His Vision, Our Mission

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on Sunday July 29, 2012, the 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time.

2 Samuel 11:1-15

Psalm 14

Ephesians 3:14-21

John 6:1-21

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

There is something that scripture does that is both disturbing and reassuring; it shows the heroes of the faith, the people of God, with all of their warts. Today’s Old Testament reading is the prototype. David is known as a man after God’s own heart. The second and one of the greatest kings of Judah, he is the recipient of the Davidic Covenant, God’s promise that David will always have a descendant to reign on the throne of Judah.

Today, we learn of David’s unsavory side. We read that even David can be led by his urges and do something so deplorable that he is willing to do things even more horrible to cover it up. Lies and murder, adultery or sexual assault—David’s acts without apology. This is the great King David. This is the King of Judah.

In Second Samuel, a book that records the works of the King of Judah, this is the sort of thing that would hardly be recorded to glorify the king. This would be like President Nixon writing about Watergate or President Clinton writing about Monica Lewinsky for the history books. It is hardly likely, yet this is what scripture does with all of its heroes. Scripture points to the warts and scars of the heroes of the faith. In scripture we read about David and Bathsheba. In scripture we read about Paul persecuting the church. In scripture we read about Peter’s denial of Christ in the wee hours of the day of Christ’s crucifixion.

In a letter to Mandell Creighton dated April 5, 1887, Lord Acton wrote, “Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”[1] This certainly applies to David in this reading. There are many places where he broke from his responsibilities to the kingdom and the people in this passage. 

We learn that it is springtime, the time of year when the Kings lead their armies into battle. Then we learn that David stays in the splendor of his great palace while Joab wages the war in Rabbah. Considering what is written in this story, I imagine it’s a very hot day in the city of David. It’s so hot, that the city is living on the roofs of their homes. This wasn’t uncommon, in fact the rooftops served as an extra room, a patio. Can’t you just see this, David laying out on some sort of 11^th Century BC chaise lounge, with some sort of 11^th Century BC deck umbrella covering him from the setting sun, while the evening breeze washes over him? It’s positively decadent. 

David awakens and takes a stroll on the rooftop where he sees a beautiful young woman bathing herself on a distant rooftop. Like a voyeur with the world at his beck and call, he asks someone to find out about her. A trusted advisor answers, “Isn’t that Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?” David really doesn’t care who she is, or whose daughter or wife she is, he is smitten. And with absolute power, he can do something about being smitten. 

Bathsheba is called to the palace and the royal bed chamber. If we are to take scripture at its word, in a minimalist sort of way, she spends one night before leaving. If we are to consider human nature and the biology of the human body, she spends closer to two weeks in the bed chamber of King David. Bathsheba stays long enough in the palace to be with David until she becomes pregnant.

In this piece David is written as a lothario taking this war off to stay at home and Bathsheba is faceless. In fact, this story is so vague that it is silent about whether she is a willing partner in adultery or if she is coerced into this relationship by the king. In the meantime, Uriah risks his life on behalf of David and the kingdom. 

Uriah—here’s a man with integrity. The Hittites were a race of warriors, so Uriah is a mercenary. As with any mercenary, he is in the war for the money. But his concern is not with his purse alone. Uriah is a god fearing man; his name even tells the world “the Lord,” Yah, “is my light.” David, the chosen one of the Lord is Uriah’s earthly king and Uriah serves the Lord and David. Uriah is the “flame of the Lord” in David’s kingdom.

Well, David is in a bit of a pickle. The wife of the “flame of the Lord” is pregnant and the husband Uriah cannot be the father of the child. Unless David acts swiftly, this isn’t going to look good on his performance review. So David calls Uriah back to Jerusalem, ostensibly to hear about the battle, but in reality, he does this to cover his shameful actions. Uriah doesn’t bite.

