Wonderful World of Wisdom - When You Don't Know Nothin'

Preached on Sunday, August 26, 2018

Scriptures readings: Colossians 1:24-2:5; Proverbs 30:1-9; Luke 5:1-11

Dick and Jane's Spot, Ellensburg, WA
August 2018

There’s this guy who sounds like he’s beating himself up for how stupid he’s been. “I am the most ignorant of men. I do not have a man’s understanding.” (Proverbs 30:2)

Here’s a guy who feels really stupid. Well, that’s what I thought at first. I thought it was the bad things that make us feel small and clueless. Then again, there might be some huge, wonderful things that make us feel small and clueless.

The man who wrote the words we’ve read is someone named Agur son of Jakeh. The names here aren’t Hebrew names, but they come from a related language that was spoken by the descendants of Abraham’s second-class son Ishmael, who became the ancestor of the Arabs.

The story behind Abraham and Sarah and their treatment of Ishmael, and the ongoing influence of that bad treatment on the relationship between Israel and the Arabs is something that has come to endanger the peace of the whole world. They haven’t always fought each other, but it’s been a rough road for over three thousand years.

The wise man Agur and the publication of Proverbs takes us about seven hundred years into that long story: long enough for him to have earned a bad reputation with the wisdom school of Solomon. And yet there he is! There are a number of people, whose writings are in our Old Testament, who have nothing, or next to nothing, to do with the story of the Bible.

The same is true with Job. The whole Book of Job is the story of one of the best people in the whole human race and one of the most beloved people of God who has nothing to do with God’s people, except that his story matters to God; and God wants to hold up to us these stories of people who lived beyond our horizon and still knew something good about our God, in spite of us and without our help. God has managed to get through to them on his own.

They are part of a world where God is at work in ways we don’t understand. God’s work in other people is beyond our knowledge and our understanding. Which is exactly one of the truths that Agur knows.

You could say that I’m wrong about this. After all, Agur confesses that he doesn’t know the Holy One. He says that doesn’t know God. But he also says that his level of understanding would test out to be subhuman. And that doesn’t seem to be true, and his words form an inspired part of our inspired Bible, so he knows more than he says.

Augur has a faith very much like the faith that the Lord taught to Job. Read chapter thirty-eight in Job and see how what the Lord (speaking through questions) reveals something to Job that sounds a lot like what the Lord has told Agur.

Agur knows that God strides back and forth between the dimensions that separate Heaven and Earth. God creates the atmospheres of the planets and makes their winds blow at the tipping of his hands. God gathers the waters in his cloak, and pours them into the seas. God has defined the ends, or the borders, of the worlds; and surely much more than that.

And those are just a few of the big things. That doesn’t count all the little things God can do.

In just a few verses, Agur the Arab can write a Hebrew poem as good as anything in the Bible. What Agur knows about God is beautiful and great. He knows that the Lord communicates perfect truth and he knows that you can count on that truth if you have any desire to walk with the Lord by faith.

Agur also knows that you can royally mess with the word of God. You can adulterate or contaminate it. He calls this “adding to the words of God.”

We need to take notice of when and where these words were written. Most of the Old Testament was not written at this time. What was already written down was probably not assembled into single scrolls yet. The words of God that Agur knew were the words he passed down to us in this chapter of Proverbs.

God’s words tell us that God can create heaven and earth, the spiritual and physical universe, and the particles and the underlaying fields of energy that are the foundation of everything we can see or detect. The ends of the earth could be like the limits of nature, and the laws of physics, that define how things happen; that define what can and what cannot happen. It’s simpler if we just say that God can do anything and that we can safely, securely live accordingly by faith.

God’s words tell us that his words, his communications to us, can be trusted because God values the truth and makes his words true in such a way that they are like a shield. The shield of God’s words is strong because God has made it from the most perfectly refined and forged metal possible. His words cannot be broken, or shattered, or pierced through to cut you.

Adding to God’s word doesn’t mean rewriting it to make it say something you want it to say. It doesn’t mean scribbling words in, or crossing words out. You don’t need to do any of that in order to add to it, or subtract from it, or just mess with it in general. All you have to do is to teach it messed up. All you have to do, in order to mess with the words of God, is to preach them all messed up.

I may have messed up Agur’s poem about “God Can Do Anything”. Maybe I shouldn’t say that the ends of the earth could be the laws of physics. That’s kind of a leap of the imagination; and maybe a leap of physics, too.

To explain something strange and mysterious in such a way as to make it more rational, or (even worse) to explain something away, is a dangerous game. Preachers and Sunday School teachers might be like children playing where they shouldn’t: like my mom’s two brothers, as kids, when they would compete at jumping off the roof of their garage. Of course, those were the good old days of childhood when parents seldom gave a thought to what their children were doing out of their sight.

Trying to change the meaning of God’s words, God’s messages to us, to suit ourselves, is what it means to add to the words. Making them not so weird, or scary, or threatening is adding to the words of God. Cherry picking them in order to make us look good or, at least, better than other people is the same as adding to the words of God. Making God’s words not mean what they say, or not say what they mean, is adding to God’s words. Those are the lies and the falsehoods that scare Agur.

Agur knows that God’s words tell us reliably what God can do, what God does for us. God’s words tell us who we are as we stand before God, and how to stay right and not forget the good news of God’s word.

Agur doesn’t want to mess with this, or get in the way. Agur sees himself in God’s words: how easy falsehood is and how it can come to cover God up and make him a different God. Agur sees that we can be tempted to worship a God of our own invention. He prays that God will deliver him from his own lies.

Agur sees that possessing too much can distract us from God and his word for us. Having too much can make us breakers of the truth: promoting ourselves and demoting God.

Having too little can make us desperate, always seeking our own advantage, and worrying about our survival, and forgetting to trust God, and actually stealing, and cheating, and lying to serve ourselves, because we don’t trust that God will give us our daily bread as we need it. Agur prays, like a Christian, for his daily bread, the right amount of anything, as God knows we need it to be.

But Agur prays because he knows great things about God.

If he makes this prayer because he doesn’t trust what God has said, and because he’s afraid, then I don’t know what to do with this prayer. I believe that he prays this way because he loves God so much that he doesn’t want to fail. He knows that God won’t fail him, but he wants the help that only God can design and give to make sure that this poor ignorant believer doesn’t fall short of the love of God.

