Fellowship Reformed Church of Holland

Preaching: Janelle Koolhaas
Text: Acts 17:1-9

Preaching: Brian Keepers
Text: Acts 3:1-10

Introduction

            Even though Easter was two weeks ago, we’re in the season of the church year called “Eastertide,” which is the six weeks between Easter Sunday and Pentecost (May 15).  It is during this season of Eastertide that we find ourselves drawn into God’s Story of how the risen Jesus is on the move in the world.

            The NT book of Acts picks up the story where the Gospel writers left off—showing us how the ministry of Jesus continues by the power of the Holy Spirit in the life and work of his disciples.  As we said on Easter Sunday, the stone was rolled away not so Jesus could get out but so we could get in!  So we can get into God’s Story of resurrection and new life; and get into God’s mission in the world.  And so this story of Easter continued not only with the first disciples but goes on with us today.

            Last Sunday Marlin Vis preached on these words of Great Commission from Jesus in Acts chapter one: “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all of Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

            The Easter story goes on with Jesus’ disciples; the Easter story goes on with us…

            Our story today happens right after Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit Jesus promised is poured out upon his disciples in Acts chapter 2.  Hear the Word of the Lord from Acts chapter 3:1-16.  Read Scripture.

A Man Lame from Birth

            Every day someone would carry him out and lay him there. By the gate called Beautiful.  A man crippled from birth.  All of his life, not able to walk.  Not able to stand or run or leap or dance.

            He’d just sit there.  From mid afternoon to dusk, he’d sit there by the gate of the temple.  With a rusty tin cup in his hand, he’d call out to those entering the temple, “Have pity on me!  Please, have pity on me!”  In other words, “Spare me some change?!”

            What else could he do?  He was totally dependent on the charity of others, forced to live off the table crumbs of those more fortunate.  His cripple marked him not only as one vulnerable and weak in society but also as a sinner.  That’s what people saw when they looked at him.  Sure, they may have had pity, but their theology told them that he was born lame because of his own sin, and even more so, the sin of his parents.

            So he sat there by the gate called Beautiful every day and begged.

            And then one day Peter and John, two of Jesus’ disciples, come passing by.  Luke tells us they were on their way to the temple for afternoon prayer.  And when they pass by the crippled man, he begs them for some spare change.  And how do Peter and James respond?  They don’t ignore him and keep walking, nor do they avert their eyes.  They interact with this lame man by the gate.   I want to highlight three key responses of Peter and James—let’s call them “missional gestures”-- that show us how we, too, might continue the Easter story in our own lives today as seek to participate in Christ’s mission. 

Missional Gesture #1: Look Intently

Here’s the first: When they hear the man call out, Peter and John stop and they look at him.  They look intently at him.  And they say, “Look at us.”

            What were Peter and John looking for, I wonder?  A sincere spirit, ready to receive more than he was asking for?  A heart full of pain and sorrow, ready to be touched by God’s healing love?  A real person who even in his current state bears the image of a compassionate Creator? 

            We’re not told what they were looking for, but there is something powerful that happens in this moment of deep eye-to-eye contact.  Being filled with the Holy Spirit’s power and ready to join Jesus in mission begins with our way of seeing—having our eyes opened to see what and who God wants us to see.   And when God opens our eyes, the Spirit calls us to simply be present to the person in front of us and really see them.  Not look down on them nor judge them nor see them as a mission project.  But really see them as a human being.  I’ve heard more than once from persons who are homeless that the most painful thing is not when others pass by and refuse to give them money but when others refuse to see them, to acknowledge their existence.  To feel invisible is the most dehumanizing thing of all.

There is a South African Zulu greeting that goes like this.  When you encounter someone, you say, Sawubona, which means “I see you.” And they respond by saying, “I am here.”  Sawubona means more than a simple “hello.”  It means I see your humanity, your dignity and respect.   Something powerful and beautiful happens in this kind of exchange.  It is by having another acknowledge that they see you that you feel affirmed in your existence—that you are not invisible but your life matters.

            This is what Peter and John do.  Before they do anything else, they show compassion by saying to this lame man at the gate, “You are not invisible.  We see you.  We see your humanity and your dignity.  Your life matters.”  And the man looks at them in return and they also feel seen.

Missional Gesture #2: Reach Out

            What happens next?  After Peter and John look intently at the man, then what do they do?  Luke tells us, “And he [the man] fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them.  But Peter said, “I have no silver or gold.  But what I have, I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk.”  And he took him by the right hand…”

            I love this part of the story.  The man wants and expects to receive a “hand out” from them—food or money, perhaps.  An act of charity that will help him survive for that day.  There is certainly a place for this kind of generosity.  But Peter and John have no money.  Yet their focus is not on what they lack.  Rather, they offer the man what they do have.  And what they do have is even better than money or food. 

            What do they have? They have the power of Jesus’ name, available to them by the Holy Spirit’s presence.  And Peter says, “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk.”  Now it could have been enough for them to simply speak these words of healing over the man.  We saw this with Jesus too—that he need only speak and his words made things happen—healing, forgiveness, the dead raised.  But Jesus rarely just spoke words of healing without also reaching out and physically touching a person.  Because he is the “Word Made Flesh,” his ministry is incarnational.

            And so we see the same pattern for his disciples like Peter and John.  They look intently at this man and really see him.  Then they are agents of the Spirit’s power of healing in his life by not just speaking words of power but by reaching out and embracing this man.

            So here we see the second missional gesture of Peter and John.  Once they see the man, they reach out in the power of the Holy Spirit and embrace him.  In a real way, they continue the incarnational nature of Jesus’ ministry.             

Reaching out to others with the healing presence of the Holy Spirit is about relationships.  It’s about moving out towards “the other” and meeting them in the place where they are.  And it’s about sharing what we have to give—our time, resources, talent, friendship.  Most of all, it’s about sharing the power of Jesus’s presence—his very healing and love.  Peter and John take it one step further.  They are not just interested in giving a hand out, but they are determined to give this man a hand up.  And this leads to the third key missional gesture we see in this story.

Missional Gesture #3: Raise Up

Peter takes him by his hand and lifts him to his feet, and immediately the man’s feet and ankles are made strong.  To this man’s utter astonishment, he asked for money but he received more than he asked for: he received healing.

            Peter and John see this man, they reach out to him, and then they raise him up.  Notice something else important in this story.  Notice the location of the man.  When Peter and John encounter him, he is located outside the temple, by the gate called “Beautiful.” The risen Jesus heals this man through the human agency of Peter and John, and in the act of raising him up they then bring him into the Temple with them.  “And he entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God.” The man’s location has now changed.  Because he has been healed by the Spirit’s power, he is no longer unclean but now allowed entrance not just into the temple—the gathered assembly.  This man finds welcome in the community of God’s people.  He walks and leaps and praises God, and the people see him and are filled with wonder.

            This is the beautiful mission of the risen Jesus in the world—he moves out into the world to bring healing and wholeness to all people, drawing them to himself and into the family of God.   And we are his witnesses—the human agents of this healing and transformation.  Look intently.  Reach out.  Raise up.  We focus not on what we lack, but we courageously give what we have…or rather, the One who has us!  Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

            It strikes me that this is at the heart of what it means to be the church—a beautiful community of the healed and healing.  The 20th century missionary to India, Lesslie Newbigin puts it so memorably in a sermon he preached:

“The whole congregation is called to be a healed and healing fellowship, in which the healing love of God was ever at work to bind up the wounds of its members.  And beyond this, the healing work is to spread beyond the congregation into the community around it….Whoever touches the church, even in the most tenuous fashion, even in the midst of all the bustle and press of business—should find that he has touched the source of healing.  The healing that we receive here, as we meet in Holy Communion, is given to us for the sake of all our neighbors.” (The Good Shepherd, pp.72-3).

Whoever touches the church, even in the most tenuous fashion…should find that he has touched the source of healing.  And whoever the church—that’s us—touches as we go into our week and throughout our days…should also find that they have touched the source of healing.  The source of healing who is Jesus himself, his power and healing presence, flowing through us into the lives of others.  That’s what’s happening in this encounter between Peter and John and the man at the gate.

            Did you know that it was exactly fifty years ago this month that the Holy Spirit stirred a group of people in the Holland Classis to imagine planting a new church that could be a place of healing and hope on the north side of Holland?  June 12 marks the 50th Anniversary of the first worship service of Fellowship Church in Waukazoo Elementary School.  Five months later, on Dec. 6th, FRC was officially organized.  We want to celebrate God’s faithfulness over the past 50 years in the life of this church, starting this month.  We’re calling it “Fellowship Jubilee.” Jubilee is a rich biblical word that carries with it the idea of celebrating ever 50 years.  Think about all the lives that have been touched by the Holy Spirit’s presence and power through the people who’ve been part of FRC over the years.

