Saturday, July 30, 2011
Day1.org
I haven't posted a manuscript in a while, primarily because I've been preaching from notes lately. However, I have been asked to blog for Day1.org as a Key Voice blogger. You can find my first post here.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Suffered under Pontius Pilate; was crucified, dead, and buried. He descended into hell...
1 Peter 3:18-22
18 For Christ also suffered for
sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to
God. He was put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit, 19 in
which also he went and made a proclamation to the spirits in prison, 20 who in
former times did not obey, when God waited patiently in the days of Noah,
during the building of the ark, in which a few, that is, eight persons, were
saved through water. 21 And baptism, which this prefigured, now saves you—not
as a removal of dirt from the body, but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection
of Jesus Christ, 22 who has gone into heaven and is at the right hand of God,
with angels, authorities, and powers made subject to him.
The great Southern author William Faulkner once said, “The salvation of
the world is in man’s suffering,” and Faulkner himself knew a thing or two
about suffering. He and his wife Estelle had lost their first child, a daughter
named Alabama, just nine days after she was born, an event that would leave an
indelible mark on Faulkner’s life as well as his fiction. Some three years
later Faulkner’s childhood friend “Sonny” Bell and his wife Frances also lost
their first child, a daughter. So Faulkner sat down in and wrote these words of
condolence to his dear friend on a Friday in September of 1934 from his home in
Oxford, Mississippi: “Human beings are so
constituted (and thank God for it) that even grief cannot stay green very long.
You will hate to hear this and hate more to believe it, and your very refusal
to believe it will give you this comfort: it will help to tide you over into
the time when grief will be quiet, and instead of a date on a calendar and a
mark on the earth, the child will not be dead at all. It will be a living part
of living experience which will last as long as mind and body last, and because
of it after a while you can say to yourself, 'Because I have suffered, I know
that I have been alive. It is suffering which has raised me above the
articulated lumps of colored mud which teem the earth. And so long as I have
grief, death cannot hurt me'."[1]
“So long as I have grief, death cannot hurt me.” What an odd thing to say.
Grief, the result of the very suffering we experience from the lowest and
darkest valleys along life’s journey, saves us from the real pain of death. Does
this mean that we ought to welcome suffering with open arms? Should we look
forward to the day when tragedy and grief will strike and our worlds will be
turned upside down? Should we pursue calamity with a reckless fervor, hoping to
stave off our final days? “The salvation of the world is in man’s
suffering”—perhaps Faulkner’s words strike closer to the truth than he
realized.
Just as suffering was a common theme
for Faulkner it is a common theme throughout the letter of 1 Peter. The author of this epistle is writing to a church that is dealing
with all manner of trials and suffering because of their faith; they were being
scorned and maligned; their very way of life was in danger as their families,
social status, and their occupations were threatened. With such suffering, it
would have been all too easy for one to lose faith and give up hope in Christ.[2]
No wonder then that this epistle ends with these words in chapter 5, verse 12: I have written this short letter to
encourage you and to testify that this is the true grace of God. Stand fast in
it. Suffering for the cause of Christ was an ever-present reality for
those early believers, and they stood in need of encouragement in the face of
such real suffering.
Of course, you and I are no
strangers to suffering ourselves. While none of you may have a clue as to what
it means to suffer for our faith, each one of you in your own life has
experienced some calamity, some tragedy that has caused your world to stand on
its head and spin backwards. Each of us has felt either the disorientation of
losing a job, the pain of losing a loved one, the life-altering shock of hearing
a dreaded diagnosis—we have all to one degree or another, as human beings in a
shared existence, come to understand what it means to suffer, to suffer with
the very ways of this world and the darkness that is in it. Thanks be to God you
and I are not alone in our suffering.
You see, whenever you may feel as if
you are abandoned in your suffering, as if no one else could possibly feel what
you have felt…hear these first words of the text before us today in verse 18: For Christ also suffered. It’s
such a simple phrase, just four little words, yet it is overflowing with power.
Christ, the eternal, only begotten Son of God, suffered. For that very reason the Church, down through the
centuries, has recited those words in the Apostles’ Creed that Christ “suffered
under Pontius Pilate.” Jesus is not simply an aloof savior who magically waves
his cross-shaped wand and makes atonement for sin. No, Christ is a savior who
has lived in our skin, walked on the hard, cracked ground, breathed the dusty
air, and above all, has suffered in his flesh. Christ also suffered.
But why? Really, why would the Son
of the Almighty, all-knowing, ever-present God go through the trouble, the
pain, and the heartbreak of suffering? Not one of you here today would rush to
the front of the line to voluntarily suffer if it were within your power to
avoid it. And who would blame you? If we finish reading the words in verse 18, however, we find the reason the eternal Son of God chose such suffering: For
Christ also suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous,
in order to bring you to God. Christ’s suffering has purpose! He
suffered for sins once for all. Christ’s suffering was for your sins, my
sins, once for all. Never would another have to suffer on behalf of the sins of
another; never would sacrifice and offering have to be made on behalf of our
sins. Hallelujah! Crank up the organ; pass the plate and shout the benediction,
we can all go home knowing that Christ’s suffering was for our sins once for all.
But now hang on just a minute. If
that’s all there is to understanding Christ’s suffering then the gates of
heaven could not hold the number of those who would long to get in. Church’s
would find the proclamation of the gospel much easier. If that’s all there is
to understanding the suffering of Christ, then seminaries and universities
would be filled with scholars trying to understand the theology of gnats and
houseflies. So what is it about the suffering of the Son of God that is so
difficult to stomach for so many people? What is it that complicates comprehension
of Calvary’s climactic crucifixion? Is it the difficulty in believing that the
Almighty God would be made flesh? That God could actually feel pain and simply
allow his son to suffer a slow and agonizing death on a splintered cross? While
these things may be difficult for the logical, reason-driven,
post-enlightenment mind to grasp, I have a feeling there is another reason that
so many simply refuse to acknowledge the truth of Christ’s suffering, a reason
that maybe even many of you find hard to swallow, and I believe that reason is
found in these ever-deepening words of our Scripture today.
Not only does the author say in verse 18 that Christ…suffered for sins once for
all, he goes on to say Christ (the righteous) suffered for
the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God. He was put to death in the
flesh, but made alive in the spirit, and then in verses 19 and 20 the author goes on to write that Christ (in the
spirit) went and made a proclamation to the spirits in prison, who in former
times did not obey, when God waited patiently in the days of Noah, during the
building of the ark, in which a few, that is, eight persons, were saved through
water. It is in these puzzling
words that the Apostles’ Creed claims that Jesus “descended into hell,” though
the text says nothing of descending nor does it directly make any mention of
hell. In fact, the writer of 1 Peter doesn’t necessarily have hell in mind here
at all. If we are to understand what the author is getting at, we have to look
outside of our canon of Scripture to an apocryphal book that was very popular
in the days of Jesus and the early Church—the book of 1 Enoch.
In 1 Enoch we find story of Enoch
(the man in Genesis 5:24 who walked
with God; then he was no more, because God took him) as he is shown the
history of heaven, leading up to the time of the flood in Genesis 6. During his heavenly tour, we are introduced to a group
called “the watchers,” who were the fallen angels who had been with human
women, and their offspring were giants “from whose bodies ‘evil spirits’ [had]
come.”[3]
These giants, referred to in Genesis 6 as
Nephilim, came to represent the most vial generation to have ever lived. Such a
tradition was no doubt well-known and popular during the time of Jesus, his
disciples, and the writing of 1 Peter. So, when the author of our text today
says that Jesus made a proclamation to the spirits in prison, who in former times did
not obey, when God waited patiently in the days of Noah, during the building of
the ark, it is very likely he’s referring to these “spirits,”
traditionally understood as the most dreadful of sinners.
You see, what the author of 1 Peter
is trying to communicate to us isn’t necessarily the answers to where Jesus
went and what Jesus did between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. No, the writer
of 1 Peter is communicating a much deeper truth. When he writes that Jesus made
a proclamation to the spirits in prison, what he is saying is that even
that generation that was considered irredeemable gets to hear the same gospel
that even the most holy generation has the privilege of hearing. Think about
it…even the most sinful, evil, disgusting generation of sinners have the
grace-filled opportunity to hear the proclamation of the good news. The ones
who many would have deemed undeserving, Jesus made a proclamation to them.
That’s where I think people trip
over the truth of Christ’s suffering. After all, it’s just fine for Christ to
have suffered and died for me—it’s not like I’ve lived an altogether terrible
life. It’s wonderful that Christ has suffered for the sins of those whose sins
weren’t all that bad to begin with (it’s not like you’ve ever murdered anybody
anyhow). But when grace begins to find its way into the hearts and lives of
those you deem unworthy…well, that’s when we find the cost of discipleship too
steep and the life of faith too burdensome. To think that Christ would die for
me or for you is a blissful, glorious thought, but to think that the love of
God extends to the one we find unfit to live…? That’s another thing altogether
isn’t it? Kind of makes the Church feel less like a social club and more like a
social service doesn’t it? Maybe that’s the point.
He was found dead in a prison
bathroom. He had been beaten to death by a fellow inmate. No one was really all
that upset about it to tell the truth. He had only served two of his 957 years
in prison, but no one was really all that up set to hear he hadn’t made it
longer. See, no one really cared whether Jeffrey Dahmer lived or died after
raping, dismembering, and murdering some 17 men and boys between 1978 and 1991.