Agur says he has no knowledge of the Holy One. Knowledge, in the world of the Old Testament, means a deep level of experience. It implies intimacy with the facts, the truth, the message. In some strange way Agur says that he has no knowledge of the Holy One, and yet the very next thing he says is a poem dedicated to the knowledge that the Holy One has given to him.

The dynamic of what we see in Agur is that he possesses no wisdom, but God’s wisdom possesses him. Agur has no knowledge, but God’s self-knowledge has opened his eyes.

There are a lot of experiences that can make us say something like: “I am the most ignorant of men.” “I am the most ignorant of women.”

Something terrible could make us say this. You could lose your job, and seem to fail at finding another. You could be hit by loss or grief: the loss of a home in a flood or fire, the loss of a precious human life that is so much a part of you that you don’t know how you might still be your true self without them.

You could find yourself in the path of an accident, or an illness, or a disability, or the threat of cancer, and the uncertainty of health and life that this brings. You could be hit by a mistake or a failure of your own, or make a horrible discovery about yourself that never occurred to you until now.

It happens. You say: “I don’t know anything.” Then, again, maybe that’s not true. Maybe a word crept in long ago. It was a word of something beautiful waiting for you: something that gave you strength, and courage, and hope, and energy. Maybe the gifts in your life seemed so great and strong that you forgot that word, that message, from God: that God can do anything and make anything possible. Maybe the poverty you feel now makes it hard to hold onto what you once knew, or makes it seem hollow and far away.

Yet there can be a quiet word that tells you that you are in God’s hands. It may be true that you aren’t holding onto God’s wisdom and intimacy, but God is God, and God is holding you in his hands.

Agur was afraid of speaking falsehood, but he was also afraid of hearing it from others. Agur had heard the same message. He had received the same truth that Job heard.

There were others who knew what Agur might have felt slipping away. The wise thing to do would be to find someone who has gone through what you are going through, only that person has not forgotten or lost the perfect shield that nothing can break.

Then, again there can be experiences that aren’t terrible at all, and these can also make you feel as though you didn’t know anything.

I think being in love can make you feel wonderful and scared at the same time and also feel as though you don’t know anything. Absolutely anything might happen. There was this one girl (or woman rather) who I thought might be the one for me, and one really good point in my favor was that her parents loved me.

Well, this girl could be a tomboy and go hiking with me in the woods and cliffs of the Oregon coast, all dressed down in blue jeans and a flannel shirt. Another time I took her out to a dinner theater in the county seat. She fixed herself up and she was gorgeous, and there was a friend of mine and his wife at the same dinner theater and, when they saw us together, they broke into great big grins. My friend gave me a wink, and I felt so proud and giddy at what I was doing and who I had with me. But I moved too slow and she met someone else.

In spite of this, I know something about something wonderful making me not know anything.

I know guys who report that they became serious about their relationship with Jesus when they first held their babies in their arms. They knew that they didn’t know anything, anymore, and that they needed lots of help and strength from someone else in order to become what that child of theirs needed.

Love, parenthood, the work of your dreams, a home of your own designing, a talent that comes to life: These can open your heart to words of wisdom and good news.

It’s like Peter in our gospel story. He met a man, a teacher, a man about whom people were reporting a lot of crazy stuff, a man with callouses on his hands and maybe some stray sawdust on his tunic, like a carpenter. This stranger walked up to Peter and commandeered Peter’s boat, to use as a pulpit.

Then this stranger named Jesus told Peter where the good fishing could be found, as if he were a fisherman too. Peter grumbled and then he got a word from the Lord in the form of his biggest catch ever.

Peter didn’t know anything anymore. He knew that Jesus had done something, but he didn’t know how or why. He realized that he had made a huge mistake. He had misjudged someone who knew far more that he did. Peter had scoffed at someone who could seemingly do anything. This Jesus could do anything where Peter couldn’t do anything. Jesus was like the power and truth that Agur had known.

Jesus said, “Don’t be afraid. From now on you’ll be catching men. You will fish for people.” Peter and his partners left everything and followed Jesus. Something wonderful made Simon Peter feel very small, and stupid, and clueless, and he never felt better in his life. It’s not a bad change. I recommend it to you.

Peter and his partners would come to feel the same way, sort of, when Jesus died on the cross. That was a bad thing. Now, again, they didn’t know anything anymore. That was a bad change.

Then, they were wrong again. They didn’t know anything all over again, when Jesus rose from the dead. They never felt better in their lives. And that’s not a bad change. I highly recommend it to you.

There is someone who can do anything. He can create a world, and he can save that world, and he does, and he has. What Agur knew was the wisdom that knew more than he did. In Jesus we meet the very wisdom of God in the flesh.

We may feel like we don’t know anything. We may feel like we can’t do anything. Jesus is God’s word and our shield, when our littleness comes from terrible things. Jesus is God’s word and our shield when our littleness comes from his wonderful gifts.

Paul's Prayer Piorities - Thanksgiving

Preached on Sunday, November 19, 2017

Scripture readings: Psalm 119:57-64; Colossians 1:3-14

Along Priest Rapids Lake, Columbia River
Mattawa/Desert Aire, WA
October 2017

There was a family where, one day, the father decided that each member of the family would give thanks for one item on the table, for their evening meal. The dad gave thanks for the chicken. The mother gave thanks for the cottage cheese. The oldest brother gave thanks for the potatoes. The sister gave thanks for the milk. Only one item in the meal was left. The littlest brother squirmed, and he asked his dad: “Daddy, If I thank God for the broccoli, won’t he know I’m lying?”

It’s always something. There’s a fly in the ointment, or a bee in the bonnet. Sometimes it’s lot more than that. There might be lots of things that keep us from giving thanks, or being consistently thankful.

For me, it usually boils down to one thing. I was born a worry-wart. I was (and I still am) always thinking about what could possibly go wrong, and I’ve always been able to think of lots and lots of things.