            There are so many ways that I see you, Fellowship Church, embracing your missional identity and calling to be a healed and healing community in the name of Jesus.  And there is still more room to grow, yes?  God’s not finished with us yet.

I wonder…who are the people outside our gates?  Those who have not yet found welcome in God’s family?  Who are the people we pass by everyday but fail to see or choose to not see?  What if we saw them?  Reached out?  Raised them up?

So I leave you with this challenge.  As you go into your week, be attentive to the people that God places in your path.  Look them in the eyes.  See them as God sees them.  And step out in faith by making a personal contact, a relational investment, allowing the presence of Christ to work through you.  Who knows what the Spirit may do?  That’s what makes all of this so exciting.  Simply be available.  Maybe the Spirit will use your words to bring healing.  Maybe the Spirit will simply use your presence.  Maybe you will even have an opportunity to share about Jesus or to pray for healing in the name of Jesus for that person.  Remember that it’s not about what you don’t have, don’t know, don’t understand.  It’s about what you do have. 

            And what you do have is more than enough.  You have the Spirit’s presence, the power of the one who called you and has healed you and now sends you to join him in his mission to take the dry bones piled up in this world and breathe healing and new life.

            Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than we could ever ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to God be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus from one generation to the next!  (Eph. 3:20-21).

Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!

Preaching: Marlin Vis
Text: Acts 1:1-14

Preaching: Brian Keepers
Text: Mark 16:1-8

It’s such a strange and abrupt way to end the story, don’t you think?  With women running out of the cemetery, their dresses hiked up to their knees, scared out of their wits because of what they’d just seen and heard.

What kind of ending is this, anyway?  I feel this every time I come to the conclusion of Mark’s Gospel.  We’ve been in Mark’s Gospel since early January.  After sticking with Mark’s fast-paced, action packed story for 15 chapters, we come to the real climax of the story, the resurrection, and then in 8 short verses it’s done.  There’s no closure! Mark leaves us hanging! Then what?  We wonder.  What happened next?

Biblical scholars disagree on whether or not this is how Mark’s Gospel really ends, or if some of the original manuscript went missing.   Could it be that at some point, early on, the original conclusion on the scroll got destroyed or was torn off by accident? 

It’s possible.  But what all biblical scholars agree is that the “extra endings” were added later by copyists who must have thought the conclusion got lost and it was necessary to fill in the gaps and wrap up loose ends.   You don’t need a Ph.D. in New Testament to read the shorter and longer endings of Mark and pick up right away that this doesn’t sound like Mark’s voice at all.

The original manuscript of Mark’s Gospel cuts off here at verse 8 with an empty tomb, an announcement from an angel that Jesus has been raised, and women running scared with their lips sealed, saying nothing to anyone.

The story feels unfinished, doesn’t it?  Whether or not this is how Mark intended to end his Gospel, in the providence of God this is the way the story has been preserved and handed down to us.  But as it turns out, it’s actually quite an effective way to end the story.  I’ll say more about that in a little while.

But first, let’s look at how the last chapter begins.  It begins with three women walking to Jesus’ tomb at the crack of dawn after the Sabbath.  These three women had watched their Messiah get crucified two days earlier, and two of them saw him placed in the tomb borrowed from Joseph of Arimathea.  Now, on the first day of the week, they were on their way to that same tomb to anoint Jesus’ body with spices.

Let’s just be clear.  As they made their way to the tomb by early sunlight, they were not expecting to find the tomb empty and their Messiah resurrected.  They had no idea than any such thing was even thinkable.  They were going to complete the burial.  That’s what the spices were for.  This was a sad task, but a necessary one, both to honor the deceased and also to cover the stench of decaying flesh as other bodies would be buried in the same tomb according to custom.

The question that concerned them as they walked along was this:  “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance of the tomb?”  It was a massive stone, much too large for them to roll away on their own.  How would they get inside to carry out this burial ritual?

When they arrive to the tomb, they get the shock of their lives.  The stone was already rolled away.  A young man in white, presumably an angel, is seated where Jesus’ body had been, and they are alarmed.  The angel says to them, “Don’t be alarmed.”  But how can you not be alarmed at seeing a messenger of God?  The women were about to discover, however, that the messenger wasn’t nearly as alarming as the message he had for them: “You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified.”  The angel says.  “He has been raised; he is not here.  Look, there is the place they laid him…”

These women come looking for Jesus with their spices in hand. They are preoccupied with death.  They watched him die.  They saw his dead body wrapped in linen. They have come to take care of his body in the place they expected to find him--a sealed tomb.

But what have we seen all throughout Mark’s Gospel?  Jesus is not a tame Messiah!  You can’t constrain him or hold him captive!  Not even the cross could ultimately nail him down, nor could a tomb seal him up, no matter how large the stone you shove in front of it or what kind of political seal you stamp on it.

How did the 9th century bishop and poet Prudentius put it?  I remember: “Neither the stone nor the bolts of the tomb / could hold Christ a captive;/ Death lies conquered by him, he has / trampled on Hell’s fiery chasm.”

I wonder if we’ve made Easter into something far too tame.  We’ve made it primarily about bunnies and bonnets and colored eggs and little girls in cute dresses.  Do we really understand what it means that Jesus has been raised, and in him, that God’s power is on the loose in the world?  No wonder the women went running out the cemetery so afraid!  Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!

It is God’s power that has done this.  It is God’s power that has rolled the stone away.  God’s power that has raised Jesus from the dead.  A power that defeats death.  A power that forgives sins.  A power that heals wounds and assuages guilt and melts away shame.  A power that breaks addictions and wipes away tears and transforms lives.  A power that has the complete restoration of this whole world in its scope. 

Then comes this next part of the angel’s message: “But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.”  Go tell the disciples and Peter.  All of them, in the hour of need, abandoned Jesus.  Peter, who insisted that even if the others become deserters, he would not.  But then, when it was all on the line, he was no better than the rest and went running into the shadows to hide.

But the story doesn’t end here.  Not with betrayal, abandonment, a horrible cross and tomb.  Jesus is alive and on the move! On the move where?  Back in Galilee.  Back in the place where Jesus began his ministry.  Back on their home turf, in the place where the disciples lived and spent their time and were first called to follow Jesus.  

Even though the women fled the tomb in fear and their lips were silent, they didn’t stay afraid, nor did they stay silent.  At some point, when their knees stopped shaking and their tongues began to loosen, they must have told the disciples and Peter.  Otherwise, we wouldn’t have Mark’s Gospel if it ended in silence.  We wouldn’t be here today if it ended in silence. 

Which leads us back to our question about Mark’s strange and abrupt ending.  What is Mark doing by leaving the story open ended?  He’s drawing us into the story!  We are called to pick up where verse 8 leaves off!

Here’s the thing: God has rolled the stone away from the tomb not so Jesus could get out but so that we can get in!  Get into what?  Get into God’s Story of redemption and new life—the story in which we find our truest selves and the life we’ve been looking for.

One of my favorite movies this past year was the Martian, based on the best-selling novel by Andy Weir.  Matt Damon plays the fictional character Captain Lewis, an American astronaut who gets left behind by his crew on the planet Mars.  Lewis knows that his chance of survival is slim, being that he doesn’t have enough food supply to last until NASA can send another shuttle to rescue him.  When he establishes contact with his crew who are heading back to earth, he emails one of his crew mates:

I may need you to do something for me.  If I die, I need you to check in on my parents.  They’re going to want to hear all about our time here on Mars.  I know that…it will be hard talking to the couple about their dead son.  It’s a lot to ask.  Which is why I’m asking you.  I’m not giving up.  I just need to prepare for any outcome.  Please tell them, tell them I love what I do.  And I’m really good at it.  And I’m dying for something big…and beautiful.  And greater than me.  Tell them I said I can live with that.

Isn’t this what we all want?  We want our lives to count for something—to really matter.  Isn’t this why our hearts are so restless?  We want to live and die for something big and beautiful—something that is greater than any one of us.  And this is the good news of Easter.

Jesus has died for something big and beautiful—for the sins and brokenness of each of us and all of us and this entire world.  And he has been raised, the stone has been rolled away, so that we can enter into his life and be caught up in his story—a story that is bigger and more beautiful than a story where we’re at the center.  In his death and resurrection, Jesus draws us into a better story where he is at the center and we join in the work that he is doing in the world.