No one really cared, except for a man named Curt Booth. Booth was a member of
the Crescent Church of Christ in Crescent, Oklahoma; he saw Dahmer on
television and mailed him a Bible correspondence course teaching the way to
salvation. Dahmer mailed a letter back to Booth expressing that he had accepted
Christ, but there was no baptistery in the prison and no one who would baptize
him. However, as it came to pass, a Church of Christ minister named Roy
Ratcliff began weekly Bible lessons with Dahmer and eventually baptized him on
May 10, 1994.[4]
As you can imagine, many are quick
to pronounce Dahmer’s story as just another case of “jailhouse religion.” But
what if it’s not? What if one of the most notorious serial killers in modern
history is listed among the saints in the kingdom of heaven? What does that
then say about the depth of God’s grace? What does that say about the love in
Christ’s suffering?
I heard an old preacher say once,
“When you get to heaven, you’ll look around and be surprised by all the people
who you thought would be there, but aren’t. You’ll look around and be surprised
by all the people who you never thought would be there, but are. You’ll look
around and see all the lovely faces of all the wonderful people. Then, you’ll
look around and be surprised most of all by the fact that you’re there.” Isn’t
that the truth?
Let us pray…
[1]
Doreen Fowler; Campbell McCool. “On Suffering: A Letter from William Faulkner,”
American Literature, Vol. 57, No. 4.
(Dec., 1985), pp. 650-652.
[2]
Jobes, Karen H. Baker Exegetical Commentary on the
New Testament: 1 Peter. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2005. p.42.
[3]
Jobes, Karen H. Baker Exegetical Commentary on the
New Testament: 1 Peter. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2005. p.244.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary...
Luke 1:26-38
26 In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, 27 to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin's name was Mary. 28 And he came to her and said, "Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you." 29 But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. 30 The angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. 31 And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. 32 He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. 33 He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end." 34 Mary said to the angel, "How can this be, since I am a virgin?" 35 The angel said to her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. 36 And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. 37 For nothing will be impossible with God." 38 Then Mary said, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." Then the angel departed from her.
Once upon a time, there was a professor of religion at Samford University who had a less than savory reputation. You see, there was a rumor that once, in his Biblical Perspectives class (a class every student at Samford must take), he had removed a student’s Bible from his desk, thrown it into a trash can, and even went so far as to strike a match and light it on fire! Now, depending on who you hear the story from, he may or may not have danced around the flaming trash can like a savage in the celebration of a successful hunt. I happened to have had this professor for a class at Samford; his name is Paul Holloway, and no, he didn’t throw a student’s Bible in the trash and set it on fire—he simply told the student if he was going to bring The Living Bible (a paraphrase, and not a real translation) to class, he might as well throw it in the trash and get a “real” Bible. Dr. Holloway now teaches at the School of Theology at Sewanee, The University of the South and is in fact one of the more Christ-like people I have had the pleasure to meet.
I recall one particular day in his class on Jesus and the gospels. We had been discussing a particular chapter from one of our texts, when it came time for class to be over we all started shuffling our books and putting them away in our bags or tucking them under our arms. I remember pushing my chair away from the table and rising out of my seat when Dr. Holloway said, “For next time I want you all to think about this: what if Mary wasn’t a virgin? What if we had unquestionable, DNA evidence that Joseph or some Roman soldier was in fact the earthly father of Jesus? Could he still be the Jesus we worship as the Son of God? Could everything else we believe about Jesus still be true? Have a nice day!” With that, Dr. Holloway casually walked out of the room, taking all the breathable air with him! We fell back in our seats and just stared at one another. (For the record, Dr. Holloway’s question was intended simply to provoke discussion, but you can see why he would have had such a reputation at Samford.)
Why is the virgin birth of Jesus important? Why have Christians for centuries recited a creed with the line “we believe… [in Jesus Christ] who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary”? What implications can such a doctrine really have on our daily lives? Does it matter at all, or is it simply the ancient residue of a heroic archetype? Perhaps it is best to begin by asking why we affirm such a doctrine in the first place.
I was driving through town one day, and I came to a red light and stopped behind one of “those” cars. You know the kind of car I’m talking about—one that looks like the back fenders are actually taped on with bumpers stickers. There were stickers expressing the driver’s pride in his or her honor student, stickers promoting a politician who hasn’t ran for office since the 1990s, even some that were faded, unrecognizable, colorless blotches, but the one that caught my attention most was a simple white sticker with a straight-to-the-point message written in maroon letters: “The Bible says it. I believe it. That settles it.” It was neither the first nor the last time I have read or heard that exact sentiment. Of course, I trust you see the flaw in such logic: many eyes read the Bible, and many minds read those same words differently. So while many people may say “Amen!” to just such a slogan, many of them will disagree as to what exactly the “Bible says.”
However, for many believers, it is simply enough to say that we believe in the virgin birth of Jesus because the Bible says that Mary was indeed a virgin when Jesus was conceived. We’re reminded of this at least once a year around December as the nativity stories of Luke and Matthew are read and recited in all manner of ways, from television specials to Christmas Eve sermons. It is of some importance, however, to point out that only Matthew and Luke seem to find the virgin birth of Jesus necessary to include in their telling of the good news, and both tell it in slightly different ways. But in the end, “the Bible says it,” so we cannot ignore the importance of the miraculous nature of Jesus’ conception and birth. But is it just enough to say we believe it because the Bible says it? After all, the Bible says we shouldn’t eat pork or catfish, and we should treat even the foreigner as we would like to be treated, but not all believers rush to shout “The Bible says it. I believe it. That settles it.” when it comes to those particular points. So there must be a deeper, perhaps more traditional or theological reason why we uphold this particular point of Christian orthodoxy.
The traditions and teachings of the Church throughout history have gone a long way in shaping the confessions and beliefs of the contemporary church. However, there have been times in the history of the Church when great men and women have challenged such traditions, calling us to reexamine why we believe what we say we believe in the first place. No one serves as a clearer example of such questioning than Martin Luther. Luther challenged many of the traditions of the Roman Catholic Church in the sixteenth century, especially in light of his understanding of Scripture. However, when it came to one particular doctrine, infant baptism, Luther believed it was a doctrine worth preserving, despite his confession that there was a lack of biblical evidence for such a practice. In his Large Catechism Luther wrote, “But if God did not accept the baptism of infants, He would not give the Holy Ghost nor any of His gifts to any of them; in short, during this long time unto this day no man upon earth could have been a Christian.” In other words, surely God would not have allowed the practice of infant baptism to continue for centuries as a practice and tradition of the Church if it was not right. Clearly, tradition can go a long way in shaping what we believe.
While we do not cling to the traditions surrounding Mary and her perpetual virginity or special relationship to Christ, the traditions of the Church have gone a long way in shaping what we believe about the importance of the virgin conception and birth of Jesus. The most direct example involves the belief that comes from two of the Fathers of the Western Church, Augustine and Ambrose. They were integral in the development of the doctrine of original sin and therefore saw the virgin birth of Jesus as necessary to his living a sinless life. For centuries, theologians in the Church have contended that this is why we must believe that Jesus was born of a virgin—so that he may truly be sinless. However, in recent years Augustine’s understanding of original sin has come under some scrutiny from all manner of theologians.
If the reasons we typically believe in the virgin birth of Jesus (the Bible says it, tradition backs it, etc.) seem to strain under the weight of contemporary reason and skepticism, then why should we hold such a doctrine? And if we should find that such a belief is worth holding, what real implications can it possibly have on our lives today? Before we get ready to burn those we label as heretics for questioning our long-held beliefs, or before we decide to lay aside faith entirely, let us take a look at the text we have read this morning from Luke’s gospel. Perhaps if we try to understand what the Bible is actually saying here, we will find the true reason as to why we confess our belief in the virgin birth of Jesus.
Luke tells us that the messenger of God, Gabriel, comes to a virgin named Mary in the backwater town of Nazareth in Galilee. He calls her favored one and proceeds to tell her in verses 30-33: “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end." It is in these particular words from Gabriel that one ought to find the purpose of the entire story of Jesus’ birth: Mary will carry the one who will be called the Son of the Most High, a title that overflows with allusions to the messiah. Furthermore, this child that will be conceived in Mary will have an endless kingdom. This is no ordinary child; in fact, this is no ordinary, extraordinary child!
You see, all throughout Scripture, extraordinary children are born in extraordinary ways: Isaac was born to Abraham and Sarah when Sarah was in her nineties; Rebekah was barren for twenty years before God “opened her womb” and she gave birth to Esau and Jacob; Samson’s mother was barren before an angel appeared to her and said she would bear a son; and prior to our Scripture this morning, Luke tells us of Elizabeth, Mary’s cousin, who was barren and getting on in years. Elizabeth and her husband Zechariah become the proud, aged parents of John (the Baptist). So, all throughout the witness of Scripture great heroes and extraordinary people are born in miraculous and extraordinary ways, but when it comes to the Son of the Most High extraordinary wasn’t enough.
In verse 34 we hear Mary’s response to Gabriel’s proclamation: "How can this be, since I am a virgin?" Sure, Elizabeth was old, but there’s always the biological possibility that her pregnancy was completely natural, but Mary…well Mary hadn’t even been with a man (not to mention that she was likely a teenager when she heard the news of a coming child!). How could she, of all people, possibly have a child? That’s when the angel lays it all out for Mary—and for us—in verse 35: “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God.” After mentioning the pregnancy of Elizabeth, the angel says in verse 37 words that ought to ring in our ears whenever we have doubt about the omnipotence of God: “For nothing will be impossible with God.”