When I was a kid, I almost always won at checkers. It could have been something to be proud of, and I was. But, judging from the comments of my opponents, I would win because I bored them into a state mental numbness. Before I would move, I had to calculate each move to the next dozen possible moves that would come from making that one move. My game would go on, and on, and on.

After that first game, there were kids who refused to play checkers with me ever again. In reality, they must not have had much fun doing it.

Truth is, I didn’t play checkers because it was fun. I played because I could win. I didn’t play with enjoyment. I played with worry. I might not have won so much, if I had simply played for the fun of playing, and then I would have won something far better than winning.

Enjoying the game would have been the greatest success of all. Whether I won or lost, I could have gotten the prize of always enjoying the game and that would be the grace of thanksgiving.

What the Bible calls the Sabbath comes from the fact that sabbath (in Hebrew) means stopping and resting. As part of their sabbath worship, faithful Jews don’t ask God for anything on the Sabbath. For twenty-four hours they don’t ask for anything for anybody.

On the day of stopping and resting, they don’t work, and they don’t ask God to work either. Their only prayers are prayers of thanks, and praise, and blessing.

In the New Testament, this was a huge issue between Jesus and the Pharisees, who condemned Jesus for healing people on the Sabbath. They saw healing as work. Jesus saw healing as giving rest to the sick and the disabled and, best of all, giving them blessing and rejoicing in God.

Our word “bless” comes from the same root as the word “bliss”. The Pharisees made stopping and resting into work through all their rules and disciplines. They stole everyone’s bliss. They made the thanksgiving, and praise, and blessing into a mockery: not at all what God desired.

In Genesis, the seventh day is not what many people think it is. The seventh day is a taste of eternity. The seventh day, in Genesis, was much more of a place than it was a day. The truth is that sabbath is time standing still. There is no sunset or sunrise in the Genesis day of rest. It’s a taste of heaven.

God blessed his special, timeless day and called it holy. Holy, in Hebrew and Greek, carries (in part) the meaning of being special and radically different. If there are any rules or disciplines, it’s the discipline to stop and learn to be happy.

Learn to be thankful. Make your time with God different from all your other time by enjoying what God has done, enjoying what God has given you and made possible now. Stop, and take it in. Everything is bliss.

Learn to be thankful. There’s a strength and power in thanksgiving. It’s refreshing, it’s restful, and it’s hard to learn how to do it, because we want so much, and we worry so much. We’re afraid of losing our game: losing something. Or we’re afraid of not winning something, getting something, fixing something.

In Paul’s Letter to the Christians in the Greek city of Colossae (there’s more than one way to pronounce it), Paul was writing out his prayer of thanksgiving from the inside of a prison. We don’t know, for sure, where the prison was. Scholars only guess: Ephesus, Caesarea, Rome.

The Romans were very civilized, but their prisons were unpleasant places. They were intended to be so. Besides, the Romans had this horrible enjoyment of the suffering of other people.

Paul wasn’t in his cell or dungeon alone. He had friends with him who were his partners in ministry. Now they were his partners in chains. One of these friends was Epaphras, who had learned the gospel from Paul in Ephesus.

Epaphras was the one who had taken the good news of Jesus to his home in Colossae. Now, in chains, Epaphras shared the story, the joy, and the worry of his work with Paul.

It had been loving and joyful work in Colossae. And then, perhaps, a problem came up that raised the need for Epaphras to go and see Paul, and ask him for help. So, it was going to Paul for help that led to the adventure of his being arrested and chained up with Paul.

It had begun as a journey of love. Epaphras seems to have been worried, because, along with all his good news was the bad news that his spiritual family started listening to the wrong people. The wrong people were twisting the good news around to make it into something else. You can find that in the letter.

Paul wrote his letter as a reminder. He wanted the Colossians remember that Epaphras had told them about a Jesus who was in control of everything. Epaphras had told them about a Jesus who was the source of every good motivation and ability to steer them closer and closer to the Father, though his cross and his rising from the dead.

Paul reminded them that they had already died to sin and were safe in Jesus. Paul encouraged them to maintain their rest, and their enjoyment of Jesus, trusting that Jesus was more than everything to them: “giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light. For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.” (Colossians 1:12-14)

The new creation of their lives had been launched. Jesus was their sabbath: their blessing, their bliss, their holiness, their difference. But they were, in some ways, unsteady. They were forgetting who Jesus is because they were forgetting to be truly thankful for Jesus: thankful for what he has done for us.

And so, how else should Paul begin to help them and set them straight but by giving thanks for them? The prayer tells us that Paul knew that he was living in the kingdom of light and the kingdom of Jesus. He only wanted the church in Colossae to be as sure of this as he was.

Paul knew that they already knew it. Paul was only reminding them. He wrote: “All over the world this gospel (this good news) is bearing fruit and growing, just as it has been doing among you since the day you heard it and understood God’s grace in all its truth.” (Colossians 1:6)

They lived in a world ruled by the grace of God. Paul knew, from Epaphras, that they understood this. He knew that they understood that the power, and strength, and peace of this grace was working in them and through them. They knew this.

Paul’s prayer begins with thanks and it ends with thanks. Paul sees and draws a pattern on the page. The thanks at the beginning of the prayer is Paul’s thanks for them. The thanks toward the end of the prayer is the thanksgiving of the disciples in Colossae for everything and everyone. Paul believes that his prayer of thanks for them will lead to their prayers of thanks for all of God’s gifts, especially the gift of Jesus.

Paul gives thanks because he trusts the abundant grace of God that certifies these disciples to be the gifs of God, no matter how unsteady they seem. Paul gives thanks because he lives in a world ruled by a God who is light and love, and those disciples will give learn to give a truly energizing thanks for the same reason. They will learn that the thankfulness that went up to God for them was part of the power that would lead them to send up their own thankfulness to God, for everyone for whom they were worried and concerned, and for their own lives as the gift of God.

If you can’t give thanks, if you can’t be thankful, you are not living in a world ruled by a God who is light and love. Where will your prayers go, in such a world of your own making?

We don’t live in our own world. We live in God’s world. If you live in a thankless world of your own making, you might think that you’re talking to some kind of God, some kind of Father, some kind of Jesus, but it’s just words. There’s no true faith without thanks. There’s no real prayer without thanksgiving.