Don’t you see?  Mark’s Gospel, and the Easter Story, goes on with us!  It goes on through us.   We take our place with the women and the disciples.  The Easter story continues in the ordinary places and in the ordinary relationships where you and I live and work and play and struggle and laugh and cry. “He is going ahead of you,” the angel says to us. “There you will see him, just as he told you.”   

The Easter story goes on every time someone realizes that they’re not in control of their lives, and that it is in losing your life to Jesus that we find it.  It goes on every time a sinner is forgiven and broken relationships are mended. 

It goes on when the hungry are fed and the homeless are given shelter and when the lonely are embraced.  It goes on when the sick and the prisoner are visited, and those in grief are comforted.  It goes on when parents press on to raise their children faithfully, when husbands and wives strive to honor their vows, when business people do what is right regardless of the cost.    

It goes on every time we give up on our own selfish agendas and take up God’s agenda in the world—seeking peace, advocating justice, caring for the poor, standing with those who suffer, and calling people to put their trust in the Crucified and Risen Savior who is turning the world upside down and right side up.

Think about that.  Your story right now, no matter how insignificant or ordinary or even tragic it may seem to you, is part of Jesus’ story.  You can live a better and more beautiful story. Jesus has been set loose and is at work in your story, in your life.  He’s already gone ahead of you.  Into your marriage.  Into your home.  Into your neighborhood.  Into that difficult situation at work.  Into the classroom.  Into the waiting room at the hospital.  Into even the painful and disappointing and scary moments of your life.  He’s already there, one step ahead of us.   And he promises to bring light where there is darkness, life where there is death, healing where there is brokenness, and hope where all hope seems lost.

No, Mark never intended to end the Gospel.    In you and me, the story goes on!  So, in the power of the Holy Spirit, let us get into the Story and live this Story out for God’s glory and for the sake of the world.

Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  

Preaching: Janelle Koolhaas
Text: Mark 11:1-11; 14:3-9

The Anointing at Bethany

3 While he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his head. 4 But some were there who said to one another in anger, “Why was the ointment wasted in this way? 5 For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.” And they scolded her. 6 But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. 7 For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. 8 She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. 9 Truly I tell you, wherever the good news[c] is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”

Have you ever received a gift that was given, the meaning of which far out-valued the cost of the item?  A quilt from your mother? A piece of woodwork lovingly crafted by your dad? Something your grandmother knitted for you? A crumbling glitter covered ornament made by your child in preschool, the first gift they ever gave you? A worn thin ring that cost a fortune at the time, and was reminds you of promises and a thousand valleys and mountaintops that make up a lifetime with your beloved?

Shirley Percival’s cross-stitched quilt was shared at her memorial yesterday… did any of you stop to marvel and the countless hours that went into all that needlework? As she stitched each square telling a piece of the good news of Jesus and his resurrection, imagine all of the quiet hours in spent immersed in their truth. What an extravagant use of her time to express something profound from her heart. Funny how items like that are the ones we treasure and save, often much more so than the ones that came with price tags and instructions.

So what was it exactly made this scene of the woman’s gift to Jesus so unforgettable?

Was it the potent feelings this scene evoked?

The overwhelming perfume?

The awkwardness of a woman so boldly and compellingly breaking the social rules--and Jesus defending her?

You probably could hear how the folks at the party were not pleased with that she did. She should have kept to her place. She should not have wasted such a valuable possession.4 Some were there who said to one another in anger, “Why was the ointment wasted in this way? 5 For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.” And they scolded her.

They were thinking, “How inconsiderate” of her to make such a display during a festival when their people made a point of giving something extra to the poor as a sign of devotion to God? (Isn’t it so, that our own food pantries and toy drives are flooded during the holidays, while shelves go unstocked at other times of the year?) And there in Bethany, a village home to many folks who were too poor or too sick to manage life inside the city walls … so unseemly. 6 But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. 7 For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me.

He must have been thinking: ‘Don’t hide behind the calling you have everyday to avoid what God is showing you right now.  Don’t get sucked into an abstract dilemma about justice. You’ve had every day before, and you’ll have every day after to work to give comfort to the poor. But this is a moment unlike any other; you will not get it back!’

 8 She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial.  9 Truly I tell you, wherever the good news[c] is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”

This must have felt like a punch in the stomach to James and John given all their attempts to make themselves important to Jesus and have a legacy in his kingdom (Remember their jockeying for first place a few weeks ago? Remember their insistence that they were with Jesus no matter what, they could handle the cup he would drink, etc!) But here was this woman, who had done “nothing” except this crazy, frankly embarrassing spectacle of adoration. What has she done that they hadn’t?

She believed him without hesitation…In faith she took him at his word that he was who he said he was, and was filled with worship, love, and gratitude and she didn’t hold back.

The disciples had wanted so much to earn Jesus’ praise and commendation for their loyalty and courage on his behalf, they were parsing and trying to make logical sense of what Jesus spoke about himself, the Temple, the times, the terrifying thought of his death which must have sounded like defeat… but it was this woman whom Jesus commends. “She has performed a good service for me.” In the Greek, it says ‘kalon ergon’-- a beautiful, praiseworthy, upright work. Kalon is one of the roots of a word like calligraphy— writing that is ornate and striking, a thing of beauty… maybe even a little over-the-top, but in a manner that shows honor and lifts up something important.

She did the best thing she could think of. She didn’t brag, posture, promise, reason, or flatter Jesus with empty words, nor pester him with cunning questions and observations.  To show who Jesus was to her, she took stock of all she had and who he was, and she wordlessly gave him this over-the-top, ridiculously expensive gift, and not just a symbolic few drops but poured out its entire content in a few seconds of stunning devotion.

I feel like it is one of those “thin places” where curtain of mystery that covers God’s planning and timing is pulled back for a moment of extraordinary meaning and illumination.  This believer is profoundly moved with affection and pours out a gift that is all she has to honor him-- precisely as the reality that he would soon die was heavily upon him, and no one else could see it.  What must this have meant to Jesus? How lonely was he in his fear and dread of what being handed over to his enemies, of death?

You see...What we don’t quite get by singling out this story in the course of the Mark narrative is what the writer tells just before, and just after.  

• Booked ended by the scribes and Pharisees plotting to kill Jesus, just as soon as they can get him away from all the crowds that had filled the city
• What follows in the verses right after this story is Judas, mad, fed up, and impatient for a little more action than just talk about a new kingdom… Judas will slip out of the dinner party to go to make a deal with the religious leaders who are delighted to have an insider who will help them get Jesus right where they want him-- alone.  

If we only had those stories, we could easily be led to believe that Jesus arrest and death were the direct result of cunning human scheming.  Merely a “Chronicle of a Death Foretold”, like the title of that famous novel.  We might be tempted to wallow in the pitiful betrayal, and entertain “what if’s”... but there were no mistakes. It doesn’t mean that Jesus was calculating each step, or that he knew what to expect next. But this story is placed in the here in the gospel to remind us that there was no point when human plans got ahead of God’s plan. There was more going on than met the eye. I believe this woman was saying yes to God’s Spirit at work in her for her own sake, for the guests, and listen to us now, even for our sake.

Jesus went on to say: “she has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. You know the saying, “missing the forest for the trees?”  Here they were grumbling about wasted perfume, and political correctness, and Jesus’ stomach was in knots, his heart racing at the realization that what her anointing was a foreshadowing of what was come… he too would soon make an immeasurable sacrifice, and be poured out for all of them. For all of us.

If there is anything that we can learn from this story, it is to step back in worshipful awe of the selfless, messy and stunning way that Christ gave all of himself for is on the cross. What a gift! What a cost!

As we now come to celebrate at the Lord’s Table, let us come with hearts full of love and gratitude for the One who spared no cost for our sake’s.

Amen.

Preaching: Jordan Clegg
Text: Mark 13: 1-8, 24-37

Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! We’re going to see the King! 

The end times, the apocalypse, Armageddon… whatever you want to call it, kind of obsessed and maybe even grotesquely fascinated with the end of the world and all the carnage and chaos that comes with it. To see this, we don’t have to look any further than the news and our entertainment choices right? Back in the ‘90s many of us dove deep into the Left Behind book series, a fictional account of the end times based on a certain interpretation of biblical apocalyptic texts. More recently, a radio evangelist predicted the rapture would happen in 2011. Around that same time the media went a little bit crazy over the discovery that an ancient Mayan calendar stopped in the year 2012. Even today, one of the most popular shows on TV is about the zombie apocalypse and the George Miller film Mad Max: Fury Road was nominated ten Oscars and won six.