In this exchange between Mary and Gabriel, we don’t simply read an instance where “The Bible says it.” We see why we truly ought to believe in the beyond-extraordinary way in which the Lord was conceived. From the very beginning, Christ cannot be confused as a powerful prophet; he cannot be dismissed simply as an extraordinary king, born of extraordinary circumstances. No, from the very beginning he is the Son of God! Being conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary is a unique and sure sign that this child is something beyond the kings and prophets of the past. From the very first moments of the Incarnation, the eternal Son of God is recognized as much more than all that was great before him. In that truth we find the reason for upholding the virgin birth. In that truth, the truth that Jesus is different from all that we could possibly hope for or expect, we find reason to confess with the universal Church, “We believe…[in Jesus Christ] who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary.” Are you able to confess that today?
Let us pray…
26 In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, 27 to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin's name was Mary. 28 And he came to her and said, "Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you." 29 But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. 30 The angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. 31 And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. 32 He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. 33 He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end." 34 Mary said to the angel, "How can this be, since I am a virgin?" 35 The angel said to her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. 36 And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. 37 For nothing will be impossible with God." 38 Then Mary said, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." Then the angel departed from her.
Once upon a time, there was a professor of religion at Samford University who had a less than savory reputation. You see, there was a rumor that once, in his Biblical Perspectives class (a class every student at Samford must take), he had removed a student’s Bible from his desk, thrown it into a trash can, and even went so far as to strike a match and light it on fire! Now, depending on who you hear the story from, he may or may not have danced around the flaming trash can like a savage in the celebration of a successful hunt. I happened to have had this professor for a class at Samford; his name is Paul Holloway, and no, he didn’t throw a student’s Bible in the trash and set it on fire—he simply told the student if he was going to bring The Living Bible (a paraphrase, and not a real translation) to class, he might as well throw it in the trash and get a “real” Bible. Dr. Holloway now teaches at the School of Theology at Sewanee, The University of the South and is in fact one of the more Christ-like people I have had the pleasure to meet.
I recall one particular day in his class on Jesus and the gospels. We had been discussing a particular chapter from one of our texts, when it came time for class to be over we all started shuffling our books and putting them away in our bags or tucking them under our arms. I remember pushing my chair away from the table and rising out of my seat when Dr. Holloway said, “For next time I want you all to think about this: what if Mary wasn’t a virgin? What if we had unquestionable, DNA evidence that Joseph or some Roman soldier was in fact the earthly father of Jesus? Could he still be the Jesus we worship as the Son of God? Could everything else we believe about Jesus still be true? Have a nice day!” With that, Dr. Holloway casually walked out of the room, taking all the breathable air with him! We fell back in our seats and just stared at one another. (For the record, Dr. Holloway’s question was intended simply to provoke discussion, but you can see why he would have had such a reputation at Samford.)
Why is the virgin birth of Jesus important? Why have Christians for centuries recited a creed with the line “we believe… [in Jesus Christ] who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary”? What implications can such a doctrine really have on our daily lives? Does it matter at all, or is it simply the ancient residue of a heroic archetype? Perhaps it is best to begin by asking why we affirm such a doctrine in the first place.
I was driving through town one day, and I came to a red light and stopped behind one of “those” cars. You know the kind of car I’m talking about—one that looks like the back fenders are actually taped on with bumpers stickers. There were stickers expressing the driver’s pride in his or her honor student, stickers promoting a politician who hasn’t ran for office since the 1990s, even some that were faded, unrecognizable, colorless blotches, but the one that caught my attention most was a simple white sticker with a straight-to-the-point message written in maroon letters: “The Bible says it. I believe it. That settles it.” It was neither the first nor the last time I have read or heard that exact sentiment. Of course, I trust you see the flaw in such logic: many eyes read the Bible, and many minds read those same words differently. So while many people may say “Amen!” to just such a slogan, many of them will disagree as to what exactly the “Bible says.”
However, for many believers, it is simply enough to say that we believe in the virgin birth of Jesus because the Bible says that Mary was indeed a virgin when Jesus was conceived. We’re reminded of this at least once a year around December as the nativity stories of Luke and Matthew are read and recited in all manner of ways, from television specials to Christmas Eve sermons. It is of some importance, however, to point out that only Matthew and Luke seem to find the virgin birth of Jesus necessary to include in their telling of the good news, and both tell it in slightly different ways. But in the end, “the Bible says it,” so we cannot ignore the importance of the miraculous nature of Jesus’ conception and birth. But is it just enough to say we believe it because the Bible says it? After all, the Bible says we shouldn’t eat pork or catfish, and we should treat even the foreigner as we would like to be treated, but not all believers rush to shout “The Bible says it. I believe it. That settles it.” when it comes to those particular points. So there must be a deeper, perhaps more traditional or theological reason why we uphold this particular point of Christian orthodoxy.
The traditions and teachings of the Church throughout history have gone a long way in shaping the confessions and beliefs of the contemporary church. However, there have been times in the history of the Church when great men and women have challenged such traditions, calling us to reexamine why we believe what we say we believe in the first place. No one serves as a clearer example of such questioning than Martin Luther. Luther challenged many of the traditions of the Roman Catholic Church in the sixteenth century, especially in light of his understanding of Scripture. However, when it came to one particular doctrine, infant baptism, Luther believed it was a doctrine worth preserving, despite his confession that there was a lack of biblical evidence for such a practice. In his Large Catechism Luther wrote, “But if God did not accept the baptism of infants, He would not give the Holy Ghost nor any of His gifts to any of them; in short, during this long time unto this day no man upon earth could have been a Christian.” In other words, surely God would not have allowed the practice of infant baptism to continue for centuries as a practice and tradition of the Church if it was not right. Clearly, tradition can go a long way in shaping what we believe.
While we do not cling to the traditions surrounding Mary and her perpetual virginity or special relationship to Christ, the traditions of the Church have gone a long way in shaping what we believe about the importance of the virgin conception and birth of Jesus. The most direct example involves the belief that comes from two of the Fathers of the Western Church, Augustine and Ambrose. They were integral in the development of the doctrine of original sin and therefore saw the virgin birth of Jesus as necessary to his living a sinless life. For centuries, theologians in the Church have contended that this is why we must believe that Jesus was born of a virgin—so that he may truly be sinless. However, in recent years Augustine’s understanding of original sin has come under some scrutiny from all manner of theologians.
If the reasons we typically believe in the virgin birth of Jesus (the Bible says it, tradition backs it, etc.) seem to strain under the weight of contemporary reason and skepticism, then why should we hold such a doctrine? And if we should find that such a belief is worth holding, what real implications can it possibly have on our lives today? Before we get ready to burn those we label as heretics for questioning our long-held beliefs, or before we decide to lay aside faith entirely, let us take a look at the text we have read this morning from Luke’s gospel. Perhaps if we try to understand what the Bible is actually saying here, we will find the true reason as to why we confess our belief in the virgin birth of Jesus.
Luke tells us that the messenger of God, Gabriel, comes to a virgin named Mary in the backwater town of Nazareth in Galilee. He calls her favored one and proceeds to tell her in verses 30-33: “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end." It is in these particular words from Gabriel that one ought to find the purpose of the entire story of Jesus’ birth: Mary will carry the one who will be called the Son of the Most High, a title that overflows with allusions to the messiah. Furthermore, this child that will be conceived in Mary will have an endless kingdom. This is no ordinary child; in fact, this is no ordinary, extraordinary child!
You see, all throughout Scripture, extraordinary children are born in extraordinary ways: Isaac was born to Abraham and Sarah when Sarah was in her nineties; Rebekah was barren for twenty years before God “opened her womb” and she gave birth to Esau and Jacob; Samson’s mother was barren before an angel appeared to her and said she would bear a son; and prior to our Scripture this morning, Luke tells us of Elizabeth, Mary’s cousin, who was barren and getting on in years. Elizabeth and her husband Zechariah become the proud, aged parents of John (the Baptist). So, all throughout the witness of Scripture great heroes and extraordinary people are born in miraculous and extraordinary ways, but when it comes to the Son of the Most High extraordinary wasn’t enough.
In verse 34 we hear Mary’s response to Gabriel’s proclamation: "How can this be, since I am a virgin?" Sure, Elizabeth was old, but there’s always the biological possibility that her pregnancy was completely natural, but Mary…well Mary hadn’t even been with a man (not to mention that she was likely a teenager when she heard the news of a coming child!). How could she, of all people, possibly have a child? That’s when the angel lays it all out for Mary—and for us—in verse 35: “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God.” After mentioning the pregnancy of Elizabeth, the angel says in verse 37 words that ought to ring in our ears whenever we have doubt about the omnipotence of God: “For nothing will be impossible with God.”
In this exchange between Mary and Gabriel, we don’t simply read an instance where “The Bible says it.” We see why we truly ought to believe in the beyond-extraordinary way in which the Lord was conceived. From the very beginning, Christ cannot be confused as a powerful prophet; he cannot be dismissed simply as an extraordinary king, born of extraordinary circumstances. No, from the very beginning he is the Son of God! Being conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary is a unique and sure sign that this child is something beyond the kings and prophets of the past. From the very first moments of the Incarnation, the eternal Son of God is recognized as much more than all that was great before him. In that truth we find the reason for upholding the virgin birth. In that truth, the truth that Jesus is different from all that we could possibly hope for or expect, we find reason to confess with the universal Church, “We believe…[in Jesus Christ] who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary.” Are you able to confess that today?
Let us pray…
Friday, May 27, 2011
The Pillar and Bulwark of the Truth
1 Timothy 3:14-16
14 I hope to come to you soon, but I am writing these instructions to you so that, 15 if I am delayed, you may know how one ought to behave in the household of God, which is the church of the living God, the pillar and bulwark of the truth. 16 Without any doubt, the mystery of our religion is great: He was revealed in flesh, vindicated in spirit, seen by angels, proclaimed among Gentiles, believed in throughout the world, taken up in glory.