Now that can seem pretty scary and threatening, and yet it doesn’t have to be that way. Thanksgiving is enjoyment. It’s resting in the power and grace of God. Thanksgiving is the knowledge that God is in you, but also that God begins where you end: where you stop.

In Psalm 46, the prayer becomes a place where God suddenly speaks to the person who is praying. God says: “Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” (Psalm 46:10) God’s talk, here, about being exalted isn’t bragging and boasting. God is saying that there will come a time when everyone knows that God is with them, and keeps them safe, and makes them fruitful, and makes them glad.

They will know that God’s strength goes infinitely beyond the boundaries of their own strength. Where they must stop, God goes on being God, for their joy and their comfort, and their rest.

Do you want to be fruitful? Do you want to be glad? God is at work all around you. God is at work in you, and God can easily work through you. You are surrounded by the gifts of God, and this will not fail.

Truth isn’t only fact-hood. Truth is faithfulness. “God’s grace in all its truth,” that Paul gives thanks for in the lives of the Colossians, simply means “the gifts of God that will not fail.” Grace means gift. Truth means something that will not fail or let you down. This is the kingdom of light. This is the kingdom of the Son.

Our reading in Psalm 119 tells us that having God as your portion, or possession, means that you “get up in the middle of the night to give thanks” to God. (Psalm 119:62) Usually we wake up in the middle of the night because we are worried, or stressed, or angry, or afraid. When we get older, we start waking up in the middle of the night for other reasons. Imagine that your only reason for waking up in the middle of the night was because you were bursting with thanks.

If you can give thanks, then you can live in peace and rest. You can enjoy the game, and you don’t have to worry about losing or getting. The game of simply playing, the game of simply thanking, is the prize.

The first two successful colonies in the beginning of our nation’s story were Jamestown, and Plymouth of the Pilgrims. Actually, neither of them thrived for very long, but they lasted long enough to set the tone for our people. They lasted long enough to raise the basic question of what it means to be us. What is our truest heritage?

Jamestown was created by people in search of gold and gain. Plymouth was created by persecuted and endangered people who were searching for rest and peace. Those who were searching for rest and peace created our first Thanksgiving.

Which dream, which driving force, represents us; represents you and me? Getting? Or thanking!

Set the Gospel Free - Roads and Doors

Preached on Sunday, February 14, 2016

Scripture readings: Colossians 4:2-6; Acts 16:6-10

Along Lower Crab Creek, Near Desert Aire/Mattawa WA
January 2016

The following radio conversation was overheard between the US Navy and Canadian authorities off the coast of Newfoundland.

It was foggy: visibility zero.

The American captain radioed the Canadians: “Please divert your course fifteen degrees to the north to avoid a collision.”

The Canadians answered: “Please divert your course fifteen degrees to the south to avoid a collision.”

The Americans responded: “This is a US Navy ship. I say, again, divert your course.”

The Canadians answered: “No, I say again, YOU divert YOUR course.”

The American captain yelled: “WE ARE THE AIRCRAFT CARRIER USS ABRAHAM LINCOLN, THE SECOND LARGEST SHIP IN THE ATLANTIC FLEET. WE ARE ACCOMPANIED BY THREE DESTROYERS, THREE CRUISERS, AND NUMEROUS SUPPORT VESSELS. I DEMAND THAT YOU CHANGE YOUR COURSE FIFTEEN DEGREES NORTH. THAT’S ONE-FIVE DEGREES NORTH, OR COUNTER MEASURES WILL BE UNDERTAKEN TO ENSURE THE SAFETY OF THIS SHIP!”

The Canadians answered back: “We are a lighthouse. It’s your call.”

Sometimes what we call the church has been compared to a ship. Actually it has been compared to an ark, like in the story of Noah and the ark. There are jokes about that.

In another way God’s people are not a single boat, but a fleet on a mission. Like any modern fleet we sail in a cloud of communications: with headquarters, with each other, with other ships at sea, with lighthouses and with other navigational networks.

For us, who gather here, this is our base. This is our home harbor. We serve as a fleet together. There are other fleets a lot like us, for their size and for the age of their commissioned ships.

Other fleets might be bigger. They might also have a lot of baby ships. Maybe we should call them training ships. I wish we had some of those, but we don’t right now. We could be given an assignment in which we have to take on a bunch of those training ships. Right now we are on a mission in which we train each other. We are training to communicate with other ships at sea, and we are authorized by headquarters to commission those independent ships into new ships of the fleet.

Of course you can already tell that I have no idea what I’m talking about. It just seemed to me that Paul, and his missionary team, and his churches, were all moving in this cloud of communication with headquarters, and with each other, and with a sea that was crowded with other ships (I mean other people).

There was a connection (for them as it is with us) between communication and navigation. For Paul, in the story we read today from the Book of Acts, conditions seemed to encourage them to chart a course in a particular direction, and each time they settled on their new destination or a mission, headquarters communicated with them (in the form of the Holy Spirit) not to go that way and not to do that thing.

Paul was smart. He was full of faithful determination and experience. Paul loved the Lord, and he loved a new mission, and he especially loved the mission to grow the fleet.

We don’t know how the communication took place. We don’t know whether headquarters communicated with Paul and his friends through circumstances, like really hot resistance that kept them from going where they wanted, or whether communication came in the form of some low-frequency inner-voice, or a deep conviction that formed within them, when they prayed. We don’t know.

Don’t you imagine that they must have felt very confused and frustrated? They may also have felt very defeated and demoralized.

Somehow, every step of their way, the Lord made all their best options impossible. Whenever they plotted the next best course, the Spirit said “no”. It was when they came to the coastal city of Troas that they literally came to the end of the road.

Their mission had taken them on the road that stopped at the shoreline. Then the Lord told them that, when you come to the end of the road, you might just take a boat. Sister Maria, in “The Sound of Music” says, “When God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window.”

Paul was relentless, and brilliant, and creative. Still he missed the point of those closed doors and the end of the road. Then God spoke, and Paul refused to learn from all his past frustrations and all his past defeats. God spoke to Paul, and Paul listened. Then Paul spoke with his team. So they went off-road. They dropped all their most carefully considered options and they took God’s way instead.

