Fellowship Reformed Church of Holland

Preaching: Brian Keepers
Text: Mark 8:27-9:8

Preaching: Janelle Koolhaas
Text: Mark 6:1-29

Last week we heard the stories of how Jesus healed a woman who had suffered with sickness for 12 years. We heard how Jesus healed Jairus’s young daughter. He had shown that his loving kindness and power would break down the usual categories… wealth, poverty, righteous status, ceremonial uncleanliness, social acceptance… and even life and death.  Jesus had been preaching to crowds all over the countryside, ministering healing, declaring the forgiveness of sins, … saying and doing the most amazing things.

There was a hint back in chapter 3, a foreshadowing, that there place, at least, where Jesus identity as teacher and healer was not sitting so well.  Instead of being pleased, the folks back home—namely his mother and siblings, were trying quietly usher him out of the spotlight before he got himself into trouble.   They were so alarmed by Jesus, they worried he had taken leave of his senses.

Today through Mark’s telling of the Gospel we are invited to listen in to 3 insights, if you wish, of when faith does not come easily, and the message of the gospel is resisted.  Let’s listen:

6 He left that place and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him.2 On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! 3 Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary[a] and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense[b] at him. 4 Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” 5 And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. 6 And he was amazed at their unbelief.

Then he went about among the villages teaching. 7 He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. 8 He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; 9 but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. 10 He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. 11 If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” 12 So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent.13 They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

14 King Herod heard of it, for Jesus’[c] name had become known. Some were[d]saying, “John the baptizer has been raised from the dead; and for this reason these powers are at work in him.” 15 But others said, “It is Elijah.” And others said, “It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old.” 16 But when Herod heard of it, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”

17 For Herod himself had sent men who arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison on account of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, because Herod[e] had married her. 18 For John had been telling Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” 19 And Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him. But she could not, 20 for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed;[f] and yet he liked to listen to him. 21 But an opportunity came when Herod on his birthday gave a banquet for his courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee. 22 When his daughter Herodias[g] came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his guests; and the king said to the girl, “Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it.” 23 And he solemnly swore to her, “Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom.” 24 She went out and said to her mother, “What should I ask for?” She replied, “The head of John the baptizer.” 25 Immediately she rushed back to the king and requested, “I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter.”26 The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her. 27 Immediately the king sent a soldier of the guard with orders to bring John’s[h] head. He went and beheaded him in the prison, 28 brought his head on a platter, and gave it to the girl. Then the girl gave it to her mother. 29 When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb.

[This is the word of the Lord.]

Peoples Reaction/Response to Jesus

We know that Mark likes to have us sprint from one event/story to the next in quick steps, but he chooses the accounts with intentionality, nothing is coincidental or sloppy. So why did Mark put these 3 windows into frustration, resistance and martyrdom in such close succession?

Mark is making sure we have perspective. Mark is laying out the course of events to lead up to Christ’s crucifixion, for one. But far more than that, far more than sobering foreshadowing of the cross, Mark is making it clear that the gospel—hearing it, telling it, or living it—is no easy, glamorous, or without great cost—as one might be persuaded if we only heard of signs and wonderings and hearts ripe for faith! 

Neither Jesus, nor Mark, wants us to make the mistake that believing the gospel and living it out will be easy or cheap!  Don’t get me wrong, there is so much hope and invitation in the gospel—with real truth and power to make it effective and gripping—but also to make people rebel or take offense, or worse.

Even Jesus was doubted, questioned, and snubbed and had to weigh the value of demonstrating and declaring who he was in his town where no one could imagine him different than themselves.  And even though Jesus power wasn’t contingent on folks’ response, we do see here that he did not feel it wise or worthwhile to demonstrate his power, when it seemed so hard for folks to believe. 

I recall when I was 16, coming back from a mission trip to Argentina, on fire for Christ, and now grappling with the beginnings of a desire to give my life to God for ministry, but afraid to show it to friends who would think I thought I was better than them.  At school, my non Christian friends couldn’t understand the impact my summer of experiencing Christ’s power had had on me—some tried and didn’t get it, and some listened, and then said I was a “holy roller” and acted like I was bizarre.  At church, I feared more of the same; how could even my few Christian peers take seriously what I had witnessed and seen?  I was certain I was changed, and called… but I was terrified of how people might make fun of, or just not take me seriously. I dared to join the worship team, but had to sing with my eyes shut, not because I was so moved by the Spirit, but because I was terrified of making eye contact with other youth group members!

But besides just being so familiar a voice,  what was so striking about Jesus’ teaching? What were listeners reacting to?

 Notice that we don’t hear words that expose any untruth of Jesus teaching as much as we hear incredulity about who is teaching.  We don’t hear them saying his words are foolish o untrue—we hear than unwilling to believe that this hometown boy could be the bearer of such wisdom—and maybe that he would have the nerve to try to teach them something about God, much less about themselves.

They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! 3 Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary[a] and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense[b] at him.

If we listen between their words, we might hear between the insults things that sound familiar too:

• Contentment
• Self satisfaction (that their lives and experience do not warrant anyone to call them out)
• That’s easier to criticize someone else than to be vulnerable to a message, a call, a reproach from Scripture or the Holy Spirit speaking through someone else…that we don’t want to hear.

….If we take a closer look in the original language, Mark says that Jesus family and neighbors in his home town “took offense at him”.   The original word is “scandalizo”, which most literally means, “they stumbled over him”—and over his message. +++  Jesus wasn’t so much “being offensive”, as he was saying things that tripped them up, that couldn’t be swallowed, as we would say. 

That is a pretty apt description of what sometimes happened when , Jesus, the disciples, and John, preached REPENTANCE.  Repentance marks a turning, a rerouting of one’s course away from sin and evil, and towards the Christ and his righteousness/purity.That can be a hard message to hear, “a lot to swallow”, or easily stumble over, and it takes courage to respond.  It forces one to surrender control, and the self assurance that we are alright.

And so I think that is exactly what Jesus wants to dispel as he trains his messengers!   In the next part, we hear that Jesus gave them spiritual authority, and ordered them to go out and minister to the people.  The disciples anointed the sick, cured diseases and cast out spirits. And they were to teach the same message of turning from sin, according to Jesus instructions. They were not allowed to take provisions. They would be about their ministry completely vulnerable and dependant on each other, on God’s Spirit.  If clinging to control and dogged self assurance were stumbling blocks to fully transformed lives… then once again, we see Jesus defying logic by preparing his disciples to ONLY BE ABLE TO RELY ON HIM.

Is there  a lesson that for us?  That in order to challenge others to take steps, even risks to follow Christ and be transformed, we have to demonstrate a corresponding vulnerability?  We are more accustomed to packing lists, agendas, and scout-like preparedness—but Jesus is challenging his disciples to carry the message with as little to rely on besides God’s power and authority as possible.  Just like those who repent, they were called to set out on a new path without the ease or distraction of taking parts of their old life with them.

The thing about a repentence message (and even a call to serve God in new ways)  is that it is so easy to get tripped up, offended by, or scared off from the idea of what we’ll have to give up, or get into.  We fear humiliation, we fear it will be too hard to change…we fear theshame or failingbeing dragged into the light for all to see…

But what if a CALL TO REPENTENCE was recognizedas being invited into freedom? What is it about us humans that focus so much on ourselves and what we don’t want to turn from, and fail to see all that to which we are invited once we cast off the things that separate us from God?   Believing and following Christ requires an emptying, to be sure, but also a promise to be filled!

John the Baptist Rebukes the King

We’ve said that a call to repentence puts people on the defensive and calls into question how they think of themselves. It requires us ask questions we don’t want to ask, just as John asked of the reshuffling of wives of the royal family.

In the third part of today’s passage, we learn the horrifying story of how John the Baptist died—the short version is that it was revenge for calling outthe fact that Herod had taken his own living brother’s wife for his own.

Notice, that John was a threat because he called into question the morality, the identity of the king to do whatever he wanted, or marry whoever he desired… John preached turning from sin and the fear of the God of Righteousness.  In fact, he even was intrigue and fascinated by John’s teachings, and Herod secretly revered him. Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed;[f] and yet he liked to listen to him. 

But as I wrestled with what to say about it, these questions came to mind for us:

Why do we resist or run from repentance?  What are you/we offended by that God says to us that causes us to dig in our heels and go no further? To stop listening because it’s uncomfortable , even though we sense that God is speaking?

Conclusion:

Friends, let’s not get caught either trying to hang on to things that keep us from closeness to Christ. Whatever that may be!   And when the Holy Spirit prompts us and shows us what we are clinging to, let us be sure to hear the invitation and not get stuck in fear of changing, or fear of failing! And when God calls us to obey in new and risky ways, let us rely on him and not be held back by worry.   In ALL things, we can TRUST the one who is calling us, changing us, sending us!

Preaching: Marijke Strong
Text: Mark 5:21-40

MARK 5:21-43

21 When Jesus had crossed again in the boat[f] to the other side, a great crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea. 22 Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet 23 and begged him repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.” 24 So he went with him.

And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him. 25 Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. 26 She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. 27 She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, 28 for she said, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.” 29 Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. 30 Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?” 31 And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, ‘Who touched me?’” 32 He looked all around to see who had done it. 33 But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. 34 He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

35 While he was still speaking, some people came from the leader’s house to say, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?” 36 But overhearing[g] what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, “Do not fear, only believe.” 37 He allowed no one to follow him except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. 38 When they came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, he saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. 39 When he had entered, he said to them, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” 40 And they laughed at him. Then he put them all outside, and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him, and went in where the child was. 41 He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha cum,” which means, “Little girl, get up!” 42 And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of age). At this they were overcome with amazement. 43 He strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.

*Where do we feel stuck, hopeless, afraid, think it is impossible, where have we been told "you can't"? The invitation is for us to reach out and rise up, because Christ first reached out and rose up for us…..

GOD’S STORY, OUR STORY: REACH OUT AND RISE UP

THE SWALLOW – INCARNATION

If you go to the Prado Museum in Florence, walk up the marble staircase, duck through the entryway and turn left, you will find yourself in room 56B, right across from a massive altarpiece from the monastery of San Dominico. In the center of the altarpiece is a painting of the angel Gabriel visiting Mary to tell her she will bear a son. It is The Annunciation by Fra Angelico. Have you seen this painting? Gabriel’s visit to Mary was a popular image in Renaissance art but this piece is different than the rest.

First, the scene was usually indoors, with Mary on a fancy throne. Severe and removed. Angelico brought it outdoors into the world. Also, most painters focused in on the two figures.  Angelico pulled out away from them and widened his lens to show the bigger salvation story. In the top left is the Garden of Eden. He is taking us back to the beginning, to the reason Christ would be sent to be born of Mary. The Fall. And look at this: just as Adam and Eve are expelled from the garden, the hand of God emerges from on high, reaching out to send the Holy Spirit slanting across the frame and across time toward Mary, just at the point that she says, “Let it be with me according to your Word.”

It’s an amazing piece. People always crowd around at the museum. But there is one detail not everyone notices: a small bird. Not the dove of the Holy Spirit but a different kind of bird. A swallow. We know nothing in Renaissance art is without meaning. So why a swallow? These are shy, independent birds that flit and streak through the summer sky in the evening. They often build their nest with mud. Sometimes they come among people and build in the eaves of houses.

