3-20-2011 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

YEARNING FOR LIFE: PART II

    Stephen Ambrose is the author of a book entitled, Undaunted Courage.  In it he tells the story of an excursion led by a man named William Clark and a man named Meriwether Lewis in the year 1804.  Perhaps this excursion is more commonly known as the Lewis and Clark Expedition.  It was an exploration of what was then called the Louisiana Purchase and the Northwest Passage. 

    After two long years of battling nearly insurmountable odds – including hunger, fatigue, desertion, hostile enemies, illness and even death – the crew finally reached the headwaters of the Missouri River.  All their advance information had led them to believe that once they reached that point, they would face about a half day’s portage, reach the waters of the Columbia River, and then float gently into the Pacific Ocean.  Ah, they were well on their way to hero status.  The hardest part of the trip was behind them now…or so they thought.

    Meriwether Lewis left the rest of the expedition party behind to climb the bluffs that would enable him to see the other side.  There he was sure he would see the waters of the Columbia River that would gently carry them to the Pacific Ocean.  Imagine what he felt when he saw not the gentle, sloping valley he expected.   Instead, he was the first non-Native American to    lay eyes on the Rocky Mountains!    

    I can almost picture Meriwether Lewis turning and dropping to his seat on the ground.  Then he motions to the rest of his party to stay behind a little longer while he tries to figure out how to break the news.  “Hang on a minute, guys,” he says.  “Don’t come up just yet.  I…I have a little surprise for you.”   

    What do you do when you’ve already come through the valley of the shadow of death, only   to discover that the Rocky Mountains lie ahead?  What do you do when you think your biggest problems are behind you, only to find that the worst is yet to come?  While the Lewis and Clark Expedition crew was hoping for a downstream ride, they found that they still had to climb the highest mountain of all. 

    I believe there’s someone in the passage we read from the gospel according to Matthew who might have experienced a similar feeling.  Matthew calls him a rich young man.  Mark just calls him a rich man, while Luke calls him a rich young ruler.  In any case, here we encounter a man who seems to have it all.  He has wealth, he has power, he has youth…perhaps he even has fame.  Yet somehow there’s something missing from his life, and he seems to be painfully aware of the void.  In the midst of his opulent lifestyle, he still found himself yearning for life.

    Thus, the rich young ruler approached Jesus as he taught in the region of Judea. “Teacher,” he said, “what good deed must I do to inherit eternal life?”   Now before we go on, I think we need to take a moment to unpack just exactly what this rich young ruler is asking of Jesus. He appears to be in search of eternal life.  Yet perhaps that doesn’t mean what it would seem to mean on the surface.  In other words, perhaps he isn’t really asking about what we might call heaven.      

    The Greek word translated life here is zoane.  What that literally means is life: more specifically, it means the life of believers which proceeds from God and Christ.  What proceeds from God and Christ?  The Holy Spirit proceeds from God and Christ.  In other words, perhaps what this rich young ruler is really looking for a Spirit-filled life.  He’s looking for a life of holiness.  He’s in search of inner peace.  He knows that somehow, something is missing from his life. The question he literally might have been asking himself is this: “What do you do when everything you’ve ever wanted isn’t enough?”  That might be a good question for us as well. “What do you do when everything you’ve ever wanted isn’t enough?”

    The rich young ruler was yearning for life.  He was in search of inner peace.  Thus, he said to Jesus, in essence, “What good deed must I do in order to inherit inner peace?”  He was looking for a magic bullet.  Perhaps he thought if he just said the right prayer, or gave a little something   to the right charity he would find that which he sought.  “What good deed must I do?” he asked.  “What good deed must I do?” 

    Jesus knew immediately what the problem was.  It was not a DEED that was going to save him.  It was not a DEED that was going to bring him inner peace.  Still, Jesus strung him along for a moment or two.  He gave the young man the typical rabbinic answer: “You shall not kill, you shall not steal, you shall not commit adultery…you know, follow the Ten Commandments.”

The young man replied, “All these I have done since my youth.  What do I still lack?”

    Then Jesus got to the heart of the matter.  He said to him, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”  Let’s take a moment to unpack that statement as well.  “If you wish to be perfect,” Jesus said.  None of us are perfect.  None of us can be perfect, and perhaps we don’t even want to be.  As someone once said, “There was only one perfect man in the history of the world, and look what they did to him!”  Perhaps the word “perfect” is not the best translation here.   

    The Greek word translated perfect here is telios.  It means literally, having attained your true purpose. So perhaps a better way to look at what Jesus really said to the man is this: “If you wish to attain your true purpose in life, go, sell your possessions, give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

    This is not to say that wealth – or the possession of it – is bad.  The issue was not how much money this rich young ruler had.  The issue was its priority.  Apparently his wealth was the central focus of his life.  It was what he leaned on for security.  It was what gave him his identity.  Thus, it simply had to go.  To have inner peace, to attain your true purpose, and to live a Spirit-filled life…is to lean on God for your security and for your identity.  God becomes your top priority, for where your treasure is…there will your heart be also.

