An Ending

Friends,
I recently deleted my other blog, "With Eagle's Wings." I'll be deleting this one soon as well. I'll leave it up for another week in case you'd like to check out any of the sermons a final time. I've enjoyed having this arena to share my process of learning to become a better preacher. This time of transition from seminary is giving me a chance to simplify my life, and part of that involves getting rid of the blogs.

Thank you for reading! I really have appreciated your support.

Romans 13:11 - 14

Holland Presbyterian Church, New Jersey, November 2, 2007

¹²¹³¹⁴Besides this, you know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armour of light; let us live honourably as in the day, not in revelling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarrelling and jealousy. Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.

At the end of Romans chapter 13, Paul encourages his readers to wake up. Now is the moment for you to wake from sleep, he says. This idea of waking up as a metaphor for being prepared for Christ’s coming is hard for me to relate to. To me, the literal moment of waking from sleep is miserable. I have a very comfortable mattress, a very comfortable pillow, and a snooze button on my alarm clock which I make great use of. There are many times of the day that I enjoy – the time when I eat lunch, the time when I go for a walk, the time when I read a magazine, the time when I talk on the phone with a friend – but the time of day when I wake from my sleep is pretty close to the bottom of my list. I almost always would rather stay in bed a little longer.

Even so, “waking up” is a metaphor that Paul uses here to refer to the fact that this age will someday end, and we are in a period of waiting for a new age to come. “Waiting” is a word that we have heard already several times this morning, and it’s a word that we’ll continue to hear for the next three Sundays leading up to Christmas. This is the time of Advent, which is a time of waiting. We are waiting, liturgically, for Jesus to come and be born on Christmas Day. We are also waiting, liturgically and literally, for Jesus to come a second time and bring his salvation to completion.

How is it that you define yourself as a person? There are several ways you could do this. One is to focus on the present. For example, my name is Rebecca Jordan Heys, I am currently a seminary student, I live in Princeton, New Jersey, I am a preacher, I am a singer, I am a wife, and a friend. This is one way of describing my identity.

But just looking at the present doesn’t tell you the whole story. To truly understand someone, you need to define her according to her past as well. I was born Rebecca Lea Jordan, I grew up in Fremont, Michigan, I grew up in a Christian family. As a kid I tried successfully to play the piano; I tried unsuccessfully to play team sports. I used to want to teach English literature – at some point I decided to come to seminary. My past defines me. All of these past stories tell you very important things about who I am. Even without telling you these details about my childhood, simply showing you my family tree would tell you a lot of very important things about who I am. My parents, my community, my genetics – my past has a lot to do with what defines me as a person.

There is still a third approach to defining your identity. That is to define yourself by the future. Where I have been and where I am right now don’t limit me as a person. I still may change and grow, and that is part of my identity as well. My hopes and dreams for the future are also a part of who I am. I hope to graduate from seminary, I hope to be a pastor of a church, I hope to become a mother, I hope to travel to many new places. These things about my future make me who I am, just as my past and my present make me who I am.

All three: past, present, and future – define a person. One of the three might be more important than the others for different people, depending on their age, their culture, or their personality, but we can’t ignore any one of the three when we ask, “Who am I?”

It’s not just individual persons who are defined by past, present, and future. All of us, as Christians, are defined by our past, our present, and our future.

Our past: Part of our identity, and part of Advent, too, is about our past. In the past, Mary waited for her son Jesus to be born. We remember that waiting during Advent, and we anticipate our celebration of that great day in our past, the day when Christ was born. In his life, death, and resurrection, Jesus brought salvation to all people and to all of creation. Our identity as Christians is defined by this salvation in our past, 2000 years ago.

Our future: Another part of our identity, and of Advent, is about our future. We know that God’s complete salvation has not yet been realized. There are still so many things wrong with the world, but we Christians are also defined by our future. We have a hope and a promise that Christ will come again and make all things new. We live out our current waiting during Advent. Our identity as Christians is defined by the hope of salvation in our future.