Around the time of the Renaissance (before much was known about migration patterns) it was commonly believed that when winter approached and swallows disappeared from cities, they flew to nearby lakes and ponds to burrow down in the mud and hibernate until Spring. Because of this mysterious movement of coming down out of the skies into the mud, the swallow became a symbol of the incarnation of Christ. So Fra Angelico put that bird in his painting as a message: he’s saying that from the very beginning, God meant to send Christ to earth, as Eugene Peterson says, to “take on flesh and move into the neighborhood.” Jesus was sent to be with and among the people he would save. To build his nest in the mud.

JAIRUS AND THE WOMAN – SPEAKING OUT AND REACHING OUT

Jairus and the woman with the flow of blood saw this firsthand. These are two people from very different stations in life. Jairus was a leader of the synagogue, an elected position so he must have been a respected and prominent person. But in this story we find him powerless. I think it’s Homer who said “death is the great leveler.” It makes everyone equal. Jairus had discovered that respect and prominence were useless when it came to his daughter’s health. She was sick to the point of death and he could not fix it. He was stuck. So he abandoned dignity, cast himself at the feet of Jesus, and begged for healing. “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live!”

Let’s put this in context: Jesus had become a public figure by this time because of his teaching and healing, so he was constantly surrounded by crowds clamoring for attention and he had these disciples with him who always wanted to protect him. He had just come across the lake on a boat. He was probably tired. Jesus could have easily kept on his way, flitting above the needs of the crowd saying, “I’m sorry, my time has not yet come.” But this is incarnation: he stopped and came down into the mud and the mess of the moment. I imagine him stooping over the man to lift him up, looking him in the eye. “I will come with you.”

In his book, Reaching Out, Henri Nouwen asks, “What if our interruptions are in fact opportunities…?” What if they are invitations to “a movement toward, a deeper engagement….” What if we saw interruptions as “occasions for a conversion of heart… which creates the inner space where a compassionate solidarity with our fellow human beings becomes possible”?

I wonder. What if the entire life of Jesus was one interruption after another? Jairus interrupted Jesus on the road, and no sooner had he turned to go with him (he couldn’t even take two steps!), than someone else came forward. This person was as different from Jairus as you could get. It was a woman. She seemed alone. She had suffered hemorrhages for many years, which made her “unclean” and untouchable in the eyes of her people. She was also poor because she had spent all her money on doctors. She was about as low on the scale as Jairus was high.

And yet, they had something important in common. They felt powerless. Stuck. Maybe you know what that feels like. They had come to the end of their rope and there was nothing they could do. Nothing except reach out to Jesus. I imagine this woman standing on the edge of the crowd, alone. And then she saw him. She had a wild idea. How could she get to him and touch him without contaminating the entire group? It was crazy. But she saw Jesus. And before she knew what she was doing she was pushing through, “don’t hold me back! I know what he can do.” She could see the back of his head. She was reaching out. Maybe she was so bold as to think that she would put her hand on his sleeve. She was rehearsing what would happen: he would turn to her, she would smile.

But just as her fingers brushed the edge of his robe he was jerked away in the chaos. A shudder ran through her body. Disappointment. And then wonder. Something was different. She could feel it. The pain was gone. The shame was gone. She felt good for the first time in years.  She thought about slipping away home, but Jesus stopped. And it happened again. He could have kept going, flitting above the needs of the crowd. But this is incarnation: he came down into the moment. He found her. And she fell on her knees to explain that when she saw him her heart lifted up out of the shame and loneliness and reached out to him. And then something happened in her body, and then something happened in her heart. I think he smiled as he lifted her up: “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

Do you remember two weeks ago Pastor Brian talked about the difference between healing and cure? This was both. The woman was made well inside and out. What should have happened was that her touch should have contaminated Jesus. Not only did it not contaminate him, but his touch made her clean. It healed her body and her soul. And then Jesus sent her out to share what she had received.  “Go in peace,” meant, “Be a person of peace. Make peace.” You have been restored… now make restoration.

THE LITTLE GIRL – RISING UP

We could probably end here. But Jairus is still waiting. While Jesus was speaking with the woman, some people came to tell him it was too late. Their words seem callous: “Your daughter is dead. Don’t bother the teacher anymore.” Ah, Jairus. Can you imagine his stomach sinking? What is it like to hope and then lose hope? The crowd is in chaos. They’re swirling around the woman. She’s laughing and talking. The disciples look impatient. And Jairus stands empty handed. Surely Jesus had forgotten him. But this is incarnation: Jesus came down into the moment. He turned to Jairus, looked him in the eye and said, “Don’t be afraid.”

Then he took three of his friends and went with Jairus to his home. I imagine it was a quiet walk. But as they got closer to the house they heard an uproar of weeping. It was so loud that when they got there Jesus had to raise his voice: “Why are you crying? The girl is sleeping.” He’s always telling a different story, isn’t he? And then he sent them away and took the girl’s parents and his disciples into the room where her body lay. She was so small; only 12 years old. You know he should not have touched her. A dead body was also unclean. But he took her by the hand and spoke the words that would give her life, “Talitha Cum.”

This phrase is usually translated from Aramaic to mean, “little girl, get up!” Talitha is a pet name for a child. In Dutch it might be “liefje.” Little dear one. But the Hebrew root of the word is “little lamb.” It’s the same word used by Isaiah when he prophesied about a new heaven and earth, when the former things will pass away, “and you will be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating, for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight…. no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it, or the cry of distress. No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime... Before they call I will answer, while they are yet speaking I will hear. The wolf and the lamb [the little lamb!] shall feed together… They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the Lord.”

This is a vision of the shalom that God intended back in the Garden of Eden, and it is the reason that even in the moment of the Fall God was reaching out to send Christ to be born of Mary. It is the reason Jesus came down to “build his nest in the mud.” He came to be with and among the people he would save so that he could restore all things to God’s design. “Little lamb, get up,” he said.

You’re probably not surprised to know the Aramaic word for “get up,” has a deeper meaning too. Its root is the Hebrew for “rise up.” As in the invitation from God through Isaiah, “Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.” (Isaiah 60) As in the conversation Jesus had with Martha about Lazarus, “your brother will rise again.” (John 11) As in the words of Paul, who said, “everything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it [is written], “Sleeper, awake! Rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” (Eph 5)

What Jesus said was not what parents say when they knock on their child’s door before the bus comes. It wasn’t, “Hey, it’s time to get up!” What he really said really was, “Little lamb, you whom I cherish, for whom I have great redemptive plans… rise up from the dead, rise up to new life. This is why I came down to you. I am making all things new.” And what do you think happened? I think that girl felt herself pulled upward, out of darkness and into the light. Out of heaviness and immobility into freedom and movement. Her eyes opened and she got up. She rose up. She started walking around.

OUR CALL – TO REACH OUT AND RISE UP

 “Do you not know,” Paul said, “That all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.” (Romans 6)

It’s what we were created for. Do you feel it? I do. And I see it in you. Fellowship is a church of people who are walking in newness of life. I want to tell you, on a personal note, that it has been my honor to walk with you these four years. It was not easy to answer the call back to Canada, for a number of reasons. One is that I love you. We have followed Christ together. And I’ll miss you like crazy. You have loved me with glad and generous hearts, welcomed me into the family, and taught me how to be a pastor. I am deeply grateful.

Another reason it was not easy to answer the call back to Canada is that I have my own ways of getting stuck. Maybe we all do. Mine is fear. There’s a quotation by the author Annie Dillard that has haunted me for years. She says, “On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions. Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? …Ushers [at church] should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return.”

If I am honest, I love the idea that God is wildly and powerfully beyond our understanding, drawing us out into new life. But I get stuck by the thought that God might draw us out to where we can never return. I am afraid. What if God reaches out his hand to me, and I say “yes” and take it, and he draws me up and out into new and beautiful things that are beyond my systems of control? What if it’s lonely there? What if God asks me to do things I don’t want to do? What if I’m not good enough? What if I have to open myself up in uncomfortable ways? What if I have to let go of possessions? What if I have to leave my friends and family, my country? What if I have to leave you? And what if after I say “yes” to God, I am never able return to life as I know it now? I hold back because of fear. Everyone gets stuck by something.

But this is incarnation. Christ comes down into the mud and mess of our lives. He reaches out to us. “Little lamb, rise up,” he says. That is the invitation… to you, to me, to us as a church. He is drawing us outward. Pulling us upward, out of darkness and into the light. Out of heaviness and immobility into freedom and movement and life. You know, there is another reason Renaissance artists used the swallow as a symbol in their paintings of Christ. Because they believed that when swallows suddenly returned to civilization in the Spring, they had burst up and out of the mud, just as Christ burst up and out of the tomb. He who came down to be with us, who reached out to us and walked among us, also died and went down to the grave for us so that when he burst forth and rose to new life we would rise too.

It makes me think of the poet Maya Angelou: “I rise, I rise, I rise.” That’s how we are to live. We are the resurrection people. Do you hear it? The ones who, no matter how uncertain or stuck we feel, are invited by Christ to speak out, to reach out and rise up in the Spirit. And then we are sent out (“Go in peace”) to live a resurrection life, to join with Christ as he restores all things to God’s design. To live in such a way that our lives are a sign of the One who makes all things new.

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

Preaching: Brian Keepers
Text: Mark 4:1-34

I.                    Introduction          

1. Jesus came announcing that the Kingdom of God is at hand—that the long-awaited time of God’s salvation for his people and the whole world had arrived in Jesus—here and now!  It was the stuff of revolution—God turning the world upside down.  Jesus didn’t just announce this—he he showed us through his miraculous signs of casting out demons and healing the sick.  We’ve experienced Jesus as both a preacher and a healer.
2. Today, we experience Jesus as a teacher.   He is a rabbi, after all, and a rabbi teaches his students.  How does Jesus teach about the kingdom of God?  Through parables.

II.                 What Are Parables?

A.    Stories and comparisons that connect with ordinary, everyday life. 

B.     The word “parable” means “something that is placed alongside something else for the purpose of clarification.” This is Jesus preferred way of teaching about the kingdom of God.  “There was a father with two sons…” “A Samaritan was traveling on a road…”  “To what shall I compare the kingdom of God?  It is like…”

C.     Parables connect with ordinary life—but there is also an element of surprise in them.  They have a way of catching us off guard, knocking us off balance, and help us “see” in a new way.  Parables draw us in order to evoke something in us and call us to respond. 

III.               What’s Jesus saying in this cluster of Parables we just heard?

A.    Ordinary images of a farmer sowing seed.  And lighting a common house lamp.  And a tiny mustard seed that grows into the greatest of all shrubs.  There’s nothing big and sensational about these stories.  They’re so ordinary! 

B.     The meaning is not obvious.  Jesus says, “Let anyone with ears to hear listen!”  In fact, this command to “listen” comes up 10 times in these thirty-some verses.  The crowd seems to be listening, but they do not understand what the parables mean. 

C.     The disciples don’t quite understand either.  When they are alone with Jesus, they ask him about the parables.  He says to them, “To you has been given the secret (or mystery) of the kingdom of God, but for those outside, everything comes in parables; in order that they may indeed look, but not perceive, and may indeed listen, but not understand; so that they maybe not turn again and be forgiven.”

D.    What’s Jesus saying here? He’s saying that he is the Messiah that Israel (and the whole world) has been waiting for, and he is bringing God’s kingdom—this revolution in which heaven is invading earth.  But it’s not obvious because it’s not what the world expects!  He will be a different kind of Messiah, and his kingdom will look different than all the kingdoms of the world (like we’ve seen already).  He will not come with his guns blazing, with fireworks and fanfare. 

