Lenten Series for 2012

Here's a word cloud I created for my upcoming sermon series for Lent 2012.

"The Great I Am: Discovering the God who Is"

Service (Part 2 of a Stewardship Series)

Matthew 20:20-28

20 Then the mother of the sons of Zebedee came to him with her sons, and kneeling before him, she asked a favor of him. 21 And he said to her, "What do you want?" She said to him, "Declare that these two sons of mine will sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom." 22 But Jesus answered, "You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?" They said to him, "We are able." 23 He said to them, "You will indeed drink my cup, but to sit at my right hand and at my left, this is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father." 24 When the ten heard it, they were angry with the two brothers. 25 But Jesus called them to him and said, "You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. 26 It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, 27 and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; 28 just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many."

            What makes a person great? Is it his physical stature, towering over all others with an impressive display of bodily power? Is it her mental prowess, able to cunningly unravel the most difficult situations and place herself in a position of power? Is greatness found in material wealth, the means to buy and possess a great deal of property? Is it found in the power of a family name and the reputation that precedes it? Or does greatness lie in the degrees, titles, and awards one may accumulate in a lifetime?

            Perhaps it was with one of these definitions of greatness in her head that the mother of the sons of thunder comes to Jesus. Perhaps she knelt before the Savior with a swelling sense of maternal pride as she boldly came to ask him a favor. It’s possible she found her two boys to be the most exceptional of all of Jesus’ disciples (after all, she was their mother). Maybe she saw in them the physical ability to bear the trials that were ahead for a warring messiah; maybe she saw in them a reflection of the man to whom she was married and a desire to see them in a place of prominence. Then again, she could have simply been trying to fulfill her duties as a mother, trying to look out for her two sons and secure them a place of power and greatness in the coming kingdom of God’s Messiah. Whatever the case may be Matthew tells us that Mrs. Zebedee knelt before Jesus and asked a favor of him concerning her two sons.

            Now, I have to tell you, the way Jesus responds in verse 21 catches me by surprise. I mean, this woman comes to Jesus, kneeling, asking a favor of him, and Jesus seems to say coldly, "What do you want?" He doesn’t sound kind, caring, or even polite; just a straight-to-the-point question. I would expect Jesus to at least say something like, “What troubles you my child?” or “Ask and it will be given to you.” Jesus, however, doesn’t say anything of the sort, just "What do you want?" Maybe he knew what was coming. Maybe he had overheard her discussing her plans while they had been walking along, and he was just waiting for her to spring this loaded request. Either way, the mother of James and John doesn’t miss a beat. She sees her opportunity and she boldly instructs Jesus to "Declare that these two sons of mine will sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom."

            What a bold thing to do! Not only does she forget to say “pretty please,” she just comes right out and asks this favor for both of her sons—she’s not a mother to play favorites! I suppose she thought Jesus would grant her request, or perhaps she’s one of those people who live by the philosophy “You’ll never know until you ask; after all, what’s the worst that could happen?” I’m not sure of her motivations for making such a request, but I imagine she didn’t expect Jesus’ response in verse 22: “You do not know what you are asking.” It is as if Jesus says to her, “I don’t think you get how big a deal this thing you want for your sons is.” Jesus, however, doesn’t give her a lot of time to process his response before he turns to the two sons themselves: “Are you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?"

            Now, perhaps these two brothers put their mother up to this whole thing, and maybe Jesus saw right through it all and that’s why he turns his attention towards them. Or maybe Jesus turns and asks them this question as a way to test them before fully responding to their mother’s request. Either way, Jesus’ question isn’t some awkward inquiry about using the same drinking vessel. No, when Jesus speaks about drinking the cup, there would have been no doubt in the minds of the two brothers, and everyone else listening, that Jesus was talking about a cup of suffering. “Are you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?" means “Are you able and willing to go through the ordeal of suffering that I am about to go through?”

            It’s a loaded question, a heavy response to a weighty request, yet these two brothers answer in unison "We are able." "We are able:" they answer quickly, confidently, without any need for reflection or consideration. And Jesus seems to acknowledge their response as genuine, not a veiled attempt at appeasing him, when he responses in verse 23: "You will indeed drink my cup, but to sit at my right hand and at my left, this is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father." I’m sure that wasn’t exactly the response Mrs. Zebedee (along with her sons) was hoping to hear. Jesus affirms that they will indeed suffer (and we know of James’ martyrdom), but in the end the decision as to who gets the places of power and judgment at his right and left hands…well that isn’t up to him. Whatever hopes of future greatness James, John, and their mother had likely came to a grinding halt with Jesus’ ambiguous affirmation of their suffering. Perhaps greatness has less to do with ambition and positions of power than any of them realized.