And then there is our present. Who are we now? Jesus, in his first coming, ushered in a new era of God’s work in the world. Jesus, in his second coming, will usher in the final era of God’s work in the world. Right now, we are in the middle – we’re in the waiting time. Advent really expresses something that is true for us all year round – we are waiting.

As I thought about Advent, I thought how ironic it is that our lives are lives of waiting, and yet, in our lifestyles today, there is almost nothing that we have to wait for. Instead of waiting to see my family in Michigan, I call them on the phone. Instead of waiting for a loaf of bread to bake, I order a pizza. Instead of waiting to receive a letter in the mail, I get an instantaneous e-mail. I order things on-line instead of waiting in line at a store. There is not a lot that we have to wait for.

And yet, strangely, the only thing that we do is wait. We have hope for the future, but it hasn’t been fully realized yet. We are in the in between time – in between what Jesus has already done and what Jesus has not yet done. This waiting is so much a part of the Christian faith that theologians often just call it the “already/not yet tension.” Salvation has already happened, and salvation has not yet happened. Both of these things are true at the same time. We Christians are people who wait.

At the end of Romans 13, Paul brings a new character to all of this waiting. He knows that our future is one of the things that shape our identity. He takes the way that we are defined by our future and drags that future right into our present. He says, “Salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers.” When he says “salvation,” he means the complete salvation of the future. In some ways, Paul’s statement seems completely obvious. “Salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers,” is like saying “Tomorrow is closer to us today than it was yesterday.” In other ways, though, no matter how obvious it is, we really need to hear this.

We get so caught up in our present life that we forget that this is not the whole story. We get so discouraged about what we can see that we forget the hope of what we cannot yet see. We get so caught up in who we have been and in who we are now that we forget that the future defines us as well. Who we will become and what will happen to us when Jesus comes again actually has everything to do with who we are right now!

This is what Paul is saying in Romans 13. He’s saying “the end is near.” When I think of that statement, “the end is near,” I think of someone in a city park with a sandwich board sign, someone who claims to know exactly when the end will come. Our text from Romans, and the other text we heard this morning from Matthew, show us that this is not the New Testament picture of the end. The New Testament does not make any claims about when the end will come. Even Jesus does not know the exact time of his return. What the New Testament does claim is that the end will come. This life is not the whole story. We have a promise from God that God’s salvation will one day be complete.

Since this is not a sandwich board kind of promise, “the end is near,” we do not have to feel the kind of fear that those signs are sometimes meant to inspire. Instead, we can live into our hope in freedom. The future defines our identity, and it guides what we are to do in the meantime. Paul lists some practices in this present time that can distract us from our hope about the future. The list includes reveling and drunkenness, debauchery and licentiousness, quarreling and jealousy. Instead, we, the people of the future, are free to be rid of those things, and to “put on” Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ defines our past in his first coming, and Jesus Christ defines our future in his coming again. Our hope for this coming allows us to live freely in the power of his love.

The more common title for our Savior in the New Testament is “Jesus Christ the Lord.” In this text, he is instead called “the Lord Jesus Christ.” “Lord” comes first here to show that Jesus is in charge over the evil that we see, in charge over the suffering of this age. Jesus is in charge of it now, because we have a promise that Jesus will completely get rid of it in the future. Hope in Jesus Christ is a powerful thing – more powerful than any evil that seems to have power in the world today.

The song that the choir will sing during the offering is called “View the Present Through the Promise.” I would like to read you the words to this song now, and invite you to reflect on them further as we sing in a few minutes.

View the present through the promise, Christ will come again.

Trust despite the deepening darkness, Christ will come again.

Lift the world above its grieving through your watching and believing

in the hope past hope’s conceiving: Christ will come again.

Probe the present with the promise, Christ will come again.

Let your daily actions witness, Christ will come again.

Let your loving and your giving and your justice and forgiving

be a sign to all the living: Christ will come again.

Match the present to the promise, Christ will come again.

Make this hope your guiding premise, Christ will come again.

Pattern all your calculating and the world you are creating

to the advent you are waiting: Christ will come again.

