Sunday, July 19, 2009

Resting Place

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville Arkansas on Sunday July 19, 2009, the 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time.

2 Samuel 7:1-14a
Psalm 89:20-37
Ephesians 2:11-22
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

In doing research on this passage, one of the commentaries I read had this possible preaching theme: “Jesus demonstrates a healthy balance between having boundaries (the need for rest) and being a sacrificial blessing (caring for the crowd).”[1]

My first thought about this was, “Oh, really?” When I read this passage I never thought any such thing. I agree that Jesus demonstrates the need to keep a healthy balance, but honestly, I thought he failed in actually getting there. It’s like a long fly ball being curled foul by the wind into the stands. The long drive looks great and has plenty of distance, but other forces take over and when the ball lands it’s a strike against the batter.

Let’s take a look at the setting of our reading. Just before this point in Mark’s gospel, there are two miraculous healing stories followed by only a few tiny miracles and a whole lot of nothing being done in Capernaum. Of course, the biggest thing we remember about the Jesus homecoming episode is that the people expected nothing from him and got just what they bargained for. Then Jesus sends out the twelve in pairs. The apostles were able to do great acts of power and healing by the power of the Lord. Let me just add that this is not only the popular apostles, the high school cheerleaders of the apostles; but also the most reviled of them all, Judas Iscariot. If this were not so, surely one of the gospels would have said. Then in a sort of a sub-plot, between the time of the apostles being sent and their return, we witness Herod’s fear that John had risne from the grave ending with the flashback scene of the beheading of John the Baptist.

So as we return to our reading, the apostles, literally “the sent,”[2] gather around the one who sent them and tell him of all that they had done and taught. Jesus realizes that they have been hard at work doing just as he had instructed. I imagine he was as proud of them as a teacher is of any good student. Also, I can only assume that they had been gone for quite a while since the literary segue of the story of John’s death was needed between the sending and the returning. So after they return from time in the mission field and share all they had done; Jesus tells them it’s time they be off for a rest, a little leisure, and a bite to eat. So they went away in a boat to a deserted place by themselves.

Yes, rest is important, Sabbath is vital to life. Jesus will tell the apostles, the disciples, the scribes and the Pharisees that the Sabbath was made for humanity, not humanity for the Sabbath. Jesus decides to take everybody to Ferncliff;[3] they get away in the boat and head off to a deserted place by themselves. Of course, as we know from the reading, their sabbatical, their study leave does not go as Jesus had hoped.

Where they end up going is not nearly deserted enough because not only is the crowd there when the boat goes ashore, but people who were at their departure spot beat them to their arrival place. This, again, always bugged me. In theory, by boat is a quicker way across the lake than on foot, so how did the people beat them across? I always thought this question was on the order of the number of angels who can dance on a pin until Marie Bolerjack said something interesting at the Wednesday night Bible study.

She pondered aloud whether on the sea and in the boat qualified as the “solitary place” they went by themselves. Now there’s a thought I had never had before. The word the New Revised Standard Version translates as “deserted place” and the New International Version translates as “solitary place” is often translated as “wilderness,” “desolate,” “deserted place,” and “in the wilds.” This wilderness is the place where John the Baptist comes from. It is the place where Jesus goes after his baptism. In this case as in several others, this solitary place is where Jesus goes to be off by himself and pray.

The wilderness, the wilds are the place Christ goes to be separate from the pressures of daily life to be with the God the Father Almighty to recover and be rejuvenated. It is a place where Jesus has to go because being fully human means that he needs the recovery of the Sabbath as much as every other man, woman, and child. It is the place where Jesus wants his followers to be, to be with him and to be with his Father.

By these criteria, on the sea in the boat hardly qualifies on the face of what it means to be in a solitary place in the wilderness. But as happened so often, when Jesus wants to take a break and he can’t win for losing. He wants to go to a deserted place and “Boom!” it’s not deserted anymore. People crush in on him like a vice. He wants to take a rest but the rest of the world is weary for his help, his power, his teaching, his saving grace. Perhaps in the final analysis, on the sea in the boat is the only place that qualified as secluded.

At any rate, this is the only rest they got, because as soon as they came ashore at Gennesaret, the people were there to meet him. They met him with their sick. Those who could walk went to the middle of the town square. Those who could not walk were brought on mats to meet the prophet, the teacher, the one who could heal them. He did this because there was a great crowd, like sheep without a shepherd and Jesus has compassion for the sheep.

