Giving Our Best

1 Samuel 1:4-20

This is such a sweet and tender story, such as we find occasionally, here and there, in the Old Testament. Amidst the stories of violence and greed and all varieties of evil. Here, surrounded by troubles of all kinds, struggles for power and domination, war and famine, abuse and death, we have a little family.

The head of the household, Elkanah, seems to be a good man, a godly man. You shouldn’t hold it against him that he has two wives, because that was fairly commonplace at the time. And it seems as though he tried to do right by both of them, Hannah and Peninnah.

Peninnah, apparently, has been blessed with many children. She has a houseful of little Peninnahs and little Elkanahs tumbling around, but Hannah has no children, and in the way that the scriptures tell it, this is because God has closed her womb. Children, like all good things, are special gifts from God. So important it is that we remember this, that the biblical stories remind us frequently. They tell of numerous women who are in similar circumstances: Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, Hannah, the wife of Manoah, the Shunammite woman. There is Tamar, a less conventional member of this club. In every case, we are to understand, God provides children in God’s time and God’s way. Children are God’s special gift to us.

And we should know that. It is not our birthright. It is not something we are entitled to. It is God’s special gift.

Even so, we have sympathy for these barren women of the Bible, because we see their pain – the desolation, the loneliness they feel. And sometimes, their suffering is made worse by the cruel taunting of others. Peninnah, who never missed an opportunity to make Hannah feel like less of a woman. Hagar, no longer the submissive slave of Sarah once she gives birth to Abraham’s son. Co-wives become rivals. Childless women ache with emptiness.

There were, of course, many reasons for wanting children. The luxury of a little perfect being to love and hold, who will burrow into our shoulder and love us back. A baby to dress up in cute outfits and show off to our neighbors, who will ooh and aah at their little faces. Who doesn’t enjoy that? There were also practical reasons for wanting to have children: someone who will care for us in our old age. A widow in the Bible is a woman who has no husband and no sons – no one to care for her.

Hannah wanted a child, probably for all the same reasons anyone else wants a child of their own. But her wanting was perhaps a little deeper than others. There was nothing that could distract Hannah from this emptiness. Elkanah would gently tease her, “Oh Hannah, am I not worth more than ten sons to you?” Perhaps Hannah smiled through her tears. She did love her husband, but the love she had for him was not enough to fill the space of childlessness.

When Elkanah went up to the sanctuary to make sacrifices to God, Hannah and Peninnah would go with him and make their sacrifices, too. It was something they did every year. Their sacrifice was their act of worship, their offering to God, in thankfulness for all God’s blessings.

On this particular journey, this particular year, Hannah was filled with emotion. She left the feast, alone, and went to the sanctuary of the Lord, and she prayed.

Her prayer rose up from the deepest places inside of her, and came out in sobs of anguish and longing. We know what Hannah was praying for. Even if the text didn’t tell us, we know what Hannah prayed for: the one thing she wanted, the only thing she wanted – a child.

Hannah made a vow that day: O Lord, she prayed, if you will remember me, and give me a son, I will give him back to you.

If you will give me the only thing I want and need, the only thing that is missing from my life; if you will fill this emptiness inside of me, Lord, I will give your gift right back to you. And so she did. Hannah went home with Elkanah and Peninnah. She became pregnant and bore a son, whom she named Samuel. And when Samuel was weaned, she returned with him to the sanctuary and gave him to God. Her offering, her sacrifice, to God.

More than anything, this is puzzling, bewildering, because when she at last receives what she has prayed for, she returns the gift. And we feel the loss on her behalf. Hannah, you have this beautiful little boy, a precious gift from God, why do you give him away? You should have him by your side for years to come. You should help him choose a wife, you should dote on his children, your grandchildren. Hannah, you should bask in the glory of your perfect little family.

But Hannah gives him away. She offers him back to the Lord.

Hannah knows that a child is a special gift from God, that a child is given in God’s time, in God’s way, for God’s purpose.