            Now, right off camera, there stood the other ten disciples, each perhaps just as ambitious as the Zebedee family, and I can only imagine what words were being exchanged among them as they witnessed this scene of fraternal favoritism play out in front of them. Matthew tells us in verse 24, “When the ten heard it, they were angry with the two brothers.” Can you blame them? I can’t help but wonder what Peter and Andrew (brothers from the same area as James and John) must have thought. I can just see them now, calling James and John “Mama’s boys,” saying to themselves how they had left their own mother back in Galilee to follow Jesus; they didn’t need her to go asking favors of the Messiah. The others are just as angry, of course, and I think I know why. It’d be easy to say they were angry because the whole fiasco had interrupted the flow of their journey and caused a commotion among Jesus’ followers. It’d be very righteous of them if they were angry because of the selfishness veiled in such a request made by the mother of James and John. I believe, however, that they were angry for none of those reasons. No, I believe they were angry because they didn’t ask Jesus first! They weren’t the first ones to ask Jesus about getting the best seats during the judgment, and now, thanks to the meddling of a mother and her two sons, it sounded like none of them were going to get those prized seats.

            Can we blame them for being angry though? I mean, think about it: how many times have you waited patiently for something to come your way only to see someone else swoop in with the right words, the perfectly timed actions, or an insurmountable pile of luck to yank the proverbial rug right out from under your feet? How many times have you been a part of a group and had to carry the majority of the work load, only to see the prize go to someone else who worked the least? Of course we’d be angry right along with the rest of those disciples, because we’d feel like we had been robbed of an opportunity that was every bit as much ours as it was theirs. But why? In the end, why do we get angry at all about someone taking an opportunity from us? Why are we so easily embittered towards someone else who has done the very same thing we had intensions of doing? Why? Because we are easily motivated by ambition and a drive to be better—better than now, better than what we are, and most of all, better than everyone else.

            I think that was at the heart of the disciple’s anger—they each wanted to be better than the other. Surely there had to be a second-in-command, a ranking disciple. Surely among the twelve there had to be one or two who stood out, one or two who would get to be Jesus’ “right-hand-man” when he came to power in his kingdom. They were all secretly jockeying for position in the group, hoping that Jesus would draft one of them to stand as the leader, the head disciple. They wanted recognition, a title, significance, rank…yet when Jesus gets wind of what’s going on in the group in verses 25 and following he says, "You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave.”

Can’t you just hear the wind leaving the sails? Can’t you just see that group of disciples (right along with Mother Zebedee) hanging their heads as the breath leaves their lungs in a collective sigh of recognition? As they were all but falling over each other in an attempt to achieve greatness, to outdo one another, Jesus tells them, “If you really want to be great, you’re going to have to be slaves to one another, because that is what I have come to be.” They’re out of cards to play. No one can claim any special qualifications over another. If they are going to be great, they’ll have to be servants, slaves. If they want to be first, they’ll have to settle for being last.

            And no one likes to be last. No one likes to be called a slave. Yet that is the calling Christ places on his disciples—all of his disciples. The call to serve isn’t a call that comes from a God who desires to watch his people dance like puppets as he pulls the strings. The command to be last, to be a slave to one another, doesn’t come from a God who makes sport of servitude. The kingdom call to service comes from a God who “came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many." The Lord Jesus Christ calls us to put aside our selfish ambitions and our personal pursuits of what this world deems as greatness so that we may serve one another in the love of God. Christ has laid down his life to free us from the bonds of sin and evil, and in doing so has become our ultimate example for living a life of service.

            Christ has given his life for you and for me. How are you being a good steward of such an eternal gift? Are you striving to lord your power over others? Are you seeking more titles, more positions only so you can flex your influence in the world around you? Are you planning to simply sit on the sidelines, hoping that everyone else will bear your load so you can enjoy the ride? Just as Christ came not to serve but to serve, he calls each and every one of us who are known by his name to serve one God, to serve one another, to serve his Church, and to serve the world. Christ gave his life as a ransom for you. How will you serve as a better steward of such grace from this day forward?

