Wilderness Wanderings

A special, extended Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is Revelation 12-14 from the New International Version of the Bible. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

Then Levi held a great banquet for Jesus at his house, and a large crowd of tax collectors and others were eating with them. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law who belonged to their sect complained to his disciples, "Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?" Jesus answered them, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." (Luke 5:29-32)

Yesterday, we mentioned the increasing trend sweeping our society in this late stage of the pandemic to require proof of vaccination status. Many, but not all, of those who have received the vaccine are grateful to be able to jump into full participation in filled-to-capacity venues again: it starts to feel like a sense of "normalcy" has returned, if even just a little.

But there remains a question of who gets left out and what happens to them. Those who remain unvaccinated are not a monolithic crowd. Some have had barriers to accessing the vaccine, others have medical reasons that steer them away, and still others have a healthy—and particularly among racialized groups, a well-founded—distrust of government and public institutions. I have spoken to some who remain unvaccinated at this time and have found some legitimate reasons among them for having elected this choice. So, what happens to them when they show up at the gates with naught but filthy rags to show for themselves?

The gut reaction for many of us is to say: they made their own bed, and they can lay in it. They chose not to participate with the rest of society in this communal effort of getting out of COVID, so why should society now keep a place for them? Choices have consequences. Those who chose to get vaccinated want to get back to normal, so why should that get held up by those who chose not to love their neighbours as well as the vaccinated have?

Well, again, firstly: vaccine hesitancy is not quite that simple. It cannot properly be called "just a choice," when some people, for no fault of their own, are simply unable. But, more importantly for our purposes in this devotion today: all of us make bad choices that screw up our lives and the lives of others. All of us have deliberately chosen to sin at some point along the way: probably at multiple points. And Jesus keeps a place for us anyway. We call it grace. Jesus eats with us anyway. Forgives us anyway. And yes, is also willing to sacrifice his health, unto death, for us who have chosen to sin against him and our neighbours, anyway.

It is not the law-abiding righteous that Jesus comes for: it's the sinners. The ones who, like tax collector Levi and Zacchaeus have chosen to think of themselves first and sin against others: those are the ones Jesus continually chooses to eat with. They are the sick ones who need the doctor. And to them: Jesus comes. Will we?

"…keep away from everything impure…Your camp must be holy, so that [the Lord] will not see among you anything indecent and turn away from you" (Deuteronomy 23:9, 14).

In the Old Testament, keeping things pure was a big deal. It was not just the people of Israel, but their possessions and the camp (and later the cities) had to be kept pure. This meant that neither people nor possessions could touch anything impure. If they did, these people or things would need to undergo a purification ritual which could last days or weeks. Check out Leviticus for more details.

The big deal regarding purity was simply this: God dwelt among his people. God is pure and cannot abide impurity, so stay pure. During her journey to Canaan Israel is repeatedly warned: do not take God taken lightly; he is not to be trifled with. Israel often got herself into trouble because she did not take her God seriously. People died.

The Old Testament portrays Israel as a people who did not respect God appropriately. However, when the New Testament opens, things had changed. Israel took God so seriously people would not say the name of God aloud. Thus, when Jesus claimed to be the Son of God, people refused to believe him. They could not believe that God would condescend to live among humans, as a human.

But this is central to the Christian faith. Jesus dwelt among us to purify us once for all. The writer of Hebrews puts is succinctly, "Such a high priest truly meets our need—one who is holy, blameless, pure, set apart from sinners, exalted above the heavens" (Hebrews 7:16). And later, "…and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful" (Hebrews 10:21-23).

Here is the difference between the testaments: Israel had to make herself pure so that God could dwell among her. Jesus dwells among us to purify us. Before Jesus, the responsibility for purity was on the people. In Jesus, God took on that responsibility. Therefore, John writes, "But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment" (1 John 4:18).

Let us apply this profound Christian reality to our situation today. Because of vaccine passports, our society is being divided, separating out a small percentage of people, and limiting their participation in public life. I am not making a judgement on vaccine passports but stating that these passports effect our public life and intrude into church life. That is one of the dynamics of living in Canada.