God’s purpose for Samuel was to become a prophet, a priest, a leader of Israel through some very trying times. Samuel was a very important man, he has two volumes of the Bible named for him. He was a kingmaker, a royal consultant, a seer, all this because Hannah gave him back. Hannah knew how to handle gifts from God.

Many of us know that everything good we have, children included, is a gift from God. But not everyone does know that. Some of us forget, and we think everything we have is ours by rights, everything is owed to us to use as we please. Yet people of faith should remember that everybody and everything in creation belongs to God. God gives to us generously, and when we give back we have the chance to feel that same feeling God has – generosity. Goodness. Blessing.

When we give back to God as Hannah did; when we give our best, as Hannah did, we are not left with a feeling of emptiness, but fullness. Giving makes us feel full.

Hannah did not go back to her former state of aching loneliness. She gave birth to a son and she dedicated him to the Lord. Hannah was full.

When we dedicate our lives to God – becoming a member of the church, making our pledges of offerings, committing ourselves to serving God in our service to others – we give up something, maybe something big. But we do not feel loss. Giving our best to God leaves us feeling full.

May you know the richness of God’s gifts in your life.

May you give back, as you are called to do, freely.

May you have that wonderful fullness that only comes from giving your best. 

Photo by Billy Pasco on Unsplash

The One Who Makes All Things New

Revelation 21:1-6a     

Frederick Buechner wrote an essay describing a dream he once had. In it, he was staying in a hotel. He was aware that he really, really, loved this room. Much more than you should, actually, love a hotel room. Somehow, in this room he felt happy and at peace. It seemed like everything in the room was exactly as it should be. And it felt as if he, himself, was exactly as he should be.

At some point he wandered off to other places and did other things, the way it often happens in dreams. Eventually, he returned to the hotel, but this time he was in a different room and it was not a comfortable experience. He went to the front desk. He explained to the clerk that he would like to have his old room back, that everything about it was perfect and he would much rather be there. Unfortunately, he told the clerk, he couldn’t recall the room number or where it was located. The clerk said, “I know exactly what room you’re talking about. And you can return there whenever you like. All you have to do is ask for it by name.”

He said to the clerk, “I don’t remember the name of the room. What is the name?” And the clerk told him the name of the room is Remember.

Then he woke up. But he never forgot this dream. It was a good dream, but not only that. Buechner felt it was a true dream.

Remembering is something so central to the story of God and God’s people. Time and again the scriptures tell us that God remembered God’s people, which is another way of saying God cared for them, loved them. And in the same way, the scriptures continually urge us to remember God and all the many ways God has provided for us.

In remembering, the way the scriptures encourage us to remember, we know how we have come through so much in our lives. When we remember we see the highlights, but also the dark moments from our past. We see the triumphs but also the losses, every life has both, and all manner of stuff in between.

In remembering, we see all the other people who mattered to us along the way. We remember how they supported us, guided us, loved us. Maybe we remember how they said just the right thing at the right time; that when there was something we needed, they were there to provide it.

When we remember in truth, we know that we came through all the highs and lows of our lives not on our own power. No one does this alone. We have the help of one another, but yet…in the room called Remember we sense that there is even something more than that.

In remembering, we know that what has carried us through it all is something called grace; we know that we are only here, in this place and this time, by grace.

And so we are able to remember with a sense of gratitude – grateful for God’s grace, with us through every step of our lives. By the power of God, which we receive through God’s grace, we may remember our lives in their totality – the joys we experienced, but also the very difficult and painful times when we even thought it might be better to die than to have to live with such pain. When we remember, we know that God was with us through those moments, too. We know that we survived it all by God’s grace.

Yet, even in our gratitude, the pain may remain. The act of remembering the saints, as we do every year at this time, is by its very nature painful. We ache for the losses – the ones we loved, the ones we now long for. We cannot deny that even in gratitude, the pain remains.

But there is also this: In remembering the ways that God has been with us and for us through all that life has dealt us, we know something about God that allows us to have hope for the future.

And this is more than a garden variety hope. This hope we have is much more than the way we might hope that it won’t rain tomorrow or that we will have a good night’s sleep. This is a stronger kind of hope, the kind of hope John tells us about.