This is a good moment to revisit Jesus needing a rest. He needed the rest because he is fully human. But when he comes ashore he comes with compassion, compassion which is fully divine.[4]

Jesus had compassion, and compassion in this case is more than just a feeling. Compassion is a messianic characteristic. Often the word used for “having compassion” is also translated as “having pity,” so what’s the difference? I believe that the difference is that to have compassion demands a response; to be compassionate demands action. Jesus shows this by serving the people; serving bread and fish, serving healing and justice, serving as the one who bridges the gap between heaven and earth.

Pity may come with no strings attached, but it also comes with nothing else. Pity is something we keep to ourselves; or when we share it, pity doesn’t do much to help others. Compassion serves, compassion acts, compassion saves. Pity says, by “By God, that’s tough.” Compassion says, “Let me help.”

Still, true compassion, compassion in its fullest brings out the totality of mercy with which God claims creation in Christ’s saving act.[5] Compassion is in the divine nature, it is not just something we feel, it is more than that. Jesus was compassionate toward the people; more than feeling pity, Jesus exhibited compassion.

Christ healed. More often, this word in the Greek scriptures is not translated as healed, it is translated as saved. The healings, the compassion of the Lord is far beyond anything we could ever hope or imagine or especially accomplish. Yet, Jesus sent out the apostles with instructions to go. They went and by his power were able to cast out many demons and anointing with oil many who were sick the apostles healed them. For us; to be compassionate is the basic and decisive attitude in all Christian action.[6]

This is the call of Christian action, the vocation we are called to continue today. We are sent into the world as the apostles were two millennia ago. We are called to go and make disciples. We are to share the Good News of Christ with the world starting in our own backyards. It is not by our own power, our own charisma that people come to know the Lord; it is by the power of God which we carry like power is carried by copper wire. We are not the source, we are the conduit. This is our call, by our work we carry the Word to a world that needs it.

When living in Colorado, the church Marie and I attended sponsored a girl on a mission trip to Belize.[7] I don’t remember many of the details; I don’t remember what she did while she was there. I do remember that before she left there were several days of training at the mission’s camp in Orlando. Particularly, I remember hearing they were taught how to handle people trying to sell drugs to them on the streets. When I heard this, I decided that whatever they were doing, they were doing it in a dangerous place.

After this, they spent a couple of weeks in country. Upon returning home, they spent a day or so debriefing, and then they went to Disneyworld.[8] I don’t begrudge anyone a trip to EPCOT, but I did wonder what a ride on Space Mountain had to do with spreading the gospel. After some thought, I trusted that the folks who organize these trips knew what they were doing, and that was enough for me to mentally sign-off on a trip to the Floridian version of “The Happiest Place on Earth” after spending a couple of weeks doing whatever they were doing all the while dodging drug dealers.

I like to think that because of this passage I understand better now. After returning from the cities and the jungles of Belize they had a time together to discuss what they had done and what they had seen, just as the apostles did in the beginning of this reading. Then they went away together for leisure and something to eat. In accord with scripture, these American kids needed some time to rejuvenate and return to the normalcy of their way of life, and what’s more American than Mickey Mouse?

The Lord calls us all to a resting place, a place where we rest and recover from not just the hustle and bustle of everyday life, but from the work of serving God. That place is in His presence. We have to plug into the source of compassionate power to recharge ourselves too. It may be on a boat, it may be at some Mission camp in Orlando, and it should also be right here and right now. In worship, on the day the Lord set aside as the Sabbath, we are called to be together to praise and worship the one who comes with compassion and gives us a place to rest.

To rephrase the preaching point from the commentary, we need to practice a healthy balance between having boundaries and being a part of Christ’s sacrificial blessing. As the girl who made the mission trip, we are called to go and share the good news. Then we are to share what we have done in Christ and then be refreshed in the glory of God. We are called to go and make disciples. By the word, by the power of the Lord, we are called to cast out many demons and help those who are sick and heal them. Then after we are Christ’s resting place for others, when we return from doing God’s work in the world we are called to Christ’s resting place our selves.