    What do you do when you’ve already come through the valley of the shadow of death, only   to discover that the Rocky Mountains lie ahead?  What do you do when you think your biggest problems are behind you, only to find that the worst is yet to come?  This rich young ruler truly believed that he had followed Old Testament law to the letter. He thought the worst of the journey was over.  Now he was looking for that gentle passageway that would float him down to inner peace.  What he found instead was the Rocky Mountains.  What he found instead was that the worst was yet to come.  The rich young ruler was being asked to give up that which he valued most.  He was being called to relinquish that which he believed gave him his security and his identity.

    As I said last week, we want our faith to bring us joy and happiness and an absence of pain.

We want God to help us live fulfilling and comfortable lives.  Our deepest desire seems to be reaching the splendor and grandeur of Easter without the desolation and heartache of Good Friday.  Yet the season of Lent – that season in which we find ourselves now – never fails to take us through Good Friday before we get to Easter. 

    In the season of Lent, we are invited to examine biblical stories that evidence waiting and yearning. Stories of waiting and yearning in Lent and Holy Week are laced with strange mixtures of excitement on the one hand and fear on the other; success on the one hand and failure on the other; loyalty on the one hand and betrayal on the other; affirmation on the one hand and denial on the other; life on the one hand and death on the other.  Thus, perhaps we could say that Lent is a time for self-examination.  And if we are to be about the business of self-examination, then perhaps there are a number of questions we should be asking ourselves as we seek God’s presence in Lent. We should be asking ourselves questions like the following:

-          Do I ever feel like I am in a wilderness?

-          Am I facing temptation that I need help to resist?

-          What do I need to confess in order to be free of guilt?

-          With what am I struggling and in pain?

-          Do setbacks and losses eat away at me?

-          How far have I strayed from God’s purpose for my life?

-          Do I doubt God, myself, or others?

-          From what – or from whom – do I run away and hide?

-          And then, of course, there’s the question of the day: What do I need to allow to die in   me in order to be closer to God?  Again: What do I need to allow to die in me in order     to be closer to God?

    Jesus said to the rich young ruler, “If you wish to be perfect – if you wish to be fulfilled and   to find inner peace – then go, sell your possessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”  Jesus was calling upon that young man to give up that which he valued most; to sacrifice what he perceived to be his security; to surrender what he had come to believe was his identity.  In other words, something needed to die in him in order for him to be closer to God.  While he thought the worst of the journey was over when he managed to obey the Ten Commandments, he found that his journey was only beginning. Upon hearing Jesus’ suggestion, what did the rich, young ruler do?  He turned and walked away because he thought the sacrifice was just too great.

    What do you do when you’ve already come through the valley of the shadow of death, only    to discover that the Rocky Mountains lie ahead?  What do you do when you think your biggest problems are behind you, only to find that the worst is yet to come?  Let’s go back to the Lewis and Clark Expedition.  Expecting a gentle stream that would lead to the Pacific Ocean, they found the Rocky Mountains staring them in the face.  It had to be incredibly disheartening for each and every one of them.

    Crossing the Rocky Mountains, however, would come to be the supreme achievement of the entire trip.  The challenge would call forth tremendous stamina, creativity and perseverance.  It would lead them to spectacular sights and unforgettable memories.  It would build tremendous confidence in them because once they had tackled the Rocky Mountains, they would know they could tackle almost anything.  What they perceived to be sacrifice at the time would ultimately lead to their greatest achievement of all.  

    The word “sacrifice” comes from the Latin words sacer and facere.  Sacer means “holy,” while facere means “to make.”  Thus, in its original context, the word “sacrifice” literally meant, “to make holy.” For the rich young ruler, it was his wealth that was getting in the way.  It was his wealth that kept getting between him and God.  While he was yearning for life, it was that which kept him from finding it.  If only he could have brought himself to sacrifice that which he valued most – if only he could have brought himself to make holy his priorities – he would have found his inner peace.

    Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Self-sacrifice is the real miracle out of which all the reported miracles grow.”  Thus, instead of calling something a sacrifice, perhaps we could call it a miracle.  Think about that for a minute.  We are the only creatures on God’s green earth who can willingly do that which we don’t want to do.  That in itself is a miracle.  Thus, perhaps we could even say that sacrifice is the miracle that makes great things possible. Sacrifice is the miracle that makes great things possible.

    I grew up in a middle class Catholic neighborhood in Sioux City, Iowa.  Thus, many of my friends were Catholic, and they always gave up something for Lent.  They’d say to me, “What   are you giving up for Lent?”  I’d say, “Presbyterians don’t do that.”  Yet when I’d ask them 

 what they were giving up for Lent, they’d say things like broccoli or asparagus or meat loaf… things they didn’t like anyway. 