David invites Uriah to go home and spend some time with the family; to go home and wash his feet. Some time ago, the BBC and ABC had a television show called “Whose Line Is It Anyway?” In this show, the cast would improvise scenes around various games and settings. One game was called, “If You Know What I Mean.” The object of this game was to take ordinary sounding phrases and make them sound risqué by tacking on the phrase “If you know what I mean.” So when David invited Uriah to go home and wash his feet, David didn’t really mean go wash his feet… “If you know what I mean.”

But Uriah would have none of this; instead Uriah stays with the slaves. This thwarted David’s plans, David’s cover-up. Between Levitical code and personal faithfulness to King David, the battle, and his comrades in arms, Uriah refuses to go home and partake in the pleasures of home while the battle rages. Uriah stays with the slaves and other servants of David, faithful to all. 

Uriah explains it this way in verse eleven, “The ark and Israel and Judah are staying in tents, and my commander Joab and my lord’s men are camped in the open country. How could I go to my house to eat and drink and lie with my wife? As surely as you live, I will not do such a thing!”

Uriah swears his fidelity to the kingship of David, and David tries to get Uriah drunk so he would go home and wash his feet, if you know what I mean. Uriah remains faithful. Finally, David writes an order to Joab that seals Uriah’s fate. Uriah is so faithful that he delivers his own death sentence. A fate which is executed in verse 17, Uriah is killed in battle with many other troops. Uriah is faithful to the law, to the custom, to his King, and to the Lord. David is faithful to his urges and his desire not to get caught.

I began by talking about the heroes of the faith and their warts. And surely, these heroes are just as human and prone to sin as any other human being. The difference is while they may be the heroes of the faith; they are not the heroes of scripture. The hero of scripture is not just any human being. The hero of scripture is and always is the Lord, the triune God.

As promised last week, today we also heard the stories of the feeding of the 5,000 and Jesus walking on the water. Admittedly we are reading it from John’s gospel, not from Mark’s. That may seem a bit odd but that’s the way the lectionary gives it to us. Going from one gospel to the other gives us some differences, the biggest is the crowd wanting to take Jesus and make him king in John’s gospel. Other than that, there are no important differences between the stories that surround these readings other than their placement within Jesus’ ministry.

To be honest, for our purposes this morning, I don’t know how much it matters. In both there was more to come in the ministry of the Lord and that may be the point. Regardless of the rendering or placement, both stories show us that God is faithful. God’s plenty and abundance overcomes creation and feeds 5,000 men, not to mention any number of women and children, at the Sea of Galilee. God’s power over creation so complete that over what we consider dangerous circumstances, Jesus walks on the water. In danger and fear, God in Christ is present.

There is another story of the presence of God, this one in the dire circumstances of the German concentration camp Auschwitz. It is from the book “Night” by Elie Wiesel. During the hanging of a young boy, which the camp is forced to watch, the main character hears someone ask: “Where is God?” Where is God, indeed? Not heavy enough for the weight of his body to break his neck, the boy dies of asphyxiation, slowly and in agony. Along with the other prisoners, Wiesel files past him, sees his tongue still pink and his eyes clear, and weeps. Here, the story asks that question again:

Behind me, I heard the same man asking: Where is God now?

And I heard a voice within me answer him: ... Here He is—He is hanging here on this gallows.[2]

Where was God in the midst of pain, suffering and despair? Where is God in the cold, and hunger, and the tortured body of boy hanging on a gallows at Auschwitz? God is there, God is hanging on the gallows too.

God’s love is always with us and this isn’t to say that because God is present there will be no pain. In spite of the pain and because of the pain people inflict upon one another, God is present and God suffers as we suffer. God rejoices as we rejoice. And this love is greater than we can ever truly know or understand. 

In our Old Testament reading, David is unfaithful to the nation by staying home in the springtime when the Kings went to war. David is unfaithful to the vows of others when he summons Bathsheba. David is unfaithful to Joab when he takes a valued soldier from the lines. David is unfaithful to the law when he connives a cover up to hide his infidelities. Finally he is unfaithful to creation when he has Uriah, the flame of God, snuffed out. 

