They Wanted to Kill the Preacher

Sermon text for August 26, 2007:
Luke 4:21-30

You know the old expression: “You can’t go home.”? It really is true, especially if the one who left home has been through some kind of life-changing experience. After my first semester in seminary, I was home for the Christmas holiday and I ran into an old high school friend. He asked me what I was doing with myself, and I told him that I was in seminary studying for the ministry. He laughed so hard that I thought he was going to hurt himself. I felt bad because my friend could not see the important changes in my life that made me a different person than I was four or five years before.

This kind of thing happened to Jesus also. He went to Nazareth after having some life-changing experiences. Some people don’t understand that even Jesus had to learn how to live with his call to ministry. They seem to think that he came out of the womb a complete person. But the way I read scripture, his baptism, the temptations, were formative for Jesus. At the least they taught him how to live in the world as the Son of God.

After the temptations Jesus tried out his message around Capernaum, and other places around the Sea of Galilee where he taught and performed miracles. The crowds marveled at the power of his message, so Jesus knew it was time to go back to Nazareth, where he went to the synagogue where he had grown up. We know that word of his miracles and his powerful preaching had gotten back to Nazareth. Perhaps that may be the reason he was invited to read the lesson and offer the message. And his sermon that day was indeed powerful, and the hometown crowd was impressed. He was changed so much that the members of the synagogue had to ask themselves “Isn’t this Joseph’s son”?

Of course Jesus had just made a startling statement, one which would have made any congregation wonder. He had read from the Book of Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.” Then he said something that should be foundational for the church two thousand years later. He said, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” Those words are Jesus’ mission statement. They define what Jesus is all about. But I have never seen a church mission statement that was modeled after Jesus’ mission statement in the synagogue.

So far Jesus is not in danger, in fact most of the people worshipping that day are genuinely impressed and happy. Others wanted some proof that what he said was true. They had heard of his miracles in other places and they wanted to see him perform a miracle for them. Then they would believe.

It seems like a reasonable request. Jesus has taught with authority, and performed miracles in Capernaum, why not in Nazareth? The problem that even Jesus faced is that the power of God can never be demanded. Those who experience God’s power never use it to prove anything, which is why some in the Synagogue wanted Jesus to perform a miracle. The power of God only comes into our lives as a gracious gift. It can be asked for, waited on, even pleaded for, but it cannot be demanded. And those in the Synagogue were demanding a show.

And then things got worse for Jesus. Not only would he not perform a miracle in Nazareth, his sermon seems calculated to enrage the crowd. In paraphrase, this is what Jesus said. “You think that you can make demands upon God because you of some prior right, because you are a part of the Chosen People? Let me tell you the truth. There were many starving widows in Israel in Elijah’s day, but he was sent to save only a widow who was not of our people. And there were many lepers in Israel in Elisha’s day, but it was only Naaman our enemy who was cleansed.”

The words infuriated the crowd. It was unthinkable that God would save gentiles before members of the in-group, and yet Jesus used their own scriptures to prove his point. No one has a prior claim upon God, because God does as God pleases. We call that the sovereignty of God. God does whatever God wants and it’s up to us to try to understand which way God is moving and then follow God’s lead. The Jews in the synagogue were so angry at his sermon that they took Jesus out to a cliff to stone him.

According to Jewish law when someone was about to be stoned, it made little difference if the stone hit the victim or the victim hit the stones. So the crowd wanted to throw Jesus off the cliff to the rocks below. The bible says that Jesus passed through the crowd and went on his way.

The word of God is not always pleasing to us and sometimes when we see what Jesus did, and hear what Jesus says, it is beyond our comprehension. Jesus knew that his message was hard for many people. In fact he is quoted as saying, “Blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.”

My prayer for First Presbyterian Church of Lakewood is that you will take the time in prayer and conversation to see where God is leading you. When you are able to do that, you will once again become a strong, dynamic congregation.

Copyright © 2007 by Dwight R. Blackstock

Of Saints and Sinners

Sermon text for August 19, 2007:
Luke 18:9-14

A good church-going Presbyterian went to church one day to pray. He was a genuinely good man who always did his best to live up to the highest standards of the faith. He prayed every day, gave a full one-tenth of his gross income to the church’s ministry, served on session, and attended worship each week unless he was too ill to come. As he sat in the front pew, his one non-Presbyterian characteristic, he reviewed his life before the Lord. His was a good life. Blessed in many ways, his spirit swelled with gratitude and pride. “Lord”, he prayed, “I am grateful that I am not like so many other folks. I am not unjust in my business dealings, I do not fool around on my wife, and I even give you ten percent of everything I earn.”

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the elder, someone else had wandered in off the street. He saw the door of the church open and somehow felt compelled to come inside, but not too far inside. In fact he hid in a dark corner near the back of the sanctuary and suddenly felt very ashamed for the things he had done.

He was everything the first man wasn’t. While in the military he sold secrets to the other side and since leaving the military had been involved in several shady business deals. And he didn’t know the meaning of fidelity. As the memories of his life washed over him he was too ashamed even to look at the cross over the communion table. In despair he felt more than spoke his confession. “Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

We might say that confession is good, but it isn’t enough. He has to pay for what he did. But Jesus says, “I tell you this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

Many commentators try to explain this parable by theorizing that the Pharisee was not really a good man. He was pompous and arrogant, filled with self importance and that is why his prayer was not answered. The sinner on the other hand was sincerely sorry for his sin, and so was justified. But this interpretation misses the point.