E.     This revolution that he is bringing is coming in small, quiet, humble ways that will eventually change everything.  His work is like the quiet work of a farmer extravagantly sowing seed everywhere he goes.   Much of it, maybe even a majority of it, will fall on soil where it doesn’t take root—but some of it will fall on good soil and produce an abundant harvest—more than we can even imagine!

IV.               Let Everyone with Ears to Hear, Listen!

A.    The disciples still aren’t clear what he means, so they need Jesus to explain the parable (aren’t you glad they didn’t understand?  Doesn’t make us feel so bad for our own confusion, right?). 

B.     Jesus identifies himself with the sower and the seed is God’s Word—Jesus’ message about God’s kingdom. 

C.     And Jesus is talking about the conditions of different hearts and how that message will be received.  The first soil is the hardened heart—where the seed falls on the path but Satan (the powers of darkness in the world) come snatch it up and so it doesn’t burrow into the soil.  Soil two is the shallow heart—the rocky ground—where Jesus’ message is received with joy at first, but when troubles come, the heart backs off.  The third soil is the cluttered heart, where the seed starts to grow, but because of worry and the pressures and temptations of the world, the seed gets choked and fails to yield fruit.  The fourth and final soil, however, represents the open heart; “they heard the word, accept it and bear fruit, thirty and sixty and a hundred fold.” 

D.    Which of these four different soils represent the condition of our own hearts, we are prompted to ask?  How are we responding to God’s Word?

E.     Remember that key command of Jesus: “Let anyone with ears to hear, listen!”  What’s interesting to note in the first three soils is that they all “hear” the Word, but it is a kind of hearing where it goes in one ear and out the other.  There is a different Greek word used for “hear” in the good soil—it is an ongoing hearing—listening intently—not just once but all the time—and then receiving the word and allowing it to bear fruit.  It is a hearing that leads to heeding God’s word—to yielding to the Word and obeying it.

F.     So God’s kingdom, God’s revolution, is breaking in now—and Jesus tells us that the primary place it breaks in is in the place of our own hearts.  Jesus produces fruit in us as we stand under his word—yield to it.  Here’s the thing: the different types of soil don’t just represent the condition of the heart of four different kinds of people.  These four types of soil are part of the terrain of every human heart!  And so we pray that God’s Spirit would continue to cultivate the conditions of our heart so that we might more and more be receptive to his Word!

V.                 Discipleship is about a relationship with Jesus Christ- being with him and sent by him.

A.    We can only understand Jesus’ parables and produce fruit if we are in relationship with him.  That’s one of the most important things Mark wants us to see here. We can only hear, understand and obey Jesus’word, which means find ourselves in God’s Story, by being with Jesus. 

B.     To be a disciple is to be an apprentice, a student, to follow Jesus and learn from him.  This is an ongoing journey of growth. And often God is working grow and transformation in us in small and quiet ways, but they are profound never the less!

VI.               The Mystery is made known to us SO THAT we can share it with the world!

A.    Jesus makes the mystery of the kingdom known to us as disciples (hear, receive, bear fruit).  But it’s not just for us!  He then calls us—sends us into the world—to share this mystery with others.  Lesslie Newbigin:  the gospel is an “open secret”

B.     Parable of the lamp—don’t hide it under a bushel.  Let it shine.

C.     Parable of the mustard seed—God’s work of transformation works in us in order to work through us…in small, ordinary ways that, by God’s power, will have a big impact. 

D.    And as we grow into the character of Christ, daily choosing to surrender our hearts (all the soils) to him, Christ’s power works through us.  Not necessary in big, explosive sorts of ways.  But in small ways that make a big difference.   Mother Teresa: “Don’t attempt big things for God; do small things with great love.”

VII.            A Word to Confirmation Students

A.    Students, hasn’t it been ordinary people who have done small acts with great love that have impacted you—and this moment today when you will be confirmed?  People who have had a faithful and loving presence in your life?  Whom God has used to plant seeds in your heart, nurture those seeds, and help begin to bring them to harvest?

B.     Today is confirmation—what is being confirmed?  Who?  You are being confirmed.  But this is about God’s faithfulness—God’s power at work in you.  You are being confirmed into God’s family, marked by the waters of baptism.  You are being confirmed as one who belongs to Jesus.  You are being confirmed on this journey of discipleship.  This isn’t the end, in many ways it’s just the beginning.  And you are being confirmed to join God in his mission.  Yes, God has plans and purposes for you.  But it’s not about you having to figure out how to really make your life count and do something big for God.  It’s about you embracing your identity in Jesus, and growing every day as a disciple.  It’s about being open to how God wants to use you—your ordinary life—in extraordinary ways through the way you love others and use your gifts.

C.     Oswald Chambers – “No matter what you do, where you go, who you are with…be absolutely His!”

D.    Heidelberg Catechism: “You are not your own but belong to God in Christ—body and soul, in life and death…because you belong to him, the Holy Spirit makes you whole heartedly ready and willing to serve him!”  

Preaching: Brian Keepers
Text: Mark 1:40-2:12

“Let us go on to the neighboring towns,” Jesus says to his disciples, “so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came to do.” (1:38)

What message did Jesus come to proclaim?  We talked about it last Sunday.  The urgent and “breaking news” that God’s kingdom (or reign) was at hand-- it had finally arrived!  And people could enter and receive this kingdom by turning around and switching the “scripts” of their lives (“Repent and believe in me!”).  In other words, they were invited to step into a new story—God’s Story-- by becoming a follower of Jesus.

Jesus not only announced this kingdom.  He also demonstrated it by performing miracles.  We see him do two miracles in our story today—heal a man with leprosy and also a paralytic who was lowered through the roof by his friends.   In a way, Jesus’ miracles are enacted sermons.  They are signs of God’s kingdom, windows into the future of what God intends to do for all creation when his kingdom comes in its completion.  A preview, really, of that glorious day when, in the words of Revelation:

“Death will be no more;
Morning and crying and pain will be no more,
For the first things have passed away…
See, I make all things new “ (Rev.21:4).

Jesus also performs these miracles to reveal his true identity—he is the Son of God, the one to whom God has given authority and power to defeat all rival powers in the spiritual and physical realm and to bring God’s restoration to the whole world.  These miracles are evidence of his authority and power.

The miracles are important and should grab our attention, but they are not the main focus.  It’s what Jesus’ says that is the main focus of the passage we heard this morning.  After all, it is not what he does that upsets the religious authorities (the scribes), but what he says that so deeply offends them.

What did he say that was so offensive?  After the friends of this paralyzed man, so determined to bring him to Jesus, lower him down through the roof, Mark writes: When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”  That’s it right there—that’s what sets the scribes off:  “Son, your sins are forgiven.”  The friends brought the paralytic to be healed from his physical affliction.  Jesus turns around and forgives him of his sins.

Mark goes on: Now some of the scribes were sitting there, questioning in their hearts, “Why does this fellow speak in this way?  It is blasphemy!  Who can forgive sins but God alone?”  And the scribes are exactly right.  Forgiveness of sins was exclusively God’s right.  No one else could do this.  There were plenty of Jewish healers around, but none of them claimed the authority to forgive sins.  To do so was a violation of the first commandment!  Only God can forgive sins.

And Mark wants us to see here that this is exactly what Jesus is claiming.  He is the Son of God, God in the flesh.  While it is true that in the narrative structure of the story, Jesus wants to keep his identity hidden, Mark wants to make Jesus’ identity clear.  This is the one who not only has the authority and power to overcome the evil forces and physical illnesses but he is the One who overcomes the greatest enemy of all: sin.  Jesus is God in the flesh who has come to bring God’s healing power of forgiveness.

One of the biggest ironies in this story is that the leper and the paralytic—whose outward physical affliction was an indication in the ancient world view that they were being punished for sin or the sin of their parents’—end up being the ones who are forgiven and healed; and the ones who outwardly think they are fine (the scribes) turn out to be the ones who are most severely sick and in need of forgiveness and healing.   Augustine rightly pointed out that the ones most in need of healing in this story are the scribes, for they suffer from an inward “leprosy of the heart,” an inward “paralysis of the soul.”

In other places in the gospel, Jesus exposes this ancient assumption that sickness and disease are a consequence of individual sin.  But he does connect physical healing here with sin.  Why?  Because the deepest malady we all face, every single one of us, is the malady of sin.  None of us is immune; we all are infected.  Jesus reveals that at the root of all the world’s brokenness and problems is this issue of sin. 

To be born into a sinful world, born into a sinful condition as we all are, means that things are not the way they are supposed to be.  There is disease and sickness, mental illness and emotional brokenness, addiction and depression, suffering and pain in all its forms.  Jesus wants to heal all of that.  He wants to heal us as whole persons.  But to do so—to heal body and soul conjointly-- he must get at the root of the problem, which is sin itself.  And so he announces that he has the authority to forgive us of our sins.  Later he would say, “The Son of Man has come to be ransom for many, for the forgiveness of their sins.”  Ultimately, he would accomplish this in his greatest display of power—suffering on our behalf on a Roman cross.

John Van Gorp’s life was turned upside down when, at 36 years old, he was diagnosed with cancer.  For the next several months he would find himself driving back and forth to the hospital, spending hours in a brown leather recliner with bags of chemo being pumped into his body.

One Sunday morning in church, about midway through John’s treatments, we were celebrating the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper.  John’s wife, Anna, was perched up in the balcony with the choir.  John sat on the main floor in his usual spot next to his three children, his head bald and his body swollen from all the chemo.   Mitchell, the youngest who was 3 years old at the time, was sitting there playing with his John Deere tractors.  We had already shared in the bread.  Next we passed the tray of grape juice.  When it came to John, he gingerly took a little cup out and passed it on to the next person.  Mitchell stopped what he was doing and looked intently at the little cup clutched between his dad’s thick fingers.  He crawled up on the pew next to his dad and whispered in John’s ear: “Daddy, is that the blood that’s going to make you all better?”

When John told me about this after the worship service, he explained that it was in that moment, when his son asked him that question, he knew that no matter what happened, whether he beat the cancer or not, everything was going to be okay.  “As I drank that juice,” he said, “it hit me that Jesus’ blood was really shed for me and that somehow it’s all going to turn out all right.  So I pulled Mitchell close, held him in my arms and said: ‘That’s right, buddy, Jesus’ blood is going to make Daddy all better.  Jesus’ blood makes all of us all better.”

How did the prophet Isaiah say it so long ago?  Here it is: “Surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases….He was wounded for our transgressions and crushed by our iniquities; he bore the punishment so that we might become whole; and by his wounds, we are healed” (53:4,5).

By his wounds we are healed.  Hear the good news today: Jesus’ blood has the power to forgive us all our sins.  He is the Great Physician who has the power to heal and restore us all—to make us well, body and soul.

That includes you.  Whatever your brokenness today, whatever your wounds, whatever your affliction.  Jesus is the Great Physician who can heal you.  “If you choose,” said the man with leprosy, “You can make me clean.”  And Jesus said, “I do choose.  Be made clean.”

Jesus not only is able to heal you, but he chooses to do so.  Healing may not come in the way we expect or even think we want.  It reminds me of a story of a man who had acquired a life-threatening illness and who was bitter and angry inside—angry at God, angry at his family, angry at the world.  One day his wife dragged him to church, and the pastor was offering prayers for healing.  Reluctantly, he went forward and was prayed over.