I mentioned earlier that waking up in the morning is my least favorite time of day. I think, though, that Paul did not have in mind an adult who is a little short on sleep when he used this metaphor. Instead, I think it is more fitting of the eager anticipation of Advent to picture a child the night before his birthday. He has trouble falling asleep because he is so excited about the activities that the next day will bring. When he does wake up in the morning, his eyes snap open, his feet hit the floor, and his little legs carry him dashing into his parents’ bedroom to wake them up so that the day’s festivities will begin as soon as possible.

Advent is a season of waiting, but it is not a waiting that has to do with a distant, disconnected future. We wait with eager anticipation a future that already breaks into our present with hope. A new day is dawning – let us live as people of the rising sun!

Judges 6:36 - 40

PR240 "Text to Sermon" Princeton Theological Seminary November 29, 2007

Then Gideon said to God, “In order to see whether you will deliver Israel by my hand, as you have said, I am going to lay a fleece of wool on the threshing floor; if there is dew on the fleece alone, and it is dry on all the ground, then I shall know that you will deliver Israel by my hand, as you have said.” And it was so. When he rose early next morning and squeezed the fleece, he wrung enough dew from the fleece to fill a bowl with water. Then Gideon said to God, “Do not let your anger burn against me, let me speak one more time; let me, please, make trial with the fleece just once more; let it be dry only on the fleece, and on all the ground let there be dew.” And God did so that night. It was dry on the fleece only, and on all the ground there was dew.

When I started thinking about Gideon, I thought of him as the guy who had a miraculous decision-making process. Fleece wet, attack Midianites; fleece dry, stay home. Sometimes, he would mix it up just to keep God on God’s toes. This time, fleece dry, attack Midianites; fleece wet, stay home.

But the closer I paid attention to this story, the more I noticed something that you may be noticing about Gideon as well. I don’t think that this story is really about a decision-making process. I think there’s something else going on here with the character of Gideon.

Earlier in chapter 6, in verse 14, God calls Gideon to attack the Midianites. God is pretty straightforward with Gideon. If there ever were a decision to be made, it seems like God has already made it. “Go in this might of yours and deliver Israel from the hand of Midian; I hereby commission you,” God says to Gideon. Gideon won’t believe it. “But sir, how can I deliver Israel?” God won’t take no for an answer, and replies, “But I will be with you, and you shall strike down the Midianites, every one of them.”

Even after this, and before the whole fleece incident, Gideon asks for a sign to confirm God’s promise. God gives him a face-to-face meeting with an angel, and for a while, Gideon seems convinced. But then we come to our text for today.

Gideon introduces the test of the fleece by saying to God, “In order to see whether you will deliver Israel by my hand, as you have said…” “As you have said.” In other words, Gideon knows what he is supposed to do. He knows exactly what God said to him, he’s just afraid to do it!

God answers the first test of the fleece affirmatively. “When he [Gideon] rose early next morning and squeezed the fleece, he wrung enough dew from the fleece to fill a bowl with water.” Even after this, Gideon asks for another test with the fleece. If you add them all up, I think this makes test number three or four.

In the book of Judges, the Israelites are the protagonists. By chapter 6, we know that they have their ups and downs, but we’re on their side. We’re cheering for their success. At this point in the story of Gideon, we’re thinking, “If this is the guy who God called to lead Israel, things are not looking good.” Get the point already, Gideon – the answer to your question is yes!

But, in that very answer, in our very discouragement about the spineless Gideon, we find hope in this story. The question that Gideon is asking is, “Will you deliver Israel by my hand?” Even though we are beginning to ask the same question as we get to know the doubtful Gideon, “Are you going to deliver Israel through this guy?”, God still answers with an overwhelming yes. “He wrung enough dew from the fleece to fill a bowl with water.” Not just a few drops of water for this weak servant of God, but a whole bowlful. The might of God is shown through this weak servant.

Gideon does go to fight the Midianites, and God not only brings victory for Israel, but brings it using only 300 troops. By using a small army, God continues to work through the weak things of the world. Gideon had to ask twice with the fleece, but if we know God, we knew this victory was coming all along. Even through someone like Gideon, the answer from God is “Yes. I will deliver you.”