As some of you may know I absolutely love Flannery O’Connor, that wonderful southern writer of the last century. On a shelf in my office, in one form or another, is a copy of every published work she has ever written. I guess you could say my “literary love affair” with Miss Flannery started a few years ago when a friend of mine named Lanny left a copy of The Complete Stories of Flannery O’Connor in the driver’s seat of my truck; that very night, lying in bed, I read every story Lanny had marked as his favorite, and over the next few days I had read all of her short stories (which I have read several times over since). But I found I couldn’t stop there, so I bought the two novels she wrote, The Violent Bear it Away (which I read on a plane ride to Dallas) and Wise Blood (which I started on the return trip and finished that week). I also found various compilations of her letters, lectures, and spiritual writings (Flannery was a rare southern Catholic). If there’s anything she’s written I haven’t read it’s safe to say I will one day.
When you’ve read everything an author has written you begin to notice certain patterns and differences in her works, and it should come as no surprise that there are marked differences between the fiction of Flannery O’Connor and her more personal letters and spiritual insights to her friend Betty Hester, simply designated by the letter A. Her letters are more practical, personal, and to the point, and while written with the same mastery of language as her stories there is still a directness that stands out—still the same author, just a different intent. You notice these sorts of things when you’ve read everything an author has published, and it’s no different with the authors of Scripture.
Take for instance the works of Paul. You see, to read the entire Pauline corpus (the collected letters attributed to the Apostle Paul) is to read the writings of the Church’s first real theologian. Paul’s works are filled with deep, often confusing, language about the nature of God in Christ, the condition of humankind, and the wonder of salvation. I mean just listen to his words in the third chapter of Romans: “But now, apart from law, the righteousness of God has been disclosed, and is attested by the law and the prophets, the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood, effective through faith.” Did you get all of that? Great theological words from the proto-missionary Paul, but of course, there are words and phrases and ideas like this all over the Pauline epistles.
This morning, however, we’ve read from one of the few letters of Paul that breaks from type. Just as Flannery’s letters to A. are markedly different in genre from her stories, Paul’s letters to Timothy (and Titus) are different from his other epistles. In the letters to Timothy and Titus (often called the Pastorals) Paul doesn’t go to great depths explaining the vast wonders of theology: no, he gets down to the real nitty-gritty of congregational life. This is Paul the bishop, Paul the mentor, not necessarily Paul the apostle and theologian.
In the first three chapters of 1 Timothy, Paul gives very practical guidelines for the how the church in Ephesus ought to be conducted: qualifications for elders, deacons, etc. After all, Ephesus is a church in the midst of a highly-populated city with a thriving cult of the goddess Artemis, the twin sister of the god Apollo. It is a church with a history of “celebrity” pastors: Paul, Peter, and John. With such circumstance, it’s no wonder Timothy would need the guiding words of his mentor and co-laborer Paul. Then, in the three verses we’ve read this morning, Paul expresses his desire to return to Ephesus and sums up his reasons for writing this letter to Timothy. It is in these verses that I believe you will find a very direct word for our congregation this morning.
Paul says in verses 14 and 15, “I am writing these instructions to you so that, if I am delayed, you may know how one ought to behave in the household of God which is the church of the living God, the pillar and bulwark of the truth.” Notice the three phrases he uses to describe the church: household of God…church of the living God…pillar and bulwark of truth. I think it’s safe to say Paul has a high view of the church. Calling the church the “household of God” speaks of more than just a building. While you may refer to this building, this room, as “God’s house”, Paul has something much deeper in mind. The term Paul uses there (*Blogger doesn't recognize my Greek font, so insert Greek for "household of God) can refer to a physical dwelling or structure, or it can refer to those who occupy such a structure. The word “household” used by most English translation captures it well; Paul isn’t referring to a physical space, but those people who make up the household of God—believers.
He goes on to call it the church of the living God, (*insert Greek for "church of the living God"). This household of God isn’t like the temple to Artemis where they worshipped an inanimate idol: this is a congregation in which God himself lives! It is language reminiscent of Peter’s confession of Christ in Matthew 16: "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” The church is meant to be a community of people thriving in the all-consuming presence of the living God! Furthermore, this sort of church upholds the truth as the pillar and bulwark of the truth. The Church—both the local congregation and the Church universal—has a purpose, and that purpose extends beyond simply offering services! The church’s existence rests in upholding the truth.
Did you notice Paul’s words in verse 16? “Without any doubt, the mystery of our religion is great: He was revealed in flesh, vindicated in spirit, seen by angels, proclaimed among Gentiles, believed in throughout the world, taken up in glory.” Just when you think Paul is going to stick with practical words about the mission of the church, he slips into his old habit of writing deep theology. Actually, what Paul has done here is clarify what he means by “the truth.” Paul even gives a quick jab to the Artemis cult there in Ephesus: they had a popular confession claiming “Great is Artemis” or “Great is Artemis,” so Paul turns those words in a subtle way by claiming that “the mystery of our religion is great.” Perhaps Paul is quoting from an early Christian hymn which speaks of the universal nature of the truth of the gospel, spanning flesh and spirit, angels and the nations, and even this world and glory. There is nothing outside the scope of the truth the Church is called to uphold.
So what does it look like to be a “pillar and bulwark of the truth”? I suppose Paul and those first century Christians may have had a different definition than most churchgoers these days. I suppose it would look strange to those first Christians if they were to join us for worship this morning. I can imagine they would wonder why we bothered tying knots around our necks, or why we are meeting in some building that isn’t one of our homes. Perhaps they’d find the projector and screen more than just a little strange, along with the hymns we sing—not to mention the language we speak! But I wonder if they’d still recognize us as brothers and sisters meeting for the worship of God and the upholding of the truth of the gospel? Would they still be able to see the gospel in us despite the difference of time, culture, and language? Are we a pillar and bulwark of the truth?
Why do we do what we do as Christ’s church, as a local body of believers? Do we hold services on Sundays out of obligation to some tradition that was established before we were born? Do we gather together for prayer on Wednesdays simply because, well, we always have? What about Sunday School; why do we have Sunday School? These are the questions we need to ask ourselves every so often to be sure we’re true to the calling of Christ on our lives as a congregation. Why do we do what we do? Well, if we answer that question with any other response aside from the will of God, then we need to refocus our efforts. Are we, the people of Fairview Heights Northside Baptist Church, a household of God, a collected gathering of believers seeking to do the will of God? Are we a church of the living God living in the real presence of the one true God? Are we a pillar and bulwark of the truth, seeking with all that we do to uphold the gospel and proclaim the reality of Christ to our neighbors?
Let me challenge you, all of you, this morning. If you’ve been a part of this congregation and simply going with the flow, allowing the monotony of obligation propel you towards a state of spiritual apathy, it’s time to ask yourself why you do what you do as a part of this church. If you show up on Sunday mornings, evening, or Wednesdays because you expect to be served rather than to serve, then it’s time to ask if you’re being a true part of the household of God. Each and every one of us who claims to be members of this church are called to uphold the truth of Christ in all that we do, most of all in what we do as a congregation.
So won’t you join me in seeking the will of God as we pursue the kingdom’s work together? Won’t you join with me in this time of invitation to bind our hearts together in prayer for our church as we seek to minister to those in need? Will those of you who are not members of this congregation join us in the work of Christ’s Church this morning? Won’t you join me in this time now as we are called together to be a pillar and bulwark of truth?
Let us pray…
14 I hope to come to you soon, but I am writing these instructions to you so that, 15 if I am delayed, you may know how one ought to behave in the household of God, which is the church of the living God, the pillar and bulwark of the truth. 16 Without any doubt, the mystery of our religion is great: He was revealed in flesh, vindicated in spirit, seen by angels, proclaimed among Gentiles, believed in throughout the world, taken up in glory.
As some of you may know I absolutely love Flannery O’Connor, that wonderful southern writer of the last century. On a shelf in my office, in one form or another, is a copy of every published work she has ever written. I guess you could say my “literary love affair” with Miss Flannery started a few years ago when a friend of mine named Lanny left a copy of The Complete Stories of Flannery O’Connor in the driver’s seat of my truck; that very night, lying in bed, I read every story Lanny had marked as his favorite, and over the next few days I had read all of her short stories (which I have read several times over since). But I found I couldn’t stop there, so I bought the two novels she wrote, The Violent Bear it Away (which I read on a plane ride to Dallas) and Wise Blood (which I started on the return trip and finished that week). I also found various compilations of her letters, lectures, and spiritual writings (Flannery was a rare southern Catholic). If there’s anything she’s written I haven’t read it’s safe to say I will one day.
When you’ve read everything an author has written you begin to notice certain patterns and differences in her works, and it should come as no surprise that there are marked differences between the fiction of Flannery O’Connor and her more personal letters and spiritual insights to her friend Betty Hester, simply designated by the letter A. Her letters are more practical, personal, and to the point, and while written with the same mastery of language as her stories there is still a directness that stands out—still the same author, just a different intent. You notice these sorts of things when you’ve read everything an author has published, and it’s no different with the authors of Scripture.
Take for instance the works of Paul. You see, to read the entire Pauline corpus (the collected letters attributed to the Apostle Paul) is to read the writings of the Church’s first real theologian. Paul’s works are filled with deep, often confusing, language about the nature of God in Christ, the condition of humankind, and the wonder of salvation. I mean just listen to his words in the third chapter of Romans: “But now, apart from law, the righteousness of God has been disclosed, and is attested by the law and the prophets, the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood, effective through faith.” Did you get all of that? Great theological words from the proto-missionary Paul, but of course, there are words and phrases and ideas like this all over the Pauline epistles.