Several months later, his wife called the pastor and told him that her husband had passed away.  The pastor said he was sorry, and thought back to the prayers of healing for the man, thinking to himself a lot of good that did.

The woman said, “You don’t understand.  When my husband walked into church Sunday, he was a bitter man, angry with God.  And the angrier he got with God, the meaner he was to everyone around him.  But after you prayed for him, something was different.  He was a different person.  It’s like he finally was able to let go of his bitterness.  The last four months have been some of the best days of our whole marriage.  We talked, we laughed.  We even sang hymns together.”  She paused, and then said, “Pastor, my husband wasn’t cured, but he was healed.”

While Jesus did choose to physically cure some while he walked on earth, there were many he did not cure.  Remember that the main point of his healing was to point to God’s Kingdom and give us a preview of what he will one day to for us all who put our trust in him.  Jesus may not choose to cure us on this side of the grave, but he does offer us healing at the deep level of the soul right now.  He offers us forgiveness, which is the one thing that will eventually lead to our complete healing.

And this healing is not just for us personally or us as faith community; it is healing for the whole world.  Jesus heals us so that we might be a community that embodies his forgiveness and healing for others.  I love these words by 20th century missionary Lesslie Newbigin:

“The whole congregation is called to be a healed and healing fellowship, in which the healing love of God is 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 our business—should find that he has touched the source of healing.  The healing that we receive here…is given for the sake of all our neighbors.” (The Good Shepherd, pp.72-3).

What if this was really the case?  That we, Fellowship Church, were seen as a healed and healing community?  That all who touch us (and all the people we touch) would discover that they have touched the source of healing, Jesus himself?

It begins with us being healed ourselves.  So let me ask you: what kind of healing do you need today?  Maybe you need physical healing, but Jesus our Great Physician doesn’t stop there.  He offers spiritual healing, emotional healing, mental healing.  Maybe you are in a relationship that is badly wounded and needs healing.  Maybe you need to be healed of baggage in your past or painful memories.  Maybe you need to be healed of shame and guilt.  Maybe you need to be healed of a grudge that you’ve been holding onto for much too long, and it’s become like leprosy of the heart, paralysis of the soul. 

Whatever kind of healing you need, Jesus is the one alone who can forgive your sins and make you whole.  Jesus is the one who brings us back into right relationship with God, and makes us clean, transforms us into a new creation.  Put your faith—your trust and confidence—in him.

We’re going to create some space this morning to seek Christ’s healing presence.  There will be several stations around the sanctuary where elders and pastors will be standing by to offer prayers of healing with oil.  You may come and receive prayer on your own behalf, for whatever healing you stand in need of.  You also may come on behalf of someone else, like the paralytic’s friends came on behalf of him.  It is a powerful lesson about the nature of faith when Jesus chooses to heal the paralytic not necessarily because of his own faith but the faith of his friends!  So come on behalf of someone who may not even be here today.

“If you choose, you can make me clean,” the leper said.  Jesus stretched out his hand and said to him, “I do choose; be made well!”  He stretches out his hand and says the same thing to us.  So come, and know that by his wounds, healing is now possible for us all—indeed, for the whole world!

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

Preaching: Brian Keepers
Text: Mark 1:1-20

Part I: Introduction

            The Bible is ultimately a story about who God is and how God is on mission in the world.  But the Bible is also our story.  We find ourselves in this story—as supporting characters, where our ordinary lives are caught up in God’s extraordinary work of salvation for the whole world.

            God’s Story, which has been building up all through the OT, reaches its climax in a baby born in Bethlehem, the Messiah and Savior of the world we’ve just celebrated in this season of Christmas.  “Joy to the word, the Lord is come!” we’ve sung many times.  “Let earth receive her king!  Let every heart, prepare him room, and heaven and nature sing!”   

            Today begins a new season in the church year—the season of Epiphany.  Ephiphany means “to make manifest.”  It is a season of celebrating that the light has come, and it is about “seeing” more clearly who Jesus is and how he is the center-point and climax of God’s Story and our story.

 Starting today, the Narrative Lectionary takes us into the Gospel of Mark.  Whereas up to this point we’ve been leaping from one part of God’s Story to another (and at times they’ve been really big leaps), between now and Easter we’re going to slow down and move more methodically through Mark’s Gospel.  So hear the Word of the Lord from the opening chapter of the Gospel of Mark.  Read Mark 1:1-20.

Part II: the Beginning of the Good News!

I said that we were going to slow down and work our way through Mark’s Gospel, but “slow” is hardly the word to use for Mark’s storytelling!  Mark wastes no time getting down to business.  He doesn’t begin with a genealogy like Matthew or a lengthy birth narrative like Luke, not even a prologue like John.  Mark gets right to the point with a crisp, single sentence introduction: “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” 

If we had to come up with a title and heading for Mark’s Gospel, this would be it.  The word gospel literally means “good news,” and it’s a Greek word that was used in the ancient world to announce a military victory in the battlefield or that a new king had been born or a new king had been enthroned.

            And that’s exactly what Mark is announcing in this explosive opening sentence.  A new king has come!  And this king is bringing a new kingdom.  But this king and his kingdom will look radically different from anything the world has ever known.  For this is God’s kingdom, and the one who would rule is this Jesus, the Son of God, the Messiah.

            The Jewish people had been waiting a long time for this Messiah and his kingdom.  And while they differed in their expectations of what it would all look like, there was general agreement that it would be the fulfillment of God’s promises from prophets like Isaiah who talked about a day when God’s power would be set loose in the world in order to bring salvation to his people. 

            Mark’s opening sentence is sounding the alarm: the time is here!  At long last, God is on the move and is bringing the salvation he long ago promised.  And where does the story begin?  Not in Jerusalem, where you’d expect.  Not in that holy city where the temple stands and the religious and political leaders have everything well-managed and under control.  No, this good news bursts open out in the wilderness with a wild desert preacher who thunders out from his wilderness pulpit: “Get ready!  This new king is coming!”

            John the Baptizer calls people to repent, to turn around and change their lives, so that they might be ready to get in on this new thing that God is doing.  And we’re told that people come out in droves to confess their sins and be baptized.

            Then Jesus, the Messiah, comes.  And he is baptized by John in the Jordan.  Not because he had sins to confess like everybody else, but as an act of solidarity with humanity.  And also so that God might reveal his identity to us: the heavens tear open, the Spirit descends, and the voice of God speaks, “This is my Son, my beloved, with whom I am well-pleased.”         

Next, Mark tells us that Jesus is immediately driven out to the wilderness by the Holy Spirit where he is tempted by the devil for forty days.  Here we see Jesus acting out the great drama of Israel’s exodus from Egypt, Israel’s journey through the wilderness (40 years) into the promise land.  Whereas Israel failed to be obedient to God, Jesus is perfectly obedient and overcomes the devil.

            Mark tells us all of this in only thirteen verses!  Mark is the shortest of all four gospels, and you can see why.  His tempo is vigorous.  His style is abrupt.  There’s an air of breathless excitement in nearly every sentence he writes.  Mark’s gospel moves swiftly with purpose and surges with a sense of urgency. 

Then we come to the beginning of Jesus public ministry, and the primary message that he would preach throughout the rest of the gospel.  I want to slow down and spend the rest of our time this morning here.

            Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news.

            This is the message of Jesus’ life and ministry in a nutshell.  It’s crucial to Mark’s whole story.  Listen again:  “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news.

            What does Jesus mean when he announces, “The kingdom of God has come near?”  It may strike us as a strange phrase because we live in a western democracy.  As we’ve already talked about, it meant that the time had finally come for God to act in a decisive and powerful way to bring salvation to his people.  It was the time when God was going to do what he’d been promising all these years and set things right in the world. 

            Put simply: the kingdom of God is about God’s will being done here on earth as it is in heaven.  But Jesus didn’t only preach about this in-breaking kingdom.  He is also the one who embodies it.  It’s coming in him!  He himself is the message! 

The rest of Mark’s gospel will involve Jesus giving us glimpses of what this kingdom looks like in his own person and actions—casting out demons, healing the sick, restoring sight to the blind, raising the dead, calming the storms.  All these things are like windows into the future of what it will be like when God completely renews his creation, when his kingdom is fully here.  Satan and his demons will have no power.  Sickness and pain will be no more.  Death will be destroyed.  Everything will be made new and be the way it’s supposed to be!

            So that’s the first part of Jesus’ message: God’s kingdom is breaking in now!  And you don’t want to miss out!  In fact, Jesus calls us to join up with him and join in this movement of God.  And this leads to the second part of his message.  How do you join up and join in? Two words: repent and believe.

            Repentance literally means to “turn around”, “change directions” or “change one’s mind.”  More than just feeling remorse for the ways we mess up and act selfishly, repentance is about changing direction and going the other way.  It’s about switching stories, changing the script (so to speak) by which we live our lives.  We trade in the old scripts that tell us who we are and what gives our life purpose and step into a new script--God’s Story of how he is doing a new thing in Jesus Christ, the true King of creation.

            But we can’t do this on our will power.  We can only repent—turn around and go in a new direction and step into God’s Story—if God gives us the grace to do so.  We don’t turn from our sin and then turn towards God, rather we turn towards God first, and in doing so, turn away from our sin.  And we can only turn towards God because he has first turned towards us.  This is what makes the gospel good news!  It’s primarily about how God has found us, come near to us, turned towards us, so that we can now turn towards him.

            That’s what this second word is about: believe.  Belief is more than intellectual assent or checking off some theological categories.  It’s about placing our trust in Jesus, and obeying his commands.  It’s the difference between saying “I believe airplanes can fly” and actually being willing to board an airplane.  Put most simply, belief is about following Jesus.  It’s about attaching ourselves to him and giving him our ultimate allegiance.  It is about becoming his apprentice, which means becoming like him in all we desire, think, say and do.

            That’s why Jesus sums up his message about the Kingdom by inviting others, like Simon and Andrew, James and John to “follow me.”  True faith, true belief, is expressed in the act of following.  Not just what you say, but most importantly, how you live.  We trade in the old scripts that tell us who we are and how to live and start living by this new script of life in God’s kingdom.

            My favorite musical of all time is Les Miserables.  I loved the movie too!  It takes place in 19th century France and tells the story of Jean Valjean, who after spending 19 years in prison, is released on parole.  A theme that runs throughout the story is this key question for Valjean, “Who am I?”  Is he just a number – “Prisoner 24601” or does he have a name?  Is it possible that he can have a fresh start, a new beginning, or is he forever a prisoner to this old script of his past sins?  Valjean becomes a brooding, bitter man as he tries to re-enter society as an ex-con.

One of my favorite scenes is when Valjean is taken in by a Catholic bishop, who offers him food and shelter.  One night, Valjean steals most of the bishop’s valuable silver, and the police catch him.  If Vajean is convicted, he will go back to prison.  The police drag Valjean before the bishop and dump out the sliver as proof of Valjean’s guilt.  The bishop looks into Valjean’s desperate and shame-filled eyes, and he does something unexpected.  He tells the police that he gave the silver to Valjean, and grabs two silver candlesticks and tells Valjean that he forgot to take these as well.    It is such a powerful moment of grace.