Let us pray…

Simplicity (Part 1 of a Stewardship Series)

Luke 12:13-21

13 Someone in the crowd said to him, "Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me." 14 But he said to him, "Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?" 15 And he said to them, "Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one's life does not consist in the abundance of possessions." 16 Then he told them a parable: "The land of a rich man produced abundantly. 17 And he thought to himself, "What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?' 18 Then he said, "I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. 19 And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.' 20 But God said to him, "You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?' 21 So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God."

            As a pastor I have done my share of funerals, and if I can tell you anything about a funeral it’s this: be prepared for family drama. It doesn’t always happen, but when it does, a pastor needs to be ready for it. You see, a funeral may be the only time some family members are ever in the same room together, a time when those who share last names and DNA come together in the same space to mourn the loss of a loved one. Generally speaking, when there is family drama, it takes place after the service, usually back at the church or the home where the food is designated to be delivered. It nearly always starts the same way, with a seemingly innocent question: “Did Momma leave behind a will?” “Did Granddaddy say who gets his boat after he died?” Before long these not-so-subtle questions begin to elevate into accusations: “I knew you only came so you could take Aunt Vida’s antique coffee table back home.” “I should have known you were only coming to see if Daddy left you any money.” One doesn’t have to wait too long in these situations before the lid is blown off, and brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles are all at each others’ throats arguing over every last trinket left behind by the recently departed. It’s a sad scene to watch unfold, yet I’ve seen it many times as individuals allow their greed and selfishness to overtake their grief and their love for their lost family member. Thankfully (THANKFULLY!), no one has ever turned to me in the middle of such heated family conflict to ask, “What do you think about it preacher?”

            I’m afraid that’s just the sort of situation in which our Lord finds himself in this passage before us this morning. I have to say, I’m glad no one has ever come to me with such demanding words as this man does in verse 13. Luke tells us, “Someone in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.’" Can’t you almost hear this man whining as he comes to Jesus with this family dispute? This nameless individual comes to Jesus, addresses him as a rabbi and demands that he tell his brother to give him his fair share. Now, to be fair, that wasn’t all that uncommon in Jesus’ day; members of the community would often seek out a rabbi for his judgment in these sorts of matter, especially if they could be solved by pointing to the Law—to Scripture (I think of how often people come to me and ask me what the Bible says about some issue or another). Jesus, however, as he often does, shakes this man’s demands and shines a different light on the entire situation. In verse 14 Jesus says to him, “Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you? I have to imagine that that man thought to himself: “Well God set you as a judge and arbitrator over me! You’re a rabbi after all!” As it turns out, though, Jesus isn’t only speaking to this man and his unique situation.

Jesus uses this man and his common conundrum to speak to the crowd gathered around him. In verse 15, Jesus turns his attention to the people in the crowd and says, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one's life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” To further prove his point, Jesus tells a parable, a parable about a man who has so much that he has to tear down his old barns just to build bigger, better barns to hold all that he has. When he gets satisfied, thinking he has gathered and stored enough, he decides to “retire,” but God says to him in verse 20: “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” The man’s life is being demanded of him; he is going to die. He’s going to die, and he’ll have to leave everything he has gathered together behind. For that, God calls the man a fool.

Of course, in our culture this man in Jesus’ parable would be anything but a fool. We are encouraged to store things up for ourselves, to open savings accounts, make investments to see our money grow. If someone has made enough money so as to build a bigger house, drive a nicer car, or buy more expensive things, we applaud his or her hard work, or we become jealous of their possessions. The man in this parable would be seen as a model American citizen, taking advantage of his abundance and keeping it all for himself and perhaps as an inheritance for his descendants. But that’s where Jesus’ telling of this parable flips the man’s demand for his proper inheritance on its head. He asked about his inheritance, and Jesus points out how trivial such an inheritance was in the life of the one who had it before. In other words, why worry about an inheritance that the one before you couldn’t (or didn’t) even use? To put a nice bow on the whole story, Jesus gives a sort of summary statement in verse 21, a nugget of wisdom for all to take away from the parable: “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God." In other words, why store up for yourself that which you cannot or will not use on this earth, especially for the glory of God?