We Christians know that God works in this strange way. Our Savior, the incarnate God in whom we put our trust, was just that: incarnate. There is so much humanity about Jesus that it makes us wonder: the young unwed mother, the stable birth, growing up in Nazareth (can anything good come out of that town?), a carpenter hanging out with some fishermen, some tax collectors, and some prostitutes. Is this the God whom we worship?

Yes, this is the Son of David, the Messiah, but even the crowds who called out “Hosanna” did not anticipate what would happen next. Not only did Jesus live a humble life, but that life ended in crucifixion. Before he could conquer Israel’s foes and reign as their king, Jesus died as a common criminal. This was not the kind of Messiah they had been waiting for.

But this is the God who answered the cowardly Gideon with a resounding yes. Yes, Gideon, you, even you, will be the instrument of God’s deliverance. The son of God was incarnate and died on a cross, but it is in that very death, in that lowly and weak suffering, that Jesus once and for all brought about the redemption of all creation.

“Being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death – even death on a cross,” Philippians tells us, and it is in that death that Jesus accomplished God’s greatest act of deliverance. It doesn’t stop there, either. “Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

We might look down on Gideon when we read his story in the book of Judges. What a coward. He couldn’t even believe that God could deliver Israel. It took him three or four tests, including the ones with the fleece, before he would even try going into battle in obedience to God. But perhaps, before pointing the finger, we should look at ourselves. We often doubt that God is actually doing works of deliverance in us and through us. God is good: we know that and we cling to that, but the idea that we could actually have something to do with God’s deliverance is a little too much to take.

Quite frankly, we are right to doubt ourselves. Gideon wondered if God would really deliver Israel by his hand. We say things like, “God, I went into ministry because I’m great at worship planning. I have no idea what to do for a woman in the hospital with a stillborn child!” or “God, I love people, and that’s why I’m in ministry, but I’m going crazy from loneliness because no one wants to invite the pastor when they go to grab a beer.” Are we really up to all of this? The answer, we painfully recognize, is no.

But sisters and brothers, the God who calls us to ministry calls us in the name of Jesus, who was crucified in weakness and rose in victory. The God who calls us to ministry is the God who saturated the fleece on the threshing floor for his cowardly servant Gideon. If the God who calls us to ministry is the God who brought victory for Israel with only 300 troops and a weak-kneed leader, then the God who calls us to ministry will use even us for God’s purpose of deliverance.

Paul writes to the Corinthians, “Consider your own call, brothers and sisters: not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are…” The God revealed to us in Jesus Christ chose Gideon, and the God revealed to us in Jesus Christ chose you and me.

We may be scared. We may need to set out a fleece, saying, “Do not let your anger burn against me, Lord, but I need to ask you one more time. Are you really going to deliver Israel by my hand?” And in the midst of this, our moment of weakness, God makes sure that there is enough dew on the fleece to fill a bowl with water. “Yes, my child, even if I have to make the fleece dry next time, yes, and even if you have to ask me a dozen more times, the answer is yes.”

1 Corinthians 1:1 - 9

Princeton Theological Seminary morning worship, September 21, 2007

Paul, called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, and our brother Sosthenes, To the church of God that is in Corinth, to those who are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints, together with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, for in every way you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind – just as the testimony of Christ has been strengthened among you – so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ. He will also strengthen you to the end, so that you may be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

My husband tells a story about hearing a testimony at his church when he was a child. The testimony was told by a missionary who described being called by God to the mission field. “God grabbed a hold of me and wouldn’t let go,” said the missionary. “Even though I came kicking and screaming, and it was the last thing I wanted to do, God called me to be a missionary.”