After the policemen leave, the Bishop calls Valjean his “brother,” as if giving him a different identity.  As if inviting him to turn around, change directions, step into a different story.  It’s an invitation to enter and receive the kingdom of God.  The Bishop tells Valjean that he must use the silver “to become an honest man”and that his soul now belongs to God. Because of the bishop’s mercy, Valjean’s bitterness is broken.

The rest of the story shows how Valjean strives to live into this new story as one who belongs to God.  There will be plenty of other challenges, and at each juncture, he keeps having to make a choices.  He keeps returning to this key question, “Who am I?” and is reminded that he is not his own but belongs to God.  This sense of his identity gives him courage to do what is right, even when it involves enormous risk and sacrifice.  He raises an orphan who is entrusted to his care at her mother’s death, testifies in court on behalf of man who has been falsely accused, even shows mercy on two accounts to Javert, his parole officer, who has spent 15 years hunting him down.  He saves a young man, his future son-in-law, from death, though it almost costs him his own life.  Valjean returns good for evil wherever he goes, and at the end of his life, he longingly enters Glory.  It is a beautiful and compelling story of redemption.

            It’s the beginning of a new year.   Even though the church new year started in Advent, there is something about January that brings with it a sense of new beginnings.  And this is the message of the opening part of Mark’s Gospel today: the beginning of the good news…which means that there is good news for us all.  No matter what script we’ve been living by, no matter what’ve we done or left undone, we can have a fresh start.  We can begin again.  We can step into a new story and be made new.  By stepping into this new story of God’s kingdom that is breaking in right now, we are joined to Jesus and join up with his mission to make all things new.  This is what the call to discipleship is all about.          

            You don’t have to have it all figured out.  You don’t have to have your life all together.  You simply have to say, “Yes” to Christ’s call to follow him and start the journey of going with him.  This is the kind of journey where you learn as you go.  To paraphrase the great Karl Barth, all of us remain beginners when it comes to discipleship.  None of us gets to the level of expert.

            Do you hear Jesus’ calling out to you today?

             “Turn around.  Trust me.  Learn from me” Jesus says.  “Let me show you how you can be part of a story so much bigger than just yourself.  Let me teach what it means to live your life by a different script.  Come, Follow me.”

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

Preaching: Janelle Koolhaas
Text: Luke 2:22-40

22 When the time came for the purification rites required by the Law of Moses, Joseph and Mary took him to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord 23 (as it is written in the Law of the Lord, “Every firstborn male is to be consecrated to the Lord”), 24 and to offer a sacrifice in keeping with what is said in the Law of the Lord: “a pair of doves or two young pigeons.”

25 Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was on him. 26 It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. 27 Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts. When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the Law required, 28 Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying:

29 “Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
    you may now dismiss your servant in peace.
30 For my eyes have seen your salvation,
31     which you have prepared in the sight of all nations:
32 a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
    and the glory of your people Israel.”

33 The child’s father and mother marveled at what was said about him. 34 Then Simeon blessed them and said to Mary, his mother: “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, 35 so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

36 There was also a prophet, Anna, the daughter of Penuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was very old; she had lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, 37 and then was a widow until she was eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying. 38 Coming up to them at that very moment, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem.

[This is the Word of the Lord.]

Joseph and Mary have been having quite a journey, eh? I wonder how long they stayed in Bethlehem, homeless and overwhelmed with adjusting to a newborn. I wonder if they went on as quickly as they could back to Jerusalem? Surely there could be a place for them to stay there.  I wonder if they stayed over for a while at Zechariah and Elizabeth’s, and met little baby John? I wonder if they wondered if they would ever be able to fit it and make a life for themselves back in their home town of Nazareth… would people ever look at them without whispering about whose father the baby was…

We find them in today’s reading at the Temple in Jerusalem, their 5 week old son swaddled and held close, with those funny pimples that all seem to get around a month old. Perhaps he was quite good at holding up his head by now. I wonder if he had yet changed his parent’s lives with his first smile?

He would change at least a few people’s lives that day, and not just in the way babies have a way of doing.

Today, for some reason, Simeon could not get it out of his heart that he must go to the Temple, that he had an appointment from God. I imagine him as an old and wise gentleman. I wonder if he had ever told anyone about the hope borne in him that he would see God’s Annointed One with his one eyes before he departed from the earth? I wonder what the stirring felt like that led him into the courts and fixed his eyes on the couple with the baby?

What a rush! What a startling joy that must have come over Simeon!  Oh! OH? Now? really?

29 “Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
    you may now dismiss[c] your servant in peace.

30 For my eyes have seen your salvation,
31     which you have prepared in the sight of all nations:
32 a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
    and the glory of your people Israel.”

How Simeon had longed and wondered if it were possible, for this moment to come. And here it had! It had! He could feel it in his gut—no one would have deliberately picked this man and woman and child out of a crowd… they came to present their child to the Lord…but look at them, poor souls, dressed like refugees, they couldn’t even afford a lamb… but Simeon was overcome by the stirring of God’s Spirit… and he just KNEW.

Anna had felt it too. The grip of knowing caught her all at once when she saw how Simeon gushed over the child and blessed him. She had stopped in her tracks and moved straight towards them; not leaving a chance that she would miss them before they departed back into the crowds that swarmed the Temple. How long had she waited for this? So many years. An eternity, it felt like. And suddenly now it all seemed to be happening so fast?!

I wonder if she spoke out something like this? (Psalm 118:24-27)

the Lord has done this,
    and it is marvelous in our eyes.
24 The Lord has done it this very day;

25 Lord, save us!
    Lord, grant us success!

26 Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.
    From the house of the Lord we bless you.
27 The Lord is God,
    and he has made his light shine on us.

What joy for two people who had waited and hoped for so long!

Throughout Advent, we focus on waiting. Longing. These are feelings and experiences wholly familiar to us, are they not?  We have leaned in to hear about how God prepares, and how we prepare, for the unfolding of God´s plans. And we have celebrated the birth of Christ, the fulfillment of so many longing hearts and hopeful prophetic words.  Today’s story brings us the surprise and delight of two people who had clung to God’s promise of the Savior. God prompts and leads and nudges us, and even so still there are times that when we throw our hands up and say “what? NOW?! OH!!”

Simeon prophesied that Mary would have her own burdens and struggles as she watched God carry out the plans he had for her son.  Her heart would be broken one day.  I wonder if every single day she imagined how his life would go.  How would her own life would go? Remember at the wedding at Cana, when she seemed to be nudging him to intervene in the humiliating wine debacle that was about to ensue for the host—and he assures her that she cannot hurry God’s will! J  On the other hand, I’m sure there were times when she felt it was all happening too fast, too much, and we know from Mark and Matthew’s gospels that she and her other sons tried to rein him in, wondering if he had lost his mind, perhaps begging him to tone it down.

And the night that she stood by the cross…surely that happened all too fast, and with excruciating slowness as she saw how the soldiers beat him and hung him there…what of her surprise and wonder when his friends said that Angels announced that he was alive, and that they had seen him too.  Could her heart take any more angel announcements of impossible things??

But God’s word assures us that God’s timing is neither slow, nor mistaken…God’s Story shows this too us, over and over.

On the other hand, when we talk about Our Story, not all of the pieces fit so clearly.  We recognize in the chapters of our own lives the ups and downs of our faith, the brokenness that is not so easy to explain, forgive, or turn from…

• We uncover aches that no amount of theology will ever undo.  We may learn to endure, but we will never understand.
• We uncover hairpin turns in the course of our dreams and families and careers… We admit we’ve had doubts about how we discerned, and if we made the right choice. How does one be sure of Gods’ will, anyway?
• We can think of relationships that didn’t work out or didn’t last as long as we’d dreamed, children who did not follow the path we’d hoped for, and bodies that failed us and became frail or failing before we were ready.

Maybe all our talk about God’s Story/Our Story has made you bristle with discomfort or even anger. Maybe it has made you want to weep with hope worn thin.  Maybe it has left you cold, because it’s hard to feel that everything is so neatly connected as preachers want it to sound, especially in Advent.

When we read about Simeon and Anna, it’s tempting for us where we sit on this side of Advent and Christmas to imagine that this all played out in a marvelous way that just gave everything they had every hoped for or struggled through meaning, and thus made it worthwhile, like the closing scene of it’s a Wonderful Life.  I have always turned to these two figures as prime examples of experiencing the redemption of our waiting, and of hope fulfilled.

But that is far too over simplified.

Simeon saw a baby and was moved by God’s Spirit to declare that he was the Messiah, and there was that moment of joy that rings out and reverberates through the ages through God’s Word. But let’s look at the other reality—Simeon waited and prayed for a Messiah ALL OF HIS LIFE!  And as moving as the scene is, it was probably not what Simeon hoped for or imagined.  He would never live to see Jesus teach and hear his words of authority, see his miracles, or hear the inexplicable story of his resurrection—all of these things would come much later.  Though his prophetic words show that God’s Spirit was assuring him that this baby would be the Messiah—what of the consolation of Israel did he ever get to see with his own eyes?

Anna was a woman well acquainted with disappointment and unfulfilled hope.  She was married only a short few years before her husband died, and because she lived at the temple as a widow, my best guess is that any chance of being a mother also passed her by, and she never had a family of her own.  Just like Simeon, she was blessed with an out-of-this-world stirring of God’s Spirit within her when she encountered a poor couple with a newborn in the Temple—and Luke says she spent all the rest of her days telling others about the redemption of Israel… but honestly… that amounts to a lot more believing than seeing.  She clung tenaciously to a promise that she trusted because she MUST, and she was alert to the sign that God was unfolding his plans for this child… but let’s be real. She still died in land occupied by foreign forces, a vicious, monster of a king on the throne, and with redemption as something that only could be felt in the hearts of those who had faith to trust that God would not abandon them.

Neither of them could ever have known that their names would go down in Luke’s history and become integral and beloved figures in the story of the Messiah’s life. What would they have thought of THAT? Oh how I wonder what they would also want us to know about waiting and watching for something that God had sealed to their heart, and only for a split second passed before their eyes? I wonder, for all their faithfulness, what they would dare to tell us about doubts, about depression, and almost giving up?

 What I come to find from Anna and Simeon is that the only way to understand our own stories of brokenness , the only way to bear them at all--  … is to cling God’s Story that extends far before, and after… to trust in what God is doing that bigger and deeper and wider than any lifespan.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, if your story doesn’t feel all resolved and redeemed, if you are trusting God and still waiting for him in many practical or profound ways… then, yes, your story belongs. Your story is valid. Your story fits right in.

God’s timing and God’s answers are at the heart of God’s Story… and we preachers thrive on telling the Biblical story in ways that point to all the certainties and clear signs. And there are so many of those for us to hold dear, to stake our lives on. But I want part of our closing reflections in Advent to include our day-to-day waiting and hurting, and gather those realities in as part of the whole big Picture… the whole big Story that God is still working through, working out, and redeeming in ways big and small, bold and visible… steady and slow-to-us— fast, and abrupt-to-us… but not to God.

Amen.

___________________________________________________________________

For personal reflection:      

• What do you need to entrust to God that you cannot bear by yourself?
• How will you make room for the kind of listening that expects and trusts that God will reveal himself more and more?
• Let us pray for the help of God’s Spirit to guide, strengthen, and comfort us as we wait on the Lord.

Preaching: Marijke Strong
Text: Luke 1:5-16, 57-58, 67-80

5 In the days of King Herod of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah, who belonged to the priestly order of Abijah. His wife was a descendant of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. 6 Both of them were righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord. 7 But they had no children, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were getting on in years.