Not everyone does this. I remember, long ago, a poster with a kitten on it. The logo on the poster said, “When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hold on.”

That’s what the kitten was doing. It was very cute, of course. The problem is that, sometimes, deciding to hang on is the last decision that some people ever make.

Holding on can work for a while, until headquarters sends you the next message. I like the Disney cartoon series “Phineas and Ferb”. The main characters are very adventurous kids. For Phineas and Ferb, the next likely message will not say “hold on”. It will probably say, “Jump.”

I often think that something will be possible if I jump. You might not believe me, but I have done this before.

This is what we must pray about. All Christians and all congregations must pray like this.

They usually don’t, because they don’t have to. They have alternatives to jumping. Most of the time, they can follow the trends and the best advice. They can listen to the experts. They can use their best judgment and their common sense. They can read the latest how-to book. But that is, somehow, not quite the same as being in communication with the Holy Spirit.

I don’t mean for us to not use our heads and to not pick other people’s brains. I love doing that. Brains are good. God made our brains; and even other people’s brains as well. Yay brains! Go brains!

You might say that, in our story in Acts, God spoke to Paul by using all of Paul’s exhaustive planning, and all of his constant course-changing, as a way of giving him a completely different plan: an unexpected plan, an unplanned plan. Paul’s frustrated planning made him receptive to God’s real plan. This can happen to us and it would be a wonderful thing.

Paul saw our navigation, as followers of Jesus and as a family of followers, as a combination of brains and Spirit. He said, “Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity.” (Colossians 4:5) There’s the brain, but remember it has to be a Spirit-filled brain.

Remember that the good news of the gospel is that God followed an unconventional, completely unexpected plan. God became a baby, and a dusty, calloused carpenter, and a convict on a cross, and an escapee from an empty tomb. The good news of the love of God (as we meet God in Jesus) is a pure and earth-shaking miracle. It is a superhuman gift that we call grace. It is a superhuman power that makes us become the humble humans that God created us to be.

We call this salvation, but it is a miracle. It is also called grace, and it has got to fill us up.

Paul told us to us to talk like people filled up with a miracle. He said, “Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.” (Colossians 4:6)

Every encounter with everyone around us is a kind of miracle. It’s a kind of grace. It’s filled with a kind of wonder that makes us wiser than this world.  It really is good news and we should be able to tell it with unadulterated happiness.

It should be “tasty” to any sane person. I think that is why Paul said that it should be “seasoned with salt”. What we share with others should come out tasty for us and for them.

Paul said, “Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful, and pray for us, too, that God may open a door for our message, so that we may proclaim the mystery of Christ, for which I am in chains.” (Colossians 4:2-3)

The mystery is the wonderful surprising story. The mystery is this miraculous grace that fills us up, and which we could never have imagined without actually knowing Jesus. It’s that kind of mystery.

There you see the miraculous open door. Why would anyone (especially the people who were holding Paul prisoner; and especially the officials who were handling his case) listen to a prisoner’s source of joy? There was no reasonable course for Paul to follow. All he hoped for was simply a suddenly open door.

Paul said to pray and be watchful. In prayer we have dealings beyond this world and yet, in these dealings, we are supposed to be able to watch for how to live as Christians in this world. We watch for opportunities that come from God. And we are open to those opportunities because we are thankful.

Paul was thankful in chains. Paul was thankful at the end of his road, and at the end of his rope. Paul just went off-road. Paul jumped.

I had a hard prayer exercise this past week. My prayer journal instructed me to spend an hour asking God what to do next. I was instructed to ask God what to do next, that morning, at every step of the way. Should I brush my teeth next, or should I shave?

Well I always do things in the same order every morning. How could I do that by asking?

It was hard. I never thought it would be so hard. But I realized that I need to live more by asking, and not so much by habit, and not so much by planning custom, and not even by reason. I tried for more than an hour I tried all day, and the next day, but it was hard.

The people who designed that prayer journal were smart. We must learn to live by asking. I can see that this is what we all must learn to pray and to do: otherwise we will miss the open door. We will not receive the signal. This is what the church needs. God help us.

The Lord’s Supper has something to teach us about this. It requires our watchfulness. It requires us to see the strange opportunity. This is a funny meal that brings us into fellowship with all the fullness of God in a little bite of bread and in a small sip from a cup.

There’s a wonderful passage in a church document called “The Scot’s Confession” It was written by the Church of Scotland, during the reformation, in the year 1560. It says this, in its old and fancy language, about our fellowship with Jesus in this meal. “…This union…which we have with the body and blood of Christ Jesus in the right use of the sacraments is wrought by means of the Holy Ghost, who by true faith carries us above all things that are visible, carnal, and earthly, and makes us feed upon the body and blood of Christ Jesus, once broken and shed for us but now in heaven, and appearing for us in the presence of his Father.” (“The Scot’s Confession, Chapter 21)

In a sense, in this meal, we have our fellowship with Jesus not merely by him coming down to us here. It is just as much by our meeting him, in the Spirit, in heaven, and having fellowship in heaven with everything that Jesus is, and possesses, and promises, and does.

This is what the Church has in it. This is what we have in us. In all our planning there is a course charted for us with Christ in heaven. This is how we navigate as a church and as individual Christians every day.

Our life, as Christians, comes to us by a miracle that we never could have planned. This is what we have that enables us to watch, and see, and know what to say to each other, and to our families, and to our neighbors, and to our communities.

This is how we, as a church, can know what to do and to say to reach others for Jesus, and bring them into the family of faith and life. This is how we find what to do at the end of our road or at the end of our rope. This is how we find that open door.

It Is Good to Give thanks to the Lord

Preached on November 25, 2014, Tuesday before Thanksgiving

Scripture Readings: Psalm 92; Colossians 3:1-17

It was the first day of school, and a kindergarten teacher was explaining some of her rules to her new class. The teacher said, “If you feel like you really have to go to the bathroom, raise your hand with two fingers.”

A little voice spoke up from the back, and said, “How will that help?”

Photos taken near Desert Aire WA: November 2014

The Psalm (92) says, “It is good to give thanks to the Lord…” But you might ask, “How will that help?” How will that make things better?