We are fascinated by this stuff. And it seems that Jesus’ disciples may have been too. We, like the disciples would love to know the date, the time, the signs, and all that is to come at the end of all things. Who better to ask than the Messiah, God’s own Son, when you have him sitting right in front of you? But Jesus isn’t telling. At least he isn’t telling much. When asked, Jesus doesn’t give the disciples the answer they may have been looking for because…

1)    He doesn’t know. He comes right out and says it. Only the Father knows. Marlin and Ken both touched on this over the last few weeks. Jesus, in his humanity doesn’t know certain things.

2)    Maybe more importantly, I don’t think Jesus would tell the disciples or – us for that matter –even if he did know. This is because Jesus wants his followers to live in a state of wakefulness: dwelling in the present and paying attention to our surroundings.

We are called to live our lives as if heaven might burst in near or around us at any moment. In fact, I believe that at any given moment the heaven is breaking in near or around us, and if we are living as a wakeful people, we have the opportunity to see it, proclaim it, and respond in participation.

Jesus was a master of the present because Jesus was a prophet. If prophets have a super power, it isn’t the ability to tell the future, it is the ability to be hyper observant of the present. When Jesus talks about buildings and stones being “thrown down” he isn’t necessarily talking about the end of all things, but the end of world as the disciples knew it. What Jesus sees and knows is that the path that Jewish culture was on – the path of zealots and rebels – would likely force the Roman’s hand in the near future. In this case, Jesus nailed it. In 70 A.D., before Jesus’ generation had passed away the Romans sacked Jerusalem and destroyed the temple.

Jesus also knew human nature. He knew that humans have this tendency to become infatuated with predicting and preparing for what they think will happen in the future only to fall asleep on the job in the present.

If the opposite of wakefulness is sleep, then it is easy – especially in the season of Lent – to see the writer, Mark, doing a little bit of foreshadowing when Jesus repeatedly warns the disciples to “keep awake.” It wouldn’t be long now before a distressed and agitated Jesus would approach his disciples in a garden multiple times asking them, “…are you still asleep?”

Did you ever wonder why the disciples couldn’t or wouldn’t stay awake for what we see at such a pivotal moment in Jesus’ life?

Maybe they simply didn’t think anything important would happen. Maybe their pride in their teacher and national heritage got the better of them. Maybe they thought, “God is with us…nothing will happen…nothing to see here…let’s take a nap.” Maybe they still didn’t understand that Jesus had not come to overthrow the Romans in a military coup, but salvation would come to the whole world first through death followed by resurrection and ascension.

Or maybe we can give the disciples a little more credit than that. Maybe… it had been a very busy week. Do you know what that is like? The week began with Jesus’ triumphant entry into the city, the sights and sounds of Jerusalem, the great buildings and beautifully carved stones of Herod the Great, the King of the Jews, then to the temple… overturned tables, parables, teachings, healings, arguments with religious scholars, and finally a dramatic Passover in the upper room. It is no wonder that when the disciples arrived at the solitude and quiet of the garden they simply collapse in exhaustion. They had run themselves ragged. They had nothing left. Not even the energy to stay awake and be present with their friend and teacher who was clearly in distress.

Do you know the feeling?

Do you know what it is like to fill nearly every minute of every day for five, six days in a row only to collapse in a heap at the end of the week?

And it starts again on Monday.

Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! We’re going to see the King!

Is the pace of our busy lives causing us to fall asleep on the job?

Imagine Jenna with me. Jenna is sixteen, a junior in High School. She’s a good student. She does her homework…most of the time. Well, if she’s honest, there’s an assignment or two each week that is hastily completed in the short breaks between classes…usually it’s a math assignment. Jenna loves to sing and was excited to learn that she was accepted into her school’s elite choir this year. She plays volleyball in the fall and soccer in the spring. The last couple of years she’s gotten small roles in the school musical which rehearses in the winter months.  She got into the honors English class this year as well. It will be extra homework but it will look good on a college resume along with the variety of other activities she’s involved with. She’s really feeling the pressure around the college thing this year. It seems like every day some adult is asking her, “What colleges are you looking at? What do you want to major in?”

Last week was a busy week for Jenna. If she were to stop and think about it, the week before was just as busy, and the week before that, and the week before that. She pushes hard all week through school, homework, soccer games, musical rehearsals, and choir concerts and then arrives at the weekend exhausted only to have to keep pushing through with more homework and a Saturday soccer game with her travelling league. Sunday comes. Jenna is tired.

Rick and Eva, Jenna’s parents, are tired too. All week they’ve been driving back and forth from rehearsals, performances, games, and college visits. Not to mention their own hectic work schedules putting in extra hours to earn some overtime, get that better job, that next promotion so they can pay for their daughter’s college tuition, save for retirement, and maybe someday spoil some grandkids rotten. It’s hard to get out of bed for church on Sunday.  Something in them wants to do absolutely nothing for just one day. But they pile in the family vehicle and arrive at the sanctuary…ten minutes after the service has started. At least they are in time for the sermon. The preacher asks the congregation to reflect, “Where did you see God this week?” Jenna and her family struggle to think of anything. They’d barely had time to see one another this week, much less an invisible God. In their attempts to prepare for the days to come they busied themselves with the many good things…only to miss out on the very best things.

Do you know Jenna?

Do you know Jenna’s parents?

Are you Jenna?

Are you Jenna’s parents?

For some of us this might be striking a chord. It does for me. Anne and I referred to one another as “two ships passing in the night” this past week. I’m leaving home as she is arriving; she’s arriving here at church just as I’m leaving for the day. Some of us may feel a twinge of guilt around this. For others there may be a persistent ache of despair that comes with shame. Guilt can be ok. It can motivate us to seek forgiveness and make a change. Guilt can be like noticing a bit of mold on a piece of fruit…when we notice it we take care of the problem, we throw it away before it gets worse. Shame on the other hand is like leaving that fruit out until it begins to rot, and smell to the point that the fruit is no longer even distinguishable as fruit. It so repulses us that we don’t even want to touch it. Guilt says you screwed up, shame says you are a screw up. Guilt can motivate. Shame paralyzes. Guilt speaks to actions. Shame speaks to identity. Jesus has come to take away our shame, and give us a new identity. This is what happens in baptism. So before you start to feel too much shame let me give you some really good news. Jesus says:

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 11:28)

Here is some more good news…we are certain that one day Christ will return and complete the work of redemption that God has been doing since humanity first sinned.

Jesus tells us in Revelation, “Surely, I am coming… [when?]… soon.”

That’s all we get. That’s pretty much all Jesus gives the disciples when they ask. Why? Because we are called to be wakeful; to live our lives with a spirit of “soon-ness” expecting to see something, even a glimpse at any moment.

Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! We’re going to see the King!

Are you beginning to see it? The arrival of God’s kingdom is more than just some distant, one-time event. Heaven is breaking in all around us and the Holy Spirit has gifted us with the ability to see glimpses of it if…

…we are wakeful.

…we respond the Spirit’s promptings to pay attention.

…we create margins in our lives that allow us to stop…and look at our surroundings.

Let’s say through the power of the Holy Spirit we’re able to find rest from the rigorous rhythms of our lives or at least find some way to pay better attention in the midst of it all.

How do we know heaven when we see it and what are we to do when we catch a glimpse?

One place we get a glimpse of heaven is in worship. Every time we gather we get a glimpse of heaven breaking in on earth. This isn’t something the pastors or I manufacture. This is God’s doing. God gives us a glimpse of heaven every time Christians gather for worship. We get our most vivid glimpse of heaven when we gather at the table for Communion. It is through the sharing of bread and wine that we get to experience – in the present – what God has in store for our future, when we will live in communion with God and one another, when every knee will bow and tongue will confess that Jesus is Lord of all.

But we don’t just see heaven here in worship. Worship helps us recognize heaven when we go back to our daily lives. We get glimpses of heaven when…

…children who normally go hungry on the weekends have a regular source of healthy food through Hand 2 Hand Ministries.

…when the families of those same children get help breaking out of the cycles of poverty so that they no longer need the handout; their dignity restored.

…Christians get to know their neighbors (even just those who live on either side of them) with no agenda…just a desire for community, for relationship.

…nearly 60 Christians from the Holland Classis gather to acknowledge the pain felt by people of color in our community and choose to stand in solidarity with them and declare together that black lives do matter.

