A Thought For The Week Of February 23

"When Eber had lived 34 years, he became the father of Peleg. And after he became the father of Peleg, Eber lived 430 years and had other sons and daughters." (Genesis 11:16) For whatever reason, I've recently developed a bit of an interest in biblical genealogies. I'm not sure why. They're pretty dry readings. Some are in Genesis, as the descendants of Adam through to Abram are listed, some are the lists of the kings of Israel and Judah, and of course Matthew and Luke both include genealogies tracing the lineage of Jesus. I'm a firm believer that all passages of Scripture are worthwhile and have something to teach us - but sometimes the genealogies test that theory! The verse above is just one example? Who are Eber and Peleg anyway? And why does it matter? Truth be told - they're largely anonymous. Sure, we have names, but we know nothing about them except that they're found in the list of descent from Noah to Abram. And it occurred to me - maybe the fact that we know nothing about them is what's most important about them. I've heard it said that for some people - popular opinion aside - the greatest fear isn't death or public speaking; it's the fear that their lives don't matter, that they're insignificant and that they won't be much remembered when they're gone. The truth is that for most of us that's probably true. Most of us aren't going to be "great." Between Noah and Abram there's a huge number of names that just don't matter much to us, except that they get us from Noah to Abram. The same can be said as Jesus' lineage gets traced from David. Names that mean nothing to us - except that they're there. At the back of my church is a plaque that contains the names of every minister who's ever served this congregation. I looked at it. I noted the name of Rev. Charles Deacon, who served here from 1902-1906. He was the first minister who was here for more than 3 years. He had a ministry. He touched people's lives. He was with them for celebrations and for sorrows. And I think it very likely that no one connected to this church today knows anything about him except - and only if they've looked at the plaque in detail - that he used to be the minister of this congregation. But like the strange and unfamiliar names we find in the biblical genealogies - he was here; he's a part of the story. As am I. As are all of us, wherever we are. Maybe that's not such a bad fate when you think about it. We're all a part of God's story. We may not be great; we may not be remembered for too long once we leave this earth - but we're a part of God's story, and we'll never be forgotten by God, and for now we have the chance to touch lives and shape a little bit of the future through the lives we touch. Just like Eber and Peleg and Rev. Charles Deacon. And maybe that's not such a bad fate, after all!

February 22 2015 sermon: A Wilderness Experience

At that time Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. Just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness, and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him. After John was put in prison, Jesus went into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God. “The time has come,” he said. “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!”

(Mark 1:9-15)

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     The wilderness. The very word has an edge to it, doesn’t it. It captures our attention. It excites us, but at the same time it also frightens us. The wilderness. There’s a sense of being lost; there’s also a sense of searching for something. There’s hope involved with the wilderness, but maybe there’s also a bit of fear. It all depends on how you approach the wilderness and the image. However you choose to approach it, it’s a familiar biblical image almost from the very beginning of the story - from Abraham trudging through the wilderness on his way to he knew not where, to Moses leading the people in the wilderness for 40 years, to Jesus driven into the wilderness apparently as a preparation for the beginning of his public ministry as the Messiah. Those are probably the three best known wilderness experiences that we find in the Scriptures and if you think about all of them - the biblical wilderness experiences fall on the side of hope and promise. Abraham got to the land God had promised him; Moses led the Hebrews out of slavery and back into that land; and Jesus came out of the wilderness and changed the world and the lives of untold millions of people in it. These were all positive wilderness experiences - that, yes, had twists and turns along the way. Abraham feared for his life as Pharaoh decided that he wanted Sarah for himself, Moses feared for his life as the people turned against him because of their hardships, and Jesus had to deal with satanic temptation during his sojourn in the wilderness. Wilderness experiences can be grand things full of promise, but they can also contain a lot of hardship. Maybe that’s what makes them so special - and so especially meaningful as an image for the faith journey.