My point is that our vaccination status against COVID-19 makes no difference to our status as Christians and thus as members of Christ's church. And my fear is this: the divide between those with passports and those without can become a kind of purity test. We think we are purer than those on the other side. Such accusations can be hurled from both sides. It is this potential gulf that we must avoid. We are spiritually purified in Christ, and only in Christ.

Moreover, Christ gives each of us his Holy Spirit to be our guide on the journey of discipleship. As Christians, we journey together, but each makes a unique journey as well. Each journey goes by its own speed as the Spirit directs. Yet there are qualities that are part of each journey. Paul writes, "Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love" (Ephesians 4:2). More than ever, we all need to lean into these, so that we can continue walking together the COVID road.

I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith. I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. (Philippians 3:8-12)

It seems so simple, to say that all you need is Jesus and that he's at the centre of everything. In fact, it often feels too simple to say, and a bit silly to say out loud. Can Jesus really be the answer to every question? Isn't that the Sunday School answer, and aren't we supposed to put childish answers behind us and get to the deep adult things already?

But I must tell you: attending church meetings at classis, the denomination, or even nationally and internationally with a mix of denominations and Christian leaders: this is often exactly what I come back to as the solution for most questions of content or procedure. Participating in an in depth theological dialogue in TrueCity around human sexuality this past year, this again is exactly what I came back to. In fact, thinking about how I conduct myself, love God, and love others in any setting from the denominational politicking to the grocery store: this is what I come back to.

Yes, it really is all about Jesus.

Sometimes I come away with that notion because I've been deeply touched by an expression of our shared faith or have seen something of God's work in a particular setting. But, sometimes, and admittedly this is more often the case, I come away with it because of something that went off the rails. Sometimes that something was my own poor conduct.

And so I come back again to Jesus. Sometimes for forgiveness. Sometimes in lament. Always for assurance. Are you still the Lord of the Church today? Yes? Whew. Good, cause I blew it.

Some of us hear these words from Paul about pressing on to take hold of the faith and think it's really a work that we need to run flat out to accomplish. But, I think the emphasis is actually more on that first part of these verses—the part where Paul says he considers everything else a loss—garbage—compared to simply knowing Jesus.

Because it is Christ who first took hold of us, it's Christ's suffering that we participate in, and it is Christ's resurrection power that somehow, mysteriously attains resurrection for us. Next to that, everything and anything else really can be lost. If we have Jesus and him alone, well, that's enough.

"If you see your fellow Israelite's ox or sheep straying, do not ignore it but be sure to take it back to its owner. If they do not live near you or if you do not know who owns it, take it home with you and keep it until they come looking for it. Then give it back" (Deuteronomy 22:1-2).

We are back in Deuteronomy. Some time ago, I started working through this book, reflecting on a small portion of each chapter. Thanksgiving weekend prompted us to do some different things, but now, let's return to finish what we started.

Last Monday, as Helena and I were taking our morning walk, a stranger stopped us asking if we had a cigarette. Having been informed that we did not, he asked which bus would give him and his bike a free ride down the mountain. We gave him some possibilities, uncertain of our information, never having needed this service. Later that same day, as I was walking down Mohawk Road, a lady came out of the bus stop shelter asking which bus would take her to a certain destination. Not understanding where she wanted to go, I declined to help her; graciously, I think.

As I walked on, I thought, 'two in one day': total strangers interrupting me to ask for things I didn't have: cigarettes and information. But then I began to wonder about the graciousness of my responses. My words may have been gracious, but my heart didn't feel very gracious. In fact, I felt both were interruptions. What right did they have to interrupt me? Its not that I had better things to do, but well, what right did these people have asking me for these things? But the Holy Spirit was testing the motives of my heart and found them wanting! If I had sat down for one minute with that lady in the bus stop shelter, I am sure that my phone would have found the answer she needed.

And today, we come to Deuteronomy 22: "If you see your fellow Israelite's ox or sheep straying, do not ignore it but be sure to take it back to its owner. If they do not live near you or if you do not know who owns it, take it home with you and keep it until they come looking for it. Then give it back."