…when a family with children on the autism spectrum finds a home among us and when we realize that those children are not burdens for us to bear but that they bless this community and honor God immensely with their presence and participation.

Heaven is breaking in. Again, this not our doing, it is Christ at work in the world that causes it. By the grace of God we can see it in worship and we can see it in our world if we take the opportunities to look for it.

Then what?

What are we to do when we catch a glimpse?

Jesus gives us an answer in the form of a mini parable:

It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. 35 Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, 36 or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly.

Jesus is calling us to be wakeful…like doorkeepers. A doorkeeper’s first job is to stay awake – to be attentive. A doorkeeper watches for the Master and when they get a glimpse of them in the distance [gesture out] they proclaim it to the household. But they don’t stop there. They open the door. They have an important role to play in participating in the Master’s arrival.

We are called to be doorkeepers.

Jesus commands us to stay awake – to watch attentively for the ways that God is at work around us.

Jesus commissions us to proclaim our glimpses to the world and to say, “Look! Heaven!”

Jesus invites us to open the door – to participate in the glimpses we get by naming and resisting injustice, feeding the hungry, lifting up the poor, showing compassion for the oppressed, listening and not dismissing pain of “the other”, building inclusive communities where “the other” is “other” no more, …the list goes on!

St. Francis of Assisi is attributed with saying something along the lines of, “Preach the gospel at all times, and if necessary, use words.” While this is a loose paraphrase the point is profound. Sometimes our loudest acts of proclamation are our actions: how we love one another, how we love our neighbors, the ways in which we participate in Christ’s work in the world. And then seizing opportunities when they arise, to talk about what and who motivates us in the work we do.

Christ is calling his Church to keep awake, to proclaim to the world what we’ve seen and heard by our wakefulness, and then open to door and participate in God’s activity in the world.

So what do our neighbors, community, and world see when they look at the church? What do they see when they look at you and your family? Do they see a wakeful church or a sleeping church?

The tragedy of the sleeping church is that when the church sleeps, the world wonders if God sleeps as well. [whisper] But God is not asleep; [crescendo] God is very much awake and active. God longs for the church to wakeful as well. The wakeful church proclaims and participates in what God is doing.

[Slower]The wakeful church becomes itself a glimpse of heaven on earth for those who might not otherwise see it.

[loud, fast] Friends, keep awake! For Christ is surely coming soon. Keep awake! For we may glimpse his glory only minutes from now as we step out of these doors. Keep awake! Tell the world. Open the door. Be the glimpse of heaven you are called to be. Keep awake!

Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! We’re going to see the King!

Preaching: Brian Keepers
Text: Mark 12:28-44

It was a sincere question.  It wasn’t intended to test Jesus or pigeon hole him.  Not like the questions of the Sadducees, the group of Jewish aristocrats who ran the Temple, who were debating with Jesus and trying to entrap him.  The scribe we meet in today’s story isn’t being crafty or disingenuous.  He has a burning question for Jesus and he really wants to know what Jesus thinks.

Here’s his question: “Which commandment is the first of all?”  In other words, of the 613 commandments in the Law of Moses, which one is the greatest—which one supersedes them all?

The first part of Jesus’ answer is no surprise.  In fact, it is the answer that most devout Jews would have agreed with.  Jesus summarizes the shema, the central confession of the Jewish faith.  We find it in full in Deuteronomy 6:4-9:

Hear (shema), O Israel:  The Lord our God, the Lord is one.  Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.  These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts.  Impress them on your children.  Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.  Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads.  Write them on the doorframes of your houses and your gates.

So important and foundational was the shema that it was (and still is) the very first prayer that a Jewish child was taught to pray.  The shema gave shape to the way one was called to live all of life.  To love God with your entire being—everything you have, everything you are.  To make the one true God and his will the very center of your whole life.

Jesus gave a good answer; the right answer.  But then he does something that is surprising.  He adds more:  “And a second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’  There is no other commandment greater than these.”

It’s not enough to love God with your whole being.  You also must love your neighbor.  It’s not the command to love one’s neighbor in and of itself that would have caught the scribe by surprise.  Jesus is quoting Leviticus 19:18: “You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD.”

Loving your neighbor was one of those six-hundred plus commands.  What’s so surprising is two things.  First, that Jesus would add this command from Leviticus to the Shema, therefore elevating it to a place of supreme importance.  Sure, loving your neighbor is important, but it’s not the most important commandment.  But Jesus has the audacity (or the chutzpah) to add to this sacred, core confession. 

Think of it like this.  Imagine someone adding another line to the Apostle’s Creed or a couple more phrases to the Lord’s Prayer. Even if you wholeheartedly agreed to what was added, it just doesn’t seem right to add to these sacred words!  You just don’t fuss with sacred creeds and prayers like these.

But that’s exactly what Jesus does.  He takes this sacred confession, the very heart of the Jewish faith, and he adds love of neighbor to it.  In effect, Jesus is saying that the Greatest Commandment is to love God and your neighbor.  You can’t obey one and neglect the other.  They fit together like a hand fits in a glove.

But here’s something even more shocking about Jesus’ teaching.  It’s not only that he elevates love of neighbor to the same plane as love of God, but it’s the way he answers the crucial question, “And who is my neighbor?”

When Leviticus speaks of neighbor-love, what it means is “your own people,” those fellow Jews.  But Jesus tells us our neighbor is not only the person who is just like us but our neighbor is anyone—and I mean anyone—who is in need.  Jesus illustrates this most powerfully in the famous parable of the Good Samaritan—do you remember that one?  Where the Samaritan, the least likely of persons, demonstrates love of neighbor by caring for the wounded man alongside the road.  Jesus breaks through the boundaries of religion and ethnicity, social class and gender, and anything else that we would use to justify not acting in love towards a person in need. 

This is the heart of Jesus’ mission—why he was sent by the Father into this world.  To show us what it means to love God and others.  And to make it possible for us to love God and others too.  This is the mission that Jesus gives us as his disciples, captured in our mission statement here at Fellowship: our mission is to love God and others, as an accepting community centered in Christ, focused on developing faithful followers of Jesus.

The scribe may have been caught by surprise when Jesus adds love of neighbor to the shema, but there is something in Jesus’ answer that resonates with him.  “You are right, Teacher,” he says.  “God is one and besides him there is no other; and to love him with all the heart, and with all understanding, and with all strength, and to love one’s neighbor as one’s self.  This is much more important than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.”   He gets it.  The scribe really seems to get what Jesus is saying.

Mark tells us: When Jesus saw that he answered wisely, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.” After that no one dared to ask him any more questions.  You are not far from the kingdom of God.  What does Jesus mean by this?  Do you find it a curious response to the scribe, especially since he got the right answer?  If he answered correctly, why doesn’t Jesus say, “You have entered and received the kingdom of God!”?  Jesus seems to be saying, “You’re so close, standing right on the border of the kingdom of God, but not quite there.”

Why is he not quite there?  I wonder if it is because just getting the right answer isn’t enough.  As we’ve seen in Mark’s Gospel, true faith goes beyond intellectual assent and requires action.  If we want to cross the border and enter into the kingdom—enter into the life of God made accessible to us in Jesus—we have to go beyond just answering correctly.  Faith is about acting on what you know and say you believe. 

Jesus then goes on to warn the crowd to beware of the scribes who think they have all the right answers but then live in a way that keeps them from actually loving God and neighbor with their whole heart.  Beware of those who walk around in long robes, expecting everybody—including those in need—to bow down to them.  Beware of those who want the best seats in the synagogue and think God favors them because of their knowledge and religious piety.  Beware of those who use their religion to actually harm their neighbors—especially the poor and the vulnerable in society—who devour widows houses by taking their money and using it for their own gain.  To sum it up: Jesus says watch out for those who have all the head knowledge and act religious—go to church regularly and put money in the offering plate and attend Bible studies—but who don’t actually get into action around really loving their neighbor—especially those whom society ignores and rejects.

All of this raises some questions for us.  Questions like who is your neighbor? Let’s begin literally—who are the neighbors that live around you?  Do you know their names?  How about their stories?  Of course it goes beyond just those who live by us—neighbor refers to those we work with and who are on the traveling soccer team with our kids and the cashier we meet at the grocery store.  Neighbor refers to people we may not encounter—who are part of different circles and groups than us.  What was Jesus’ definition of neighbor? I remember: any person in need.  Here’s the next part of the question: how are you getting into action around loving your neighbor as yourself?  What is keeping you from getting into action?