     Who among us hasn’t endured a trip through the spiritual wilderness every now and then? A time when our faith in God was tested; a time when in spite of our best efforts to be faithful everything seemed to go wrong; a time when we became literally lost, not sure which way to turn as we desperately sought out God only to find that God seemed strangely absent? Is there anyone who’s never experienced some time in the spiritual wilderness? I’m not sure that faith was ever really meant to be lived in cultured and pampered and civilized places. Cities are, in some ways, wonderful things with a lot of conveniences, but I’m not sure that a city would work for me as an image for faith. The wilderness seems much more appropriate as a motif for the type of journey that we’re on. We’re not marching up Yonge Street in downtown Toronto with a Starbucks or a Tim Hortons at every corner just in case we need a little pick me up. No - the spiritual life, I think, is meant to be lived in the wilderness; an environment where sometimes we wonder if there’s hope (because doubt is surely a part of faith) and a place where, rather than the hardship of having to figure out just which coffee shop we’ll stop at for a latté, we instead have to scan the distant horizon, just in the hope that we might catch a glimpse of an oasis.

     Once again we’ve entered Lent. As far as the Christian faith and the liturgical year go, Lent is perhaps the closest thing to a wilderness experience that we have. For many it’s a time of sacrifice or repentance, or both. Some people give up eating chocolate for Lent - which I don’t think is exactly a way of reflecting the suffering of Jesus; others take it too far in the other direction, and there is a group of Christians in the Philippines who, every year as Lent draws to a close, submit themselves to being crucified as a way of being in solidarity with Christ - although I don’t think that’s exactly what Paul meant when he said that “I have been crucified with Christ.” Both are ways, though, of using this time of year as a way of modelling the wilderness journey of Jesus - which extended far beyond the temptation story, because in many ways, from a spiritual perspective, Jesus’ entire ministry was spent in the wilderness - wandering and wondering, comforted by some, threatened by others, knowing that at the end of the journey stood both horrendous hardship but also wondrous promise. That’s a spiritual wilderness. A cacophony of competing voices and noises and experiences, while we try to drown them all out and somehow find God in the midst of it all. In a sense, that’s also Lent. In a way - it’s just life. For ourselves and for the church, it’s just life.

     But being in the wilderness can be a positive experience or a negative experience. Let’s think about it from the perspective of the church for a moment? Are we in a sort of wilderness? I think it’s fair to say that we are. A lot of what was familiar is gone. Packed pews, bulging Sunday Schools, reserves of cash, power and influence - all gone. This is our new paradigm; our new reality. So many people look for the quick fix. There must be some program, some worship style that can make things be the way they used to be - thinking about the image of Moses leading the people of God in the wilderness, people want to go back to Egypt because in Egypt they might have been slaves but at least they had onions! The image of the church striding like a colossus over society is still in the living memory of a lot of people. And it meant no worries about tomorrow. The church didn’t have to even consider the fact that God held tomorrow - because the church had money! Whether it was spiritually healthy or not is another question. Whether it was blinded by the money and the power and the packed pews is a valid question to consider. But there were no worries about survival. All that’s gone. We look at the state of the church today and it’s a little bit barren; the future’s a little bit scary; the bank balance is downright terrifying! At the end of June, three more United Churches in Niagara Presbytery will close. Everything we had seems gone. Well, except for God. God is still there. And I wonder how it seemed for Jesus - sent out into the wilderness, the comfort of home and family suddenly absent, and a future that held out a lot of unpleasantness. And, of course, for Jesus, and in spite of all that, the wilderness turned out to be a very positive experience.

     For Jesus, while the wilderness was a place of temptation, it was also a place of opportunity. Temptation is always opportunity; trials are always the chance to discover the God-given strength we all have; confronting the future is encouragement for us to do something about the present. And, of course, we have to note that Jesus was sent into the wilderness by the Holy Spirit. Jesus’ church today may feel like it’s in the wilderness. We, as a part of that church, may feel a bit like we’re in the wilderness. We can be frightened or overwhelmed by the experience - or we can consider the possibility that for all its challenges, this wilderness experience is exactly where we’ve been led by the Holy Spirit. Maybe it will help to make us better stewards and more faithful disciples. Maybe it will bring us closer to God. Maybe some time in the wilderness is just what we need to really become the church as the church was meant to be - dependent on God and faithful to God in all circumstances.

