"Cards on the Table" (Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost)

Hebrews 4:12-16

12 Indeed, the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. 13 And before him no creature is hidden, but all are naked and laid bare to the eyes of the one to whom we must render an account. 14 Since, then, we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. 15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. 16 Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

            One of my favorite movie series of the past few years is the Bourne trilogy. In case you haven’t seen any of the movies, they are based on three books written by the late Robert Ludlum about a top-secret, American spy named Jason Bourne who is found adrift in the ocean, and when he comes to, he can’t remember who he is or how he wound up floating in the water. Matt Damon plays Jason Bourne, and these movies are the definition of non-stop action. There are car chases, explosions, people running on rooftops, and all of it takes place in countries all over the world.

The fight scenes, well they’re something else.  They are unbelievably well-choreographed, with Jason Bourne not only taking and throwing punches and kicks, but also using all sorts of objects as improvised weapons. In the second movie in the series, The Bourne Supremacy, Bourne is caught in the home of another spy, and after a long fist fight Bourne rolls up a magazine and proceeds to use it as a weapon. Then, after rendering his opponent unconscious, he sticks the magazine in a toaster in order to ignite a gas leak to blow up the house.

I remember when I first saw that scene; I thought to myself, “Did he just use a magazine? A magazine!?!?” See, like many of you, I’ve sat in doctors’ offices where outdated issues of Golf Digest are indiscriminately shuffled with Highlights, and Field & Stream. I’ve sat on twenty different airplanes this year, and all of them had at least two inflight magazines in the pocket in front of me, and at least once a week I get some catalog, some brochure, some magazine in the mail, and not once—not once—has it ever occurred to me that any of those periodicals could be used a deadly weapon! That’s not their intended use, though, is it? A magazine is supposed to provide information, entertainment, coupons, or puzzles to pass the time. A magazine isn’t supposed to be wielded as a weapon, used to harm another person, but in the hands of a fictional character like Jason Bourne, it can quickly become a weapon that can inflict immense pain.

I suppose I feel the same way when I see those billboards you pass sometimes on the highway. You know the ones I’m talking about—not the countless Alexander Shunnarah billboards—those with Bible verses scrolled in a menacing font, attempting to create converts at 70 miles per hour. I suppose it’s also how I feel about those religious folks who quote cherry-picked Bible verses in order to defend themselves in an otherwise indefensible situation. It’s how I feel about those politicians and other public figures who defend their opinions by quoting a few words from the Bible (completely out of context), or those Christians who proof text an obscure verse to bully unbelievers and those with whom they disagree, those bumper stickers, flyers, t-shirts, and church signs that all use the words of scripture like a rolled up magazine in the hands of Jason Bourne. Because for so many Christians, the words of Holy Scripture are wielded like improvised weapons against their adversaries, against their neighbors, and so often it’s the words of Hebrews 4 that are used to justify such an abuse of scripture.

“Indeed, the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword…” Why, that makes it sound as if the word of God in scripture ought to be used as a weapon, doesn’t it? These words make it sound as if scripture has been filed to a fine point, polished and sharpened for battle, ready to be wielded by the faithful against any and all challengers—especially those with different ideas, viewpoints, and convictions than us. I suppose if those words stood alone, one could justifiably cite them as a call to arms, a rallying cry for the faithful to take their bibles in their hands and begin to thrash them to and fro at whatever and whoever stands in the way of their religious traditions and spiritual comfort. But how arrogant is it to believe that the words of scripture are words aimed at everyone else but us, that they are words meant to be wielded by us against others? How arrogant to think the words of scripture are for everyone else and not us?

The writer of Hebrews goes on in our text this morning to say, “the word of God…divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And before him no creature is hidden, but all are naked and laid bare to the eyes of the one to whom we must render an account.” Did you catch those important phrases in there: “no creature is hidden…all are naked…we must render an account…”? When the writer of this epistle speaks of the word of God being living, active, and sharp as a two-edged sword, what he’s referring to is the way in which the words of God (especially as we have them in the person of Jesus Christ) penetrate our arrogance, our ignorance, our sin, our pain, our grief, our doubt, our despair, our loneliness, our everything so that we are utterly and completely exposed before Almighty God. And if we’re truly honest with ourselves, that’s why we are so quick to point the Bible at others, to swing the sharpened edge of scripture at those different from us, because we know if we let the Holy Spirit speak to us through the words of scripture, we will be laid bare before God, and all our cards will be on the table.