    Maybe we do need to sacrifice something for Lent – and not just the things we don’t like anyway.  Maybe we could sacrifice our insatiable pride.  Maybe we could sacrifice our need to always be right. Maybe we could sacrifice our desire to be in control. Maybe we could sacrifice our perpetual longing for more.  Maybe we could sacrifice…well, you fill in the blank.  Sacrifice is the miracle that makes great things possible.  When we, like the rich young ruler, find ourselves yearning for life…perhaps we should learn to sacrifice that which keeps getting in the way.  Amen.

 

3-13-2011 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

YEARNING FOR LIFE: PART I

      Will there be golf in heaven?  That’s a question that once was asked of the Rev. Dr. John Ortberg, the senior minister at the Menlo Park Presbyterian Church in Menlo Park, California.  Will there be golf in heaven?  The man who raised the question reasoned, “I think heaven will   be what makes me happy, and since golf makes me happy…there must be golf in heaven.”  Ortberg explained that while there will be joy in heaven, the man might have to grow in certain areas of his life in order to become the kind of person who experiences joy in God’s community.  Then Ortberg added, “The Bible also says that there will be no lying, no cheating, no weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth in heaven.  Without those things, how can there be golf?  Thus, there will be no golf in heaven.  Tennis, maybe, but no golf.”

     The issue of whether or not there will be golf in heaven aside, that man’s question is indicative of how many of us tend to approach the Christian faith.  We want our faith to bring us joy and happiness and an absence of pain.  We want God to help us to live fulfilling and comfortable lives.  Our deepest desire seems to be reaching the splendor and grandeur of Easter without the desolation and heartache of Good Friday.  In other words, while we may love the season of Advent, we’re not so sure about this season we call Lent.   

       In the season of Lent, we are invited to examine biblical stories that evidence waiting and yearning, but their character is very different from the stories of Advent.  Stories of waiting and yearning in Lent and Holy Week are laced with strange mixtures of excitement on the one hand, and fear on the other; success on the one hand, and failure on the other; loyalty on the one hand, and betrayal on the other; affirmation on the one hand, and denial on the other; life on the one hand, and death on the other.  Jesus’ popular Galilean ministry of teaching and healing takes a dramatic turn after his mountaintop visit with Moses and Elijah, when God affirmed for the second time that Jesus was his beloved Son.  When Jesus returned from the transfiguration, he found a confused band of disciples, frustrated at their own efforts to teach and to heal.  It was from that moment that he told them of his determination to go to Jerusalem to encounter certain death.  This turn of events, of course, marks the beginning of our Lenten season.

    The crowds were no longer as enamored with Jesus as they once had been because they did   not understand the direction he was heading.  Even his disciples objected to the thought of his death.  His followers were waiting and yearning, but they were waiting and yearning for the crowning of a warrior king who would squash the hated Romans, not for a docile king who would ride into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey and suffer an ignominious death.  The gospel according to Matthew places Jesus’ intent to go to Jerusalem immediately after the feeding of the five thousand, where waiting and yearning were literally expressed by their determination to make him their king.  But Jesus disappointed them…inviting them to let go of their illusions. 

    Our own Lenten stories are often filled with the same elements of failure, disillusionment and frustration.  We know all too well the agony of defeat.  We understand what it means to be hurt, or to be lonely, or to be afraid.  We get the fact that sometimes life doesn’t make any sense at all.  And all the while, we find ourselves yearning for life.  We find ourselves mysteriously unable to give up hope.

    The liturgical color for the season of Lent is purple.  In the season of Advent, the color purple was meant to signify royalty.  The color of purple in Lent is meant to characterize waiting and yearning in the experiences of repentance, suffering, death, relinquishment, brokenness, alienation, abandonment, loneliness, isolation and even conflict.  That’s why, in recent years, we’ve changed the Advent color to blue.  Thus, as we approach the season of Lent and our sanctuary is adorned with purple, we need to keep in mind what that color really means.  Lent, my friends, is a time for self-examination.  Perhaps there are even certain questions we should be asking ourselves as we seek God’s presence in Lent…questions like the following:

-          Do I feel like I am in a wilderness?

-          Do I see weakness in myself and the need to change?

-          What do I need to allow to die in me in order to be closer to God?

-          What do I need to confess in order to be free of guilt?

-          With what am I struggling and in pain?

-          Do setbacks and losses eat away at me?

-          How far have I strayed from God’s purpose for my life?

-          Do I doubt God, myself, or others?

-          From what – or from whom – do I run away and hide?

-          And last but not least: Am I facing temptation that I need help to resist?

    Jesus found himself facing temptation in the passage we read from the gospel according to Matthew.  After his baptism, he was led by the Holy Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.  There he fasted for forty days and forty nights, and at the end of his time in the wilderness, he was hungry.  I can well imagine that he was.  This, of course, is the time the    devil chose to strike.  “If you are the Son of God,” he said, “command these stones to become loaves of bread.”  Tempting a hungry man with food can be very effective.  For example, a man on a diet should avoid Pizza Hut, don’t you think?  It’s a temptation few have the power to resist.