A Thought For The Week Of February 16

"Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when Christ appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." (1 John 3:2) One of the great things about Christian faith is that it holds together the hope that God gives us with the mystery that still remains to us. This verse is evidence of that. Perhaps we have a tendency to think that hope and mystery are mutually exclusive: that if there's any mystery remaining then our hope is gone, and that if we truly have hope then it must be because no mystery remains. But that's not true. For a Christian, hope and mystery co-exist. In this verse, the hope is very clear. One day we're going to be like Christ. After all, that's the goal of a Christian life, and let's face it - it often seems to be a very distant goal. Because, really, we're not like Christ. I know that I'm not. But then hope leaps out at me from this verse - I may not be like Christ today, but one day I will be. The verse doesn't tell me exactly how I'll be like Christ. Behaviour? Substance? That's another mystery. How will I be like Christ? Well, "what we will be has not yet been made known. But ... we shall be like him." Sometimes a mystery does seem to dampen hope, but not in this case. This is exciting; we anticipate it - because whatever it is that we'll be, we'll be like Christ! Hope and mystery held together in perfect balance.

February 15 sermon - Honestly? I Don't Know What I'd Say About It Either!

After six days Jesus took Peter, James and John with him and led them up a high mountain, where they were all alone. There he was transfigured before them. His clothes became dazzling white, whiter than anyone in the world could bleach them. And there appeared before them Elijah and Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters - one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” (He did not know what to say, they were so frightened.) Then a cloud appeared and covered them, and a voice came from the cloud:“This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!” Suddenly, when they looked around, they no longer saw anyone with them except Jesus. As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus gave them orders not to tell anyone what they had seen until the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

(Mark 9:2-9)

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     It happened at a funeral I conducted a very long time ago - long before I came to Central. I hadn’t known either the deceased or his family, and I had been told that no one in the family would want to speak at the service, either. About 5 minutes before the service started a woman approached me and told me that she was the deceased man’s daughter-in-law and since no one else in the family felt up to speaking she thought that she should say a few words. It sounded like a wonderful idea and a generous gesture; something that would personalize the service. I learned a lesson about last minute offers to speak. When the moment came, I invited the woman to the lectern to say a few words. I noticed a few looks skyward in the congregation, but nothing really concerning. One other thing I noticed was that the woman was carrying a large bag with her. I was intrigued. She began by expressing her sympathies to everyone, and then said “I married into this family 15 years ago and I never met [him.]” I wondered, “what the …” Then, out of her bag, she pulled the King James Bible and proceeded to tell everyone that unless they believed in the King James Bible they were going straight to hell. I kid you not. She went on with that message for a few minutes while I twitched nervously and looked from side to side uncomfortably, although the congregation seemed bored rather than upset. Then, she pulled some other books out of her bag, saying that if there were people who couldn’t believe the King James Bible, they could read these books about the King James Bible that would help them believe the King James Bible - because, of course, if they didn’t believe the King James Bible they were going to hell! She was almost in tears as she spoke. After about 10 minutes she sat down. I went back to the lectern, not having a clue what to say. After standing quietly for what I think was just a few seconds (although it seemed much longer) all I could think of was “well, we should pray.” They were the only words I could come up with. Of course, I was not using the King James Bible in the service, so I assume that she has already decided my eternal fate!

     So - the transfiguration of Jesus. The lectionary makes it the Gospel reading for the last Sunday before Lent. I confess that I’m not really sure why that is. I have some ideas, but I’m not sure. But it’s always there on the Sunday before Lent. It’s the traditional reading for this day. And you know what? I looked back at almost 21 years of preaching I’ve done in various churches - and I discovered that I’ve never, ever preached on the transfiguration. I always manage to find something else to talk about on this Sunday. Yes, I can figure out some of the theological points you can take out of this. Jesus appears with Elijah and Moses. Moses is the giver of the Law, Elijah is the greatest of Israel’s prophets. Having Jesus stand between them is a sign that in Jesus the Law and the prophets are held together and he is the fulfilment of them both. How’s that! It seems so obvious. I mean what else are you going to do with a passage that has Jesus standing with Elijah and Moses - who were long dead! But, of course, Peter didn’t get that from the experience. Instead, Jesus’ clothes turned a dazzling (almost blinding) white, Moses and Elijah appeared - and Peter, not having a clue what to make of it, mumbles a rather inane, “uh, well, Jesus, should we put up some tents for you and Moses and Elijah to lay down in?” Tents? Shelters? That was the best he could come up with? At a moment of such overwhelming spiritual significance? Tents and shelters? Come on, Peter. There’s got to be something better than that you could say, man! But then, I think - almost twenty one years and I’ve never touched this subject. And do you want to know why I’ve never touched this subject. Well, honestly - because I don’t know what to say about it either. I can come up with a theological explanation - which I just offered - but, really, confronted by Jesus in blinding white clothes standing with Moses and Elijah? Well - I’m as tongue tied as Peter. I’m not sure I can offer much about that vision that would be any more inspiring than Peter did. “Why don’t we put up some tents for you three?” Or, I might take one look at this baffling scene before me, be tempted to remember that funeral, and say to no one in particular but just because I couldn’t think of anything else, “we should pray.”