Jesus wants the disciples to see a caricature of a good man. In fact this man is almost too good to be true. Perhaps the disciples might even have pictured someone that they knew who behaved very much like this Pharisee whom Jesus describes. He takes the Jewish law to an extreme. He not only does what he is supposed to do, he does more. He is a good man according to the highest religious standards of his day. That is what makes the story so hard to take. He is a good man and he knows it.

Now here’s the rub. I think that most of us can identify with the Pharisee. We may not think that we are the best, or that we have reached the highest our faith has to offer, but we do compare ourselves to others:

“Look at the mess she has made out of her life. I’m glad I was smart enough to avoid making those mistakes.”

“That guy is always in trouble, he goes from one woman to the next, can’t keep a job, and his kids hate him. I’m glad that I live the good life. Thank God I am not like that!”

Those may not be our exact thoughts or words, but it is probably inevitable for us to compare ourselves with others. We are glad that there is an inherent goodness within us that makes us different from other people. But if we feel smug, the parable tells us to look again.

The second man in the parable could have no illusions about himself. Everything in society told him that there was something fundamentally wrong with him. When he listened to the inner voice, he understood instinctively that confession was his only option. He understood that whatever goodness he could achieve in life would be through the grace of God. And Jesus says, “He went down to his house justified.”

The parable only works if the good guy really is good, and the bad guy really is a scoundrel. As with all of Jesus’ parables, this one can be read on several different levels. On the deepest level the story is about those who trust themselves and despise others. It is about those who believe themselves to be righteous because they follow the rules, and others are worthless because they don’t.

Jesus wants us to acknowledge the gifts of faith and morality which are a part of our lives, and to give thanks to God. But at the same time we are called upon to be cautious and, using Paul’s theology, not think too highly of ourselves, because of what we have done. And if at any point we discover that our goodness has faded, the parable inspires us to turn in trust to God, praying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

Copyright © 2007 by Dwight R. Blackstock

Pray Without Ceasing

Sermon text for August 12, 2007:
Luke 18:1-8

Right now a worried mother is waiting outside the entrance to a mine in Utah. Her son is somewhere deep beneath the earth and she doesn’t know if he is alive or dead. But she’ll wait and hope and as she waits her prayer is as close as her breath, “Lord God, let him be alive!” She breathes in. Lord God I’m desperate now. Please let my son be safe.” She breathes out. No one doubts that her presence there is a prayer.

A half a world away an old orthodox rabbi is shuffling toward the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. He has spent a long time trying to write exactly what he wants to say on a piece of paper – it is a prayer that he will put between the stones in the wall. He hopes that God will see his prayer and answer. Actually his “hope” itself is a prayer.

In a neighboring congregation is a man who has been having a hard time adjusting to the things that life has thrown at him. He is frustrated beyond belief yet he holds out hope that God will somehow enter his life in a decisive way. If he ever had any eloquence in prayer he lost it years ago and now his prayer is simply, “God get me out of this!” He hopes God will hear because he is just about out of faith. Something needs to happen. Like the Rabbi, his “hope” is itself a prayer.

In a retreat center not far from here the participants are learning an ancient prayer that has sustained multitudes. Some call it the “Jesus prayer” It goes like this, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon me.” They are told that the prayer can be prayed anytime – when they are caught in traffic, when they are stressed out a work or at home. When the prayer is offered over time God somehow seems nearer.

“Jesus told his disciples a parable to the effect that they should always pray and not lose heart.” Those who aspire to “pray always” often discover that some form of prayer is as close to them as breathing in and breathing out. In fact, life itself can be a prayer that is addressed to God.

To illustrate his point, Jesus told a parable that was for all intents and purposes a word cartoon. He tells us of a heartless judge and a woman who is persistent to the point of being obnoxious. The judge we are told has no regard for either God or humanity and the woman has a case which she insists must be adjudicated.

I think the crowd must have laughed as Jesus talked about the woman who went to the judge’s chambers every day saying, “Vindicate me against my adversary.” Maybe some of them knew a judge like that or a woman with the assertiveness to press her case.

According to the story the judge refused to hear the woman’s complaint for a long time. But finally he said to himself, “Though I neither fear God nor regard people, yet because this widow bothers me, I will vindicate her, or she will wear me out with her continual coming.”

Clearly Jesus is not suggesting that God is like the crotchety old judge who doesn’t care about people. Or that God will give in just to shut us up. Rather Jesus is using a common method of argument that takes us from the lesser to the greater, from the ridiculous to the sublime. The argument is that if a crotchety judge finally does the right thing, “will not God (who is not crotchety) vindicate his elect who cry to him day and night.”

God is seen as the faithful One who hears our prayers and answers. But the passage ends with a probing question, “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

The answer to the question lies in your heart and in mine. But this we know: a mother sits outside a mine in Utah and her breath has become a prayer; a Rabbi in Jerusalem is even now placing a prayer in the space between the stones on the Wailing Wall; somewhere there is a man crying out “Lord get me out of this”; and in a little Presbyterian Church in Lakewood Colorado, week after week the members offer prayers for one another and for the world.

Copyright © 2007 by Dwight R. Blackstock