In our Old Testament reading, Uriah is faithful to the Lord and to the battle. Uriah is faithful to his King and to his wife. Uriah is faithful to his commander and his comrades in arms. 

It is shameful to see David benefit under these circumstances and Uriah die betrayed by the ones he loves, but this is the way of people, not the way of the Lord. God shows the highest faithfulness to David in keeping the covenant. God shows the highest faithfulness to Uriah by suffering alongside him during his darkest hour. God is faithful to Bathsheba by giving her a son, Solomon, who will become the wisest of all of the Kings of Judah. God is ever faithful to the nation fulfilling the Davidic covenant in the chosen one, Jesus the Messiah. 

God is faithful to us that he suffered death, death on the cross, that we may have eternal life. I do not pretend to understand this. Instead, I rejoice in the one whose power is at work within us. The warts of the people are outrageous, and God is faithful. In a world that is filled with pain and strife, God is faithful.

In a world where we abandon one another like David does Uriah, God does not abandon us. God is faithful. In a world where we come with blemishes, the Lord uses us as we are and by the power of his Holy Spirit makes us more than who we ever thought we could be. As John writes, Jesus knows what he will do, and as he did with his disciples on that hillside he will use us to do it.

God shares our suffering and God shares our joy. This is what makes God the hero of scripture instead of any person. God is eternal, God’s love is abundant, and God chooses to share this abundant life with us. God makes this choice not because we deserve it, but because God wishes to share this gift of grace with us.

Because of this, we are called to do what the people in John’s gospel did not do. John writes the people came, but they came on their own. We are not only to come, but we are to bring our neighbors with us. We are to share God’s gift with the world. Not because anyone deserves it, but because as the 5,000 were fed, there is plenty and we are called to take and eat. Taste and see that the Lord is good—and faithful. That is his vision. This is our mission.

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[1] Respectfully Quoted: A Dictionary of Quotations Requested from the Congressional Research Service. Washington D.C.: Library of Congress, 1989; Bartleby.com, 2003. www.bartleby.com/73/.  July 30, 2006.

[2] Wiesel, Ellie, “Night.” New York: Hill & Wang, 1960 (page notation from Bantam Paperbacks edition 1982, pages 61-62).

A Scarred Faith

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on March 30, 2008, the 2nd Sunday of Easter.

Acts 2:14a, 22-32
Psalm 16
1Peter 1:3-9
John 20:19-31

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

If you’re wondering why this passage is familiar, it’s because we hear this passage on the first Sunday every after Easter. I am often curious about why the committee that put together the lectionary uses the passages it does, but using a passage every year that isn’t Luke’s version of the Christmas story reeks of a lack of imagination. It could be asked how many ways one passage can be preached. Well, we’re about to find out if I can make it three with this one.

I have talked about Jesus giving the Holy Spirit to the disciples—what bible scholars call “John’s Pentecost.” I have also talked about the forgiveness of sin part of this passage, saying that while it is God alone who forgives sin, sin is retained if we don’t forgive. When someone else’s sin is retained, they don’t retain it, we retain it ourselves. By retaining someone else’s sin, we are damaged.

Every time a sermon is written and heard, the goal is to make the gospel reading new again, like we’re hearing it again for the first time. This passage and this reading of it are no different. And when I read this passage this time, these things didn’t impress me at all.

What rang out when I read this passage was when the narrator reported, Jesus “showed them his hands and his side.”

When the disciples saw his wounds, when they saw where the nails secured his hands and where the spear pierced his side; I imagine they were able to see the remnants of pain, the torture, the horror that God incarnate knew upon the cross. I think they were beginning to come to grips with the price of his sacrifice.