     It all got me wondering - is it necessary for us to always have something to say about everything? I realize that it’s anathema for a preacher to suggest that maybe there’s really nothing to say, but I wonder - is it all right to be speechless sometimes? So awestruck by God that there really just aren’t words that can capture our response. The word “awesome” is all the rage today - sometimes we call God “awesome.” The word is so all the rage today, in fact, that I think it’s been rendered largely powerless. God may be awesome, but are we really in awe of God? And would there be anything wrong with being so in awe of God that we’re rendered virtually speechless by it? Would there be anything wrong with being so overwhelmed by some display of God’s might or power or love or grace that we just can’t come up with words to express it? Would there be anything wrong with that?

     I’m taken by the Quakers, I admit. I’ve never attended Quaker worship - but Quaker worship is usually conducted in complete silence. Quakers gather, sit together, ponder God, open themselves to the Spirit and only speak (and anyone can speak) if they feel certain that they’re being moved by God to do so. Otherwise, they sit in silence - and they ponder God. Sometimes I wonder if that wouldn’t be a better way to experience the awesomeness of God than with a service filled with words and songs and prayers. Sometimes. But I’m a preacher, so I quickly drive the thought out of my mind! But words can dominate us and our lives so much and they can become so expected by us and of us when we respond to something that we often feel the need to use them - even if we really have nothing of importance to say.

     I come back to these words: “He did not know what to say, they were so frightened.” I’m not convinced it was fright, and if you were to substitute “awestruck” or “amazed” or “dazzled” for “frightened” then these may very well be the wisest words you’ll find in the Bible. Maybe it’s OK to be shocked into silence by God; to be so dazzled by an encounter with Jesus that we just don’t know what to say!

A Thought For The Week Of February 9

"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you." (Matthew 7:7) Matthew 7:1-12 is an interesting set of teachings by Jesus, as it tells us about both our relationship with God and our relationship with others. As a matter of fact, I wonder if I don't discern the weakness (or some might even say the heresy) behind the so-called prosperity gospel here. Matthew 7:7 could easily be used to justify that belief. "Ask and it shall be given to you ..." That seems to be the message of a lot of the prosperity preachers. Just ask to be blessed and you will be. Later, in v.11, there the statement that God will "... give good gifts to those who ask him!" And those gifts are generally assumed by a lot of people to be things like wealth or health. Those are the good things, surely. Except that such a belief seems to be a rather worldly approach - "me centred," when the last thing Jesus would be accused of was being "me centred." And maybe, if we read on, this passage actually teaches us a little bit about the real measure of our faith and how to apply it: ideally, our faith is always about others and never about ourselves. We're not to judge; we're to help. And, of course, the prosperity gospel is rife with judgement. That message seems to be that if you don't have either wealth or health, it must be your fault because you're not asking properly or you don't have enough faith. That's the basic message. But then we look to v.12: "... do to others what you would have them do to you ..." If your faith is "me centred" then its fundamental focus is on what I have rather than on what I give - which is the very opposite of what Jesus is teaching here.  So, how then do we interpret "ask and it will be given to you ..."? It must refer to seeking blessings not for ourselves but for others. We're to always act for others while we let go of ourselves. Then we're following the teaching of Jesus. There's still the problem that I may ask for healing for someone, and the healing doesn't come; they still die. But - they will have been blessed. It is a blessing to know that others are caring for you and about you; thinking of you and praying for you. So, it seems, what we're to ask for and seek is blessings for others and not blessings for ourselves.