8 Once when he was serving as priest before God and his section was on duty, 9 he was chosen by lot, according to the custom of the priesthood, to enter the sanctuary of the Lord and offer incense. 10 Now at the time of the incense offering, the whole assembly of the people was praying outside. 11 Then there appeared to him an angel of the Lord, standing at the right side of the altar of incense. 12 When Zechariah saw him, he was terrified; and fear overwhelmed him. 13 But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John. 14 You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, 15 for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He must never drink wine or strong drink; even before his birth he will be filled with the Holy Spirit. 16 He will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. 17 With the spirit and power of Elijah he will go before him, to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.”

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57 Now the time came for Elizabeth to give birth, and she bore a son. 58 Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown his great mercy to her, and they rejoiced with her.

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67 Then his father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke this prophecy:

68 “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,

    for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them.

69 He has raised up a mighty savior[g] for us in the house of his servant David,

70 as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old,

71     that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us.

72 Thus he has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors,

    and has remembered his holy covenant,

73 the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham,

    to grant us 74 that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies,

might serve him without fear, 75 in holiness and righteousness

    before him all our days.

76 And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;

    for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,

77 to give knowledge of salvation to his people

    by the forgiveness of their sins.

78 By the tender mercy of our God,

    the dawn from on high will break upon[h] us,

79 to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,

    to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

80 The child grew and became strong in spirit, and he was in the wilderness until the day he appeared publicly to Israel.

INTRODUCTION

[From the communion table] It was several years ago, here at Fellowship church, that I watched one of our elders prepare the table for communion. I think he knew that I was in the room but he wasn’t really conscious of other people watching. He was so intent on the holiness of his task. I watched him smooth out the table cloth, pour the juice and put each cup carefully in place, position the plates of bread, and finally he set the loaf in the middle of the table. Then he stood back and quietly surveyed his work. Tweaked the edge of the table cloth. And left the room. Such love! Now I know that the table is already holy because of the presence of God (the presence of God is everywhere!), but somehow I think the table that day had been sanctified in a different way because of the care that man put into preparing for the supper where God and God’s people would meet. I remember sitting throughout the service and not being able to wait to get to the table. I knew something special was going to happen there.

The way we prepare for someone tells a story. It tells something about the one who is coming. It tells something about the ones who are waiting. It tells something about what we believe will happen next.

Thinking about waiting reminded me of the time of waiting we all had when I was getting ready to come from Canada to Michigan. After I received the call to come to Fellowship Church in 2011, we started working together with immigration lawyers to apply for a Work Visa. And we worked and worked on that Visa. I think it took close to 6 months!

During the time of waiting we prepared for one another. We set the table for our meeting. In Ontario, I was praying through the church directory every day, looking at your faces, saying your names out loud, using the words of Ephesians 3: “For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name. I pray that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love…..”

You were also preparing for me. Many of you sent me cards in Ontario. You made ready an office space for me and put my name beside the door. You had interviews with Homeland Security and explained why I had been called to come. You gave “Marijke updates” to the congregation. You prayed for me.  You also sent a delegation of movers when the time came, you cleaned my house for me and left welcome gifts, you helped me unpack.  Such love!

The way we prepare for someone tells a story. It tells something about the one who is coming. It tells something about the ones who are waiting. It tells something about what we believe will happen next.

ZECHARIAH

In the place where we pick up the story of the people of Israel today, there had been 400 years of silence since the voice of God was heard among the people. They were waiting for a word from God. A sign to give them hope for the coming age. Zechariah the priest was also waiting. He was waiting for a child. He and his wife, Elizabeth had been unable to bear children and were (as the text says) “getting on in years.”

So Luke invites us into the story in the middle of all this waiting. Just at the moment when things are about to change. Luke’s account begins and ends in the temple, showing that God is the primary actor in this story. First, we hear how Zechariah was called up by lot for his priestly duties, and went into the temple to minister before the Lord. What happened next was nothing short of astounding. An angel appeared to him. Gabriel, no less! And the angel told him that not only would his personal prayers be answered but also the prayers of the entire nation of Israel, all at the same time. A child would be born to him. A child! And this child would prepare the way for the Savior of the world.  Not surprisingly, Zechariah was knocked off his feet. And when he expressed his doubt (“How do I know that this will happen? I’m too old!”) the angel rebuked him for his disbelief by making him mute for the entire 9 months of Elizabeth’s pregnancy. 

So let’s stop for a minute here. Because there’s something familiar about this story, don’t you think? An elderly couple praying for children. A visitation from an angel. Disbelief. Promise. This is actually an old story getting retold in a new way. That happens all the time with the story of God. Do you remember last week Pastor Brian talked about the invitation God is always giving us to carry the old story forward into a new future? In the time of Ezra it happened when a new temple was built on the old foundation, so that the people wept and rejoiced when they saw it. Well today that same movement of the old giving birth to the new is taking place.

To signal that this is happening, Luke purposefully reminds his readers about the old, old story of Abraham and Sarah: an elderly couple who were promised a child by angels, and who doubted the news. They couldn’t believe that at their age God was going to fulfill God’s promise to bless Abraham’s descendants – making them as numerous as the stars in the sky – and pledge his covenant love to them forever. “Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?”

Now Luke intentionally brings the old story forward. It’s like he’s saying, “Remember the ancient promise? The one we were waiting for? The one we had almost given up on? That promise is about to be fulfilled. God is bringing something new out of something old.  And get ready. Because it’s going to look a whole lot different than you expected.” The child to be born to Zechariah and Elizabeth was going to prepare the way for a Savior, not only for the people of Israel but for the entire world.

JOHN THE BAPTIST

So Elizabeth increased with child. Her cousin, Mary, also had a visitation from an angel and became miraculously pregnant. “Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?” Finally, Elizabeth’s baby was born. And when the time came to name him both she and Zechariah insisted that his name should be John, as the Angel instructed them. Immediately Zechariah’s tongue was loosed – he was no longer mute! – and he broke forth into a song of praise. The first half of his song was about the coming Messiah, the one the people of God had waited for so long. Praise God! It is time for that Messiah to come and save the people of Israel! The second half of his song was about the wonder he felt when he considered that the baby he had waited for so long – his own son – would be the one to prepare the way for this Savior, not only of Israel but of the entire world. Listen to this:

And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways!

You can just hear him quivering with pride, can’t you? Let me tell you about the Greek meaning for the word, “prepare.” There are several meanings. We’re going to look at two. The first meaning is traditional. It has to do with the action of sweeping and leveling a road before a king came through. In his song, Zechariah described the work John would do to prepare the way (to level the road) for the King of Kings to come. What would that look like?

First, John would prepare the way by giving the knowledge of SALVATION to the people by the forgiveness of their sins. The Jewish people had been waiting for a political savior. Over the years they had suffered under countless dictators and now they were experiencing oppression once again under Roman rule. So of course salvation in their minds meant freedom from oppression. And God is certainly concerned with freedom from oppression. Zechariah knew that. But what was being proclaimed here was a different, deeper kind of freedom, the kind that John would one day preach by the waters of the Jordan River. A baptism of repentance. Forgiveness of sins. Freedom from our own wrongdoing.

This was a freedom that showed God’s deep concern first and foremost for the human heart. And not just one human heart. Or two. Or three. Every human heart! In the gospel of John (1:29) John the Baptist would announce Jesus’ arrival by saying, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” The world. Truly, there is a wideness in God’s mercy. It is not just for a few select individuals but for all people. So John was called first, to prepare the way for the coming of Christ by proclaiming salvation for every human heart.

Second, John would prepare the way by declaring the tender mercy of God – like dawn breaking on high, to give LIGHT TO THOSE WHO SIT IN DARKNESS and in the shadow of death. “Tender mercy” is a word in Greek that means a compassion so deep you feel it in your guts. It’s the same feeling that moved a mother in the time of Solomon to give up her child to another woman so that the child wouldn’t be harmed. It is a love so powerful it moves you to selfless action. Clearly, God is concerned not only with saving the human heart but also with redeeming the human condition. This is about release from all of the darkness, bondage and injustice in the world.

That’s why Luke deliberately quoted the prophet Malachi, who said, “But for you who revere my name the sun of righteousness shall rise, with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall.” And from the prophet Isaiah, who said, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness— on them light has shined…. For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” With him there shall be endless peace, justice and righteousness forevermore. John was called second, to prepare the way for the coming of Christ by sharing the gut-wrenching compassion of God, which moves God to set people free.

Finally, John would prepare the way by guiding the feet of God’s people into THE WAY OF PEACE.  It wasn’t enough to be saved from sin and liberated from injustice. Now the people would be invited to go and do likewise. Remember James said, “faith without works is dead.” Remember Matthew told us that when the King comes again in righteousness and divides the sheep from the goats, he will say to the sheep, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me…. Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of [these], you did it to me.” (Mat 25) Truly, to walk in the way of peace is to join with God in restoring shalom to this world. So finally, John was called to prepare the way for the coming of Christ by challenging the people to walk in peace.

THE PEOPLE OF GOD

As it turns out, John wasn’t the only one called to prepare the way of the Lord. He prepared the way for the incarnate Lord, who would be born in a stable, walk among the people, teach, preach, heal and love here on earth. John prepared for the one who would die to conquer death, rise to new life and ascend to the Father’s right hand, where even now he is interceding on our behalf and on behalf of the world.

But listen: that same Christ has promised that he will come again to restore all things to God’s design. That’s what we are waiting for. We feel it especially in Advent as we feel the tension between “Christ has come,” and “Christ will come again.” And now John is passing us the baton. He is holding it out for us. The question is whether we will take it. Will we take up the call to prepare the way for the Risen Lord? Will we declare salvation from sin to all people? Will we share the tender mercy of God, like a dawn bringing light to those who sit in darkness? Will we walk in the ways of peace? I believe we are doing this already. And we are called to do it even more fully. Wholeheartedly. Courageously.

Let me tell you a story. I have a friend who is a nun. She lives at the Dominican Center in Grand Rapids. Last month my friend told me, “I notice that those Dutch people always sweep and scrub the streets before a parade. They’re so meticulous in getting everything ready. So spic and span. It’s a bit of an obsession, right?” I was nodding my head. I know! I grew up in that tradition. “Well,” she said, “About 15 years ago I saw that peculiar habit put to good use. It happened that a demonstration of the Ku Klux Klan took place on the steps of a major building in the city.” My friend the nun had just seen a Broadway play and was coming out into the night, putting her coat on, getting ready to go home. She looked over to the building where that demonstration had taken place and saw an astounding sight. A group of Calvin College students were silently washing the steps where those men had stood. They never said anything. Just scrubbed and scrubbed. My friend thinks they had quietly followed the rally and done this in various places throughout the city. It was an act of protest.

I wonder if every moment of our lives is an act of protest. A message of defiance against the powers of darkness and an invitation for the Lord of Light to come again.  Remember that the way we prepare for someone tells a story. It tells something about the one who is coming. It tells something about the ones who are waiting. It tells something about what we believe will happen next.

Not all of us will have interactions with the KKK (thanks be to God). But in some way we will be called to get down on our knees and scrub the steps. To level the road and prepare the way of the Lord through the little acts of love and the large acts of courage and justice to which we are called every day. It happens in a million ways. We do this when we forgive a friend. When we care for a family member. When we clean up after children. When we open our home to people who are different than we are. When we send a card with a compassionate greeting. When we demonstrate politically. When we speak up about issues of injustice in this world. When we pray. With our lives we are called to prepare the way of the Risen Lord.