Jesus was betrayed by one of his own. He is interrogated by Annas and tried before Pilate. The Jews in the street could have cried for his freedom, instead they cried for the death of Jesus and the freedom of the bandit Barabbas. His clothes were taken and split among the guards who led him to his death. He was hung from a tree, taunted. Only one of his disciples was addressed from the cross, John. Whether the others were there or not, the Gospel is silent, but our reading begins with the eleven in hiding so I would be inclined to guess they were nowhere close.

Jesus had taken on the greatest pain and humiliation the kingdom of humanity could heap upon another, crucifixion. Death by crucifixion is particularly gruesome. It is a slow death. Placed on a pole in the mid day sun, the body will begin to burn like a day at the worst beach on earth. Breathing becomes difficult and only when the victim stands, in Jesus’ case on impaled feet, can a full breath be taken. The pain of the piercings is almost negligible compared to the rest of the torture. Ultimately, when unable to stand, the body’s weight is supported by its outstretched arms, and breathing becomes impossible. Blood loss and dehydration are just little additions to steady drum beat of asphyxiation.

After this trial, after this deceit, after this horror; Jesus comes and stands among them and says, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus says to them again, “Peace be with you.”

God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life and humanity inflicts its worst upon its Lord and God. Still Jesus offers humanity his peace.

An old story…

One day a young man was standing in the middle of town proclaiming he had the most beautiful heart in the valley. A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart—for it was perfect.

There was not a mark or flaw on it. Yes, they all agreed—it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen. The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly about his beautiful heart.

Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said “Why your heart is not near as beautiful as mine.” The crowd and the young man looked at the old mans heart… it was beating strongly, yet full of scars. It had places where pieces were removed and other pieces put in but they didn't fit quite right—and there were jagged edges. In fact in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing. The people stared… “How could he say his heart was more beautiful?” they thought.

The young man looked at the state of the old man's heart—and laughed. “You must be joking,” he said. “Compare my heart with yours. Yours is filled with scars and tears.” “Yes,” said the old man. “Yours is perfect looking, but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love—I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty space in my heart. Because the pieces aren't exact, I have some rough edges, which I cherish because they remind me of the love we shared.

“Sometimes I have given away a piece of my heart and the person hasn't returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges— giving love is taking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open and remind me of the love I have for these people too—and I hope some day they return and fill the space I have waiting.

“So now do you see what true beauty is?”

The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached into his young perfect heart and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the man with trembling hands. The old man took his offering—placed it in his heart and then took a piece of his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man’s heart. It fit, not perfectly as there were some jagged edges.

The young man looked down at his heart, not perfect anymore—but more beautiful than ever since love from the old man's heart flowed into his.

They embraced and walked away side by side.[1]

Jesus Christ entered into the place where his disciples had gathered in fear of the Jews, their hearts cowering in the darkness. Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you.” He breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”

Jesus gives them his peace, and shows them his scars and there is great rejoicing when they recognize him. Jesus offers them his peace and then his spirit, and he offers these same things to us who continue in their stead today.

The scars on his hands and side are for his love for all of creation. And by taking these wounds he has done what is necessary to make us well. I beg now ask you, are we willing to make the same sacrifice for Jesus and for others Jesus made for us? Will we offer the Lord a piece of our heart to fill the void left when he took the shame of crucifixion? Will we give our hearts to him as he gave to us? Will we give to one another as he gave to us?

This sacrifice is difficult. This sacrifice can only be made out of love, the perfect love Jesus makes available to us through his sacrifice. We can never make this sacrifice for ourselves; we can only make this sacrifice to give glory to God.

Will there be gouges left where others fail to return your giving? Surely there will. Will there be pain? Yes, after all, we can only be hurt by those we love. People we don’t love don’t have the power to take a piece of our heart. But with the Lord as our example, when we give our lives for others in the name of Jesus Christ, there is life eternal.

[1] This is an old story; I don’t remember where I read it first. This version was found on line at http://www.suite101.com/discussion.cfm/npd/53426/385254 in a discussion thread on narcissism.