Well, the choice of whether to give thanks (or not) is really the choice of whether to vote for happiness or not. I think that a lot of people believe, in their heart, that they don’t have any choice in the matter; that is they don’t believe that they can vote for what side they are on: happiness or not.

We can’t always choose what we feel, but we can choose what side we are on.

Now there are times when it is right for us not to be happy. There are times when it is right to be sad, or angry, or discouraged. And there are times when we really can’t help it.

But there are times when we can make a choice. And, if it seems impossible to make a choice, then it is the time to look for help in making the choice that seems beyond our power.

We know that there are people who choose unhappiness, and they get what they choose. Small children do this when they throw a tantrum. They are choosing unhappiness, and they are using it as a weapon against others.

Grown-ups do this too. We see people who go out of their way to make themselves unlovable. We see that they have made a choice, and that they are making the wrong choice. If only we could, we would like to shake them and say, “Just look at what you’re doing to yourself!”

Sometimes God hedges me in about this (about things that I want to complain about, about things I have thought were unfair). And the Lord seems to take pleasure in robbing me of the things I like to complain about, bit by bit, until I see that I have to stop it.

When you choose to give thanks, you might think that you choose to live with your head in the clouds. And doesn’t Paul say, “Set your mind on things that are above, not on things that are on earth?” (Col. 3:2) But maybe giving thanks is like being in love, where all you can think about is what you want to say or do when you see that person you love. Thanksgiving is just a matter of priorities.

Some elementary school children were interviewed about love, and one said, “Love is when a girl tells a boy that she likes the shirt he is wearing, and so he wears it every day.”

Giving thanks comes from a feeling like that, because Paul talks as if all the personality traits, and all the attitudes that are from above, are like spiritual clothing (clothing that we wear all the time, if we belong to Christ): “Put on, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassion, kindness, lowliness, meekness, patience…” and so on.

“Setting your mind on things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God” has nothing to do with being “so heavenly minded that you are of no earthly good,” because it is the things that are above that are the truly useful and practical things.

Look at the things that belong to life below. How practical are they? What does Paul say they are: Immorality…greed…rage…malice…slander…

filthy talk…?” Do these make life better? Is the world a better place, and do people prosper more, because of them?

What are the things that are from above: “Compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another…” These are the useful things.

The people who have their head in the clouds don’t bear anything at all, because they don’t notice anything. It’s the people who see reality as it is who do the bearing.

God is the one who truly sees things from above, who truly sees things as they are, and he has the courage to face it (all the mess in people’s lives, and all the mess of a fallen world). God sees reality and God bears the burden and penalty of it, and he bears the remedy for it, on the cross.

Knowing this God, who faces reality this way, has a practical effect on our lives. He has made himself into a gift to us. This makes us thankful. And, when we are thankful, then we have a practical effect on the world and the people around us.

The Hebrews were earthy people, and they thought of thanks as something that gave them roots. “The righteous will flourish like a palm tree, they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon; planted in the house of the Lord, they will flourish in the courts of our God. They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green.” (Psalm 92:12-14)

For several years, when I was a kid, we lived in an old farm house on the edge of town, and it had lots of interesting plants in the yard and on the acreage around it. There was an old tree rose that grew under the kitchen window, under the eaves, on the north side of the house.

It was not a good place for roses. I have no idea how old it was. The union, the graft at the base, must have been bigger than a baseball, bigger than a soft ball. The bush was scraggly, and mildewed, and the roots were in such bad shape that the bush would have fallen over if it hadn’t been staked up. It bore tiny pink roses, and it only bloomed for a few weeks in the year. But when it bloomed, and the window was open, the fragrance of roses filled the kitchen. If we had been in a hurry, when we bought the house, we might have torn out that old rose tree without ever finding out what a miracle it was. A thankful heart gives that person a lasting value to everyone who knows them, because giving thanks puts their roots in God, and they always bear fruit.

I like music. And both the Psalm and Paul say that being thankful and making music go together naturally. Being with a thankful person is like listening to a song. Being thankful is like having a song in your heart.

That same old farm house had a huge Turkish cedar tree in the front yard, more than seventy feet tall. When the summer days were a hundred degrees, the shadow under that tree was full of a sweet and spicy smell, like music for the nose.

When things get so hot you think you will suffocate, when you feel like you’re going to boil over, a thankful person is like the shadow of that cedar tree. It is a gift from God. The choice of whether to be thankful, or not, is the choice of whether to be a gift or not.

Do you want to be a gift? What kind of gift do you want to be, for God and the people around you? We can’t always be what we would like, but we can be thankful, we can vote for thanks.

But then, maybe we can’t just do it. Maybe we need help. Paul says that thankfulness has a source. He says that thankfulness comes, “if you have been raised with Christ.”

The Lord has a way of showing himself to us. The Lord shows us our personal need for something we cannot give ourselves. The Lord shows us our sin, our hollowness, our falseness.

Then the Lord shows us his faithfulness, his answers, his sacrificial love on the cross. The Lord shows us his resurrection: that is, he shows us his victory.

When we see what he has done for us, this causes us to die to ourselves, and we find that the Lord has given us a new life. And that life is just the beginning of good things to come. The people who know this have the power to be thankful. It feels good to give thanks; and it does good, too.

Anchors for the Storm - Christ Alone (2nd Edition)

Preached on Sunday, August 31, 2014

Scripture Readings:  Isaiah 59:1-21; Colossians 1:15-23; John 14:1-14

I am old enough to remember a time long ago when, if you asked a person whether they were a Christian, some people would actually say, “Of course I am. I’m an American.” This sounds odd nowadays; and it was never true; but it was a surprisingly common answer, once upon a time.

Summer of 2014: Looking Toward Sentinel Gap
            North of Desert Aire-Mattawa, WA
          

It also used to be possible to ask someone if they were a Christian, and they might say, “Of course I’m a Christian. I go to church.” But there is the old preacher’s joke that says being in church doesn’t make you into a Christian any more than being in a garage makes you into a car. The joke tells the truth.

There is a well known Democratic politician who was raised a Methodist, and who is reported to have said, long ago, that she didn’t know how anybody could be a Republican and still be a Christian. (I won’t tell you who that was, from the pulpit.)