This morning, however, we’ve read from one of the few letters of Paul that breaks from type. Just as Flannery’s letters to A. are markedly different in genre from her stories, Paul’s letters to Timothy (and Titus) are different from his other epistles. In the letters to Timothy and Titus (often called the Pastorals) Paul doesn’t go to great depths explaining the vast wonders of theology: no, he gets down to the real nitty-gritty of congregational life. This is Paul the bishop, Paul the mentor, not necessarily Paul the apostle and theologian.
In the first three chapters of 1 Timothy, Paul gives very practical guidelines for the how the church in Ephesus ought to be conducted: qualifications for elders, deacons, etc. After all, Ephesus is a church in the midst of a highly-populated city with a thriving cult of the goddess Artemis, the twin sister of the god Apollo. It is a church with a history of “celebrity” pastors: Paul, Peter, and John. With such circumstance, it’s no wonder Timothy would need the guiding words of his mentor and co-laborer Paul. Then, in the three verses we’ve read this morning, Paul expresses his desire to return to Ephesus and sums up his reasons for writing this letter to Timothy. It is in these verses that I believe you will find a very direct word for our congregation this morning.
Paul says in verses 14 and 15, “I am writing these instructions to you so that, if I am delayed, you may know how one ought to behave in the household of God which is the church of the living God, the pillar and bulwark of the truth.” Notice the three phrases he uses to describe the church: household of God…church of the living God…pillar and bulwark of truth. I think it’s safe to say Paul has a high view of the church. Calling the church the “household of God” speaks of more than just a building. While you may refer to this building, this room, as “God’s house”, Paul has something much deeper in mind. The term Paul uses there (*Blogger doesn't recognize my Greek font, so insert Greek for "household of God) can refer to a physical dwelling or structure, or it can refer to those who occupy such a structure. The word “household” used by most English translation captures it well; Paul isn’t referring to a physical space, but those people who make up the household of God—believers.
He goes on to call it the church of the living God, (*insert Greek for "church of the living God"). This household of God isn’t like the temple to Artemis where they worshipped an inanimate idol: this is a congregation in which God himself lives! It is language reminiscent of Peter’s confession of Christ in Matthew 16: "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” The church is meant to be a community of people thriving in the all-consuming presence of the living God! Furthermore, this sort of church upholds the truth as the pillar and bulwark of the truth. The Church—both the local congregation and the Church universal—has a purpose, and that purpose extends beyond simply offering services! The church’s existence rests in upholding the truth.
Did you notice Paul’s words in verse 16? “Without any doubt, the mystery of our religion is great: He was revealed in flesh, vindicated in spirit, seen by angels, proclaimed among Gentiles, believed in throughout the world, taken up in glory.” Just when you think Paul is going to stick with practical words about the mission of the church, he slips into his old habit of writing deep theology. Actually, what Paul has done here is clarify what he means by “the truth.” Paul even gives a quick jab to the Artemis cult there in Ephesus: they had a popular confession claiming “Great is Artemis” or “Great is Artemis,” so Paul turns those words in a subtle way by claiming that “the mystery of our religion is great.” Perhaps Paul is quoting from an early Christian hymn which speaks of the universal nature of the truth of the gospel, spanning flesh and spirit, angels and the nations, and even this world and glory. There is nothing outside the scope of the truth the Church is called to uphold.
So what does it look like to be a “pillar and bulwark of the truth”? I suppose Paul and those first century Christians may have had a different definition than most churchgoers these days. I suppose it would look strange to those first Christians if they were to join us for worship this morning. I can imagine they would wonder why we bothered tying knots around our necks, or why we are meeting in some building that isn’t one of our homes. Perhaps they’d find the projector and screen more than just a little strange, along with the hymns we sing—not to mention the language we speak! But I wonder if they’d still recognize us as brothers and sisters meeting for the worship of God and the upholding of the truth of the gospel? Would they still be able to see the gospel in us despite the difference of time, culture, and language? Are we a pillar and bulwark of the truth?
Why do we do what we do as Christ’s church, as a local body of believers? Do we hold services on Sundays out of obligation to some tradition that was established before we were born? Do we gather together for prayer on Wednesdays simply because, well, we always have? What about Sunday School; why do we have Sunday School? These are the questions we need to ask ourselves every so often to be sure we’re true to the calling of Christ on our lives as a congregation. Why do we do what we do? Well, if we answer that question with any other response aside from the will of God, then we need to refocus our efforts. Are we, the people of Fairview Heights Northside Baptist Church, a household of God, a collected gathering of believers seeking to do the will of God? Are we a church of the living God living in the real presence of the one true God? Are we a pillar and bulwark of the truth, seeking with all that we do to uphold the gospel and proclaim the reality of Christ to our neighbors?
Let me challenge you, all of you, this morning. If you’ve been a part of this congregation and simply going with the flow, allowing the monotony of obligation propel you towards a state of spiritual apathy, it’s time to ask yourself why you do what you do as a part of this church. If you show up on Sunday mornings, evening, or Wednesdays because you expect to be served rather than to serve, then it’s time to ask if you’re being a true part of the household of God. Each and every one of us who claims to be members of this church are called to uphold the truth of Christ in all that we do, most of all in what we do as a congregation.
So won’t you join me in seeking the will of God as we pursue the kingdom’s work together? Won’t you join with me in this time of invitation to bind our hearts together in prayer for our church as we seek to minister to those in need? Will those of you who are not members of this congregation join us in the work of Christ’s Church this morning? Won’t you join me in this time now as we are called together to be a pillar and bulwark of truth?
Let us pray…
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
A place to find a good sermon.
Here is a link to the podcast page of Grace Episcopal Church of Anniston, Alabama. My friend Lee is the Rector there, and her sermons are definitely worth a listen.
http://graceanniston.org/podcast/
http://graceanniston.org/podcast/
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
More than Meets the Eye
John 20:19-31
19 When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." 20 After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. 21 Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." 22 When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. 23 If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained." 24 But Thomas (who was called the Twin ), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. 25 So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord." But he said to them, "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe." 26 A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." 27 Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe." 28 Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" 29 Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe." 30 Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. 31 But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.
What can one say after the kind of week we have had? What words can we hear that don’t ring just a little hollow in the comfort of this sanctuary? Just over the course of this week hundreds of lives have been lost in the wake of one of the worst natural disasters in this state’s history. Tens of thousands are still without electricity or water. Entire communities have been erased from the map. And right here in our very own community we have experienced such an alarming tragedy that words fail to express our emotions. So what can one say? Is it right to say anything at all when words seem so useless in a time like this? How can one say anything in a place like this when there are so many who have lost everything, and so many more who can’t even find where to begin to put the pieces back together? Can God really have something to say to us, something that will bring us peace in such a tumultuous time as this?
You know, it has always interested me how people tend to get more “religious” in the wake of such tragedy. Television reports and newspapers run stories with titles like “Finding God in the midst of Devastation.” People who would never darken the door of a church or bend a knee in prayer suddenly show up at the front door of the church asking for someone to pray for them or give them shelter. Sometimes people get more “religious” by becoming more vocal in their disgust with the divine. They blame God for the tragedy that has struck; they curse the heavens and the God they imagine dwells there; they may even reject the assistance of a church because somehow they think that the church is subtly behind their misfortune and is seeking to profit from it by adding another body in the pew on Sunday morning. Whatever the case may be, it seems that when tragedies such as these strike, people begin to see them as signs—signs of God presence in their midst.
Of course, who can blame them for wanting a sign? My grandma used to tell me: “Don’t believe anything you hear and only half of what you see.” It’s not an uncommon philosophy for many people today. Folks have a difficult time believing what their told. Don’t believe me? Well that would just prove my point wouldn’t it? We don’t believe what we’re told because we’ve been let down too many times, whether it’s been by politicians unable to live up to their campaign promises or loved ones who have told us time and again they’ll get help, they’ll get sober this time. We just don’t believe them anymore. We need proof, something tangible. We want some collateral when it comes to believing someone’s word, and perhaps that is why people tend to wax religious when tragedy strikes. Because somehow, in the midst of the confusion, despair, and horror there is some kind of tangible proof of something greater, something bigger than us.
I suppose that very same sort of feeling had crossed those first followers of Jesus when the tragedy of Good Friday struck. For years life seemed to be heading in a positive direction: they had a Messiah now; he did miracles, taught with wonderful stories, and even walked, laughed, and ate with them—right there in the midst of them! They had proof of a genuine Messiah, because he was there; they could hear him, smell him, touch him. What more could a follower of Christ need to prove his or her faith than the Christ himself?! But then that Friday came, and as Mark tells us in the fourteenth chapter of his gospel, “All of them deserted him and fled.” They left, right when Christ could have needed them most and right when their faith was most directly put to the test. Then…tragedy: Jesus was crucified. The movement was surely doomed to be over as the disciples had fled, and none of them seemed to believe what Jesus had said when he told them he’d be back on the third day.
Sunday dawned, and with it came the hope of all humankind—the resurrection. The disciples, however, didn’t see it; they were only told about it (“Don’t believe anything you hear…”). So it doesn’t come as a surprise to me that, (20:19-20) “When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.” Jesus just showed up! And not in some David Copperfield sort of way with smoke and mirrors, but in a supernatural way beyond our comprehension. Jesus appears and shows them his hands and his side: here’s proof, tangible, physical evidence of his existence.