            This is where I think we need to listen for a word or two about re-defining stewardship, especially as it has to do with living a life of simplicity. You see, we live in a place and time where simple is considered strange, backwards, and downright un-patriotic! After all, this is the land of opportunity; we are an ambitious and innovative people. We live in the days of the internet, the iPhone, fast food, Super Wal-Marts, walk-in closets, and investment banks. We are encouraged to spend money we don’t have on things we don’t, or (in the rare occasion we have it) save the money we don’t need, and invest the rest only so we can make more. To live a simple life at or below our means is sarcastically considered “sacrificial living” in the eyes of those who have more than they will ever need or ever use. We are waist-deep in a culture that encourages us to “store up treasures for ourselves,” and many of us gladly go along with the status quo.

            This month, however, we are reexamining that status quo. We are attempting to re-define stewardship, turning to the teachings of Scripture to see what it means to be good stewards of all that God has given us, and I am convinced that being good stewards begins with a desire to live a faithful life of simplicity—a life lived rich toward God, not a life lived in overabundance. That seems to me to be the lesson Jesus is trying to teach this man, the crowd, and us with this parable today. Why does this man come to Jesus with this dispute about his family inheritance in the first place? Because he is worried about getting what’s coming to him; it’s plain, old-fashioned greed. And greed is the opposite of simplicity, the opposite of good stewardship.

            Jesus’ words here in this parable remind me of another parable, a story from the great Russian author of the last century, Leo Tolstoy. In his story titled “How Much Land does a Man Need?” Tolstoy tells the tale of a peasant by the name of Pahom. After overhearing a conversation between his wife and her sister about the dignity and comfort of their respective ways of life, Pahom vows to rise up from being a peasant. Through a series of events, he is able to buy himself a little lot of land and grow his own crops. Before long, however, he becomes dissatisfied with the little piece of land he has and the ways in which the local peasants are abusing it, so he sells his land to move to a commune where he rents more land and continues to grow his own crops. However, he is still not satisfied, so he decides to buy his own land again; this time, though, he would buy enough to keep the peasants away and grow enough crops to make a comfortable living.

            Through another series of events, Pahom hears about a Turkic tribe called the Bashkirs who are selling land for an outrageously cheap price. He decides to go and see about it, and when he meets with the tribe’s Chief, he finds out that the land is indeed just as wonderful and cheap as he had been told. It turns out the Bashkirs had a unique way of selling their land: they sold it by the day. It was one thousand rubles per day. Now, what that meant was the Bashkirs would sell Pahom all the land he could walk around from sunrise to sunset, but he had to complete the circle in that time or he would receive no land and the tribe got to keep his money.

            So they day arrived, and Pahom was eager to walk around as much land as he could. He figured he could walk some 35 miles on a good day, so he set that as his goal. He couldn’t help but imagine how much land would be inside the circumference of 35 miles. The Chief and members of the tribe met Pahom at the place where it was designated he would begin. The chief placed his fur cap on the ground and told Pahom if he made it back to the cap before sunset all the land he encircled would be his. With the sunrise, Pahom was off to try and walk around as much land as he could.

            This is where Pahom’s story teaches us a lesson about satisfaction, simplicity, and greed. You see, Pahom started out with a plan, but soon convinced himself that he could get more land if he walked faster or if he went a certain way with the terrain. Later in the day, however, he realized he had made a terrible mistake—he wasn’t going to have enough time to make it back if he kept going. Pahom turned back, knowing that if he didn’t make it back to the Chief’s cap by sunset he’d lose everything. The sun seemed to be moving faster towards the horizon, and before he knew it, Pahom was in the pale darkness of twilight. He could see hill where the Chief and his own servant were waiting for him—he was close. With one giant breath Pahom leaned forward and ran as he had never ran before, up the hill and towards the Chief’s cap. With a final effort he stretched out his hand and fell face down on the ground. He made it.

            The Chief was shaking with amusement and congratulated Pahom on his take. His servant knelt down to help him up, and that’s when he saw it—the blood coming from Pahom’s mouth. His pursuit of more land had killed him. In the end, all the land he needed was six feet long, just enough to bury his body.

            The man in Jesus’ parable and Pahom share a similar sickness, a sickness with symptoms we all show from time to time. In the weeks ahead, however, I hope that we will allow the words of Scripture to heal those symptoms. May we not give in to greed and selfishness. May we not allow ourselves to be overcome by the pursuit to always want more. May we be satisfied with what God has blessed us, and may we strive to be people who live faithful lives of simplicity as good stewards of all that God has given us.

Let us pray…