February 8 sermon - It's A Shared Responsibility

Do you not know? Have you not heard? Has it not been told you from the beginning?   Have you not understood since the earth was founded? He sits enthroned above the circle of the earth, and its people are like grasshoppers. He stretches out the heavens like a canopy, and spreads them out like a tent to live in. He brings princes to naught and reduces the rulers of this world to nothing. No sooner are they planted, no sooner are they sown, no sooner do they take root in the ground, than he blows on them and they wither, and a whirlwind sweeps them away like chaff. “To whom will you compare me?  Or who is my equal?” says the Holy One. Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one and calls forth each of them by name. Because of his great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing. Why do you complain, Jacob? Why do you say, Israel, “My way is hidden from the Lord;   my cause is disregarded by my God”? Do you not know?   Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

(Isaiah 40:21-31)

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     They’re clearly rhetorical questions: “To whom will you compare me? Or who is my equal?” God asks through the prophet. You don’t really have to answer them; they’re questions that don’t need an answer because the answers to the questions are so obvious. Maybe I can commit the ultimate faux pas of answering these questions with a question in order to clearly make the point. “To whom will you compare me? Or who is my equal?” Well - who or what could be greater than God? There’s the question that answers the questions. It’s an answer to God’s questions because, really, my question in response has no answer! Who or what could be greater than God? The only response is stunned silence, a few moments of contemplation, and then, an acceptance: no one and nothing can be greater than God. If God is the Creator of all that exists, then nothing that exists can be greater than God! It’s self-evident. When I first read this passage, I thought that the only approach to take in preaching from it might be to simply acknowledge the supremacy of God. But how interesting would that be? We can all answer those questions without the ramblings of a preacher, can’t we. But then I thought - what if we don’t take those questions (and the obvious answer) as the central part of the passage? What if there’s another point that could be made?

     A few years ago one of our former Moderators stirred some controversy when he said that “God needs us.” The controversy revolved around the discomfort some felt at the assertion that God would actually “need” (the key word was “need”) that which God had created. Perhaps it’s a bit of a tempest in a teapot, so to speak, and maybe it’s merely a semantic issue that’s about as important as the mediaeval debate about how many angels could dance on the head of a pin, but in all honesty perhaps the Moderator did go a bit overboard with that word “need.” Honestly, I’m not sure I want to be “needed” by God, because if God “needs” me then God had no choice but to create me. That seems to work against the reality of divine love. I don’t want to be “needed” by God. I prefer to think of myself - and to think of all of you and all of us - as partners with God. Not equals - because God is greater - but sharing in responsibility. And I think this passage really is moving in that direction. I’m especially taken by these familiar words:

He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

     At the end of this passage there’s a huge and dramatic move that takes place - it’s a move from sheer transcendence to intimate immanence. The God who so far in this passage has been far above us, without equal, incomparable and in need of absolutely nothing, is suddenly right there with us, strengthening us, helping us and empowering us. All of a sudden, God is with us, and God’s might is within us. All of a sudden, we’re no longer facing this world alone - we’re facing it with God at our side. Paul’s later words from Philippians are perhaps an unintended reflection on the last few words of this passage: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Who is Christ? He’s Emmanuel - “God With Us.” So God is there for us, helping us along, strengthening us in our weakness, and if God’s strength is given to us - obviously it’s given to us for a purpose, so that we can use it, and I don’t think there’s any person of faith anywhere who wouldn’t say that from time to time they’ve needed God’s strength to get them through seemingly impossible situations.

     In this passage, Isaiah was speaking to a people in exile, who’d spent a lot of years away from home. They were tired. They were tired of the distance, the longing, the not knowing if they would ever get back home; they were sick of feeling powerless and unable to do anything about the circumstances they were facing. The prophet speaks to us as well. He speaks to us as individuals; he speaks to us as a congregation of Christ’s church. We get tired. We get exhausted. We feel powerless - as if we can’t make a difference; as if everything that seems to have been taken away from us is gone forever. To make it even more practical, I was thinking about that in relation to our annual meeting today. We have to plot a course forward. We face uncertain times. We have a lot of good things happening in our midst, but there are also a lot of challenges to be overcome. I think of those people who are going to be taking on responsibilities of leadership within our congregation. And I think of the promise of Isaiah directed toward them: God will make sure that you have the strength and the ability to fulfil the roles you’ve been called to. But in faith and in the church it should never be about “them” - it should always be about “us” -  it’s about all of us. All of us are called. The promise of God through the prophet Isaiah wasn’t just given to the leaders of God’s people - it was given to all of God’s people. And I thought about one sentence that I wrote as part of my message in the Annual Report: “Many of our ‘go to’ volunteers have been ‘gone to’ repeatedly over the years. Many are tired; many need a break. Everyone at Central needs to ask where they can pitch in and help.