CONCLUSION

[From the communion table] Do you know the second meaning of the Greek word, “prepare”? Let me give you a hint: Revelation 19:7 “Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready.” Revelation 21:2 “And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.” Revelation 22:17 “The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come.’ And let everyone who hears say, ‘Come.’ And let everyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift.”

Advent is a time of waiting between “Christ has come,” and “Christ will come again.” The best way we can wait is to prepare for his coming with the everyday courage and holiness of our lives. We are called to level the road. We are called to get people ready. We are called to set the table with love and care for the coming of the King. 

Preaching: Brian Keepers
Text: Ezra 1:1-4; 3:1-4, 10-13

            I’ve already bought my tickets.  In fact, I bought them a couple months ago. 

Tickets to the opening night of Star Wars Episode VII: the Force Awakens, which happens to be this Thursday, December 17th.   A group of us from the staff are going together, and I’m taking my oldest daughter, Emma.

            I’m not going to lie.  I’m pretty excited.  It’s made this Advent season swell all the more with anticipation.  I grew up on Star Wars; it was tethered into the fabric of my childhood.  I had all the toys, know the original movies by heart.  And now to see my daughters catch the Star Wars fever is kind of crazy…and glorious!

            Here’s something that I read this past week in an interview with the film’s director, J.J. Abrams, featured as the cover story in Time Magazine.  After the disappointment of the three prequel movies that came out a decade ago, Abrams said the secret to his approach with this new film is that he has “returned to the future of the past.”

            That phrase grabbed me.  The future of the past.  What Abrams means by it is that he went back to what made the original films so effective, using original sets and physical costumes instead of CGI, trying to give the new movies a sense of being connected to the past films.  But Abrams was insistent: he’s not just repeating the past.  No, this new movie, while connected to the past, is a “new creation” (his words!).  His goal is to carry the story forward into a new future.

            What does all of this have to do with the story we heard a moment ago from the OT book of Ezra?  Well, this is precisely what God is doing among his people in the opening chapters of Ezra.  This is a story about the future of the past!  God is doing a new thing connected to the past, a new thing that is carrying God’s Story and their story forward into a hopeful future.

            We heard last Sunday through Stacy Duensing’s beautiful sermon that the Israelites, God’s people, were in exile.   Because of their disobedience, God handed them over to the Babylonian army who besieged the holy city, burnt down the Temple, and carted them off into captivity.

            But after years of exile, God comes to them through the prophet Isaiah and speaks these words of grace: “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.  Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, her penalty is paid, and she has received from the LORD’s hand double for her sins.”

            Stacey reminded us about God’s covenant promises—that God has given us his word that he will be faithful to his people even when they are not faithful to him.  Though they were in exile, God would give them hope and a future.  That was Isaiah’s message.

            And this was also the message of another prophet named Jeremiah.  Jeremiah said it a bit differently, but his words pulse with the same good news: “For thus says the LORD: Only when Babylon’s seventy years are completed will I visit you, and I will fulfill to you my promise and bring you back to this place.  For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the LORD, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.” (29:10-11)

            In our text today from Ezra we see God doing what he promised through his prophets like Isaiah and Jeremiah.  In the year of King Cyrus of Persia, in order that the word of the Lord by the mouth of Jeremiah might be accomplished, the LORD stirred up the spirit of King Cyrus of Persia…

            God is doing a new thing!  He has set in motion his plans and purposes for his people, and God is doing it through a pagan king of all people!  The Israelites had been waiting for God to come and rescue them.  And now the time came for God to make good on his promises.

            So this is the story of God’s people in exile beginning to return home.  King Cyrus, the Persian ruler who is now an instrument of the Lord, permits a wave of the exiles to return to the ruined city of Jerusalem and rebuild the holy temple, the house of the LORD.

            If some of this sounds familiar, it may be because we spent this past summer in the book of Nehemiah, which goes hand in hand with Ezra.  Nehemiah, the cupbearer of another king, King Artexerxes, who would return to Jerusalem to help rebuild the wall.

            But before Nehemiah, this wave of exiles goes first.  And a priest name Ezra goes with them.  A couple other priests, Zerubabbel and Jeshua, go also.  And once they arrive and get settled, the first thing they do is build an altar.

            Why an altar?  To symbolize that worship of Yahweh, the LORD God, was at the center of their identity as a people.  To remind them that their story was part of a much bigger story—the Story of God. To remind them who they are and whose they are.

            Then, they went to work laying the foundations of a new temple.  All of this was possible because the Spirit of God was at work among them.  God had stirred not just King Cyrus, but God was stirring the hearts of his people.            

This new thing that God was doing pointed them backwards—to the past.  We need to always being listening for echoes of other biblical stories whenever we read a Bible passage, and there are a few really clear echoes in this part of the story that we must not miss. 

God was doing a new thing that pointed them back to creation.  Listen to this line in Ezra 3:8:  “In the second year after their arrival at the house of God at Jerusalem, in the second month, Zerubbabel son of Shealteiel and Jeshua son of Jozadak made a beginning, together with the rest of the people…”  

            They made a beginning—or more accurately, God was making a beginning.  Just like God did in the beginning when he created the heavens and the earth.  Through his Word and Spirit, God is making a new beginning for the exiles who are returning home.

            But there’s another echo here.  The new thing God is doing pointed them back to the Exodus, when God rescued them from slavery and brought them through the wilderness to the Promise Land. Ezra-Nehemiah is a story about a second Exodus.  God is bringing his people out of bondage and into a new life of freedom.

            There’s one more echo we shouldn’t miss.  God is also doing again for them what he did through David and Solomon, building a house in which God will dwell with them in a powerful way.  A new temple!

            All of this, then, is an occasion for rejoicing!  It’s no surprise that when the foundation of the temple is laid, the priests lead God’s people in celebration.  “And they sang responsively, praising and giving thanks to the LORD, “For he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever.” It was the same song many of them who were alive to experience the first temple sang at its dedication.  “And all the people responded with a great shout when they praised the LORD, because the foundation of the house of the LORD was laid.”

            God is doing a new thing, a new thing that connected with the past, and it moved people to shouts of praise.   But this new thing wasn’t going to be the exact same as the past.  It wasn’t a return to the way things used to be.  You can’t go back to the past.   God was doing a new thing now, and that meant that while it was continuous with the past, it was also something different.  To borrow J.J. Abram’s pithy phrase: this was the future of the past.

            And that’s why you also get this reaction among many of the Israelites that day: “But many of the priests and Levites and heads of the families, old people who had seen the first house on its foundations, wept aloud with a loud voice when they saw this house, though many shouted aloud for joy, so that the people could not distinguish the sound of the joyful shout from the sound of the people’s weeping, for the people shouted so loudly that the sound was heard far away.”

            God is doing a new thing, empowering the Israelites to build a new temple.  But there were those present who remembered the first temple.  And they saw that it was not going to be just like the old one—it didn’t compare to the glory of that first temple they carried in their memory.  And so they wept.  They lamented because, with this new thing God was doing, they were also experiencing loss.  Perhaps the reality hit in that moment that they couldn’t go back to the way it used to be.

            We know what this is like, don’t we?  The reality of life is that change happens.  Sometimes that change is something we desire, other times it is change we dread.  But even when change is a good thing, it always brings with it a sense of loss.  Always.

            During my first five years here at Fellowship, I met weekly with Wes Kiel, a wise, seasoned pastor who served as our interim for a year after Ken Eriks left his role as lead pastor.  In the midst of several changes that were happening at the church, I recall a conversation we had.  “Wes,” I said.  “I can’t wait until we get through this season of transition and things settle in.”  Wes smiled and replied, “Brian, when do you think the church will not be in transition?”   He went on, “On this side of heaven, there will always be transition.  Because God is always bringing change in the life of his people.  The question is, ‘How will we respond to that change?’”

            I’ll never forget that conversation.  And as you might suspect, I’ve been thinking about it a lot this week.  I didn’t pick this text for today—it is assigned in the Narrative Lectionary.  But in the providence of God, I can’t imagine a more appropriate Scripture passage for us to hear today.  And not just for today, but I think for this season in our church’s life and ministry.

            We have had a lot of changes over the past few years.  Staffing changes.  Program changes.  Changes underway with our building.  Changes in the makeup of our congregation as some people have left and others have joined.  Changes with the deaths of people whom we love.

            Now add the changes that you’re experiencing in your own life and family, at work, in your neighborhood, and in our community.  Yes, change is simply a part of life.  It happens whether we are ready or not.  And change is hard.  For some of us, it may be especially hard.

            But I do think Wes Kiel is right.  On this side of heaven, there will never be a time when we, as God’s people, are not “in transition.”  That’s because the world is not yet what it’s supposed to be.  And we are an Advent people—not just for the month of December but as we live in between the times.  We live in “the already/not yet”—Jesus has already come to us in the child born in Bethlehem, and we’re still waiting for him to return as the exalted King.  God’s kingdom has already come, is breaking in among us now, and we’re still waiting for God’s kingdom to come in its completion.

            And that means change.  I think Wes is right on another key point: the question for all of us is, “How will we respond to change when it happens?” 

            It’s okay to grieve change when it happens.  It’s okay to feel sad, scared, and even angry.  This part of Ezra’s story (and so many other parts of the Bible, like the Psalms) invite us to be honest about our loss.  We can lament.  But at some point we have to make a decision.  Will we trust God and step into the new thing God is doing, even though it may be different from the past?  Or will we try to get back to the past, which is impossible but does get us stuck in the present—and often stuck in a place of cynicism, bitterness, maybe even despair.

            When God does a new thing, he points us back to the past.  But not to get us to try to return to the past.  But because by remembering the past—and especially God’s faithfulness in the past—God moves us forward into a hopeful future.

            A while back Pastor Marijke introduced me to the West African word “sankofa.”   In the Anken language of Ghana, sankofa literally means, “looking backward to move forward.”  Sankofa is also a word picture—a symbol of a bird in traditional African art.  The bird has its head turned backwards while holding an egg (representing the future) in its beak.  It is a powerful symbol of the truth that we move forward into the future by looking back into the past.

            James K. Smith (professor at Calvin College) puts it this way: “When Christians remember, we are not retreating to the past; we are being catapulted toward the future.  God’s people inhabit time in this strange tension, where we are called to remember so that we can hope.  When Jesus enjoins us to eat and drink in remembrance of the Last Supper, he also points us toward the future: we celebrate the Lord’s Supper ‘until he comes,’ and so the remembrance is really just a foretaste of that coming feast.  [Communion propels] us toward the future with hopeful expectation.  Christians inhabit time as a stretched people.” (Discipleship in the Present Tense, p. 49).

            So to be disciples, to be the body of Christ together, means we live as a “stretched” people, stretched in between what God has done and what God has yet to do.  Advent is a season of waiting and watching for the new thing that God is doing.  But that waiting and watching is not passive—it is active.  We wait and watch forward, stepping into the new thing God is doing.  We wait forward into the future of the past.

            Usually this will include grieving, and yet we grieve as a people who have hope.  Because while change is inevitable, one thing does not change: God and his promises.  “There is no shadow of turning with thee.”  God is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.  He is our rock and our foundation.   Jesus Christ is the anchor of our hope, the NT writer of Hebrews tells us.  An anchor that doesn’t keep us stuck in the past or hold us back but steadies us and holds us up securely as we move into the wide open sea of God’s hopeful future.