It’s not easy showing our hand. It’s not easy being vulnerable, uncovered, naked, “laid bare,” before anyone, but there’s something all the more uneasy about the thought of being exposed to God. It reminds me of the little boy who was asking his mom questions after church one Sunday. “Momma,” the little boys asked, “is it true that God is everywhere?” “Yes, sweetie,” she answered him. “Even at school?” “Yes, sweetheart. Even at school?” “What about at home?” “Yes, child. Even at home?” “Everywhere at home?” “Yes,” she said, a bit worried about where this line of questioning was going. “Even in the bathroom?!” For many of us, we seem to have outgrown the idea that God is omniscient or omnipresent; we no longer think of him the way young children think of Santa Claus (“He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake…”). We’ve left such ideas behind. mostly because they make us uncomfortable, so the thought of scripture speaking truth into our lives as if God knows everything going on with us seems like an invasion of our privacy, as if God walked in the bathroom without knocking!

But here’s the thing: rather than the thought of God as some strange stalker, watching our every move, these words from Hebrews actually give me a deep sense of hope and encouragement, because I don’t see God as a divine being who sits invisibly in the corner noting my every action, feeling, and thought, counting every bad thought against every good one. No, these words tell me that I worship a God who knows all my junk and still seeks me out, still loves me! God is not a deity who sits in heaven with binoculars in one hand and a bolt of lightning in the other, waiting to strike you down at the first sign of failure; God is a God who is alive in Christ Jesus, a God who has been where we have been, felt what we have felt, been through the temptations, joys, heartaches, and pains we have been through. Or to put it the way the author of Hebrews puts it: “Since, then, we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

You see, the word of God is not some sharpened stick given to us so we can jab each other in the eye when we fail to live up to each other’s standards of faith. The word of God exposes us all for who we truly are; it strips away all pretenses, all of our constructed reputations, all of our “holier-than-thou” attitudes. It leaves us naked before an all-knowing God, and that honestly terrifies us. But rather than leaving us exposed, rather than shaming us in our frailty, in our brokenness, in our weakness, in our sin, Christ says to us, “I know where you are, because I’ve felt that hurt, I’ve been tempted with those temptations, I’ve struggled with those same feelings of doubt, loneliness, and despair. I’ve been there for you, because I love you. I know where you’ve been and I know where you are, and I still love you.”

Perhaps that’s what really scares us, to think that we can be so truly messed up and God still loves us. Maybe that’s what we really struggle to believe, not that God is everywhere and knows everything—after all, that seems to be what being God is all about—but that even though God sees everything and knows everything about us, God still loves us—Jesus still loves us enough to pursue us, to call us into relationship with him, to trust us with the mission of God’s kingdom, the work of reconciliation, and the joy of love. Maybe that’s what we really struggle to believe.

Rather than being frightened to defensiveness, rather than taking up the word of God and the gospel of Christ as a weapon to wield against our enemies, let us approach the thrown of grace with boldness, knowing that God knows all of our baggage, all of our agendas, all of our faults from the very beginning. Let us approach God as a friend who knows us better than we know ourselves, and still chooses to love us. May we know that even though all of our cards are on the table, even though we are naked, even though we are exposed, weak, and vulnerable in our own fragile, sinful state, Jesus still calls us. Jesus still calls us to the mission of God in the world, a mission of faith, hope, and love, a mission of reconciliation and peace, a mission for a kingdom that doesn’t point fingers and sharpened swords at one another, a mission for a kingdom full of equally fallen, fragile, broken, hurting, arrogant, needy, lonely, heartbroken, wounded people. Jesus still calls each of us into a deeper relationship with God and with one another, so let us answer that call boldly, knowing God already knows you better than you know yourself, and God still loves you. Amen.

"Bigger than a Breadbox" (Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost)

John 6:35, 41-51

35 Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty…41 Then the Jews began to complain about him because he said, "I am the bread that came down from heaven." 42 They were saying, "Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How can he now say, "I have come down from heaven'?" 43 Jesus answered them, "Do not complain among yourselves. 44 No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me; and I will raise that person up on the last day. 45 It is written in the prophets, "And they shall all be taught by God.' Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me. 46 Not that anyone has seen the Father except the one who is from God; he has seen the Father. 47 Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life. 48 I am the bread of life. 49 Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. 50 This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. 51 I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh."