Of course, the timing is important. This is after the devastation of Good Friday, and here Jesus is giving his troubled disciples proof. However, there is so much more he gives them than just some visible evidence, for he continues on in verses 21 and following: “Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’” In the wake of Good Friday’s tragedy, Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit onto his disciples and gives them peace. Consider the magnitude of such a thing: not simply comfort, not just an explanation as to what has happened, not some sort of systematic theology of atonement. He gives them peace, and then breathes the Holy Spirit upon them, charging them with the duties of a follower of Christ. In the wake of tragedy, Jesus offers peace and the comforting commission of the Holy Spirit. Of course, the disciples gathered there that first day saw Jesus when he granted them peace and the Holy Spirit—they had visible evidence! So really, Thomas’ action in the following verses shouldn’t come as so much of a shock to us.
In verses 24 and 25 the Bible says, “But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’" Now, perhaps Thomas had in mind Jesus’ words from Mark 13:5-6: “Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!' and they will lead many astray,” so maybe he just wanted to be sure that it was Jesus and not one of these others who would lead them astray. Maybe, but I doubt it. Thomas just wanted what we all want and what the other disciples had—proof. He wanted to see the telling signs of Jesus’ crucifixion and his physical body that would prove resurrection. Of course, the odd thing is (at least to me) that Jesus gives Thomas exactly what he asked.
Verses 26-28: “A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’” Jesus not only showed up, but offered Thomas to touch his wounds. Here is undeniable proof! Yet I wonder if Jesus wasn’t just a little disappointed with Thomas; after all, he’s gone on to receive the nickname “Doubting Thomas.” You can almost hear Jesus’ disappointment in verse 29: “Jesus said to him, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me?’” While the NRSV translates this sentence as a question, other translations render it as a declarative statement: “You have believed because you have seen me.” The existential theologian, Rudolf Bultmann went so far as to claim that the resurrection appearances of Jesus occurred simply because of the weakness of the disciples’ belief; they had to have some sort of proof to “seal the deal.” And that brings us back to looking for signs in the midst of tragedy.
Thomas, along with the other disciples desired some sort of proof of Jesus’ resurrection after the despair of Good Friday. They wanted a sign. That, my friends, is truly irony at its best, especially in John’s gospel, in which Jesus performs no miracle—the writer of the fourth gospel prefers to call them signs. In fact, the last words of our text this morning sum up the author’s use of signs quite well: “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” The author wrote down these signs so that we may believe, yet there are still countless people, particularly in the midst of such troubled times, who turn their gaze towards heaven asking for a sign.
But do not be misled into thinking that somehow the heartbreak of these past few days is somehow simply a “sign” from God. Do not give into the simplistic idea that faith is based on what can be seen and therefore proven. After all, if faith can be proven with tangible evidence can it really be called faith any longer? No, in the midst of these tragic days we hear a better word from Jesus, for just as he appeared to Thomas for the sake of his faith, Jesus also spoke these words: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”
If you are one who is looking for a sign, the truth is you could find one. If you’re one who wants to prove God’s existence in the terrifying forces of nature, you could easily do so. However, we are called to a faith in things unseen, to a faith witnessed for us in the pages of Holy Scripture and in the lives of those saints who have gone on before and are in our presence now. Jesus says those who believe without seeing are blessed, and in the midst of tragedy and despair he offers peace and the comfort of the Holy Spirit to those who believe. So are you still waiting for a sign? Are you simply riding on the religious fumes that tend to follow such devastating times? Or will you this day let go of that human desire for proof and cling to Christ who offers you peace that surpasses all evidence and hope that is greater that all that we could hope to see? If you call on his name this day, you will truly find joy in the midst of heartache, love in the midst of grief, and a life that is more than meets the eye.
Let us pray…
19 When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." 20 After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. 21 Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." 22 When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. 23 If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained." 24 But Thomas (who was called the Twin ), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. 25 So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord." But he said to them, "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe." 26 A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." 27 Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe." 28 Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" 29 Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe." 30 Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. 31 But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.
What can one say after the kind of week we have had? What words can we hear that don’t ring just a little hollow in the comfort of this sanctuary? Just over the course of this week hundreds of lives have been lost in the wake of one of the worst natural disasters in this state’s history. Tens of thousands are still without electricity or water. Entire communities have been erased from the map. And right here in our very own community we have experienced such an alarming tragedy that words fail to express our emotions. So what can one say? Is it right to say anything at all when words seem so useless in a time like this? How can one say anything in a place like this when there are so many who have lost everything, and so many more who can’t even find where to begin to put the pieces back together? Can God really have something to say to us, something that will bring us peace in such a tumultuous time as this?
You know, it has always interested me how people tend to get more “religious” in the wake of such tragedy. Television reports and newspapers run stories with titles like “Finding God in the midst of Devastation.” People who would never darken the door of a church or bend a knee in prayer suddenly show up at the front door of the church asking for someone to pray for them or give them shelter. Sometimes people get more “religious” by becoming more vocal in their disgust with the divine. They blame God for the tragedy that has struck; they curse the heavens and the God they imagine dwells there; they may even reject the assistance of a church because somehow they think that the church is subtly behind their misfortune and is seeking to profit from it by adding another body in the pew on Sunday morning. Whatever the case may be, it seems that when tragedies such as these strike, people begin to see them as signs—signs of God presence in their midst.
Of course, who can blame them for wanting a sign? My grandma used to tell me: “Don’t believe anything you hear and only half of what you see.” It’s not an uncommon philosophy for many people today. Folks have a difficult time believing what their told. Don’t believe me? Well that would just prove my point wouldn’t it? We don’t believe what we’re told because we’ve been let down too many times, whether it’s been by politicians unable to live up to their campaign promises or loved ones who have told us time and again they’ll get help, they’ll get sober this time. We just don’t believe them anymore. We need proof, something tangible. We want some collateral when it comes to believing someone’s word, and perhaps that is why people tend to wax religious when tragedy strikes. Because somehow, in the midst of the confusion, despair, and horror there is some kind of tangible proof of something greater, something bigger than us.
I suppose that very same sort of feeling had crossed those first followers of Jesus when the tragedy of Good Friday struck. For years life seemed to be heading in a positive direction: they had a Messiah now; he did miracles, taught with wonderful stories, and even walked, laughed, and ate with them—right there in the midst of them! They had proof of a genuine Messiah, because he was there; they could hear him, smell him, touch him. What more could a follower of Christ need to prove his or her faith than the Christ himself?! But then that Friday came, and as Mark tells us in the fourteenth chapter of his gospel, “All of them deserted him and fled.” They left, right when Christ could have needed them most and right when their faith was most directly put to the test. Then…tragedy: Jesus was crucified. The movement was surely doomed to be over as the disciples had fled, and none of them seemed to believe what Jesus had said when he told them he’d be back on the third day.
Sunday dawned, and with it came the hope of all humankind—the resurrection. The disciples, however, didn’t see it; they were only told about it (“Don’t believe anything you hear…”). So it doesn’t come as a surprise to me that, (20:19-20) “When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.” Jesus just showed up! And not in some David Copperfield sort of way with smoke and mirrors, but in a supernatural way beyond our comprehension. Jesus appears and shows them his hands and his side: here’s proof, tangible, physical evidence of his existence.
Of course, the timing is important. This is after the devastation of Good Friday, and here Jesus is giving his troubled disciples proof. However, there is so much more he gives them than just some visible evidence, for he continues on in verses 21 and following: “Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’” In the wake of Good Friday’s tragedy, Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit onto his disciples and gives them peace. Consider the magnitude of such a thing: not simply comfort, not just an explanation as to what has happened, not some sort of systematic theology of atonement. He gives them peace, and then breathes the Holy Spirit upon them, charging them with the duties of a follower of Christ. In the wake of tragedy, Jesus offers peace and the comforting commission of the Holy Spirit. Of course, the disciples gathered there that first day saw Jesus when he granted them peace and the Holy Spirit—they had visible evidence! So really, Thomas’ action in the following verses shouldn’t come as so much of a shock to us.
In verses 24 and 25 the Bible says, “But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’" Now, perhaps Thomas had in mind Jesus’ words from Mark 13:5-6: “Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!' and they will lead many astray,” so maybe he just wanted to be sure that it was Jesus and not one of these others who would lead them astray. Maybe, but I doubt it. Thomas just wanted what we all want and what the other disciples had—proof. He wanted to see the telling signs of Jesus’ crucifixion and his physical body that would prove resurrection. Of course, the odd thing is (at least to me) that Jesus gives Thomas exactly what he asked.
Verses 26-28: “A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’” Jesus not only showed up, but offered Thomas to touch his wounds. Here is undeniable proof! Yet I wonder if Jesus wasn’t just a little disappointed with Thomas; after all, he’s gone on to receive the nickname “Doubting Thomas.” You can almost hear Jesus’ disappointment in verse 29: “Jesus said to him, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me?’” While the NRSV translates this sentence as a question, other translations render it as a declarative statement: “You have believed because you have seen me.” The existential theologian, Rudolf Bultmann went so far as to claim that the resurrection appearances of Jesus occurred simply because of the weakness of the disciples’ belief; they had to have some sort of proof to “seal the deal.” And that brings us back to looking for signs in the midst of tragedy.
Thomas, along with the other disciples desired some sort of proof of Jesus’ resurrection after the despair of Good Friday. They wanted a sign. That, my friends, is truly irony at its best, especially in John’s gospel, in which Jesus performs no miracle—the writer of the fourth gospel prefers to call them signs. In fact, the last words of our text this morning sum up the author’s use of signs quite well: “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” The author wrote down these signs so that we may believe, yet there are still countless people, particularly in the midst of such troubled times, who turn their gaze towards heaven asking for a sign.
