My wife and I were talking about signs yesterday. Not road signs, but signs from God. The kind of signs that are all over the place in the Christmas story -
The sign of the virgin conceiving, that Ahaz refused to ask for, that God gave him anyway.
The sign of the angel appearing to Zechariah, who refused to believe his prophecy and was struck dumb until his son John was born.
The sign of the angel appearing to Joseph in a dream, who then got up from his dream and did what the angel told him to do.
The sign of the angel appearing to Mary, who rejoiced in faithful obedience to be the mother of our Lord.
The sign of the angels appearing to the shepherds, who got up from their fields and went to Bethlehem to see the Babe in the Manger.
We observed that there seem to be a lot of Christians looking for God to tell them or show them what His will is for them in life. If only God would give them a sign, they think, then they would know what He has in mind for them and they would follow Him obediently. But would they? Would we?
We eventually decided that it would depend on the person, on the day, on the sign, maybe on other factors. For instance, would you embrace a sign from God if it came at a time when you were bored, perhaps like the shepherds, and saw no big life change in taking a little side trip to follow the sign?
Would you embrace a sign from God if it seemed to run in a direction you were already inclined to go, like faithful Mary?
Would you embrace a sign from God if it seemed to run in an opposite direction, like Joseph who was considering that the right thing to do would be to divorce Mary? The angel told him that the will of God was that Joseph should marry her, and we're told Joseph did so - would you do that willingly, or under protest?
Would you embrace a sign from God if it came at a time of settled comfort, like Zechariah and Elizabeth, looking forward to life's evening of retirement and quiet ease only to find out that God had in store for them diapers and bottles and crying and running and skinned knees and climbing trees and school programs and . . . . .?
Would you protest like Ahaz, and end up with a sign from God whether you want it or not?
I'd like to think that if God gave me a sign or spoke to me directly, that I'd respond to Him in faith and eagerness, like Mary did or the shepherds. But I doubt it.
How about you?
Time magazine decided that 2011 was the year of the protester. From the protests of the "Arab Spring" to the "Occupy [insert destination here]" movement, it seems that this has been the year for long-suffering people to rise up and cast off their oppressors, whether those oppressors were bloody tyrants or crushing mortgages. In all cases, the motivation has been "we've had enough!"
And now Christmas is upon us. Peel away the decorations, the shopping, the carols, the cuteness, the lights. At its heart, Christmas is the story of the Great Protester declaring "I've had enough!"
"I've had enough!" of the destruction that the Tyrant Satan has caused in My Kingdom - "I Protest!"
"I've had enough!" of the infection of sin that has sickened everything I ever made - "I Protest!"
"I've had enough!" of the fear that covers all My precious human beings - fear of one another, fear of Me, fear of almost everything - "I Protest!"
And so Jesus came to Occupy Bethlehem. Not a huge movement - not a big crowd. Just a tiny baby in an out-of-the-way stable. Just His parents, just a few shepherds and sheep, just a few Wise Men. And no riots, no chants, no sit-ins or homemade signs. No media coverage, no confrontations, no rebellions. Just Love.
Because Love alone is the weapon of the Great Protestor. Love alone overcomes the Tyrant, the infection, the fear. The Love of God alone, incarnate in the Baby Jesus, that brings freedom and joy and peace.
Look at this Baby Jesus, and see the Great Protestor come in love. Embrace Him, and let Him tear away the Tyrant, heal the infection, calm the fear that binds you and me and everyone. Love Him, and be free.
Dear MJ,
I saw a note about you today on a police log. Your situation is an echo of a great sadness to me, and I cry for you and your family. I can only imagine what kind of pain you must be going through.
I also saw "comments" that others had left on that same police log, and I know that some of those "comments" must have only added to your griefs and added to your hurt.
My sister in Christ, I want you to know that you are my precious sister in Jesus, and I know that He is especially fond of you. I know that He loves you with a love that goes beyond anything that we can imagine. I know that He became the Baby in Bethlehem, the Crucified, and the Risen One to give you His love. I remind you of this not to say that you owe Him. I remind you of this to say that He knows your every pain and sorrow, that He cries for you and pours out His love for you, and that He is even now longing for you to come home to Him and let Him wrap His arms of love around you.
And I am reminding you of this so that I can tell you that you have that home at our church; that whenever you come, you are welcome; that whenever you show up you will be embraced, received, loved, forgiven - with no questions asked and no explanations required. When you're ready to come home and eat with us the Supper that Jesus gives us all, the Supper of His love, just come. I'm waiting - so are we all.