John’s revelation was something like a dream; a dream that told him a story I am sure he never forgot because it was true. And as he wrote these things down, he faced the challenge of conveying things to us that we cannot yet imagine. In the revelation there are terrible things that stretch our imaginations in one way, and then there are beautiful things that stretch our imaginations in another way. John’s revelation shows us that, in this world where the worst things can happen, and have happened, the God who works through all things can bring us to a future that is beautiful beyond anything we know.

In faith, by the grace of God, we have hope for a time and place where there will be no more death, no more mourning or crying or pain. We have hope for a new heaven and a new earth where God will dwell in the midst of it, with all God’s people. We have hope that the ones we have lost, the ones we remember today, will be with us once again.

In the room called Remember, we are strengthened by the knowledge of God’s presence with us in the past and into the present, and the hope for a future filled with the light of God. We have this hope because through faith, by the grace of God, we have already seen it. In the room called Remember, we see through the eyes of hope, and know that God makes all things new.

Photo by Ronald Cuyan on Unsplash

Coming Home to You, Part 6: Choose Love

 

Mark 12:28-34  

When I was a child I went to sleepover parties with my friends. The goal of sleepovers was to stay up all night, and the best way of doing that was to play at scaring ourselves silly. We played with a Ouija board and convinced ourselves that some spirit was moving the piece around the board, and we screamed.

We played some kind of levitation game where one girl would lie on the floor and the others would kneel around her and place two fingers underneath the girl’s body. The girl would start to rise from the ground and we screamed.

We played a game we called Mary Worth, where we had to look at ourselves in the mirror in a dark room, and repeat, I believe in Mary Worth, until the face of Mary Worth would appear in the mirror. No one had any idea who Mary Worth was, but we were sure we saw something and then we screamed.

I think we just loved to scream.

And when it got really late, we played truth or dare. Which was a different kind of scary. There were no ghosts involved, just daring one another to either speak some hard truth or perform some frightening act. We were forced to choose: truth or dare. But it didn’t matter which one you chose, they were both risky.

So many of the games children play are ways of practicing the stuff of life. We play house, we play war. We play at taking risks, and this is what much of life consists of. Do you take the safe way, or do you take the risk? And if you choose the safe route, what are you actually at risk of losing?

Life involves taking risks all the time. The risk of learning something new, trying for a new and better job, buying a house, asking someone to be your friend, asking someone to marry you. Saying yes, when someone asks.

There is always risk. We are always measuring the risk.

When Jesus came to Jerusalem and drew the attention of all the religious authorities, that’s what they were interested in: calculating the risk. How risky was this man? The political position of Israel, under the Roman Empire, was tenuous. What kind of risks did Jesus pose with the things he said? Would it be more of a risk to challenge him or to let him be, hoping that the frenzy around him would just die down? Maybe people would lose interest. Or he would show himself to be a fool or a fraud.

Well, at this point, in this chapter, they have decided to take the first route, challenge him. They begin to ask Jesus questions meant to entrap him. A crowd has surrounded him, everyone is listening. If they pose just the right question, then they might get lucky. He will either say something that could get him arrested, or something that will disillusion his followers. One way or another they think they can manage to get rid of him. If they play their cards right.

It’s a risky thing, though. They need to be careful they don’t end up making themselves look like fools.

They start with their best shot, hoping they can get this done quickly. Jesus, they say, is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor? Sounds like a simple question, but it is not. It’s full of landmines. It is a question about how God’s law might clash with the civil laws. It is a question that will arouse the interest of the revolutionaries among them, as well as the religious purists. Whether Jesus says yes or no, he is bound to make some faction angry or disappointed.

No such luck, though. He replies so skillfully he evades the trap. So the next team of adversaries approaches him with a different question, a sort of word problem. Jesus, they say, a man marries a woman but then dies, leaving her childless. Then each of his seven brothers, in turn marries the woman, each one dying and leaving her still childless. (All this in accordance with the law of Moses, which says the younger brothers have a duty to give this woman children in their brother’s name.) But here’s the question: In the resurrection, whose wife will she be?