[1] “G Force,” HomileticsOnline.com. http://www.homileticsonline.com/subscriber/btl_display.asp?installment_id=93040467, retrieved July 14, 2009
[2] apostolos, Bauer, Walter, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, Third Edition. Frederick William Danker, Editor. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2000.
[3] A PC(USA) camp, http://ferncliff.org/.
[4] Splagxnozomai, Kittel, Gerhard, Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, vol. vii, Gerhard Friedrich Editor, Geoffrey Bromiley Translator, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1971, pages 553-554.
[5] Ibid. page 554
[6] Ibid.
[7] Hi Nicole! Hello too to Bob and Nadine.
[8] I am sure every Disney reference is copywritten or registered in one form or another and the rights to these references will eternally belong to the Walt Disney Company.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

The More Things Change...

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday July 12, 2009, the 15th Sunday in Ordinary Time.

2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12-19
Psalm 24
Ephesians 1:3-14
Mark 6:14-29

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

Old expressions are a dime a dozen, so they say. What I like about them is that because of the associations we make with old expressions, because of our history and our culture, just a few words become greater than the sum of their parts, if you know what I mean. Consider this from a book I’m reading right now:

Gradually, the whole horrible truth about the war is being revealed. Every new book destroys some further illusion. How can we ever again believe anything when we compare the solemn pretensions of statesmen with the cynically conceived contest for power between two great alliances of states in which the caprice of statesmen combined with basic economic conflicts to dictate the peculiar shuffled in a different way and the “fellowship in arms” will consist of different fellows.

So do you think this is from some new liberal take on the war in Iraq? Is this a passage from Scott McClellan’s Dick Cheney bashing “What Happened, Inside the Bush White House and Washington’s Culture of Deception?” I wouldn’t blame you if you thought it did. This paragraph comes from Reinhold Niebuhr’s “Leaves from the Notebook of a Tamed Cynic.”[1] Niebuhr wrote this passage in 1923 in response to what he saw as the missteps of political leaders after World War One. Or as the old saying goes, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Of course, as I am trying to tell you that things don’t change much, I read one of the most unique texts in Mark’s gospel. This is the longest passage in Mark not immediately focused on Jesus. Fifteen verses with nary a mention of Jesus; twelve full verses without him at all. Of course, this foreshadowing is a part of my point.

The powerless are at the mercy of the powerful. A prophet singing a song of repentance is taken by a government official and sentenced to death. The official doesn’t really want to kill the prophet. Sure, the prophet is a pain, but the official knows that the prophet is righteous and holy. The government man is perplexed by the prophet; he may even ask the prophet “What is truth?”

In the end of the story, the leader is moved by circumstances to do what he really doesn’t want to do. He does it to save face. He offers alternatives to death; but this won’t save the prophet’s life. After his death, the prophet’s disciples come and take the body and put it in a tomb.

The powerless are at the mercy of the powerful. So, who am I talking about, John or Jesus? I guess it’s true; the more things change…you know.

The parallels and foreshadowing between the stories of the lives and deaths of John and Jesus in scripture are there for all of us to see. There is even a flashback to the baptism of the Lord as in both places John calls for repentance.

So from a literary point of view, in this nearly Jesus-Free-Zone, there is enough of the Messiah to make a connection. If just talking about words were enough, this would be more than enough. But as followers of Christ, we must be about more than words.

There is one other element of this story, another parallel that we receive in this scripture; an attitude of the church toward power. But don’t expect this set of parallels to connect to the time of the gospel; this is a call for our time.

Here’s a story, tell me if it sounds familiar. A man, a great king, finds a woman who appeals to his, shall we say, baser instincts. He finds her so appealing that he gets rid of her husband and fathers a child. So, is this the story of David or Herod? Well, as a matter of fact it is. It’s either one and both. How’s that for ironic, two kings, one who knows God’s heart and the other who crucifies God. There’s a pendulum swing that is difficult to wrap our heads around, but still, it is found in our holiest of scriptures. There are some things about scripture we should never try to get used to and that’s certainly one.

But I promised you a more current list of scandals. Let’s begin with the most recent. South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford admitted during a press conference less than a month ago that he had traveled to Argentina to continue an extra-marital affair with an Argentinean woman. He then resigned as head of the Republican Governors Association. He’s still governor of South Carolina, but at least he no longer sits at the head of the table of Republican Governors.

Strangely enough, Governor Sanford isn’t even the first politician involved in a sex scandal with an Argentinean, that honor goes to the Honorable Wilbur Mills, the Democratic House Representative from, yes, you guessed it, Arkansas in the 1970’s. His dalliance was with a stripper named Fanne Foxe. Just to show the world what kind of people we are, Mills got reelected after the scandal, although he did later resign after he gave an intoxicated press conference from Foxe's burlesque house dressing room.