This helps us get at the phrase, “Christ alone”.  Can there be anything, besides Christ, that makes us Christian: where we were born, where we spend our Sunday mornings, or the particular church we belong to, or something we have done?

“Christ alone” is the answer to a question, but what is the question? There may be a lot of ways of putting the question. How can I be saved? How can I be born again? How can I be born from above? How can I have a relationship with God? How can I be a new person? How can I change? How can I stop being part of the problem and start being part of the solution? How can I find fulfillment and meaning? How can I find forgiveness?  How can I come home?

The answer is “Christ alone”. Or Jesus put it like this, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father but by me.” (John 14:6)

“Christ alone” is a phrase that comes down to us from hundreds of years ago, during the period of history they call “The Reformation”. There are five phrases that have come down to us from that time which all contain the word “alone”. They are scripture alone, Christ alone, grace alone, faith alone, and the glory of God alone.

These phrases came into use as a way of correcting certain abuses and mistakes and wrong directions that had been taken by the church during the chaos of “The Middle Ages”. Really those times were not as bad as we think, and we still experience enough chaos as God’s people, in this world, to need these phrases. We are thinking about them as a kind of system of anchors put out in different directions around a ship in a storm, to hold it safe.

We can see how these anchors work together as a team to keep us centered in our life as Christians, to keep us from distorting the priorities of the Christian life. Faith alone reminds us of the importance of living with our deepest trust in God alone and not in our own strength, or goodness, or habits, or in anything we can do.  But sometimes we can distort the role that faith plays in our living and praying. We make faith into something that we do.

The principles of “Scripture alone” and “Christ alone” help us understand the nature of faith. For instance, in the scriptures, Jesus does not say, “Your faith in me is the way, and the truth, and the life.” Jesus says, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.”

Our faith is almost an extension of ourselves. It is a part of what we think and do. But “the way, the truth, and the life” have nothing to do with us, except in being an invitation, and as a gift that we receive through Christ. Christ is greater than our faith because he is greater than our hearts (1 John 3:20). Christ is “the author and perfecter of our faith” (Hebrews 12:12).

Faith alone is a gift from beyond our selves. Faith comes from grace. It is a gift from God (not self-generated, not something we work out). (Ephesians 2:8-9) I think we need to want to have faith, but faith is a gift.

Our knowledge and our understanding of Christ is not “the way, the truth and the life” (though this plays a part of our love). We want to know and understand. But Christ alone means that what we need is in Christ and not in us.

When Jesus says, “No one comes to the Father but by me,” he is not warning us about the quality, or the direction, or even the content of our faith, or our understanding. He means that he is assuming responsibility over us. It is the same thing that he meant when he said, “You did not choose me, but I chose you…” (John 15:16)

All of this comes from the context of Jesus saying, “Let not your hearts be troubled.” (John 14:1) Why is he telling us not to be troubled or afraid? It is because he is giving us a promise. Saying that our life with God is by “Christ alone” is not a threat to scare others, but a promise in the form of an invitation. It is the promise of Jesus that our life with God is in good hands, in the very best hands, in hands that have been pierced with nails for us.

Isn’t it funny how we make these words to mean exactly the opposite? We make them into a solemn warning; as if we really wanted to be scared, or for others to be scared; as if we wanted a religion of worry and fear instead of a religion of freedom and love. Saying “Christ alone” is meant to be the anchor for this.

In my summer between third and fourth grade I went to a Y.M.C.A. camp for a week. At one point during the week they cleaned out the swimming pool and they started to refill it. The water came into the pool from openings in the sides of the pool that made huge jets of water. It was really powerful, impressive, and exciting.

I know this because I was in the pool at the time. The camp opened the pool for all the campers while they were filling it. It seemed huge. It was probably an Olympic sized pool; and here it was, full of kids playing in the giant jets of water.

The only problem with this was that, as the water jetted into the pool, the level of the water got deeper without everyone noticing this. I didn’t notice, and (suddenly) I got in over my head. An older kid who obviously had lifeguard training saw that I was in trouble. He grabbed me and started pulling on me in order to save me.

And what did I do? I fought him with all my might. Who did he think he was, thinking that I was in trouble (although I was)? I was so mad, and I was a real brat to him.

That’s how this world is; the world we are part of. And we really are part and parcel of it.

 A pedestrian got hit by a car and was lying in the street. A passerby ran up to the man and put his coat under his head (maybe he shouldn’t have done this, but this is an old joke), and he asked the man, “Are you comfortable sir?” and the man lying on the street said, “I make a decent living, thank you.”

Everybody is doing just fine, thank you, and has no need of what we offer. People will tell us that there is no need for any special way, or special truth, or special life. And Christians, by and large, are just the same; we certainly don’t need any special help, thank you.

I can say that I’m not perfect (which surprises no one). And when I say it I am thinking what how wonderful it is that I am so self-aware, so honest, so humble. But just try to tell me one way that I am not perfect, and advise me on a plan of action for just how to make the necessary changes, and then see how I react.

And, by the way, do you want to know what is really wrong with you?

It is because our hearts are shaped this way that our only true hope is Christ alone.

Isaiah gives us an example in his book: “For your hands are stained with blood, your fingers with guilt. Your lips have spoken lies, and your tongue mutters wicked things. No one calls for justice; no one pleads his case with integrity. They rely on empty arguments and speak lies; they conceive trouble and give birth to evil. They hatch the eggs of snakes and spin a spider’s web. Whoever eats their eggs will die, and when one is broken, a snake is hatched.” (Isaiah 59:4-5)

Does it sounds extreme; that ancient world? It’s the same world we see in the news every day. But the most surprising thing about Isaiah’s message is that he is not speaking to the so-called heathens. Isaiah is speaking to God’s people. It’s the church of his day, full of people who don’t know their own heart. If we want to find ourselves in the Bible, we must see that this is where we are. This is us.

There is a Disney cartoon program called “Phineas and Ferb” in which there is an evil scientist named Dr. Doofenschmirtz, who is always plotting to take over the world (or part of it) and spread his evil plans. But he fails every time. In one episode his evil mentor encourages him by saying, “Heinz, you don’t have to conquer the world in order to spread evil. You can do it through all the little things you say and do every day.” And that is what we do.