It is the Sadducees who pose this challenge. And, as a matter of fact, they are the ones who do not believe in the resurrection, the life after life, so it’s a funny one coming from them. Will Jesus get into an argument with them about the resurrection? Or will he make up something illogical just to answer the question?

Neither. Once again, he sidesteps the trap and offers a richer, more meaningful answer than they could have anticipated. The Pharisees and the Sadducees, the elders and the chief priests are getting frustrated. They are all arguing at once. Then one lone scribe steps forward. One last question is posed. Jesus, which of the commandments is first? Which one is greatest?

Behind this question, is the reality that it was not uncommon for religious authorities to argue this kind of question among themselves. In Judaism, argument is sacred. In fact, there is a story about two rabbis, Rabbi Eviatar and Rabbi Yonatan, who were arguing some point of law, and not getting anywhere close to a resolution. It happened that Rabbi Eviatar bumped into the prophet Elijah on one of his regular earthly tours (you know that Elijah didn’t actually die, and he might show up anywhere at any time). So Rabbi Eviatar said, So tell me, Elijah, Tell me, what is the Holy One into right now? And Elijah answered that, as a matter of fact, God was engrossed in the very same topic that Rabbi Eviatar and Rabbi Yonatan were arguing. Rabbi Eviatar got all excited, thinking he would get a resolution to the matter. And what does God have to say on the topic, he asked? Elijah answered, God says, My child Eviatar says this, and my child Yonatan says that. Evidently, God enjoys a good argument, too.

There were, after all, 613 laws in the scriptures. There were more extrabiblical rules, all meant to help people better understand the law, so there was plenty to argue about. Still is.

Jews still argue about God’s law. And Christians argue about the whole of the scriptures; like it or not, we don’t all agree. In Reformed Christianity, we believe that arguing about it is a good thing, because when we dig in and ask questions and explore the meaning, there is truth to be found. If we dare.

Yet, it is helpful to have some rules to guide us in our argument, some common ground from which we can begin. And in our Reformed tradition, there are a few rules, set out by Augustine, and developed further by Jean Calvin. And one of these, the one I have no trouble remembering, is the rule of love.

Any interpretation of scripture must comport with the knowledge that God is love. And so, my friends, our efforts to understand the word of God must always lead us toward greater love.

And, actually, that is where this whole discussion amongst the Pharisees and the Sadducees and the Scribes, the Chief Priests and the Elders and Jesus is going. Our understanding of who God is, who we are in relation to God, it begins with love. And wherever our exploration takes us beyond that first step, it will come back to love. And this is why no one dared to ask him any more questions.

When Jesus was asked what is the greatest law, what is really the foundation of the law, he answers, You shall love the Lord your God with your heart and soul and strength and mind, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself. What is the first, the last, and everything in between? It is love. Not in a schmaltzy or sentimental way. This is no Hallmark valentine card. It’s about loving God and others with everything we have – body and soul, mind and heart. If. We. Dare.

It is not the easy way. So often, hate tastes better in our mouths. So often, anger fires up our energy, our interest, gives us something to talk about. Apparently, Facebook knows the truth of this; angry-face emojis get a whole lot more traction on the social media site than happy faces do. Anger. Hate. We think they make us stronger, but they just eat us up.

True now, true back then. True for all time.

Every question the religious authorities brought to Jesus, they were armed for combat. They saw him as their enemy in a righteous battle. It may be too strong to say they hated him, but they didn’t seem to love him. Every question they brought to him was an attempt to bring him down, to defeat him. To crush him under their heels. And every time, he confronted them with a deeper truth than what they were asking for.

Finally, he gives them the greatest, the most important truth of all. Love.

And somehow, when they were face to face with this truth, the Pharisees and Sadducees, the Scribes and Elders and Chief Priests understood. The scribe who brought the question to him said, You are right. There is nothing more important than that.

No one dared to ask him another question.

Life is full of risks. Uncertainties. You can try to choose the easy way, the safe way, but we all know that what looks easy often ends up being wrong – even, in the end, harder.

We might never be certain where our choices will lead us. But if we choose love, in the end, we won’t go wrong.

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

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