Lest you think I spent too much time on Governor Sanford, I have two more words: Bill Clinton. (Long pause, eyes turned to the left…) Yeah, that brings back some memories.

Sure, nobody killed the spouse of the apple of their eye, but let’s face it, powerful men have had trouble with their zippers long before the invention of the zipper. To say anything different denies both the witness of history and the nature of sin. But this passage is about more than sexual scandals, it is also about power and how it is exercised.

Herod’s relationship with John must have been very interesting. Scripture tells us that Herod liked to listen to John, but Herod’s choice of a wife, rubbed him the wrong way. Still he knew that John was a righteous and holy man. Herod also knew which way the political winds blew; he knew that the people, led by John’s disciples, would be upset if John were executed. John irritated Herod, but Herod still knew that killing John was not in his best interest.

It was his wife Herodias who had a grudge against John.

As powerful as Herod was, he still needed to court those who were also powerful to keep them happy. This is the reason for the State Dinner, er, banquet. Herod throws a huge banquet with entertainment, his dancing daughter. So enraptured with her dance, Herod promises her anything, anything up to half of his kingdom. A broad gesture to be sure. Just as surely, it was a gesture, hyperbole. He didn’t mean “take half,” but the offer impresses the company and after all, isn’t that the object of the banquet?

His daughter Herodias is no dummy though; she asks her mother what she should request. Mom asks for the removal of the thorn from her side. So Herodias asks for John’s head on a platter. I wonder if the platter was worth thirty pieces of silver. It would not only be a poetic foreshadowing of Jesus betrayal; but it would also be consistent with the ancient price of a hit.

Should Herod have made his offer to Herodias? No, but he was acting like a big shot, he was caught up in the moment. Could Herod have stopped this request? Not without looking weak; and that’s the last thing the lackeys need to see, their king acting weak. Herod had to save face.

Again, the powerless are at the mercy of the powerful. Yet, it is the powerful who are convicted by the words of the powerless. John was a prophet. John was the man in a hair shirt who looked more than a little crazy. Yet, there was something about John that made Herod take notice. That thing was the truth. That thing was the word of the Lord. That thing was a vision for a world greater than the earthly realm of power and State Dinners, er, banquets.

This is the real importance of today’s text. Yes, the powerless are at the mercy of the powerful, but in reality, it is the powerless who have the high ground over those with political and social authority. It is the church, not the state, which is called to be the beacon of light, God’s light, over creation. It is our call to seek out the injustices the world imposes on the poor and the weak and lift them so that they may know God’s peace.

William Sloane Coffin wrote: “‘Woe unto you, scribes, Pharisees, hypocrites!’ Jesus never hurt anyone, except deliberately. He hurt them only because he loved them, and wanted to save them rather than please them. And in true prophetic fashion, he attacked none more than the nation’s leaders because their one-sided righteousness was the source of such blindness to themselves and the source of such suffering to others.”[2]

Jesus called on the leaders of the land to seek justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God. John did the same thing with Herod. Mother Teresa did this for any world leader who would take the time to listen. The church is called to continue this role in the world. It is our duty not to please the world but to do God’s work in it.

The Church is called to be the eyes and hands of God to hold the powerful to account for the injustices against the poor. It is our call to do that which is dangerous, that which is perilous. Herod and Pilate are out there and they want nothing more than the way things are now. They are comfortable in their places. We are called as the Body of Christ to seek justice for those who are oppressed in a world gone mad.

Coffin also asked, “Why is goodness forever on the scaffold, wrong upon the throne? Because what human beings seem most to fear is not the evil in themselves, but the good—the good being so demanding. Never would we have crucified Christ, the best among us, had we not first crucified the best within us. But never mind! Don’t follow the crowd. Follow Christ, cross and all.”[3]

Anyone who says it is not the role of the church to be critical of the government is sorely mistaken. Anyone who says the role of the church is to stay within its walls and seek piety for the sake of the body is sorely mistaken. Anyone who says we do nothing is mistaken, but anyone who says we do enough is also mistaken. Anyone who says I am only speaking to this part of the Body of Christ is mistaken and anyone who says I am speaking to a generic church is also mistaken. Seek God’s justice; this is the clarion call to us as a body, and us as followers of Christ, cross and all.