Maybe its busyness.  Life is so full and overwhelming right now, you don’t have the time or energy to care for somebody else, especially somebody who may be different from you.  Maybe it’s that we’re moving at such a hurried pace that we don’t even notice our neighbor—we don’t see the people God has put around us, not even right in front of us.  Maybe we’re afraid of being uncomfortable, of having our lives disrupted.

Some of us hear this sermon today and we feel a rush of guilt and shame.  I know, I know, we think.  I’m not doing enough.  I’m not helping others enough.  I need to do more.  But how?  I’m exhausted.  But what if this call to neighbor-love is not primarily a call to “do more” or “help more.”   What if it is more about who we are—how we “be”—than what we do?  What if it is a call to be with others?

Ken gave us preachers away last Sunday when he pointed out that most often, the preacher is really preaching to him or herself.  So I’ll just be direct.  One of the challenges for me personally when it comes to really loving my neighbor goes beyond busyness or not having enough time and energy.  For me, those are excuses. 

I had an epiphany this past week when I was re-reading Brene Brown’s book Rising Strong.  She confessed that the greatest obstacle for her when it comes to loving others is that when we encounter others in need, they hold up a mirror and expose our own need.  And that makes us feel too vulnerable.  Those of us in places of privilege and power don’t want to have to acknowledge we have needs.  We want to meet the needs of others, do the helping.  That makes us feel good, powerful, even righteous.  Brene writes: “Helping is courageous and compassionate, and a sign that you have it together.  Asking for help is a sign of weakness.” Can you relate?  I know I can.

So here is something that is going to sound very counter-cultural to so many of us.  What if loving your neighbor is more above learning to “receive” and “be helped” by others—especially those who are different than you—then you being the one who does the helping and giving?  What if we received the gift from our neighbor that we, too, have needs and that it is ok and really important to acknowledge that?  In fact, acknowledging our own need may be the first step to really entering and receiving God’s kingdom—our need for God’s grace; our need to be loved and accepted by God and others.

What if we asked God to help us “see” our neighbor—really see them—not as an object for us to fix or help but as a gift to be present with?  What if we saw the mutuality in the relationship?  That we all have needs, and that we give and receive—and in the giving and receiving we love each other well and acknowledge dignity in one another?

I wonder if this is why Jesus lifts up the poor widow in this story as the example of everything he’s been talking about—love of God and love of neighbor.  In fact, Jesus lifts her up as the primary example of a disciple.  In contrast to the religious leaders who act like they have no needs and have it all together and simply give out of their surplus, Jesus lifts up a person who knows she has needs—everybody knows.  And yet even in her “neediness”—she knows she has something to give.  She gives all she has out of genuine love for God and others, she gives out of her poverty.  And Jesus says she’s richer than the person who put in the most money that day in the Temple treasury.  She understood it and lived it—that loving God and others was about both receiving and giving—that you need both to enter into loving relationships.

When I was serving my first church out of seminary—a church in a community of about five thousand people in northwest Iowa, there were train tracks that literally separated the “have’s” from the “have nots.” So when we talk about people from the “other side of the tracks,” this was literal.  An influx of people from the “other side of the tracks” started coming to our church and wanted to join our church family.  Most of these folks had never stepped into a church before, and they didn’t know there were rules for how to behave in church.  They didn’t dress up, didn’t put on a façade, didn’t act like they had it all together.  They came as they really were.  It was beautiful and incredibly disruptive for us good church people.

There was a man named Robert (not his real name) who started coming to our church who was a registered sex offender.  You can imagine how uncomfortable this was for many people.  As I got to know Robert, I learned that he had been sexually abused himself as a child, and he had mental health issues—all of this contributed to his behavior.  But Robert was a child of God, and he was kind and gentle and had a big heart.  Robert managed to get a job that paid minimum wage, but he was still well below the poverty line. 

One day he stopped by the church unexpectedly and said that he had a gift for me.  To be honest, I had packed my schedule tight that day and had no room for margins, so I really didn’t have time for this interruption.   But here Robert was, standing before me, holding a plastic bag from Hy-Vee (the Iowa version of Meijers).  He told me how much he appreciated me, and that had gone to Hy-Vee and bought some food to make me a special Pastor Appreciation lunch.  So we stepped into the kitchenette next to my study, and Robert went to work.  He pulled out a sub sandwich bun and a variety of meats and lettuce and tomato and all the fixin’s.  I’ll never forget the smile on his face as he went to work making that sandwich.  And he bought his favorite potato chips and two 20 oz bottles of Coke. 

Now I know that Robert didn’t have the money for this special lunch, and yet he gave it to me out of love, out of his own poverty.  For an hour we sat there and ate together, just being with each other.  It was one of the best meals I’ve ever had, because of the love and sacrifice that went into it.  And one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me.  Robert gave me a gift that day that I will never forget—a gift that went beyond a delicious sandwich.  It was the gift of learning to see someone as God sees them, and to be seen as God sees me.  It was the gift of learning to receive, of recognizing my own need.  It was the gift of learning to “be with” and not to have to “do for.”  It was the gift of learning how to love my neighbor and be loved by my neighbor.

Who is your neighbor?  Who does God want you to see?  And how might you get into action by loving them—a love that begins with acknowledging your own need—of learning to receive even as you give. Next to Jesus, I think Bob Dylan says it best: May you always do for others and let others do for you.   Look for this opportunity this week.  And when it comes, set everything aside to be fully present.

Because just maybe you will find yourself not far from the kingdom of God.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Preaching: Ken Eriks
Text: Mark 12:1-17

Before scripture is read

Two weeks ago Marlin Vis preached a wonderful sermon based on Mark 10: 17-31. If you weren’t here, I encourage you to go the web site to listen to it.

I mention that sermon because, as part of his message, Marlin expressed his convictions about what it means that Jesus is both fully human and fully divine. Among other things it means that, when Jesus was born as a human child, he emptied himself of the divine prerogatives and became like us in every way, except in terms of sin. As Marlin pointed out, that means that Jesus was fully a person of his day, location, and age—with all of the limitations to knowledge that other Jews of his time faced. There were many things that Jesus did not know about his future and the details of how things would play out.

Marlin went on to say that there was a difference between what Jesus “knew” and what Jesus “believed.” By this time in his life, Jesus had come to know that he was the beloved Son of God (that was confirmed for him at his baptism and the transfiguration among other times). He had come to know that he was the true Messiah—the one who would establish the reign of God on earth. He also knew that by entering Jerusalem—doing many of the things that he would do, and saying many of the things that he would say—he was on a collision course with the Jewish leaders and Roman government and, quite likely, heading toward his death. These are things he knows. There are also many things that Jesus does not know.

Because of what Jesus does not know he has to move forward based on what he believes. Jesus believes that this world belongs to God and Jesus has a mission given to him by God. Jesus believes that he is held in God’s hand and that God won’t let him go. Jesus believes that God loves him and wants what is best for him; that God is wise, and knows what is best for him; and that God is powerful and can do what is best for him. Jesus believes that no matter what happens he will remain in the hand of God—even if he does not know exactly how that will be accomplished—especially through his death.

I remind you of the limits to what Jesus knows, as a fully human man; and what he believes as the faithful, obedient, servant of God, as we listen to the scripture this morning.

Listen for the Word of the Lord from Mark 12: 1-17 (Scripture is read)

It has been nearly 12 years since I reluctantly answered the call from God to leave my role as Minister of Leadership and Preaching at Fellowship to join the RCA denominational staff. It was a difficult transition; made easier for me by the clarity of my call, and the love and support this congregation demonstrated to me. There were many things that I missed—and still miss—about being a pastor—specifically one of your pastors. Preaching—and what preaching means to me—is one of the things that I miss.

You may know—or at least suspected—that many pastors first hear their sermons as God’s word to them; and then a message meant to go through them to others. In many ways pastors are almost always preaching to themselves. I read sermons over the years of my ministry and I see the work that God was doing at me in that season of my life by the messages that I preached. I know that I preached about grace so regularly because I need to hear the message of God’s grace so often in my life.

Marlin’s message and my own awareness that when I preach, I preach first to myself, made me wonder: as Jesus teaches through the parable we just heard, and then deals with the question of paying taxes to Caesar—could he be talking to himself while also teaching the crowds and confounding the religious leaders?