Yet Jesus withstood the temptation.  “One does not live by bread alone,” he said, “but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”  Later the devil tempted Jesus to prove his divinity, and with worldly power, yet Jesus was up to both temptations.  Perhaps the key is revealed in his ability to resist the first temptation.  There Jesus said in essence that humanity lives by the word of God.

    Jesus lived by the word of God.  Jesus loved the word of God.  His secret to resisting temptation was that he was aware of something even better than what the devil had to offer.  That’s essentially what Harry Emerson Fosdick was saying in his book, The Manhood of the Master.  He wrote:

Only by a stronger passion can evil passions be expelled, and a soul unoccupied by positive devotion is sure to be occupied by spiritual demons. The safety of the Master in the presence of temptation lay in his complete and positive devotion to his mission: there was no unoccupied room in his soul where evil could find a home.  He knew what Dr. Chalmers called, “The expulsive power of a new affection.”  When Ulysses passed the Isle   of Sirens, he had himself tied to the mast and had his ears stopped up with wax, that he might not hear the sirens singing – a picture of many a man’s pitiful attempts after negative goodness.  But when Orpheus passed the Isle of Sirens, he sat on the deck, indifferent, for he too was a musician and could make melody so much more beautiful than the sirens, that their alluring songs were to him discords.  Such is the Master’s life of positive goodness: so full, so glad, so triumphant, that it conquered sin by surpassing it.

    Jesus was able to resist temptation because the temptation was really no temptation to him.   His music was better than the devil’s.  Or, perhaps better put, he knew of a better way of life than that which the devil had to offer.  That, my friends, is how we resist temptation as well.   The way of life we pursue as Christians is better than any temptation the world has to offer.   And we find this way of life revealed to us in the word of God.  That, my friends, is why we read the Bible.

    Yet the Bible is hard to understand in places, is it not?  Sometimes we don’t get anything out of it and wonder, “What’s the point?  Why read something that makes no sense?”  Listen now to a story that addresses that issue.  It’s about an old man who lived in the mountains of Kentucky with his grandson many years ago.

    Every morning, Grandpa was up early – sitting at the kitchen table – reading from his old, worn out Bible.  His grandson, who wanted to be like him in every way, tried to imitate him as best he could.  One day the grandson said, “Grandpa, I try to read the Bible like you, but I just don’t understand it…and what I do understand I forget as soon as I close the book.  What good does reading the Bible do anyway?”

    The grandfather quietly turned from putting coal in the stove and said, “Take this old wicker coal basket down to the river and bring it back full of water.”  The boy did as he was told, even though all the water leaked out before he could get back to the house.  The grandfather laughed and said, “You will have to move a little faster next time.”  Then he sent the boy back down to the river with the basket to try again. 

    This time the boy ran faster, but the old wicker basket was still empty by the time he got back to the house.  Out of breath, the boy told his grandfather that it was impossible to carry water in   a wicker basket. Then he went to get a bucket instead. The grandfather said, “I don’t want a bucket of water.  I want a basket of water.  You can do this.  You’re just not trying hard enough.”  Then he told the boy to go down to the river and try again. 

    By this time the boy knew it was impossible to bring back a basket of water from the river, and he was determined to prove that point to his grandfather.  Thus, he ran as fast as he could, but by the time he reached the house the basket was still empty.  Out of breath, he said, “See, grandpa?  It’s useless!”

    “You think it’s useless?” the grandfather said.  “Look at the basket.”  The boy looked at the basket and for the first time he realized that the basket looked very different than it did just a few moments before.  Instead of a dirty, old, wicker basket it was now a clean, old, wicker basket.  The grandfather said, “Son, that’s what happens when you read your Bible.  You might not understand or remember everything you read, but when you read it, it will change you…from the inside out.”

    Jesus was able to resist temptation because he lived by every word that came from the mouth of God.  The same can be true of us. When we discipline ourselves to live by the word of God    – when we strive to study the Bible and apply it to our lives – we find ourselves being changed from the inside out…even if we don’t notice any difference at the time.  Eventually we too will find ourselves playing much more beautiful music than the devil – or the world – has to offer.

    Lenten waiting and yearning culminates in Holy Week with the devastation of letting go in death.  Dread, not God, seems to hold the future.  No one can bypass Good Friday.  Walking through the valley of the shadow of death is a part of the pilgrimage.  Yet in the midst of death and disappointment, we still find ourselves yearning for life. The first step to life is finding a better way of life through the word of God.  The second step…well, we’ll talk about that next week.  Amen. 

 

3-6-2011 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

LEAVING ROOM FOR GOD TO WORK: PART IV

     Once upon a time, in a small village in India, there was a poor farmer who owed a large sum of money to the village moneylender.  The time came for the debt to be paid, but the farmer did not have the money to pay it.  Now the farmer had a beautiful daughter whom the moneylender fancied a great deal.  Thus, he proposed a bargain with the farmer.