Since the Watergate scandal of 1972, there have been over 100 scandals that have been given the suffix “–gate.”[4] From Bill Clinton’s “Troopergate” to Elliot Spitzer’s “Troopergate” to Sarah Palin’s “Troopergate;” founded and unfounded, scandal is a part of the American political landscape. And political scandal is as old as the hills, as old as Herod. The more things change…

And it is the will of the Lord that the Body of Christ on Earth continues to seek justice for those who face injustice. It’s not easy, it is not without danger. The example of John proves this; the example of Jesus proves this. But it is their example that shows us the value of their sacrifice; and ours.

Jesus may not have been the immediate focus of this passage, but his fingerprints are all over it.

[1] Niebuhr, Reinhold, “Leaves from the notebook of a tamed cynic.” New York: Da Capo Press, 1929, page 42
[2] Coffin, William Sloane, The Collected Sermons of William Sloane Coffin, The Riverside Years, Volume 1. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008, pages 403-404.
[3] Ibid, page 408.
[4] Wikipedia, List of Scandals with –gate suffix, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_scandals_with_%22-gate%22_suffix, retrieved July 11, 2009.

Sunday, July 05, 2009

Miracles

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday July 5, 2009, the 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time.

2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10
Psalm 48
2 Corinthians 12:2-10
Mark 6:1-13

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.

Over the past several weeks, we have been privy to some of the most wonderful and miraculous acts the world has ever known. But this week, this week we read of miracles that fizzle out like dud Fourth of July fireworks. You know, all sizzle, no pop. We are so familiar with these texts, and with Mark’s verse four interpretation of them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house,” that we hardly pay it a never mind.

Often when people don’t get the miracles they want, they hope for, they pray for; this failure gets chalked up to verse five, “he could do no deed of power there.” This is explained further in verse six where we learn, “Jesus was amazed at their unbelief.” Or as the New American Standard Version renders it, Jesus “wondered.” But making this leap from the people’s faith to Jesus’ ability to perform miracles is a mistake. Saying that Jesus was not able to perform miracles because the people of his hometown did not believe may be true, but that’s not the only word on belief and miracles.

A few weeks ago, we read from Mark’s version of the crossing of the sea. We read of the great storm and the apostles hope that Jesus would get off of his pillow and help out. But instead of lending a hand, Jesus raises a hand and calms the storm. “Peace, be still” he cried and there was dead calm. As the apostles began to freak out in the boat, Jesus asks them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”[1]

In this case, Jesus questions the faith of his shipmates, his closest companions, while he calms the chaos of the waters. He literally stills death in its tracks, and he does this questioning their lack of faith.

It’s easy to question the strength of someone’s faith if a miracle doesn’t happen. It’s poor pastoral care. It’s being a lousy friend. It’s not quite right either, but it’s easy enough to do. It is easier explaining the lack of a miracle due to the doubt of others than any other reason. Still, Jesus did not need the apostles’ belief to make the storm subside. While it seems the faith of the people of Jesus’ hometown had something to do with the lack of miracles, to say that this is a hard and fast rule wouldn’t be right.

If there is a difference between the hometown people and the apostles on the boat, it’s this: The men on the boat expected Jesus to do something. They expected him to grab a bucket or take a line; and what he did was calm the storm. The people of Jesus hometown expected nothing, and nothing is what they got.

Theologian Frederick Buechner describes miracles this way. “Miracle: a cancer inexplicably cured. A voice in a dream. A statue that weeps. A miracle is an event that strengthens faith. It is possible to look at most miracles and find a rational explanation in terms of natural cause and effect.

“Faith in God is less apt to proceed from miracles than miracles from faith in God.”[2]

Buechner is on target here. The apostles’ own weak faith was affirmed and their faith demanded a response. Their responses were not perfect, far from it. James and John, the sons of thunder, will seek positions of honor without knowing where it will take them. Peter will deny Jesus, but not before Judas betrays him. They were the apostles. They were the chosen. They were trusted members of the twelve. None of them got it completely right.

This leads us to the second half of our reading, the sending of the twelve. Jesus pairs the twelve off and sends them out giving them authority over unclean spirits. They weren’t ready, we just made that clear. But the one thing they were was sent. They were sent with power and authority, and not much else. They went out with only what they had on their backs and a companion for the journey.