            I remember one afternoon when I was in the fifth grade, my mom picked up my sister and me from school and told us we were going to get a surprise that afternoon. Now, I’ve never really liked surprises. I suppose it’s because I’m not very good at controlling my reactions to such things—especially when I’m surprised with something I don’t necessarily want, but Stephanie and I buckled ourselves into Momma’s old, peeling-maroon Ford Taurus station wagon and we were off to get our “surprise.”

            All kinds of thoughts went through my head about what sort of surprise we were going to get. I had been after my mom for a while about getting me a pair of name brand shoes, because that seemed to be the only thing any of the kids in my class cared about—whether or not you wore the right kind of shoes. So I thought maybe, just maybe, my mom had finally given in as she noticed my shoes were beginning to split at the seams. I dreamed that maybe this would be the year I’d get my very own Louisville Slugger TPX bat for baseball season; I had always wanted one, and Momma said if I hit a homerun she’d buy me one, and I had hit two the season before. But then I started to think that since it was my sister AND me maybe this “surprise” was supposed to be for both of us, so I started dreaming, pondering, hoping. Maybe we were going to get a Super Nintendo! Maybe we were going to get our own TVs for our bedrooms! Maybe we were going to Wal-Mart and Momma was going to let us pick out whatever we wanted from the toy aisle! All kinds of thoughts ran through my head about the nature of this surprise—until we pulled into the slanted parking spot, just off Main Street in downtown Elba.

            You see, my aunt worked at a little shop in Elba called, “Dress for Less,” and my mom, after she put the car in park, turned around in her seat and said to us, “You’re going to get a brand new coat today!” It was not the kind of surprise either of us wanted, especially me, because, you see, the shop my aunt worked at (and as it turned out, where we could get a hefty discount) was a clothing store for women. I was a nine year old boy, and it didn’t take me long to figure out what was going on! But my mom, as she often had to do when we were growing up, made the best of it, and picked out this denim jacket with a red hood, and said, “This is really a boy’s jacket; they just sell them here because girls like them too.” I wore that girl’s jacket through the rest of my fifth grade year and some of sixth grade. It wasn’t the surprise I wanted. It wasn’t what I expected, and even though I didn’t like it, it was what I needed during those colder days in January and February. It wasn’t what I expected, but it was what I needed.

            I believe that’s how it is with Jesus. Jesus is never what we expect. I mean, think about it: in this same chapter of John’s gospel, Jesus feeds five thousand people, and he does it with a boy’s sack lunch. That’s not something you’d expect. You might expect him to pull out his credit card or pass the hat and take up a collection and send one of the disciples down the Little Caesar’s in Galilee for a stack of “Hot-N-Ready” pizzas, but you wouldn’t expect him to take five little barley rolls and two fish and break it enough to feed five thousand and then have some left over, would you? No, of course not, but Jesus is never what we expect—even when we think we know what to expect.

            After this miraculous feeding, the crowd pursues Jesus. Why? Because they like what he has to say? Because he’s a captivating speaker? Because he’s entertaining and they’ve got nothing better to do? No! They follow him around because they’re hungry! Let’s face it, you and I take for granted the ways in which we can secure food for ourselves: we can go down to the grocery store and pick up a loaf of white bread for about a dollar; we can turn any faucet on in our houses and get clean water to drink; we can buy canned fruits and vegetables, dried beans, and even powdered milk and eggs if we so choose. We have such easy access to so much food we even have to occasionally go through our pantries and refrigerators and thrown some of it away! But like too many in our world today, these folks following Jesus in the first century didn’t have such easy access to readily available food and clean water. So when Jesus fed the multitude, when he multiplied such a small portion to feed so many, what else do you think would have happened? Of course these hungry people would pursue this man who gave them food, because if he did it once, he’ll do it again, right? That’s the expectation.

            Then Jesus says in verse 35, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” Never be hungry? Never be thirsty? I’ll sign up for that! You better believe that when those people heard those words they were ready to sign up. After all, it was there experience that Jesus could do it; it was their expectation that Jesus could give them food to eat and water to drink, their expectations that Jesus could quiet the growling in their bellies.