Our scripture this morning comes after another encounter at the end of chapter 11. There the Jewish leaders ask Jesus by what authority he teaches and does the things he does. As he often does, Jesus answers their question with another question that backs them into a corner; so they don’t answer. Jesus says, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.” Instead he tells a parable. There can be little doubt that it is a parable that makes a claim about the Reign of God while speaking judgment to the religious leaders.

A farmer very carefully planted a vineyard. He did everything correctly. He painstakingly chose his vines and planted them with care. He built a fence around the vineyard and placed towers at the corners for protection. He built a winepress to handle grapes at harvest time. The farmer hired people to work the vineyard in a share-cropper type arrangement. At the end of the season they would receive some of the produce as a reward for their work, and the owner would receive his share. The farmer then went away.

When harvest time arrived the farmer sent servants to collect his share of the harvest. The tenants beat the servants instead of paying them. The farmer sent servants two more times, with the same result. Finally the owner made a radical move. He sent his son say, “surely they will honor him.”

The tenants were worse than anyone would have imagined. When they saw the son they said, “This is the heir of the vineyard. If we kill him the vineyard will be ours.” So they dragged him outside the walls and killed him.

Jesus concludes by saying, “What then will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to someone else. The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing.”

The religious leaders know that this parable is told against them. However, at this point they see no way to arrest him since the crowd was on Jesus’ side.

The parable is followed by another attempt to try to trap Jesus. Some other leaders come to Jesus and begin with words of flattery. “We know you are sincere and you show no deference. You show no partiality and you teach the way of God in accordance with truth.”

They follow with a question, “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor or not; should we pay them or should we not?” Jesus knew they were trying to trap him. If he said to pay taxes, his Jewish followers would consider him a Roman sympathizer. If he said not to pay taxes, he would be in trouble with the Romans.

Jesus turns the situation around. He asks for a Roman coin. The very fact they can produce a Roman coin from their pockets and identify the image on it as that of Caesar is a sign that give implicit respect to the authority of the state; since they carry Roman money. Jesus adds the enigmatic reply; “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God, the things that are God’s.”

Common to both of these passages—the parable and the confrontation about paying taxes—is the knowledge Jesus has that this world, and all that is in it belongs to God. The owner of the vineyard is God. Problems arise when anyone—the religious rulers, those who lead the church today, or anyone else—forgets that everything belongs to God. It is all entrusted to us. When we face the question of rendering to Caesar what belongs to Caesar to God what belongs to God, we come to same conclusion—the world and everything in it, including us, belongs to God.

Jesus is on a mission as God’s Messiah to establish God’s claim and rule over all things. His mission into Jerusalem—with all of its risks and eventual death—is to defeat all of the forces that stand against God’s claim. Jesus came into this world, is entering Jerusalem, and is moving toward his death in order to restore creation to its original design so that God can place all of creation under Christ’s rule.  

Here is the way Abraham Kuyper, a great Reformed theologian, said it many years ago, at the founding of the Free University in the Netherlands, “There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry, Mine!”

Jesus knows all this to be true. There are many things that he does not know. He does not know exactly how the week will play out. If he is to die, he does not know exactly how that will take place. The Holy Spirit has assured him that since he belongs to God and his life is held in God’s hand, in end, everything will be OK and God will triumph. He does not know exactly how God will keep all of these promises.

Despite all that he knows there are some things that Jesus has to believe beyond knowing. He has to believe that God will take all of the events of the week as they unfold, and turn them all to God’s good purpose. He has to believe that if he walks the path God lays out for him and does not turn away, that God will be faithful to him. He has to believe that when he dies, that nothing finally can separate him from the love of God; and that his life with God will continue on the other side of the grave.

I wonder, as Jesus tells his parable of the vineyard, and turns the table on the religious leaders with his statement about the coin with Caesar’s image; if Jesus is preaching to himself even while teaching the crowds. Because Jesus has to believe and obey beyond what he can know—I wonder if he is reminding himself that he belongs to God; and this mission, as hard as it is, comes from God for the sake a world that belongs to God. I wonder if Jesus is reminding himself of what he knows so he can continue to take the next faithful step all through this week.

We can’t know the answers to such wonderings, since we can’t fathom the mysteries of the incarnation, and we can’t get inside Jesus’ mind. We can however find the courage for our lives when we accept the truth of Jesus’ words for our lives. We find great freedom when we accept the truth that all things come from God, belong to God, and find their purpose in God.

Our Heidelberg Catechism, in the section that explains what we believe in various parts of the Apostles’ Creed, says it this way in Question and Answer 26,
Q What do you believe when you say, "I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth"?
A That the eternal Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who out of nothing created heaven and earth and everything in them,1 who still upholds and rules them by his eternal counsel and providence,2 is my God and Father because of Christ the Son.3

I trust God so much that I do not doubt he will provide whatever I need for body and soul,4 and will turn to my good whatever adversity he sends upon me in this sad world.5

God is able to do this because he is almighty God,6 and desires to do this because he is a faithful Father.7

This is the point Jesus is making in the parable of vineyard. The owner of vineyard wants nothing more than to share all of creation with us; and has gone so far as to send the only beloved son in order that we might know that the creator of the world is our Loving Parent because of Jesus, God’s Son. This loving parent; who saw Jesus through death into new life; will also walk with us through every challenge and turn every adversity to our good.

Frankly, this is not always easy to remember or to believe. I think back over more than 26 years that Barb and I have been part of Fellowship. During those years we have seen so many good people deal with terrible tragedy in their lives and the lives of those that they love. We have seen lives lost far too young to accidents, to cancer, to heart attacks, and to other causes. Even as I speak these words, I imagine that you are picturing people that you knew and loved.

I will mention one person this morning, in part because he loved the liturgy, and the promises, and actions of baptism so much. During the time that Don Milanowski served as an elder at Fellowship, his already deep love for the sacrament of Baptism that began in his years in the Roman Catholic Church grew in depth and intensity. Don came to love all that baptism declared to be true about God—and therefore about us. Don grounded his life in the fact that in Jesus Christ, he had already received the gift of eternal life; that he was claimed as God’s beloved child and sealed by the Holy Spirit forever; that every sin he had committed or would ever commit was already forgiven in Christ; and that God loved him enough to give invite him to join God’s mission in the world. The truth of baptism gave Don deep joy. Every time we celebrated baptism, whether for his children or anyone else, Don’s faith was deepened.

When Don’s life was ended suddenly, way too early, by a heart attack, and Linda, Max, Nathan, and Ellie were left behind it was a tragedy. The loss that the family, Don’s friends, and this congregation felt was beyond words. The grief was real and lasting. And, at the same time, we could believe the promises of baptism that had grounded Don’s life; and claim with assurance that for Don, all is well; and for us, the same God that claimed Don in baptism walks with us.

Don’s story is just one story among many of what it means that we are baptized, and that, again as Abraham Kuyper said, “There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry, Mine!” That includes death itself.

Jesus’ mission was to help bring the whole world back to its original design as a creation owned, loved, and under God's loving and gracious Reign. Jesus came to reconcile all people, all creation, and the entire universe to God. In Baptism we are commissioned to join Jesus in his mission to reconcile all people to God; and to restore creation to its original design.

I love the way our Heidelberg Catechism Question and Answer # 1 say it.

Q. What is your only comfort in life and in death?
A. That I am not my own,1 but belong—body and soul, in life and in death2—to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.3

He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood,4 and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil.5 He also watches over me in such a way6 that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven;7 in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.8

Because I belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life9 and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.10

That was Jesus’ ultimate purpose—to claim us as his own; to set us free from sin and death; to give us the confidence that God will make all things work together for our salvation; and since we know we belong to God now and into eternity, we receive the freedom to live fully for God.

Jesus came to help us find our story in God’s story. Because of Jesus, we are invited to play a role in the biggest, best and most satisfying story ever told: the story of God’s plan for the reconciliation of every human being and the restoration of creation to its original design.

Just like Jesus, as he walked through the last week of his life, we enter into our mission with greater confidence because we know that every square inch of this universe—and every hair on our head—already belong to God. 

Preaching: Brian Keepers
Text: Mark 10:32-45

Jesus and his disciples were on their way up to Jerusalem.  This is the movement of Mark’s narrative.  It is the movement of the season of Lent.  As Good Friday draws nearer, we, like the disciples, are following Jesus as he makes this climb towards Jerusalem.  Jesus is on his way up in the literal sense that Jerusalem was the highest place topographically in Palestine.  Jesus is on his way up in the sense that the story is climbing to its climax--the moment when Jesus will be enthroned as king and his kingdom established.

But here’s the thing: in the kingdom of God, the way up is the way down.