     The moneylender said that he would forgive the farmer’s debt if the farmer would consent to let him marry his daughter.  Both the farmer and the daughter were horrified by this proposal, so the moneylender suggested they let providence decide the matter.  He would put a black pebble and a white pebble into an empty money bag.  The girl would then pick one of the pebbles from the bag.

    If she picked the black pebble, she would become the moneylender’s wife, and her father’s debt would be forgiven.  If she picked the white pebble, she did not have to marry the moneylender, and her father’s debt would still be forgiven.  If, however, she refused to pick a pebble at all, her father would be thrown into jail until he could pay off his debt.  I’ve never under stood how a person could pay off their debt in prison, but I suppose that’s beside the point.   

     The three of them were standing on a pebble-strewn path in the farmer’s field.  The moneylender bent over to pick up two pebbles.  As he picked them up, the girl noticed that he had not picked up a white pebble and a black pebble.  He had picked up two black pebbles and put them into the bag.  He then asked the girl to pick a pebble from the bag.

     What would you do if you were that girl?  Now remember, this was a very different society than the society in which we live.  The girl had very little say in the matter.  Logical analysis of the situation produces three distinct alternatives: 1)  The girl could simply refuse to take a pebble.  2) The girl could show that there were actually two black pebbles in the bag and expose the moneylender as a cheat.  3) The girl could pick a black pebble and sacrifice herself for the sake of her father.

    What would you do if you were that girl?  Here’s what she did.  The girl reached into the bag and pulled out a pebble.  Without letting anyone see what color it was, she let the pebble slip out of her hand and onto the pebble-strewn path. It was lost in the midst of a thousand other pebbles.  “Oh, how clumsy of me,” she said.  “No matter.  If you look into the bag for the pebble that is still there, you will know immediately which pebble I chose.” 

    Since the remaining pebble was black, one had to assume that she picked the white one.  And since the moneylender dared not admit his dishonesty, the girl was able to transform what had seemed to be an impossible situation into an advantageous one.  This story is meant to illustrate the difference between what is called logical thinking and what is called lateral thinking.  Logical thinking is essentially thinking in terms of obvious solutions, while lateral thinking is more like thinking outside the box. 

     For example, say you have two coins that total 30 cents.  One of those coins is not a nickel.  What are the coins?  The answer is: a quarter and a nickel.  ONE of the coins is not a nickel, while one of them obviously is.  That’s what we call lateral thinking.  It’s like thinking outside the box.  The point I want to make with this story is this.  Regardless of whether you think logically or laterally, perhaps things are never quite as bad as they seem.  Again, perhaps things are never quite as bad as they seem.

     Early on in the book of Ruth, however, you might have had a hard time convincing Naomi that things are never quite as bad as they seem.  Naomi, her husband Elimelech, and their two sons Mahlon and Chilion, had migrated to the land of Moab when there was a famine in the land where they lived.  Not long after that, Elimelech died.  Mahlon and Chilion took Moabite wives, and shortly thereafter, Mahlon and Chilion died as well.  Naomi was thus bereft of both her husband and her sons.

   After this turn of events, Naomi decided to leave the land of Moab and return to her native Bethlehem.  She urged her daughters-in-law, Ruth and Orpah, to stay in Moab and find new husbands.  Orpah ultimately relented, but Ruth clung to her mother-in-law. Upon their arrival    in Bethlehem, Naomi was quickly recognized.  “Is this not Naomi?” her former friends and neighbors asked.  To which Naomi replied, “Call me no longer Naomi,” which meant sweet      or pleasant.  “Call me Mara,” which, of course, meant bitter.”

     Naomi wanted them to deem her bitter because she had gone away full and the Lord had brought her back empty.  Her faith in God’s benevolence had been shattered.  Her trust in the love of God had been crushed.  Her hope in God’s mercy had been obliterated.  While I can stand here and say, “Things are never quite as bad as they seem,” Naomi would have had a very different perspective.  In her mind, things were every bit as bad as they seemed. She had lost her husband, she had lost her sons, she had lost her faith in God…and in the process, I suspect, she had even lost hope for the future.

     Hope is a choice.  Hope is always a choice.  Ideally, we choose to believe that life isn’t over in spite of how dire things might look at the time.  After all, there are certain things that simply cannot be done until God shows up.  Thus, perhaps the real definition of faith has to do with leaving room for God to work.  Our hope in God might even provoke us to say, “I know things will be all right in the end.  Since it doesn’t feel very good right now, this must not be the end.”

    As we discussed several weeks ago, Ruth went to work to put food on the table for Naomi and herself.  She gleaned in the fields of a wealthy farmer named Boaz.  As it turned out, Boaz was a relative of Naomi’s.  Because Boaz treated Ruth so well, Naomi came to realize that the hand of God had not gone out against her.  Instead, the hand of God had gone before her to prepare the way.  In other words, it was not a mere coincidence that Ruth landed in the field of Boaz.  It was, instead, the providence of God.  Naomi came to realize that there is nothing in life beyond the scope of God’s influence.  She just had to leave a little room for God to work.              