But do not be misled into thinking that somehow the heartbreak of these past few days is somehow simply a “sign” from God. Do not give into the simplistic idea that faith is based on what can be seen and therefore proven. After all, if faith can be proven with tangible evidence can it really be called faith any longer? No, in the midst of these tragic days we hear a better word from Jesus, for just as he appeared to Thomas for the sake of his faith, Jesus also spoke these words: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”
If you are one who is looking for a sign, the truth is you could find one. If you’re one who wants to prove God’s existence in the terrifying forces of nature, you could easily do so. However, we are called to a faith in things unseen, to a faith witnessed for us in the pages of Holy Scripture and in the lives of those saints who have gone on before and are in our presence now. Jesus says those who believe without seeing are blessed, and in the midst of tragedy and despair he offers peace and the comfort of the Holy Spirit to those who believe. So are you still waiting for a sign? Are you simply riding on the religious fumes that tend to follow such devastating times? Or will you this day let go of that human desire for proof and cling to Christ who offers you peace that surpasses all evidence and hope that is greater that all that we could hope to see? If you call on his name this day, you will truly find joy in the midst of heartache, love in the midst of grief, and a life that is more than meets the eye.
Let us pray…
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
The Waiting is the Hardest Part
Hebrews 9:23-28
23 Thus it was necessary for the sketches of the heavenly things to be purified with these rites, but the heavenly things themselves need better sacrifices than these. 24 For Christ did not enter a sanctuary made by human hands, a mere copy of the true one, but he entered into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God on our behalf. 25 Nor was it to offer himself again and again, as the high priest enters the Holy Place year after year with blood that is not his own; 26 for then he would have had to suffer again and again since the foundation of the world. But as it is, he has appeared once for all at the end of the age to remove sin by the sacrifice of himself. 27 And just as it is appointed for mortals to die once, and after that the judgment, 28 so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin, but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.
In 1981, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers told the world, “The waiting is the hardest part.” While I’m sure Tom Petty was referring to love or something more fitting for an early eighties pop song, his words are no less true—waiting can be the hardest part of nearly any ordeal you face in life. After all, most people (if not all people) hate to wait.
Think about it: you make a quick stop at the grocery store on your way home to pick up a gallon of milk (especially after you had to check and be sure it wasn’t buttermilk you poured on your cereal that morning). You park in the closest spot you can find, make a beeline for the dairy section, hustle towards the register, just to come to the front of the store to find that only two registers are open, and it seems like everyone in Calhoun County is buying groceries for the week! So you get in line and wait, and what was supposed to be a quick dash into the store turns into a practice of patience as you stand in line…waiting.
Or have you ever been driving down Quintard Avenue, either heading towards or coming from Oxford, just to get stuck at a red light? Then, as if getting caught in the inevitable sequence of stop-and-go traffic wasn’t enough, the car in front of you at the traffic light lurches and bucks as the light changes from red to green. Turns out you’re stuck behind someone trying to teach their kid how to drive a stick-shift and they’ve stalled the car—through the green light, then the yellow, and back to red. Of course, none of the other drivers coming down the road give you a break to get over, so you’re stuck there while an embarrassed parent quickly switches seats with his or her child. You’re stuck there…waiting.
Most of us don’t like waiting; we’re impatient, always in a hurry to get to wherever it is we are going, always ready for the next item on the “to-do” list, and we surely don’t have time to wait for something to slow us down or bring us to a halt. It’s been that way for generations; the only difference I suppose between this generation and those that have gone on before is that our impatience is regularly appeased. We don’t have to wait for the right season for our favorite fruits and vegetables. We have mobile phones that can not only let us make calls when we’re away from home, but they can tell us when we have an appointment, send emails, pay bills, and all other sorts of menial tasks that might otherwise slow us down. We can pay for gas at the pump without ever walking inside the gas station; we can get lunch without ever putting our car in park; we can receive mail electronically within a matter of seconds. We have all sorts of tricks and technology that have helped us avoid waiting, and yet somehow we still find ourselves in those situations that are out of our control, where we are forced to wait.
I know I tend to look at the season of Lent that way. For six weeks we have been listening to the preacher in the book of Hebrews, and for six weeks we’ve been on our way to this day—Easter Sunday. Some, however, have wanted to “jump the gun” (especially since it is so late this year) and assume that Easter has already taken place. Some wanted to just get the day over with so life can go back to something like normal. Some folks just wanted Easter to get here so they can get dressed up and come to church at least once so their parents or grandparents will leave them alone (at least until Christmas). They all just wanted this day to hurry up and get here, but we all had to wait.
You know, those first followers of Jesus had to wait. For around three years they followed Jesus, and during that time Jesus seemed to be testing their patience with words like those in John 7:7-8 "My time has not yet come…my time has not yet fully come.” They were just going to have to wait for that time to come. They had to wait as they heard Jesus say all those wonderfully confusing parables about the Kingdom of God and what it was going to be like. They had to wait as Jesus went from village to village, teaching and healing and serving. They had to wait despite all the affirming miracles and all the telling signs. They had to wait until that night finally came, that night when Jesus was betrayed and arrested. They had waited and then things didn’t go the way they had hoped. They waited to hear the verdict—crucifixion. They waited for the sentence to be carried out on that first Good Friday, and then…they waited.
I suppose that Saturday, that Sabbath, was the longest of all. They waited to see what would happen: would Rome come after them next? Would the Sanhedrin find them as co-conspirators in the blasphemy of which they accused Jesus? Should they run? Should they hide? Should they relent? Should they fight? Or should they just…wait? I imagine the waiting was the hardest part, waiting through the long hours of Saturday, hoping to hear something from someone concerning Jesus. I imagine some of them, in the midst of their waiting, thought it was over, just a pipe dream they had been duped into chasing. I imagine some of them felt defeated and some of them felt let down. Waiting can do that to you, you know. It can take away your hope, whittle down your desire and cool your emotions. Waiting can distract you or cause you to give up. It really can be the hardest part.
Thankfully, those first disciples only had to wait one day. The good news of that first Easter morning spread like the pollen in the spring as Jesus’ disciples heard it and witnessed the resurrected Jesus. Then others heard the disciples’ testimonies, and then others heard their testimonies, and so on and so on. It wasn’t long before the news of Jesus’ resurrection had spread, and the followers of the Way (the title given to the earliest followers of Jesus, before they were called Christians) were growing in great numbers. The apostles had taken their eye-witness accounts all across the Roman Empire; a former threat and new brother called Paul was taking the good news of Christ’s resurrection to people who weren’t even Jews; and the growing Church was beginning to separate from the Jewish faith that had bore it. It was in that atmosphere, an atmosphere of waiting, that many of the books of the New Testament were written, including the book of Hebrews.
Throughout Hebrews we have heard how Christ is our ultimate sacrifice; we have heard how he intercedes on our behalf as the great high priest in the order of Melchizedek; and we have heard how the old ways, the old covenant, were merely a shadow of the heavenly ways and the new covenant in Christ—all wonderful, glorious realities that we have heard time and time again in a part of the world that is (as Flannery O’Connor said) “Christ-haunted.” In the text before us this morning, however, there is something that ought to catch our attention, words that ought to stand out to us this day as we remember that first Easter morning and the hope that came with an empty tomb.
In verses 27 and 28 the author writes, “And just as it is appointed for mortals to die once, and after that the judgment, so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin, but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.” “Christ…will appear a second time…to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.” What’s this about waiting? We hate waiting! Of course, by the time the early Church was able to take hold of the truth of Jesus’ resurrection they had to turn their attention to what he said would come next. He said he’d be back, but when?! Some in the early Church panicked: Paul had to write to the congregation at Thessalonica at least twice trying to straighten out their misunderstanding of what the return of Christ would look like. It’s a similar trend that has continued down through the history of the Church to the present day, as in every generation there is always some wide-eyed preacher with the courage and/or ignorance to proclaim “I know that Christ will return in my lifetime!” It’s no accident that both believers and non-believers alike love to talk about what the end times will be like. They write books, create movies, and make predictions, stringing together loosely interpreted passages of Scripture in order to prove their point. Why do they do it? Because of uncertainty, the uncertainty that comes with waiting.
But hold on a minute. Aren’t we done with the whole waiting thing? After all, isn’t that what Easter is all about: Jesus came, he died, and he rose again? That’s it, right? No more waiting. Well, yes. However, there is still Jesus’ promise to us that he will return, that he will once again come to earth bringing an end to this world by bringing the beginning of the next. There is still the hope of eternity that lies out ahead of us, beyond our reach, that began with that first Easter morning and grows closer with each passing day. You see, when it comes to the expectation in waiting for Christ’s return, waiting is no longer a passive annoyance. It is an expectant action! We do not wait as those first disciples did on that Saturday before the Christ’s resurrection, for we know that Christ is coming again: he told us he would, and he has yet to break his word! We do not wait like so many who tap their feet and keep their eyes on the clock, for we know the day is coming and we have work to do before it does. Waiting, for us, is the hardest part not because it means we are stuck here biding our time until Christ calls us home, but because there is an uncertainty as to how much time we have left! Christ may return today; you might die today; nothing may happen, and we may all live long, happy lives. But in the mean time, while we are waiting Christ calls us to himself. He calls us to accept the grace that was poured out on that cross on that first Good Friday. He calls us to accept the hope that came with the empty tomb on that first Easter morning. And, as our Scripture tells us this morning, “just as it is appointed for mortals to die once, and after that the judgment, so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin, but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.”