"While Jesus was going up to Jerusalem, he took the twelve disciples aside by themselves, and said to them on the way, “See we are going up to Jerusalem…”  But then this:  “And the Son of man will be handed over to the chief priests and scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified; and on the third day he will be raised.”

In the kingdom of God, the way up is the way down.

But the disciples didn’t get it.  This isn’t the first time Jesus tried to explain it to them.  In fact, it’s the third time he predicts that the Messiah must suffer and die only to be raised again three days later.  Yes, he is the king they—and the whole world—has been waiting for.  Yes, he is bringing God’s kingdom of peace and justice that will turn the world upside down and put it right side up.  But this kingdom will not look like any kingdom the world has ever known.  The path to victory will not come in a display of worldly power and might but in a display of humility and weakness.  A Roman cross.  A crown of thorns.  A crowd of mockers.  A borrowed tomb.  The way up is the way down.

Jesus has just foretold his death (for the third time) when James and John, the sons of Zebedee which means “thunder,” shuffle up beside him as he leads the way and they make a bold request.  “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”  They have something specific in mind, but they’re afraid to say it without trying to get Jesus to promise first.  Like when our kids really want something, and they know there’s a good chance we’ll say “No,” so they see if they can trick us into promising before they ask.

But Jesus is no push over.  “What is it you want me to do for you?” he asks.  They say to him, “Grant us to sit, one at your right and one at your left, in your glory.”    In other words, “Jesus, promise us that will be awarded the highest places of honor in your cabinet when you’re in charge, ruling the world—one at your right hand, one at your left.”

On the one hand, it may strike us as a strange request, and ill-timed, considering Jesus has just talked about his imminent suffering and death.  On the other hand, who can blame them for being ambitious and trying to get ahead.  They’ve got chutzpah, these Zebedee brothers.  Jesus says to them: “You do not know what you are asking.  Are you able to drink the cup that I’m about to drink or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?”

What cup? The cup of sweet victory, like a glass of champagne uncorked at the after party when the election has been won and the confetti drops and the music blares?  Or the cup of responsibility—like when there are hard decisions to be made and troops to be commanded and orders to be delivered.  And what baptism?  The baptism of beings specially chosen by God—assigned an important task?

Sure.  They could drink that cup.  Heck yeah.  They could share in that baptism.  They’re the sons of Thunder, after all.  They were born to lead.

But Jesus is ultimately not talking about the cup of victory or the cup of responsibility.  Nor is he ultimately talking about the baptism that gives them special privilege.   He’s talking about that bitter cup the prophets of old like Jeremiah warned about: “For thus the Lord, the God of Israel said to me: Take from my hand this cup of the wine of wrath, and make all the nations to whom I send you drink it” (25:15).  And he’s talking about the baptism that anointed him not for special privilege but for service and suffering.

“You do not know what you’re asking,” Jesus says to James and John and their mother.  They didn’t.  They had no clue what they were asking.  “Can you drink this cup, this cup that bears God’s holy wrath?  And can you share in this baptism—that bears a shameful cross?”

“Yes, come to think of it,” Jesus says, “you will drink my cup.  And you will be baptized in my baptism.”  I wonder if these future images flashed in his mind: James becoming the first Christian martyr, run through with a sword by King Herod because of his courageous leadership (Acts 12); John exiled on the island of Patmos, praying and worshipping and writing letters to young churches being bullied by the Roman Empire.  Yes, they would drink the cup and be submerged in the waters of baptism.   As his witnesses, they would know his suffering. 

But not just his suffering.  Also his resurrection and life!  Could it be that Jesus is talking about the cup he would share with them days later at the Passover, when he broke bread and said “Take eat, this is my body.”  And then he took his cup and said, “Take and drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for the forgiveness of sins” (Matt. 26:26-30).  And his baptism that would involve not just water but the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost?

Think about this.  Jesus drinks the cup of God’s wrath, the cup of judgment that we deserve because of sin.  And then he gives us his cup—the cup of forgiveness, the cup of salvation.  Jesus takes our cup, and he gives us his cup.  And so when he says to the sons of Thunder and to us, “Yes, you will drink my cup,” could it mean that, yes, to be his disciple means we will know suffering; but even more so, to be his disciple means that we will know the joy and hope of forgiveness, of salvation, of being raised to new life with Christ?

In the Kingdom of God, the way up is the way down.

“You will indeed drink this cup and share in my baptism, but as to awarding places of honor, that’s not my business.  My Father is taking care of that.” By this point the other ten disciples have caught wind of this little side conversation.  Leave it to the sons of Thunder to make a power play.  And the rest of the group is furious.  Things heat up.  Tempers flare.  Of course, we all know that the real reason they’re so upset is not because their own motives are so pure, but because James and John beat them to it:  each of them wanted to sit at Jesus’ right hand or left.  Usually what infuriates us most about others is the thing that resides in our own hearts.

So Jesus calls a “time out.”  He gathers them together to settle them down, and he tells them:  “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them.  It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”

Say that again, please: Whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave.  Just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.

And just like that, Jesus redefines greatness.  In the kingdom of God, the way up is the way down.  Greatness comes not with grasping for power, beating out the competitor, networking to secure a place of privilege and superiority over others.  Greatness comes with humility, picking up a basin and a towel and becoming a servant.

In his little gem of a book The Sefless Way of Christ, Henri Nouwen puts it this way:

“Our lives in this technological and highly competitive society are characterized by a pervasive drive for upward mobility.  It is difficult for us even to imagine ourselves outside of this upwardly mobile lifestyle.  Our whole way of living is structured around climbing the ladder of success and making it to the top.  Our very sense of vitality is dependent upon being part of the upward pull and upon the joy provided by the rewards given on the way up.”

But in Jesus we see the opposite, says Nouwen; “The story of salvation stands radically over and against the philosophy of upward mobility.  The great paradox which Scripture reveals to us is that real and total freedom is only found through downward mobility.  The Word of God came down to us and live among us as a slave.  The divine way is indeed the downward way….[Jesus] moved from power to powerlessness, from greatness to smallness, from success to failure, from strength to weakness, from glory to ignominy.  The whole life of Jesus of Nazereth was a life in which all upward mobility was resisted….The disciple is the one who follows Jesus on his downward path and thus enters with him into new life.”

In the kingdom of God, the way up is the way down.  The way of discipleship, of missional living, is a call to serve.  It is a call to get down, embrace humility, and become a servant to all—not grudgingly or pridefully but with joy and freedom!  It is a call to take up our cross, to die to ourselves, and become our truest selves in Christ.   “I must decrease” said John the Baptist, “and he must increase.”  This is the constant prayer of a servant.

James and John wanted to be at the right hand and the left of Jesus in his glory.  But who would be the ones at Jesus right and left when the hour came for him to be glorifed—the moment when he would be enthroned as king in the humility of the cross?  It would be two thieves, hanging up on their own crosses, one to his left, the other to his right.

There’s a story about a visiting pastor who stood behind the Communion Table after the bread and wine had been offered, and stretched his arms out wide to pray the prayer of thanksgiving.  “Look, Mommie,” a little boy exclaimed loud enough for all to hear.  “He’s trying to look like Jesus on the cross.”

Yes, that’s just it.  That’s what the call to serve is all about: trying to look like Jesus on the cross.  In a society that prizes upward mobility, that jockeys for power and recognition, that is driven by selfish ambition, we humbly take up the cross and choose Jesus’ path of downward mobility.

What would this look like for you?  To take up this role as a servant in your marriage and family?  At work or school?  In your neighborhood?  In our church community?  Who is God calling you to serve, without the expectation of reward or attention?  Richard Foster urges us to pray this prayer daily, “Lord Jesus, as it would please you, bring me today someone whom I can serve.”  Maybe serving others looks like allowing yourself to be served (which can be the hardest thing of all for many of us!).  Ultimately, the way of the cross is not only about occasions when we serve others but a lifestyle of service!

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit,” writes Paul in Phillipians. “But with humility, consider others as better than yourselves.  Let each of you look not to your own interests to but to the interests of others.  Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but he emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in human likeness.  And being formed in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.  Therefore God also highly exalted him, and gave him thename that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and ever tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” (Phil. 2:3-11).

So come to this Table, where the exalted King of heaven and earth serves us, gives us his body and his cup so that we, too, might join him in his mission by becoming servants to all.  And as you come to this Table, remember: in the kingdom of God, the way up is the way down.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Preaching: Marlin Vis
Text: Mark 10:17-31