My dad is in the hospital this week for tests. He seems to be doing OK, and is ready to be released. However, he's still kind of weak, so when I got there today the social worker was talking to him and my mom about a short-term care facility placement for physical therapy. That's probably a good idea, as the physical and occupational therapists may be able to make suggestions to them about modifications to make at home, to make life a little easier for everyone.
This is the first time I've been confronted with the idea of my dad going into a nursing home, even for a brief time for physical therapy. I knew it was a good plan for him, but the idea spoken aloud sucked all the air right out of the room. I felt like my stomach just plunged right to the floor. I asked to duck out of the room for a few minutes, and went down the hall to the lounge area near the elevators. For several minutes I didn't know what to think, to say or to do. I took out my cell phone, trying to decide who to call, trying to decide whether to call anyone at all, in reality just trying to keep the world from spinning. Just as I thought I might break down completely, who should come strolling past me but a dear friend and fellow pastor John, on his way to visit one of his parishioners.
He sat down next to me, I cried, we talked, and he prayed with me. Then we went in to see Dad and Carolyn again, he left after a few minutes to see his member, and I was fine.
All John was planning to do was visit his member. He never thought he'd find me sitting in the hospital hallway. He never thought I'd be needing someone to sit with me for a bit, to pray the prayer I didn't know how to pray, to listen to me and watch me cry a little. I didn't know that I was praying, although I guess I was. I didn't have John in mind, when I was wondering who I could talk to. But God did. He sent John in answer to the prayer I didn't know I was praying, to pray for me and with me, and to give me the comfort of the Father that I needed just then.
I can't thank you enough, Father. Please keep hearing my prayers and sending Your answers.
The other day as I was in downtown Cleveland I overheard one well-dressed gentlemen ask two others, "Is that the Cleveland River?" One of the others said, "No, the Cuyahoga." The first one laughed and said, "Oh, that's the one that caught fire a while back, isn't it?" They went on from there to talk about the toxicity of various rivers they had known.
Actually, it was in 1969 that the Cuyahoga River caught fire - over forty years ago. Since then it's been cleaned up, a center of commerce and recreation in downtown Cleveland, and there's even a National Park upstream. It's a beautiful river now.
And it's a shame that when people from outside the Cleveland area hear the name "Cuyahoga River" they automatically think of its darker days, the lowest point in its history. They can't seem to move past that and say, "Wow, what a beautiful river!" They're so focused on the past, what it used to be.
But that's how we all are, I think. We're so focused on what used to be that we don't look at the present. I think particularly of some of the Bible characters, whom we name by their original infirmities - "the Gadarene demoniac," "the man born blind," "the ten lepers," and others - as if nothing significant happened to them since they first appear in the Gospel stories. Yet Jesus met them in their distresses and healed them, every one, so now those labels no longer apply. Now they are "the Gadarene whom Jesus exorcised," "the man to whom Jesus gave his sight," "the ten men whom Jesus cleansed" and so on. They praised Him for what He had done, and their lives were changed forever.
Except in the minds of the people around them, and in ours. The people around them still wanted them to be a demoniac, a blind man, and lepers, and to deal with them in the old ways. How often do we want to deal with the forgiven, the restored, and the healed as they used to be? How often do we still hold their sin against them, and our resentments and fears and disgusts, too?
Yet what does Jesus now hold against them? Only the scars in His hands, I think, as He embraces them with His love. He can no longer see what they were, only what they have become - beautiful and precious to Him. If we don't see that beauty that He gives them, but only their sin from long ago; if we see only the demoniac, the blind man, the leper, or the river that caught fire, we're just as ignorant of the love of Jesus as the well-dressed stranger who only knows one bit of the story.
Sermon notes for Thanksgiving 2011
The foundation of Thanksgiving is remembering what God has done for us, especially through His Son Jesus. But so often it seems that what we build on that foundation is not particularly thankful. Instead, we're picky, worried, anxious, judgmental, critical and impatient. Sometimes these have to do with the way we feel, but more often than not they have to do with the focus of our attention.
Toward the end of his letter to the Philippians Saint Paul writes, "Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think about such things." (Philippians 4:8 NIV)
Wow! This is different than what I usually hear from people, but I think it points us toward thankfulness pretty well. Listen to his words again:
Think about whatever is true - how much time do you spend fretting about things that may or may not come to pass, the opinions of others, speculations and musings and wonderings? And where do these get you? Into worry and anxiety about the future. How much better would it be to spend time thinking about whatever is true - the love of God for you through His Son Jesus, for instance.
Think about whatever is noble - are you drawn to celebrity scandals, stories about crime, juicy gossip? And after a time do you find yourself commenting on just how terrible our society has been getting? How much better would it be to spend time observing the noble all around you - the love of God working in His people as they care for others, love others, provide for others, help others.