     You see the promise of God isn’t given to only a select few; and the call of God isn’t reserved only for a handful; and the work of God isn’t done only by those with titles. The ministry of Jesus, after all, wasn’t done only by the Twelve - it’s still being done by us. So the promise is for us all:

He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

     God hears us and empowers us - in exhaustion, in oppression, and in other moments of greatest need. God doesn’t need us - God loves us, which is far more important. In return, we do all we can for God. Because the work of God is a shared responsibility

A Thought For The Week Of February 2, 2015

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?" (Matthew 6:25) Matthew 6:25-34 is truly one of my favourite passages of the Bible, and the basic message is so consistent with that of Jesus, and so relevant to people today: do not worry. Jesus said that (or variations of it) so often. Don't worry, don't be afraid, Be at peace. To worry, after all, is to fear the future and what it holds, but for a Christian, whatever the future may hold, the one thing we know it does hold is God. After all, God holds the future. A hymn I often come back to reminds me of this: "Many things about tomorrow I don't need to understand, but I know he holds tomorrow, and I know he holds my hand." And yet, so many Christians worry about the future, usually because they're burdened by something in the past. So the basic message here is so essential: do not worry.There are two other things that leap out at me in the passage, though. The first is the comparison of us and our worries to God's care of nature, and to birds and flowers who don't worry. I almost get a "return to Eden" feel out of these words. Just be one with creation. God has provided us with all we need. It's there. We don't have to be hungry or naked. But, of course, sin interrupts, and there are people who have no food and no clothes - because we who have such things often hoard, or we're selfish, and we neither care nor share. So how do we approach this passage that tells us that if we have enough faith, we'll be provided for? It sounds prosperity-gospel-ish. Believe and you'll have. But - maybe - this is a call to the church.Those in need who seek God's Kingdom should - ideally at least - find the church. And the church has a responsibility to provide for those who lack the basic necessities of life. Maybe this is a bit of a veiled mandate given to the followers of Jesus to look out for the less fortunate. In that way, those who seek out the Kingdom of God will find their basic needs met through the generosity of God's people. Ideally at least. When the church is at its best.

February 1 sermon - Authority

They went to Capernaum, and when the Sabbath came, Jesus went into the synagogue and began to teach. The people were amazed at his teaching, because he taught them as one who had authority, not as the teachers of the law. Just then a man in their synagogue who was possessed by an impure spirit cried out, “What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are - the Holy One of God!” “Be quiet!” said Jesus sternly. “Come out of him!” The impure spirit shook the man violently and came out of him with a shriek. The people were all so amazed that they asked each other, “What is this? A new teaching - and with authority! He even gives orders to impure spirits and they obey him.” News about him spread quickly over the whole region of Galilee.

(Mark 1:21-28)

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     Everybody wants to talk about the demon. That’s one thing I discovered over the last few days. One of the great things about the internet for a preacher is that it gives you the opportunity to see what a lot of other people have to say about a Scripture passage. So when I looked up sermons and writing about this passage, almost everyone (probably in the range of 80-90% of what I came across) talked about Jesus driving the demon out of the possessed man and left it at that. Now - that is pretty amazing. Let’s be honest, Exorcisms are the stuff movies are made of! But everyone fixates on the demon and the exorcism, and they ignore the most basic statement of all in the passage - that Jesus was “one who had authority”; or they make the argument that the exorcism of the demon was how Jesus demonstrated his authority. But no. That wasn’t it. The people recognized Jesus’ authority before the demon made its appearance. It was his teaching that amazed people, or, more precisely, it was the way he taught that amazed them: “he taught them as one who had authority.”

     Authority, of course, can be either good or bad. Personally, I’d argue that it’s always necessary. Without some type of authority you’d have chaos. Sometimes - I’ve noticed this especially in the church - we want to downplay the importance of authority in favour of egalitarianism, and we pretend that there’s no hierarchy. That’s not true, of course. There’s always a hierarchy of some sorts. And authority becomes more dangerous it seems to me if you try to pretend that it doesn’t exist, when, in fact, you know that it does. Well, Jesus was “one who had authority” - and I’m going to take it as a given that he used his authority well. So what I began to think about as I thought about the passage was what it was that gave Jesus enough authority to “amaze” people, and then why the church - which is the Body of Christ in the world today - doesn’t seem to amaze people anymore. What have we lost? What are we missing? I want to think for a moment about the authority that Jesus not only possessed, but that was so obvious to those who encountered him.