     Yet this is where we encounter a profound question.  Does God exist to serve us, or do we exist to serve God?  As far as Naomi was concerned, should she simply sit back, let God work his magic, and reap the rewards of God’s omnipotent blessing?  Or, getting an idea as to what God’s plan really was, should she take a leap of faith and do her part to help God’s plan take shape? 

   Naomi opted to spring into action.  She formulated a plan whereby Ruth would make herself available to Boaz for marriage.  For Ruth and Naomi, this was clearly a leap of faith.  Of course, at this point, we might be inclined to ask, “Why doesn’t God lay out his plans more clearly?”  It would make life so much easier, don’t you think? I think the reason God doesn’t lay out his plans more clearly is because God never seems to solve a problem for us that we can solve ourselves.  Sometimes God just wants us to take a leap of faith.  No one describes that leap of faith any better than William Sloane Coffin does in his book, Credo.  He writes:

It is terribly important to realize that the leap of faith is not so much a leap of thought as of action.  For while in many matters it is first we must see, then we will act, in matters  of faith it is first we must do, then we will know; first we will be and then we will see.  One must, in short, dare to act wholeheartedly without absolute certainty…I love the recklessness of faith.  First you leap, then you grow wings. 

     First you leap, then you grow wings.  That’s exactly what Ruth and Naomi did.  Ruth made herself available to Boaz for marriage, and Boaz took the proverbial bait.  But it wasn’t quite as simple as that.  You see, according to ancient custom, there was someone else who was a closer relative who had, as it were, first rights of refusal.  So Boaz met with the man, together with ten of the leading citizens of Bethlehem, to discuss the matter of Ruth.  The man bowed out of the running, Boaz married Ruth, and the rest – as they say – is history. 

    The book of Ruth concludes with an extensive genealogy.  Now this is the kind of thing that, when reading the Bible, we might be prone to skim or to skip over entirely.  But in the book of Ruth, this particular genealogy is worth a closer look.  You see, Ruth and Boaz had a son named Obed.  Obed later had a son named Jesse, and Jesse later had a son named David.   This is the very same David who ultimately became king over all of Israel. This is the very   same David from whom Jesus Christ himself descended.  We can logically conclude that had Ruth and Naomi not taken their leap of faith, David would have never been born. Their conviction to leave room for God to work clearly impacted the course of history.  God uses seemingly insignificant pieces of the puzzle to accomplish significant things. 

    For example, have you ever heard of Edward Kimball?  Edward Kimball was a young man from Boston who taught Sunday school at his church because he felt called by God to invest himself in the lives of teenagers.  Then to get to know his students better, he would often visit them during the week where they lived or worked.

    One Sunday morning, a particularly challenging teenage boy showed up in his class.  The boy was seventeen years old, poorly educated, and prone to outbursts of anger and profanity.  Edward Kimball thought long and hard about how he might reach this boy.  One day, he decided to visit him at the shoe store where he worked for his uncle.  Kimball passed by the store once or twice, trying to get up the courage to speak to him.  What would he say, he wondered…and how would it be received?

    Finally, he entered the store and found the boy in the back, wrapping shoes and putting them on the shelves.  Kimball went to the boy and put his hand on his shoulder.  He then mumbled a few words about Christ’s love for him.  This marked the beginning of a relationship that would last for many years.  The young man’s life was literally turned around.  The young man’s name was Dwight L. Moody, and he became the most successful Christian evangelist of the nineteenth century.  As Paul Harvey might put it, “Now you know the rest of the story.”  But there’s more.

     In 1879, Dwight L. Moody was instrumental in the conversion of another young man named F.B. Meyer, who also grew up to become a minister.  Meyer subsequently mentored J.W. Chapman, who started an outreach ministry to professional baseball players.  One of the players he recruited was Billy Sunday. 

    Billy Sunday became an evangelist himself.  Some say he was the greatest Christian evangelist of the first two decades of the twentieth century in America.  He brought a man named Mordecai Ham to Christ, who began holding evangelistic meetings in Charlotte, North Carolina.  On one of the final nights, when Mordecai Ham was preaching, a gangly teenager came forward and responded to his call to “give your life to Christ.”  That gangly teenager was a boy named Billy Graham.     

    Do you ever feel as if you have nothing to offer, or that you are a nobody when it comes to doing great things for God?  Perhaps Edward Kimball felt the very same way.  He never did   anything spectacular or newsworthy.  He just showed up – out of faithfulness to God – for an   hour or two each week to teach the boys in his class.  Yet he did take something of a leap of faith, didn’t he?  He clearly left room for God to work.  And God used that seemingly insignificant piece of the puzzle to accomplish some very significant things.     

    Nobody is a nobody.  Each of us is a somebody.  And God can use us, if we’re willing to take a leap of faith.  The key, I think, has to do with leaving room for God to work.  Amen.