The Mainline Evangelism Project considered many things during its study. One of the things they studied was Mormon missions. We all know what the Mormon mission looks like. Two conservatively dressed young men, at least in my experience it has been men, come to your door and knock. Then you say “No thank you” and send them on their way.

If you ask how this brings new people into the fold, you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that it doesn’t. Very few “new disciples” are added to the Mormon Church by this door-to-door evangelism. What is surprising is the way that this process, this door-to-door trek strengthens those who make it. Those who serve in Mormon missions don’t bring many people to the Latter Day Saints church, but it strengthens those who make the journey. Their faith becomes unshakable because they have been forced to depend on their faith. They responded to the call to know and share their faith story. They are stronger in their faith because of it. And I don’t doubt that the Apostles were strengthened the same way.

They were sent out and proclaimed that all should repent. But here’s a question: Of what we are to repent?

In a sermon, Johnny Ray Youngblood, pastor of Saint Paul's Community Baptist Church in Brooklyn, whose story Samuel Freedman tells in his book Upon This Rock: The Miracles of a Black Church, says: “Every time I see a man put down his bottle, there's a resurrection goin’ on. Every time I see a man go back to school, there's a resurrection goin’ on. Every time I see a man hug his son, there's a resurrection goin’ on.”[3]

Leaving behind our old ways, making amends with those whom we love, and who love us. This is how we repent.

Philip Pare writes, “Magic is usually a labor-saving device which spares the magician or his client time and trouble, and quite often magic is irrational. Miracle on the other hand tends to mean not less, but more work for its beneficiaries.”[4] Answering the call of the Lord, even when it means more work, not less, this is one of the ways we repent. By miracles and acts of power, we have examples of this repenting.

As for the Gerasene demoniac who asks to become a follower of Jesus. Instead he was given different work, and more difficult work. He was Christ’s first apostle to the gentiles. Say what we will of Saul of Tarsus, this Gerasene man is the model on whom all of our evangelism follows; and all we know of him is that he almost did what he was told. He was told to go home and tell his friends of all of the great things the Lord had done. Instead he went to the Decapolis and told of what Jesus had done. What he did may not have been what Jesus commanded to the letter, but if you will pardon the pun, he followed the Spirit of the Word.

Two women are healed gloriously. One a woman whose life is restored to her by the gift of healing as Jesus made her ritually clean; the other a little girl whose life is returned to her by the gift of Jesus. Today we learn of Jesus healing “only a few” then the apostles going out and healing more in his name, with his power.

So what is the miracle? Dag Hammarskjöld, Secretary-General of the United Nations from April 1953 until his death in a plane crash in September 1961, put it this way: “We act in faith—and miracles occur. In consequence, we are tempted to make the miracles the ground for our faith. The cost of such weakness is that we lose the confidence of faith. Faith is, faith creates, faith carries. It is not derived from, nor created, nor carried by anything except its own reality.”[5]

As Christians, our reality is that the Lord our God, creator of all that is created, wants a loving relationship with us. The Lord who demonstrates for us the perfect relationship in three persons wants us to be in relationship with God’s own self. The miracle is that we were created for this relationship. The miracle is that the all powerful Lord of the universe wants us to join in this relationship of our own loving free will. A God who could coerce creation into worship and praise desires our response in love, not bending human will by force.

The miracle is that Jesus chose twelve imperfect, incomplete men and by them has shown the world a power and glory that was never known before. They expected Jesus to do something, and Immanuel—God with us—did more than they ever hoped or imagined. We have to expect this miracle too; we have to expect God is with us. We have to respond sharing the glory of the miracle of God with us. If we don’t, we are like the people of Jesus’ hometown, and we will get exactly what we expect.

[1] Mark 4:35-41
[2] Ibid, HomileticsOnline.com, -- Frederick Buechner, “Wishful Thinking: A Seeker's ABC” (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1973, 1993), 74.
[3] Samuel Freedman, “Upon This Rock: The Miracles of a Black Church” (Harper Perennial, 1994), Ibid, HomileitcsOnline.com.
[4] Philip Pare, “God Made the Devil,” cited in “The Harper Religious & Inspirational Quotation Companion”
(New York: Harper & Row, 1989), 288 found at HomileticsOnline.com, http://www.homileticsonline.com/subscriber/illustration_search.asp?keywords=miracle, retrieved July 4, 2009.
[5] Ibid, HomileticsOnline.com