     First, Jesus was very consciously aware of where his authority came from. He knew from a very early age. We think of the story of the 12 year old Jesus in the temple in Jerusalem, debating the religious leaders. What made him think he had the right (the authority) to do that. Some would call that picture of Jesus precocious - I suspect the temple elders had a few other words they would have liked to have used to describe Jesus. But when Mary and Joseph came looking for him, angry because he had gone off without them, his response demonstrated why he claimed the right to be in that situation: “didn’t you know that I must be in my Father’s house.” he said. He knew that his authority came from God; that he was called by God to teach and the proclaim the coming Kingdom of God. And, knowing that his authority came from God, he didn’t try to evade it or to get out of the responsibilities and sacrifices that being called by God entailed.

     The second thing I notice from this story is that Jesus didn’t try to pretend that he didn’t have authority. Those, in my opinion, are the most dangerous people - the people who possess great authority but then try to convince everyone else that they don’t. that’s either what we call false modesty, which is a denial of God’s call because it denies the gifts and abilities God has given us, or it’s a backdoor way of trying to manipulate and control people. But Jesus wasn’t guilty of any of that. He wasn’t shy about the authority he possessed. He put it on display - not in an arrogant way, but simply in a way that acknowledged that he was called by God. Whether it was being a precocious child in the temple at age 12, or whether it was in the synagogue at Capernaum, where the story seems to suggest that Jesus simply took upon himself the right to teach God’s gathered people, Jesus claimed his authority rather than trying to deny that he possessed it at all.

     The third thing I note in this story is that Jesus always used his authority for the benefit of others. It seems a little strange that we don’t know exactly what he taught in the synagogue in Capernaum - but we do know that it excited the people when they heard it. It wasn’t the same old, same old. It wasn’t dry and dusty words from the mouths of tired rabbis. It was something new, something different, something amazing. And it was something that gave the people hope and filled them with joy. It didn’t burden them; it set them free. We can deduce those things just from the reactions of the people. And then, although (as I said) I don’t want to focus on the demon being exorcised, Jesus nevertheless followed up his authoritative teaching with a display of authority over the unseen spirits that hold us captive. “Come out of him!” There was no asking; no begging; no wishful thinking; not even a prayer. A command. “Come out of him.” And the demon “came out of him.” Jesus authority rested on the fact that he always used it for the benefit of others: for those who were burdened by the boredom of their religion, and for those who were burdened by evil in whatever form. Jesus confronted the things that kept people from God - and Jesus always triumphed.

     As I reflect on the state of the church today, I wonder if, as the church, we haven’t forgotten those three things? Jesus understood that he possessed an authority that came from God’s call, but I wonder if we haven’t forgotten that we are called by God to speak God’s word to the world? Jesus didn’t try to hide his authority. He exercised it openly and publicly, but I wonder if we haven’t become too quiet, too embarrassed to suggest to anyone that we have authority, so that we hide what we’re called to say and do? Jesus understood that authority was only used properly if it was used for the benefit of others and not for himself, and so he offered living water to those who were spiritually parched and dry and he offered freedom to those held in bondage, but how many people do we leave dying of spiritual thirst or held in some type of evil bondage because we don’t speak out or stand up Are we so consumed with ourselves and our own problems that we often seem guilty of self-centredness, rather than placing our focus on where it needs to be - on the needs we see around us? I wonder.

     Jesus had authority - and Jesus used authority - and Jesus is a model for how to use authority well. The church is the Body of Christ today. We have authority - even if sometimes we’d really rather not, thank you very much. Will we use it as wisely as Christ, offering life and hope and freedom to a world where so many seem to have so little of those things? In a nutshell, you might say that people recognized and celebrated Jesus’ authority because they saw that this man and the message he was preaching about God’s Kingdom were somehow and in some way one and the same thing. The man was the message. As a church, we have authority - and people will see it and celebrate when we make sure that the message we proclaim and the life we live are one and the same thing.