This is an application of the second great commandment, "Love your neighbour as yourself" (Mark 12:31). My experiences may have been somewhat different, but close enough. My time is my own, why should I give it to others? That is the way I am wired. But Jesus wants to rewire me.

Reading this text, I remembered the old ditty from the school playground, Finders, Keepers, Losers, Weepers. A Google search revealed that the first written record of this idea dates all the way back to 200 BC by the Greek playwright Plautus. Could it be that Jesus and the apostles knew of this dictum and countered it? Consider what Paul wrote, "Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ…in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others" (cf. Philippians 2:1-4).

I wonder if anyone challenged our school ground values. I do not remember. It seems that the school yard ditty still finds as much resonance in my heart as Jesus' counter move. The words of Psalm 19 lead us to better ways, "Keep your servant also from willful sins; may they not rule over me...May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer" (13-14).

I was given a reed like a measuring rod and was told, "Go and measure the temple of God and the altar, with its worshipers. … Then God's temple in heaven was opened, and within his temple was seen the ark of his covenant. And there came flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, an earthquake and a severe hailstorm. (Revelation 11:1, 19)

This is an odd set of bookends to the 11th chapter of Revelation that we didn't get to on Sunday.

The first verse or so is likely a reference to the earthly temple that John is told to go and measure. The final verse is about God's heavenly temple of which that earthly version was only a copy. These are curious, but not unimportant references.

And what they refer to is an assurance that no matter the chaos and uncertainty that God's people were facing, they were set apart as God's worshiping community, which was a place ordered, measured, and secure against the uncertainty of the moment.

Not only that, but the place of worship before God was a place that had correspondence with the heavenly temple. And there, in that heavenly temple, God's presence and promises were real. There was the Ark of the Covenant: God's throne and mercy seat—the signs of his rule. There was thunder and earthquakes also, the signs of God's presence.

And, because there was correspondence between earth and heaven through Jesus Christ, the earthly place of worship also became a sanctuary for God's people. A sanctuary held secure by God's rule and presence on earth as it is in heaven. Worship creates a little embassy of the Kingdom of God wherever two or three are gathered.

Craig Barnes has a section in his book The Pastor as Minor Poet that speaks to what's going on here, I think. It goes like this…

He says: "A disaster is anything that makes us feel like the stars are falling down. That's why it's called a dis-aster. The late University of Chicago theologian Mircea Eliade claimed that all religions are centered on an axis mundi, or a sacred pole that keeps earth connected to heaven. This can be a totem pole, the center pole of the tribal hut, a temple, or the cross of the Christians. Whenever there is a disaster, no matter how personal or global in scope, people rush to their axis mundi to insure that the heavens are not collapsing on top of them."1

So whether in the uncertainty or disasters of our present moment or in the uncertainty or disasters of John's day, the sanctuary of our worship and the cross of Christ give a steady place to return to remind us that no, the sky is not falling. Earth and heaven remain connected and secure because God's presence is still with us and his rule is still sure.

1. Craig Barnes. Pastor as Minor Poet: Texts and Subtexts in the Ministerial Life (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), p. 44.

An extended Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is Revelation 10-11 from the New International Version of the Bible. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

DIVE IN QUESTIONS

1. If you've got time: feed your apocalyptic imagination by reading the following passages!

-Exodus 19:3-19 - Make sure to read the NIV footnote for verse 19! -1 Kings 17:1 - No rain but by the word of Elijah. -Psalm 29 - The God of Glory thunders (see his 'voice' 7x). All cry, "Glory!" -Jeremiah 5:14 - My word as fire in your mouth to devour the people as wood. -Ezekiel 37:1-14 - The breath of life enters the dry bones and they stand and live. -Daniel 12 - Angels by the river with a sealed scroll. -Zechariah 2-4 - Measuring line. Priest and King: the "two olive trees." -Matthew 17:1-13 - Moses & Elijah with Jesus, disappear in the cloud of God's presence.

Can you think of other passages or Biblical images that feed John's imagination (or yours!) as he writes Revelation 10-11 or as you hear it read?

2. Now over to you: are you on a journey of deconstructing your faith? Do you know others who are? Is it something you've heard of? What do you think it means, or what does it mean to you to do this?