If we kept an exact record of every thought and feeling that passed through our minds, every second of the day, we would be ashamed to read it. If we thought that other people could see our thoughts and feelings at every passing second, just by looking at us. We would all hide.

A five year old knows lots about injustice and evil from both sides; and we become experts as we grow up. We receive more wounds and we become more insensitive as we grow up. Only we would do almost anything to avoid having anyone see through us.

The world we live in has not been working very well for a long, long time. The world we find so disturbing is the way it is because it is full of human beings just like us. Welcome to the human race!

And yet, the world as it is doesn’t want a way, or a truth, or a life that it can’t devise for itself. The original humans, in the form of Adam and Eve, wanted to be self-governing. They wanted a life that they could devise for themselves. What we have is the result. The world as it is doesn’t want to admit it needs such a way, a truth, or a life from beyond itself.

Today’s world says that our growing scientific knowledge means that we don’t have to look for answers from beyond this world any longer. Great knowledge has given us more cures for disease, more food for more people, a higher standard of living and comfort, and more dangers, violence, and deception than ever.

In the face of this, do you know that Jesus is the way, and the truth, and the life?  G. K. Chesterton wrote that it is not true that the Christian way has been tried and found wanting, but that it has been found difficult and left untried.

Isaiah says, “So justice is driven back, and righteousness stands at a distance; truth has stumbled in the streets, honesty cannot enter. Truth is nowhere to be found, and whoever shuns evil becomes a prey. The Lord looked and was displeased that there was no justice. He saw that there was no one, he was appalled that there was no one to intervene; so his own arm worked salvation for him and his own righteousness sustained him.” (Isaiah 59:14-16)

God himself took up the cause. God did for this world what it could not do for itself. God did for us what we could not do for ourselves.

God’s arm reached down into our world to do the work of salvation. Now God doesn’t have an arm like ours, with bones, and muscles, and sinews; but God has strength within himself. God has the ability to use his strength to do his work. This arm, this strength, is Jesus. Jesus is God in the flesh, God as a living human being, doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.

Jesus is what Isaiah meant when he said, “his own arm worked salvation for him.” “Christ alone” is the equivalent of saying “God alone”.  Paul describes: “For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.” (Colossians 1:19-20)

Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father but by me.” This makes the world mad. It even makes some people who profess to be Christians mad. It seems arrogant and exclusive.

Christians have acted arrogantly. We have acted in ways to exclude others as if we were better than them. The cure is to look at what Jesus is saying and where he is saying it.

Philip said to Jesus, “Lord, show us the Father and that will be enough for us.” Jesus answered, “Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father.” (John 14:8-9) One of the things that Jesus is telling us, and the whole world, is that God is not exclusive. God wants to be known, and loved. God wants to be present.

There is a house for God and us together. It is the Father’s house. We are made to be together. Paul said, God wants “to reconcile all things to himself, whether things on earth or things in heaven.” (Colossians 1:20)

The world says it wants to see all religions as equal. The problem with this is that they are so different in the essence of what they teach about the nature of the world, and of God, and of how we find our purpose. They are so different from each other that if they are all equal then they must all be equally far away from the way, the truth, and the life.

If no one in the world is close and everyone is far, then it seems that the reality of the universe must be that God, if there is a God, must be very far away. God must be very difficult to know, and God must be very uninterested in reaching out to us, or else he is unable to reach out to us. And we are on our own.

Jesus tells us that “the way, the truth, and the life” of God is not distant. It is close. It is as close as a single face that cannot be mistaken for another. It is as close as a voice distinct from all other voices. It is as close as hands and fingerprints that are absolutely unique. “The way, the truth, and the life” is approachable and knowable. It is found in Jesus: in Christ alone.

Is this arrogant? It could be. But where has the way, the truth, and the life been? Where is it going?

The way, the truth, and the life has taken off its clothes, and wrapped itself in a towel, and become a foot washer. Jesus and his disciples, just before he said, “don’t be troubled,” had finished the Passover meal, and Jesus had washed the disciples’ feet, every one of them; even the feet of Judas Iscariot, the betrayer.

This is not an arrogant truth: not for Jesus, and not for us. And Jesus has told us to do likewise. Jesus has told us that the world will know that we are his disciples if we are foot-washers, and if we are a servant people who know how to love others. (John 13:1-17)

Where is Jesus going? Jesus is on his way to the cross with a vengeance, in order to destroy his enemies.  But the enemies of Jesus are not people. They are the sources of evil in this world: injustice, unrighteousness, lies, hypocrisy, violence, abuse, willful blindness, heartlessness: in other words, sin.

Jesus fights these enemies on the cross. He conquers them within us when he claims us there on that cross. This is “the way, the truth, and the life” he has been talking about.  This is how the Lord’s “own arm worked salvation for him.” This is how, “He put on righteousness as his breastplate, and the helmet of salvation on his head; he put on the garments of vengeance and wrapped himself in zeal as in a cloak.” (Isaiah 59:17)

The cross is God’s vengeance on sin. The cross is the picture of zeal in the extreme. Who else would go so far as the Lord has gone, in patience, and humility, and blood, and pain?

This is servanthood; sacrificial, redemptive love. It is no sin to say that this is the only genuine and hopeful way. It is not arrogant to claim some special status for love, even though love will never stay on its pedestal.

Jesus washed our feet to make us his servants. This is what we call anyone to be, if we want to help them know the way, the truth, and the life. We call them to be servants like us: like Jesus. You can’t be arrogant and do this.

When the God’s people (the church) live like this, no one will call us arrogant any more. Or, if they do, no one else will believe them.

God himself is not proud. In the modern world, where the Christian faith is more and more out of favor, we may find a new blessing in losing our pride.  We will not be the top. We will not be the leaders. We will be the bottom. We will be foot washers: people of the cross.

When such a time finally comes, it may seem to us that all we have left is Christ; and Christ alone. This is what all other faithful disciples have found; those who have gone before us. This is the common state of God’s people in the world: having Christ alone.

Each and every one of us will come to some time and place in which we will seem to have Christ alone. Our instinct will be to think that we are alone, when we have only Christ. But then we will find that this is not true. We will find that, when we have Christ alone, we have everything we truly need, because of him.