            Then again, the opponents, the critics of Jesus’ movement had expectations too. You can hear them in verse 42 as They were saying, "Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How can he now say, ‘I have come down from heaven'?" You can almost feel the sting in their words can’t you? “This Jesus, the son of Joseph…” One has to believe that after Mary’s miraculous pregnancy that folks around Galilee began to talk: “Oh I bet the child she’s carrying was conceived by the Holy Spirit…poor Joseph, taking in a girl like that…I bet Mary’s parents sure are disappointed in her…” You can imagine because it’s the kind of things that are too often said about the young girl, alone in the grocery store line, crossing her fingers that she has enough left on the EBT card to buy her little girl groceries for the week. Of course Jesus grew up as Mary’s son; the truth is after the nativity stories in Matthew and Luke we never see Joseph again. Maybe he ran off, but more than likely he had died as so many men then did at what we might call a young age.

            These critics of Jesus, though, they believed they knew Jesus’ story. They knew who his parents were. They knew where he grew up, the kids he played with, where he went to school, and the kind of life he lived. They believed they knew all they needed to know about Jesus, and with that kind of background information they formed certain expectations about him. Perhaps their expectations involved Jesus growing up to be like Joseph, a laborer, one who would follow in the family trade. Maybe they had expectations of him growing up to be a popular rabbi, one who could draw a crowd to listen to his teachings on the Law and the ways of God. They had expectations alright, but Jesus never meets our expectations—Jesus is always more, always bigger than our expectations.

            The crowd wanted someone to give them food to eat. The critics wanted a Jesus that fell in line with their expectations, who was easily managed within the boundaries of familial and cultural norms. They all had these expectations about who Jesus was, about what Jesus did, about what Jesus’ ministry meant, but Jesus didn’t meet their expectations. Jesus is far bigger than their expectations—and he’s far bigger than ours.

            You see, I’m convinced that we’ve been trying to put Jesus in a box for too long. We’ve seen him like those in the crowd saw him: he’s a source of bread, of food, of stuff. Think about it? What do most of our prayers sound like? “Lord Jesus, thank you for giving us food…for healing my friend…for giving me a nice house to live in.” While I think it’s extremely important to recognize the ways God cares for us, the ways God provides for us and the ways we are privileged, I don’t think that’s the whole shebang. I’m afraid we’ve given in to the message of the so-called prosperity gospel and its so-called preachers: we see God as a vending machine, as a being that exists to give us what we need and want when we need and want it. We hear “Whoever comes to me will never be hungry or thirsty,” and we assume that must mean that if we que up and ask in the right way, Jesus will give us what we want, whether it’s food, water, shelter, or a shiny halo, a robe, a harp, and a home in heaven. If we’re honest with ourselves, that’s the expectation we have—that Jesus is really just a means to an end. But Jesus is more than that. Jesus is bigger than that. Jesus is bigger than any of our expectations.

            Like his critics too, we often have expectations about Jesus that come from a place of experience. We’ve been told the same old stories about Jesus so much that we think we’ve got him figured out. We’ve lived in the so-called “Bible Belt” for so long that many of us really think that we know all there is to know about Jesus (or at least all we ever need to know). We have expectations of who Jesus is, what Jesus does, whom Jesus is for and against, what Jesus will do. We have all of these expectations based upon a collected knowledge of what we and others have assumed and expected from Jesus, but Jesus is always bigger than our expectations.

             I’m afraid that makes us uncomfortable, because when we want bread to eat, to fill our stomachs in order to satisfy our hunger and quiet the growling, Jesus gives us the Bread of Life that satisfies the deepest hunger, the hunger to know God, to be loved by God. When we expect Jesus to be like us, to hold up our way of thinking, our way of seeing the world, our rules, regulations, and restrictions, Jesus opens doors, tears down walls, and shows us that there are no limits to his love. It’s like we expect Nintendo, but Jesus gives us a coat—it’s not what we expected, but it’s exactly what we need.

            Let me encourage you today to not let your expectations of Jesus keep you from experiencing the fullness of who Christ is. As we gather around the Lord’s table together to take part in this meal, may the bread we eat together remind us all of the Bread of Life, the one who is greater than we can ever imagine, the one who is far bigger than our expectations. Amen.