3. What situation that John and his hearers faced was similar? What was their situation, and in what way did John try to address it?

4. What does it mean to eat the scroll?

5. What kind of exercise does John recommend?

"May God be gracious to us and bless us and make his face shine upon us, that your ways may be known on earth, your salvation among all nations" (Psalm 67:1-2).

Probably one of the most common Christian prayers is the request for God's blessing. Sometimes we might have the fleeting thought that such prayers are selfish. Its good to know then, that the Bible encourages us to pray this way. After all, some of the Bible's most famous words are those the priests spoke over Israel, "The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace" (Numbers 6:24-26).

God told the Israelite leaders to bless His people with these words. But have you ever wondered what they mean? When we ask God to bless us, what are we really asking for? Psalm 67 gives us a glimpse into the answer.

From Psalm 13:1 and 89:46ff we learn that when God hides his face from his people it means trouble. It's a poetic image picturing the effects of sin having full licence to do their worst. When God's face is turned towards his people then the effects of the curse are held at bay, even repelled.

The odd thing is that when God turned His face away from Jesus in the darkest hour of Jesus' life, God was turning his face fully towards us. During those darkest hours that this world has ever known, in those events that led Jesus to cry out, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" this same God was pouring out his blessings upon us.

It's true that when we ask God to bless us, we are often praying from selfish motives. Richard Foster tells us that all prayers begin here. But as we continue to pray, the motivations begin to change. Real prayer changes our motivations. Rather than looking fully towards our own interests we move towards Gods.

In prayer we turn our faces towards God. As we gaze upon Him our petty motivations and desires crumble away. Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, we become absorbed with the great works of God.

This is where Psalm 67 leads us. God's blessings towards us serve the larger purposes of His redemptive acts in Christ. We are blessed so that others may know the great ways of God, so that they will know how great Israel's God is. God blesses us so that we can bless others.

But there is even more to it than that. The structure of the psalm suggests that verse 4 is the heart of the matter. We are blessed so that the nations will join us in glad songs of praise to our God. In the end, all nations will be gathered about the throne of God and the Lamb. To that end, God blesses us.

So, as you go off to work or school or play, consider how all the things God gives you are given as part of his purposes to redeem the world. How can you pass on the blessings God gives you? Think about it this way, God gives us buckets to collect his blessings. But the buckets are full of holes so that the blessings will flow out to other places and people. We tend to plug the holes, causing the blessings to rot in our hands.

Rather than plug the holes, let's ask for God's blessings and let them flow so that the world can sing God's praise with us.

I took the little scroll from the angel's hand and ate it. (Revelation 10:10a)

What are you eating these days? What does your diet consist of?

We've talked the past couple days in these devotions about the prevalent trend of deconstructing one's faith. I wonder sometimes if part of the reason this has caught on is because we have access to such a smorgasbord of information and impressions these days.

With the digital revolution, a few things happened. Firstly, we gained access to encyclopedic knowledge of almost anything. We now have the power in our pocket to "research it for ourselves" in a fast and efficient way that previous generations couldn't.

Secondly, private space disappeared. What was once private became and continues to become public. Abuse scandals long hidden from view behind bureaucracies began emerging into public light with increasing speed, and especially in these last years since the #metoo movement. Indeed, the #metoo movement was just one of the examples of what were once private stories emerging into public space. And that's been a good thing.

But the loss of private space has meant more. Increasingly, we live our lives publicly, and this happens, I think, largely because of and through social media. We reveal our thoughts, opinions, emotions, and intimate moments publicly with pictures, videos, and unfiltered text, feeling an increasing need and desire to document these things for public consumption. We contribute to this "public-ation" of our private affairs when we post content, but I'm interested today more in the volume of content we're exposed to when we pick up our devices.

Because when you put all that exposure together: we are ingesting more information about everything than we ever were before. Sometimes that leaves us feeling knowledgeable, but increasingly, it leaves us feeling uncertain in the face of so much complexity. Especially when the info we get is about the abuses and sins of leaders, influencers, and institutions like the church. We no longer know who to trust. And the increasing offers of alternative beliefs, identities, and lifestyles just confuses us further.