 

2-20-2011 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

LEAVING ROOM FOR GOD TO WORK: PART III

    My sister’s name is Lora and her husband’s name is Mike.  They met in college and were married in September of 1982.  They lived in a place called Manchester, Iowa for a time and   then they moved to Phoenix, Arizona.  Phoenix was a boom town in those days, so let’s just say they landed on their feet.  They became what sociologists used to call YUPPIES – you   know, Young Urban Professionals – and what other experts called DINKS.  That stood for Double Income, No Kids.  They were very happy with their situation and were quite content with their lifestyle.

    After about ten years of marriage, however, they decided they wanted to have kids.  They   tried and tried and tried to have a baby, but my sister simply was not able to carry a child to term.  Both of them went to the doctor for medical tests and it turned out my sister had some kind of chromosome deficiency.  Shortly thereafter, my mother called to tell me what had happened.  Now first, let me tell you something about my mother.  My mother is the consummate pessimist.  Her philosophy on life is somewhat akin to Murphy’s Law.  She truly believes that if something can go wrong, it will.  I blame my own brushes with insanity on her.

    So my mother called to tell me that my sister had some kind of chromosome deficiency.  Then she added, “They say it runs in families. You might have it too!” I said, “Mom! I have three kids! I don’t have a chromosome deficiency!”  Is it any wonder I have temporary bouts with insanity myself?

    After many years of trying to have a baby, my sister and her husband finally conceived.  They

had a little boy and they named him Griffin.  Griffin was a sweet little boy – albeit a tad bit small for his age.  But as you might suspect, Mike and Lora loved him with all their hearts.  He truly helped to make their family complete.

    One Sunday morning, when Griffin was about two years old, Lora was out in the back yard pushing Griffin on a swing.  He didn’t seem to be feeling well so she took him out of the swing and the two of them sat down on a blanket.  Then Griffin threw up and lost consciousness.  They knew something was terribly wrong so Mike and Lora began rushing him to the hospital.  On the way, Lora cried out to her husband, “Mike!  Griffin’s stopped breathing!” 

    They happened to be going past a fire station, so they quickly pulled up to the door.  God bless those firemen.  They called an ambulance and worked frantically to save that little boy’s life.  But in the end, it was all for naught.  Mike and Lora lost their little boy.  To this day, no one really knows why.

    Many people gathered around them to be with them in their grief.  Now I know that people mean well, but they always seem to feel as if they have to say something…even if it’s the worst possible thing they could say.  To Mike and Lora, people said things like, “You’re young.  You can always have another child,” or, “God just needed him more than you did,” or, “You know, God never gives us any more than we can handle.”

    God never gives us more than we can handle.  What is the source of that saying, and is it true?  The source of that saying seems to come from the Apostle Paul in the 13^th verse of the 10^th chapter of the first book of Corinthians. There Paul writes, “God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with your testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.”  Over time, Paul’s words have been abbreviated to, “God will never give you any more than you can handle.”

    Like a lot of bumper-sticker theology, this promise appeals to our concerns about ourselves and our own well-being.  But I really don’t think that’s what Paul is trying to say.  What Paul is trying to say is closer to, “When a door closes, God always leaves a window open.”  The point is that it’s not God giving us these things to handle.  Instead, God is with us to help us get through them.  Because the fact of the matter is, some of the things that happen to us are well beyond our capacity to endure.

    Consider the story of Naomi we’ve been examining in the book of Ruth.  During a time of famine in the land, Naomi and her husband, Elimelech – together with their sons Mahlon and Chilion – migrated to the land of Moab where it was reported there was food.  Shortly thereafter, Elimelech died and Mahlon and Chilion took Moabite wives.  Then Mahlon and Chilion died as well, leaving Naomi bereft of both her husband and her sons.  How do you suppose Naomi would have reacted to someone saying to her, “God never gives you any more than you can handle?”  I suspect she would not have taken it well. 

   Naomi was bitter.  In fact, upon returning to her native Bethlehem with her daughter-in-law Ruth, Naomi told her friends to call her Mara.  Mara meant “bitter.”  Naomi wanted them to deem her bitter because she had gone away full and the Lord had brought her back empty. Her faith in God’s benevolence had been shattered.  Her trust in the love of God had been crushed.  Her hope for God’s mercy had been obliterated.  Dire circumstances have a tendency to bring that out in us.  When things don’t go our way we tend to blame God and raise questions about God’s character.  In times like these, we can lose the most precious thing of all.  In times like these, we can lose hope.

    Hope is a choice.  Hope is always a choice.  Ideally, we choose to believe that life isn’t over    in spite of how dire things might look at the time.  After all, there are certain things that simply cannot be done until God shows up.  Thus, perhaps the real definition of faith has to do with leaving room for God to work.  Our hope in God might even provoke us to say, “I know things will be all right in the end.  It doesn’t feel very good right now, so this must not be the end.”