Think about whatever is right - do you live life like a frustrated Olympic judge, always looking for ways to "take points off" from someone or something? Whatever you observe or participate in, are you always noticing ways it could be better? Isn't anything ever good enough? How frustrating that must be! And how much better and more relaxed and more grateful might you be if you were to learn to live with, "Lord, pretty good is good enough."
Think about whatever is pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, praiseworthy - I could go on with each of these, but I hope you get the point by now. Our anxieties and cares and worries come to us in large part because we focus on the wrong things in this world. We don't focus on the things God has given us, the things He has blessed us with. If we did, we might build a better structure in which to be thankful to Him:
If we delighted in what was pure we'd spend less time fretting about movies and TV and more time being thankful for His blessings.
If we delighted in what was lovely we'd spend less time turning away from the ugly in the world and more time noticing that it is His creation behind the ugliness.
If we delighted in what was admirable, the shameful might dry up and blow away, and we might rejoice in the wonder of His grace.
If we delighted in what was excellent, we might truly be delighted in the excellent instead of being disappointed in the imperfect.
If we delighted in what was praiseworthy we would turn to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ with all praise and love, giving Him thanks in all things because He alone is truly worthy of our praise and delight and thanksgiving.
Notes from my sermon on November 13, 2011 - Matthew 25:14-30. For an mp3 podcast of the complete sermon, go to revcahill.podbean.com
Let's begin with some problem areas in this so-called "Parable of the Talents":
- The word "talent" was a first-century word designating a certain weight of silver. We use the word "talent" to refer to skills or abilities that we've either learned or honed to a high level. Often when we hear this parable with the word "talent" we immediately jump to this modern meaning, and the thrust of the interpretation then seems to be "if you don't want to end up gnashing your teeth, use your talents for God's glory (and make sure you at least double His investment in you)!" Please note: there's not an ounce of Gospel in this interpretation! This Sunday, I translated "talent" as "bag of gold."
- Side note: Because Jesus said the servant with five bags brought five more and the one with two bags brought two more, don't you wonder what happens with someone who gets five bags but only brings three more, or the one who gets two bags but only brings one more?
- The "well done, good and faithful servant" sounds too much like a Performance Review phrase, as if the master is checking these guys off from the scale "3=Well Done, 2=Satisfactory, 1=Needs Improvement, 0=Gnash those Teeth." In fact, the Greek word is just a simple positive expletive, which might just as well be translated into American English as "Cool!" or "Sweet!" - and that's how I've translated it here.
The basic problem with the way we deal with this parable, though, is that we look at if it were a story about a boss and his employees at their annual Performance Review. When we do that, we come up with nothing but Law - no Gospel at all. I think the foundation to getting at the Gospel in the story is to begin by looking at the way the third ("wicked and slothful") servant perceives the master.
This servant sees the master as a tight-fisted, hard-hearted guy. He neither loves nor respects his master; he serves the master in fear or, in this case, not at all.
How many people see the God of the Bible that way? As a fearsome, vengeful, smiting god? Then they decide they don't want a god like that, and refuse to believe in Him. How much sense does that make? If God is truly vengeful, wouldn't it make more sense to try to play up to Him?
But the God who has revealed Himself to us in the Bible and through Jesus is not that kind of God at all. He is, instead, a kind and loving Father-God, who (in the Lord's Prayer) invites us to consider Him as a Father dear to us because He considers us to be children dear to Him. So we approach Him with joy and excitement and love rather than avoid Him in fear, because for Jesus' sake we are His children, not His servants.
But if we insist on hanging on to the servant-master metaphor, how then shall we serve Him? As Martin Luther once wrote of the Apostles' Creed, ". . . in righteousness, innocence, and blessedness." We serve Him in righteousness, knowing that for the sake of Jesus who was completely righteous the Father counts His righteousness as if it were our own; now our service to Him is also righteous and everything we do for Him is without fault, but perfect. We serve Him in innocence, knowing that for the sake of Jesus who was completely without sin the Father looks at us and sees His children as without sin as well; now our service to Him is done by people who are perfected in His sight by Jesus. We serve Him in blessedness, knowing that for the sake of Jesus, of whom the Father said at His baptism in the Jordan River "This is My Beloved Son, in whom I am well-pleased," our Baptism is our connection to Jesus' Baptism and so to the Father's blessing.
If we insist on hanging on to the master-servant metaphor, then, remember that our service is done perfectly because it is done in the righteousness of Christ; it is done by sinless people because it is done in the innocence of Christ; and it is done by blessed people because it is done in the Blessedness of Christ. That's not a Performance Review - that's the way a dear Father and His dear children love each other.
