the troubles are not finished. They have lost a year of all the things school provides for them. They are far behind in too many ways. They are suffering from the emotional and psychological wounds, the academic failures, and for many, the economic losses. You might say, “Kids are resilient! They will catch up.” But only if someone gives them the resources they need to catch up.

The kids are not alright. Some were in abusive homes and there was no escape. Some felt ashamed because the computer screen allowed other people to see the conditions in which they lived. And some of them, too many of them, disappeared. School personnel simply could not find them.

Children who lived in poverty before COVID-19 are in even worse straits now. Families in poor districts, in states that undervalue, underfund schools, are in worse conditions now than they were before, the little hope they might have once had is dwindled to nothing.

And Jesus is indignant.

The whole of the scriptures, from beginning to end, tells us that if we are not putting actions with our words we are not in accordance with God’s desires. We hear it from the prophet Jeremiah, who says, “They have treated the wounds of my people carelessly, saying ‘peace, peace’ when there is no peace.” We hear it from James, who says, “If a brother or sister lacks food or clothing and you say to them ‘go in peace,’ and do not supply their needs, what is the good in that?”

What does it mean for us to commit ourselves to Christ, to be a faithful disciple of the Lord? Today I say to you that it means taking a hard, honest look at our values. And the measure of our values is where we place our resources – spiritual, intellectual, and material.

Jesus showed us very well that his values are different from the values of the world. It is time for us to ask ourselves: How do we measure value? As the world does, or as Jesus does?

Photo: ChurchArt.com