This, I think, is what we are increasingly consuming. This is what our diet consists of. We no longer have the privilege of innocent or naïve belief. We know the stains on the church and its leaders, we know other people believe different things, and believe things differently. And: given this information overload, we feel increasingly inept at figuring out how to know or believe anything for ourselves.

So, an old school, non-digital invitation for you today. Whether you're on a journey of deconstructing, reconstructing, or just plainly bewildered and unsure where you sit, try this: change your diet. Put the phone down, and eat your Bible instead. Better yet: share that meal others in embodied community where you can chew it over together.

We're always ingesting and consuming something. But maybe a better diet would leave us feeling more calm, rested, and regular. John the Revelator is our patron saint for this diet. He takes the scroll of scripture and eats it. In other words, he doesn't just read the Bible: he chews it over, swallows it, lets it nourish him and become part of his body and life. Far from leaving him in uncertainty or with canned, abstract truths, this scripture-diet brought John a vision of heaven on earth in new creation where all things are set right and made new by our Lord Jesus Christ. Maybe that's a diet worth trying.

Jesus replied, "And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it" (Matthew 16:18).

Before we return to Deuteronomy, I want to follow up on Pastor Anthony's reflection on Deconstruction. It truly is all the buzz today. In fact, a daily email I subscribe to began yesterday's reflection with the phrase 'deconstructing faith'. I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to add my two cents to the conversation.

This will not be a 'Debbie downer' devotion. Let me set the stage with two personal experiences. Growing up I thought the Christian Reformed Church was 'the church'. We had it right, everyone else had it, if not wrong, at least less right. But then, in my early 20s the denomination sort of blew up over the issues of women in ecclesiastical office and differing interpretations of Genesis 1. I discovered that we did not have it all figured out. I also saw that the church can be a dangerous community. Some people went to other churches, some quit the church altogether, their faith deconstructed by the behaviour of church members. I know that some of you still bear the wounds of those days. I was starting to deconstruct.

Then I was ordained in this wobbly denomination, having been called to my first congregation. A few years in, I sat at my desk when it hit me rather hard, "I had no idea what I was doing!" Out there was a congregation expecting me to lead them, but what did it mean to lead a congregation? Every book I read had a different take on the answer. About the same time, I preached a sermon titled, 'Growing up into Christ' based on Ephesians 4. Halfway through preaching the sermon I was shocked to realize that I didn't know very much about growing up into Christ at all. I was quite deconstructed.

So, I did the most logical thing, I went back to school to study leadership and discipling. It was helpful, but it was not the solution. Every year there are still dozens of books published about how to lead the church. They all have a different slant. Books about making disciples of Jesus are probably just as numerous. These books are helpful but not the answer.

The answer that reconstructed me is in our text. "I will build my church," says Jesus, "and the gates of Hades will not overcome it." Without fail, the church is led by sinful humans who are struggling to be disciples of Jesus. It's been 2000 years since Jesus made this claim, and the church still hasn't got it figured out. But that is not fatal. We don't need to get it figured out; we don't need to get it all right. Despite us, Jesus continues to build his church.

Here is something else to think about: sometimes, maybe often, Jesus needs to deconstruct the edifice we humans call church so that he can build his church. I think that COVID is something our Lord is using to do some deconstructing. This is difficult, its painful. We lose things, things that are precious to us. But they must go so that he can build something better.

I used to worry lots about the church, especially about the congregations I served. Not so much anymore. Maybe that's progress in discipleship. Congregations may fall apart, maybe our denomination is slated for total deconstruction. If this happens it will be very painful, I will weep. But Jesus will build his church. He does not need the Christian Reformed denomination and he doesn't need Immanuel. And as painful as that may be for us invested in these, it is also good news.

Jesus is building his church. I don't think that our Lord defines church in terms of incorporated congregations and denominations. Rather, when Jesus' said, "I will build my church" he meant groups of people who believed what Peter had just confessed, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God" (16:16). Jesus keeps deconstructing what we try to build, so that he can construct something better. I have discovered that it doesn't matter so much that I don't know what I am doing, Jesus continues to build his church. That's good news.