    That’s what Naomi found.  Upon their arrival in Bethlehem – after Naomi had told her friends to call her bitter – Ruth and Naomi had to get on with the practical things of life.  How were they going to eat, for example?  Ruth volunteered to glean in the fields of some wealthy farmer.  Now   Naomi had a kinsman on Elimelech’s side, a wealthy landowner named Boaz.  In chapter two of the book of Ruth it says, “As it happened, Ruth came to the field belonging to Boaz.”  We noted that the Hebrew words for “As it happened” literally mean, “her chance chanced.”  The author of the book of Ruth is saying to us, “And her chance chanced that she gleaned in the field belonging to Boaz.”  It appears to have been nothing more than dumb luck…or was it? 

     Boaz treated Ruth quite well.  She returned to Naomi at the end of the day with far more barley than one might expect.  When Naomi found that Ruth had gleaned in the field of Boaz, her eyes were suddenly opened.  She came to realize that the hand of God had not gone out against her.  Instead, the hand of God had gone before her to prepare the way.

     Hope is in the details.  Naomi came to realize that God had been at work in her life all along.  Everything matters.  Everything that had happened was all a part of making God’s plan come to fruition.  God’s hand does not go out against us.  God’s hand goes before us to protect us.  There is nothing in life that is beyond the province of God’s influence.  Naomi just had to leave a little room for God to work.

     I think the question now is this: Does God exist to serve us, or do we exist to serve God?  Again, does God exist to serve us, or do we exist to serve God? You see, Naomi had come to discover that God was, in fact, at work in her life.  Thus, should she simply sit back, let God work his magic and reap the rewards of God’s omnipotent blessing?  In other words, should    she rest secure that God was ready to serve her?  Or, getting an inkling as to what God’s plan really was, should she step out boldly in faith and do her part to help God’s plan take shape?

   Naomi opted to spring into action.  She gave explicit instruction to Ruth as to what she was to do.  She knew that Boaz would be sleeping on the threshing floor that night.  During the harvest season, men often slept on the threshing floor at night.  They were there to prevent thieves from coming in and stealing the grain.

       Ruth was told to clean up and to put on the very best clothes she had.  Then she was to go down to the threshing floor and keep out of sight.  After Boaz had finished eating and drinking, Ruth was to uncover his feet and lie down there.  And that’s exactly what she did.  Verse seven says that after Boaz had eaten and drunk, “and he was in a contented mood,” she did as Naomi instructed.  She uncovered his feet and laid down.

   Long about midnight, Boaz woke up with a start.  He sensed that someone was lying at his   feet.  He whispered, “Who are you?”  Ruth told him who it was, then she said, “Spread your cloak over your servant for you are next of kin.” This was Ruth’s not-so-subtle way of saying, “Will you marry me?” But there was a little more to it than that.  You see, Boaz was under no obligation in ancient Hebrew law to marry or take care of Ruth.  But you could say he might have had an obligation to take care of Naomi if she’d been a bit younger.  The next of kin was    to father a child with a kinsman’s widow that his name might be carried on.  Are you with me?  Ruth is essentially saying that she wants Boaz to marry her, and to take care of Naomi as well.

    Naomi sensed God’s plan and she took a leap of faith.  In fact, her bold risk will change the history of Israel as Ruth turns out to be the great-grandmother of King David and a part of the family tree of Jesus Christ himself.  They followed what they believed to be a word from God.  In their minds, God was the matchmaker here. 

     Why doesn’t God lay out his plan more clearly?  I think it’s because God never seems to   solve a problem that we can solve ourselves.  Sometimes God simply wants us to take a leap     of faith ourselves.  I think William Sloane Coffin describes this leap of faith very well in his book, Credo.  He writes:

It is terribly important to realize that the leap of faith is not so much a leap of thought     as of action.  For while in many matters it is first we must see, then we will act, in matters  of faith it is first we must do, then we will know; first we will be and then we will see.  One must, in short, dare to act wholeheartedly without absolute certainty…I love the recklessness of faith.  First you leap, and then you grow wings.         

     Perhaps the following story can show you what that means.  One night, a house caught on   fire and a little boy was forced to climb out a window and on to the roof.  His father stood on   the ground with outstretched arms and cried out to his son, “Jump! I’ll catch you!” The father knew the boy had to jump to save his life, yet all the boy could see was smoke and fire and blackness.  As you can well imagine, the little boy was afraid to jump.  His father kept yelling, “Jump!  I’ll catch you!”  The boy protested, “But Daddy, I can’t see you!”  Finally his father replied, “I can see you, and that’s all that matters!”

   How’s that for a literal leap of faith?  The question was, “Does God exist to serve us, or do    we exist to serve God?”  Ladies and gentlemen, we exist to serve God.  We do not sit idly by,    let God work his magic, and reap the rewards of God’s omnipotent blessing.  Like Naomi, we leave room for God to work, and then we take a leap of faith.  We may not see or know exactly where that leap will take us, but we can always rest assured that God sees us.  Amen.