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

Preaching: Stacey Duensing
Text: Isaiah 40:1-11

Opening

Once again we come to God’s word, the great, living story that is also our story. So I invited you to enter the story where it finds us today, and to listen also for your story there.

Setting up the Story

So where are we in the story? 

We enter the story today when the people of Israel are in exile.  But let’s take a moment to remember how they got there.

Israel, God’s covenantal people have turned away from God to worship other things.  Prophets have warned and pleaded with them to turn back to God.  But the people of God have covered their ears and have closed their eyes.  They turned from God and eventually they were overtaken by other powers. Their beloved city of Jerusalem is held up like a piece of paper above a match.  All is burned: the city, its walls of protection, and even the temple itself.  There, in the ashes, the remaining people of Israel are made to march into exile.  They cannot carry with them their homes, their possessions, or even their dignity.  They are refugees.  All they carry with them is the memory of Jerusalem burning, for the memory has burned itself also into their minds.

Where does the message find us?

Where we find Israel in the story is a contrast to the message we just heard from Isaiah 40 of comfort and of God’s coming. 

But perhaps that’s precisely the point. 

How we hear and receive a message depends on where we are when the message reaches us. The circumstances we are in effects how we hear the message:  Where are we physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually?   These things effect how we receive the message AND how we respond to it.

It is in the context of exile, that Israel hears these words from Isaiah 40:  “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.”

Israel hears these words from the place of exile.  And Israel’s exile is not just from their land; it is an exile of the heart.  Exile causes them to question their relationship with God.  They have been forced to leave the Promised Land, and in doing so they wonder if they have also left God’s promise.  As they move out of the boundaries of the Promised Land, they ask themselves if have they also moved out the boundaries of God’s love for them.

Has God abandoned them?  Has God’s favor and love departed from them?  They are refugees of their homeland, but they also feel like refugees from their God.

“Comfort, O comfort my people…”  These words do not fall on deaf ears. They are given to a people who desperately need to be comforted.   Who have longed and waited, and desperately hoped for such a word from their God. 

Kristi’s Story

There are so many of us who are looking for comfort: Kristi was frustrated.  For years she had been living with chronic pain in her feet, And as the years went on instead of the pain going away, it continued to get worse.  Planterfaciitis.  That’s the words the doctors had used.  She’d been to so many doctors.  She even had surgery.  But instead of making the pain better, the surgery just seemed to increase the pain.  She quit her job because her feet no longer allowed her to stand for long periods of time or walk long distances.  And although she found a new job, the transition was still hard.  She was frustrated her physical discomfort was keeping her from doing the things she loved like chasing after her grandchildren or hiking on family vacations.  Her discomfort was physical, but her physical pain affected her emotional and spiritual sense of comfort.  She prayed for healing.  Her family and friends prayed for healing.  She was waiting, and longing for comfort.

Our Story

“Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.

In what place do we receive these words of hope and comfort from the prophet Isaiah? In the season of Advent, we are reminded of our deep need of a Savior to come.  The pain in the world and the pain in ourselves cries out with intensity for God to come and comfort us. 

We see the pain in the world:  Unrest in the Middle East, refugees displaced from their homes, poverty, and hunger.  We see pain closer to home: in mass shootings, in acts of violence against groups of people who look differently from one another.  We see pain in our families: the loss of loved ones, sickness, anger.  And we see pain in our own hearts: loneliness and turning from God.

God’s Word is Sure

“Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.”  We deeply need these words of comfort, and we want to embrace them.  But, at times, our pain can be so deep that we doubt the truth in God’s words.  Will God comfort us?  Can God’s comfort match the depth of our pain and our need?  Will God turn away from us as we have often turned from God?

It’s easy for us not to trust that God will comfort us. The message of comfort we receive from God seems too good to be true.  And experience tells us that words of comfort are often untrustworthy…. people are untrustworthy.  We know all too well the expressions, “Actions speak louder than words” and “Talk is cheap.”    We can remember the pain that came from a loved one breaking their promise. We take our experiences of hurt with the people around us and assume that they apply also to God.

God’s Covenant

            But, God’s words are not cheap niceties.  They are different than any word of comfort people will give us. God’s words of comfort are part of God’s everlasting covenant with us. A covenant is not like the pinky promises made by children in elementary school.  A covenant is a binding promise, a promise that cannot be easily broken. We can see how serious God is about keeping his covenant by seeing it pass the test of time.  We’ve witnessed this as we have been walking through God’s story together.

Way back in Genesis chapter 17, God came to Abraham and made this covenant with him:        

God says: “I will establish my covenant between me and you, and your offspring after you throughout their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you.”

Later on, when the people of Israel were enslaved to the Egyptians, God still keeping his covenant: Exodus 2:24 says:             

“God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.”

But God’s faithfulness to his covenant with his people doesn’t end there!  When God gave the ten commandments to God’s people at Mount Sinai, they were also a sign of God’s covenant.   God’s covenant continued in the stories of Elijah, Ruth, David, and Hosea…..

God’s covenant continued when God’s people did wrong.  God’s covenant continued even when God’s people turned away from him and went into exile.  God’s word of comfort is covenantal:  It is a living word that lives alongside God’s people and extends even to into our lives today.

God’s Word Stands

God’s comfort, God’s covenantal love stands… forever.  Even when we are unfaithful, God is faithful.  The prophet Isaiah cries out the truth of God’s word standing forever with this picture:

“A voice say, “Cry out!” And I said, “What shall I cry?”  All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field.  The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass.  The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever.”

            God’s word stands forever.  God’s word is alive.  God’s covenant, God’s comfort is alive.  But let’s not make the mistake of comparing the lifespan of God’s covenant to that of a blade of grass.  A blade of grass withers and dies after the first taste of bad weather. “The people are like grass” they also wither and fade over time or, they fade when they are faced with bad weather. God’s living word is different than the grass of the field, AND God’s word is different than the promises of people. God’s covenant with us continues the darkest weather and the loneliest exile.  This is our comfort.

The Heidelberg catechism puts it this way in question and answer #1:

Q: What is your only comfort in life and death?

A: “That I am not my own, but belong body and soul, both in life and death, to my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ.”

The lifespan of God’s covenant goes beyond even our own lives.  The day will come when each one of us will wither and fade.  Just like the grass and flowers of the field, we will one be laid to rest in the dust of the earth.  We live and we die.  But God’s covenant and comfort extends beyond even our earthly existence.      

God Coming

How we hear and receive a message depends on where we are when the message reaches us.       

The context of our lives matters.  For us to understand or accept a word of comfort, it needs to come to us in our context. It needs to meet us in our lives.  If a word of comfort cannot come alongside us in our pain, we understand it to be irrelevant.

This is the comfort we need.

Bedtime Story

I have two adorable nephews.  I’ll take any chance I have to brag about them, even if it’s in a sermon.  My nephews, Jase & Kade are twins.  They are just over two years old.  I had the chance to go see them about 2 weeks ago when I went back to Nebraska over thanksgiving break to where my family lives. Of course I spent as much time with them as I could, playing and wrestling and tickling and chasing up until the last moment when my sister said they had to go to bed.

We did the normal bedtime routine: diapers changed, jamies changes, books read, kisses given.  Finally, we lifted Jase and Kade into their cribs for the night.  I turned out the lights and walked to the door, but I could tell my sister wasn’t following me.  I turned to see her swinging her leg up over the side of Kade’s crib.  Then her other leg.  She laid down with her sweet little boy and cuddled him.  I asked her in a whisper, “What are you doing?”  She responded, “Kade sleeps better if I just cuddle him for a while.”  I realized that no words of “good night” or “I love you” or “see you in the morning, sweet pea” could have the same comfort for Kade as the arms of his mother wrapped around him as he was falling asleep.

We need a message of comfort that meets us, that touches us, and wraps us in its embrace.  Where can we get such living, embodied words of comfort?  Isaiah 40:3 says

“A voice cries out: “in the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God …

            This proclamation to “prepare the way of the Lord” means that the Lord is coming.  God is coming, to us!  The true comfort God speaks to us in “Comfort, O Comfort my people” is that God is coming himself to us..   Even when we feel as if we have moved away from God, God responds by moving toward us.  God comes to sit with us, even in our exile.

These words of “prepare the way of the Lord “were also proclaimed by another prophet besides Isaiah. John the Baptist used these words to proclaim the coming of Christ. 

Jesus, the Christ, is the fullness of God coming to live among God’s people.  The Word of God that stands forever is the very Christ that comes to us in Christmas.  John’s Gospel begins with these words :

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God….      And then….     ”And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. “ 

God’s covenant is alive in the Living Word, Jesus Christ, who comes to live among us.  God doesn’t give us his covenant just through words, God gives us the covenant through a person. Jesus – Immanuel- God with us. In the person of Jesus, the world received God in the form they could see, touch, and smell.  It was by touching Jesus, God in the flesh, that Thomas could declare his belief in God’s promise. 

When Christ ascended into heaven after his resurrection, Christ did not leave us.  God gave us the Holy Spirit.  Oddly enough, the Spirit is referred to in scripture as the comforter.  “Comfort, O Comfort my people” is God living within us through the power of the Holy Spirit.  We carry God, our covenantal comforter within our souls.

Proclamation

Is this not good news?  The prophet Isaiah certainly thought so.  Isaiah 40:9 says,         “Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good tidings; lift   your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings, lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Judah, “Here is your God!”

When we experience God’s comfort through Christ’s coming, we cannot help but exclaim the truth “Here is your God!”  We are witnesses to God’s comfort in the world, for God dwells within us. 

Kristi’s Story

The message of comfort is a gift too great not to share.  Kristi spent years in discomfort and pain.  Doctor after doctor promised her healing and comfort but their words did not deliver what they promised.  It was years into her journey with planterfaciitis that Kristi finally found a doctor who knew how to heal her feet.  Kristi literally walked her way on the journey to wholeness.  She experienced a new world where she could say yes to everyday possibilities.  She could go on walks with her daughter, stand behind the line at the church bake sale, and chase after her grandsons all day.  The physical comfort Kristi felt in her feet changed the way she lived her life. Do you think in the face of such life change that Kristi kept quiet about her healing and comfort? Of course not!  Her healing, her comfort was a gift too great not to share.  She told all her friends with planterfaciitis or foot pain about the doctor that brought her healing.

Proclaiming God’s Comfort

God’s comfort, God’s living word is a gift to great not to share.  When we have experienced it, we cannot help but let it spill out of us to others.  We want to share the living word that was given to us. 

This season of advent is all about expecting and waiting for Christ to come.  As we look towards Christ’s coming, we are also to proclaim his coming to others.  This role of proclaiming the “good news” is part of the Christmas story, do you remember?  When the angels came to the shepherds bearing “good news for all people” the shepherds went to see the manger.  They left the Messiah, glorifying and praising God, telling others about what they had experienced.  We are to be proclaimers and bearers of God’s comfort to the world.

So, this advent, let us join our voices with the angels of Christmas eve who sang the good news of God’s coming comfort to the shepherds.  And like the shepherds, let us trust God’s proclaimed word enough to follow it to the manger.  And in seeing Christ, the living word, let us move out as messengers of God’s comfort in the world.

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