What are you waiting for this morning? Are you waiting for a sign? Something to tell you that today is the day for you to turn your life over to the One who knows you better than you can ever know yourself? Are you waiting for things to get better, for your life to get straightened out so you can be “acceptable”? What are you waiting for today? Let me tell you that there is nothing worth waiting for more than Christ, and there is nothing that can keep you from him. There is no sign clearer than the conquered cross and the empty tomb. So what are you waiting for today? This day we have heard the Good News that Jesus has conquered death and has risen from the grave, and he offers you the free gift of salvation. So won’t you take that first step towards Christ? Won’t you begin to follow the path of a life lived waiting for him? If you do, you will see that the waiting, while it may be the hardest part, is indeed what makes life worth the living.
Let us pray...
23 Thus it was necessary for the sketches of the heavenly things to be purified with these rites, but the heavenly things themselves need better sacrifices than these. 24 For Christ did not enter a sanctuary made by human hands, a mere copy of the true one, but he entered into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God on our behalf. 25 Nor was it to offer himself again and again, as the high priest enters the Holy Place year after year with blood that is not his own; 26 for then he would have had to suffer again and again since the foundation of the world. But as it is, he has appeared once for all at the end of the age to remove sin by the sacrifice of himself. 27 And just as it is appointed for mortals to die once, and after that the judgment, 28 so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin, but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.
In 1981, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers told the world, “The waiting is the hardest part.” While I’m sure Tom Petty was referring to love or something more fitting for an early eighties pop song, his words are no less true—waiting can be the hardest part of nearly any ordeal you face in life. After all, most people (if not all people) hate to wait.
Think about it: you make a quick stop at the grocery store on your way home to pick up a gallon of milk (especially after you had to check and be sure it wasn’t buttermilk you poured on your cereal that morning). You park in the closest spot you can find, make a beeline for the dairy section, hustle towards the register, just to come to the front of the store to find that only two registers are open, and it seems like everyone in Calhoun County is buying groceries for the week! So you get in line and wait, and what was supposed to be a quick dash into the store turns into a practice of patience as you stand in line…waiting.
Or have you ever been driving down Quintard Avenue, either heading towards or coming from Oxford, just to get stuck at a red light? Then, as if getting caught in the inevitable sequence of stop-and-go traffic wasn’t enough, the car in front of you at the traffic light lurches and bucks as the light changes from red to green. Turns out you’re stuck behind someone trying to teach their kid how to drive a stick-shift and they’ve stalled the car—through the green light, then the yellow, and back to red. Of course, none of the other drivers coming down the road give you a break to get over, so you’re stuck there while an embarrassed parent quickly switches seats with his or her child. You’re stuck there…waiting.
Most of us don’t like waiting; we’re impatient, always in a hurry to get to wherever it is we are going, always ready for the next item on the “to-do” list, and we surely don’t have time to wait for something to slow us down or bring us to a halt. It’s been that way for generations; the only difference I suppose between this generation and those that have gone on before is that our impatience is regularly appeased. We don’t have to wait for the right season for our favorite fruits and vegetables. We have mobile phones that can not only let us make calls when we’re away from home, but they can tell us when we have an appointment, send emails, pay bills, and all other sorts of menial tasks that might otherwise slow us down. We can pay for gas at the pump without ever walking inside the gas station; we can get lunch without ever putting our car in park; we can receive mail electronically within a matter of seconds. We have all sorts of tricks and technology that have helped us avoid waiting, and yet somehow we still find ourselves in those situations that are out of our control, where we are forced to wait.
I know I tend to look at the season of Lent that way. For six weeks we have been listening to the preacher in the book of Hebrews, and for six weeks we’ve been on our way to this day—Easter Sunday. Some, however, have wanted to “jump the gun” (especially since it is so late this year) and assume that Easter has already taken place. Some wanted to just get the day over with so life can go back to something like normal. Some folks just wanted Easter to get here so they can get dressed up and come to church at least once so their parents or grandparents will leave them alone (at least until Christmas). They all just wanted this day to hurry up and get here, but we all had to wait.
You know, those first followers of Jesus had to wait. For around three years they followed Jesus, and during that time Jesus seemed to be testing their patience with words like those in John 7:7-8 "My time has not yet come…my time has not yet fully come.” They were just going to have to wait for that time to come. They had to wait as they heard Jesus say all those wonderfully confusing parables about the Kingdom of God and what it was going to be like. They had to wait as Jesus went from village to village, teaching and healing and serving. They had to wait despite all the affirming miracles and all the telling signs. They had to wait until that night finally came, that night when Jesus was betrayed and arrested. They had waited and then things didn’t go the way they had hoped. They waited to hear the verdict—crucifixion. They waited for the sentence to be carried out on that first Good Friday, and then…they waited.
I suppose that Saturday, that Sabbath, was the longest of all. They waited to see what would happen: would Rome come after them next? Would the Sanhedrin find them as co-conspirators in the blasphemy of which they accused Jesus? Should they run? Should they hide? Should they relent? Should they fight? Or should they just…wait? I imagine the waiting was the hardest part, waiting through the long hours of Saturday, hoping to hear something from someone concerning Jesus. I imagine some of them, in the midst of their waiting, thought it was over, just a pipe dream they had been duped into chasing. I imagine some of them felt defeated and some of them felt let down. Waiting can do that to you, you know. It can take away your hope, whittle down your desire and cool your emotions. Waiting can distract you or cause you to give up. It really can be the hardest part.
Thankfully, those first disciples only had to wait one day. The good news of that first Easter morning spread like the pollen in the spring as Jesus’ disciples heard it and witnessed the resurrected Jesus. Then others heard the disciples’ testimonies, and then others heard their testimonies, and so on and so on. It wasn’t long before the news of Jesus’ resurrection had spread, and the followers of the Way (the title given to the earliest followers of Jesus, before they were called Christians) were growing in great numbers. The apostles had taken their eye-witness accounts all across the Roman Empire; a former threat and new brother called Paul was taking the good news of Christ’s resurrection to people who weren’t even Jews; and the growing Church was beginning to separate from the Jewish faith that had bore it. It was in that atmosphere, an atmosphere of waiting, that many of the books of the New Testament were written, including the book of Hebrews.
Throughout Hebrews we have heard how Christ is our ultimate sacrifice; we have heard how he intercedes on our behalf as the great high priest in the order of Melchizedek; and we have heard how the old ways, the old covenant, were merely a shadow of the heavenly ways and the new covenant in Christ—all wonderful, glorious realities that we have heard time and time again in a part of the world that is (as Flannery O’Connor said) “Christ-haunted.” In the text before us this morning, however, there is something that ought to catch our attention, words that ought to stand out to us this day as we remember that first Easter morning and the hope that came with an empty tomb.
In verses 27 and 28 the author writes, “And just as it is appointed for mortals to die once, and after that the judgment, so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin, but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.” “Christ…will appear a second time…to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.” What’s this about waiting? We hate waiting! Of course, by the time the early Church was able to take hold of the truth of Jesus’ resurrection they had to turn their attention to what he said would come next. He said he’d be back, but when?! Some in the early Church panicked: Paul had to write to the congregation at Thessalonica at least twice trying to straighten out their misunderstanding of what the return of Christ would look like. It’s a similar trend that has continued down through the history of the Church to the present day, as in every generation there is always some wide-eyed preacher with the courage and/or ignorance to proclaim “I know that Christ will return in my lifetime!” It’s no accident that both believers and non-believers alike love to talk about what the end times will be like. They write books, create movies, and make predictions, stringing together loosely interpreted passages of Scripture in order to prove their point. Why do they do it? Because of uncertainty, the uncertainty that comes with waiting.
But hold on a minute. Aren’t we done with the whole waiting thing? After all, isn’t that what Easter is all about: Jesus came, he died, and he rose again? That’s it, right? No more waiting. Well, yes. However, there is still Jesus’ promise to us that he will return, that he will once again come to earth bringing an end to this world by bringing the beginning of the next. There is still the hope of eternity that lies out ahead of us, beyond our reach, that began with that first Easter morning and grows closer with each passing day. You see, when it comes to the expectation in waiting for Christ’s return, waiting is no longer a passive annoyance. It is an expectant action! We do not wait as those first disciples did on that Saturday before the Christ’s resurrection, for we know that Christ is coming again: he told us he would, and he has yet to break his word! We do not wait like so many who tap their feet and keep their eyes on the clock, for we know the day is coming and we have work to do before it does. Waiting, for us, is the hardest part not because it means we are stuck here biding our time until Christ calls us home, but because there is an uncertainty as to how much time we have left! Christ may return today; you might die today; nothing may happen, and we may all live long, happy lives. But in the mean time, while we are waiting Christ calls us to himself. He calls us to accept the grace that was poured out on that cross on that first Good Friday. He calls us to accept the hope that came with the empty tomb on that first Easter morning. And, as our Scripture tells us this morning, “just as it is appointed for mortals to die once, and after that the judgment, so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin, but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.”
What are you waiting for this morning? Are you waiting for a sign? Something to tell you that today is the day for you to turn your life over to the One who knows you better than you can ever know yourself? Are you waiting for things to get better, for your life to get straightened out so you can be “acceptable”? What are you waiting for today? Let me tell you that there is nothing worth waiting for more than Christ, and there is nothing that can keep you from him. There is no sign clearer than the conquered cross and the empty tomb. So what are you waiting for today? This day we have heard the Good News that Jesus has conquered death and has risen from the grave, and he offers you the free gift of salvation. So won’t you take that first step towards Christ? Won’t you begin to follow the path of a life lived waiting for him? If you do, you will see that the waiting, while it may be the hardest part, is indeed what makes life worth the living.
Let us pray...
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