After hearing this testimony, my husband, who was 10 years old at the time, had trouble falling asleep for weeks. He would lay in bed worriedly, thinking to himself, “Oh no! What if God is (gasp) calling me to be a pastor?” He actually pictured, with fear, a divine tractor beam, ready to suck him up at any moment. As an adult, he has actually found a calling as a high school teacher and a pastor’s husband. My own call to ministry has been much less traumatic than my husband imagined as a child. It’s been a process of discovering the things I love to do and the ways I can contribute to the church. I know that everyone’s call story is different, but I don’t feel like I’m being dragged into a certain career.

Even so, there is something that I can relate to in the 10 year old boy hearing the missionary’s testimony. Sometimes, the idea of being called by God to a life of Christian discipleship in whatever career you choose can be intimidating. Christian discipleship is a high call! This call can be inspiring, motivating, or encouraging, but it can also be terrifying.

Our text this morning from 1 Corinthians 1 is a traditional greeting and thanksgiving by an author who self-identifies as Paul. He names himself as the sender and names the Corinthian church as the recipients of his letter. He gives a blessing in the name of Jesus. He gives thanks for the recipients of the letter. All of this is surrounded by talk about God’s calling. It’s important for Paul to remind his readers about God’s call here at the beginning, because all the instructions that he gives them later in the letter are supposed to be lived in response to God’s call.

It’s the end of the first week of the 07-08 academic year at PTS. We are preparing to once again engage in the intense work of building this community as we respond to God’s call. Some of us are here for the first time this year, and are wondering what we’ve gotten ourselves into. Some of us are looking at all the syllabi we’ve collected this week or handed out this week and the actual number of days in the semester, and we’re wondering how it all adds up. Some of us enjoyed the extra time with our families this summer, and are finding it difficult to gear up for another year of busy seminary life. Responding to God’s call in this time and place can be terrifying.

In his commentary on 1 Corinthians, Calvin writes that we can have confidence in spite of our fear because, “we are members of Christ, who cannot possibly fail.” Sisters and brothers, we need not be afraid. We are not called to discipleship by a strange god, but by the God who has been revealed to us in Jesus Christ. Paul ends the Corinthian greeting by saying, “God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” We are not called to discipleship by a tyrant, but by a faithful God. “God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” We are not called to discipleship which leaves us alone, but into fellowship. “God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” We are not called to discipleship by a god who has not experienced pain as we have, but by the Father of Jesus Christ. “God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” We are not called to discipleship by a man from Nazareth who stayed in the grave, but by Jesus Christ our risen Lord! “God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.”

The call to Christian discipleship that sounds forth in your life can be exciting. It can also be terrifying. Friends, we do not serve an easy God, but we serve a good God. God is faithful; by God you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. God is faithful; in that faithfulness may you find comfort and peace. God is faithful; in that faithfulness may you go forth in Christian discipleship, with the words of the psalmist on your lips, “I will sing of your steadfast love, O Lord, forever; with my mouth I will proclaim your faithfulness to all generations. I declare that your steadfast love is established forever; your faithfulness is as firm as the heavens.” Thanks be to God.

Luke 16:19 - 31

Devotional booklet for Synod Cloud of Witnesses, June, 2007

Women have been ministering in the Christian Reformed Church for 150 years. No, I’m not confused; I know that women have been ordained as ministers of the word in our denomination for just over a decade. But the various barriers to ordination have not stopped hundreds of women from responding to God’s call in their lives by ministering.

Johanna Veenstra was a missionary in Sudan in the 1920s. After moving to the United States from China, Ruby Liu taught at Creston Christian School in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Jo Boomsma established a women’s and children’s shelter in Kentucky. Many of you can include stories of your mothers and grandmothers in this list. These four women that I mentioned have died, leaving an amazing legacy of faith and service.

In Luke 16, a rich man (traditionally called “Dives”) who has died asks a poor man, Lazarus, who has also died, to go back to the land of the living. Dives wants Lazarus to warn his rich brothers to care for the poor, because now that Dives has died he truly understands God’s great reversal of rich and poor.

When I read this story, I sometimes wonder what things the deceased would warn us about if they came back to talk to us. Dives wanted Lazarus to warn his brothers to care for the poor. What about these women ministers in the Christian Reformed Church? From their heavenly perspective, what would they say? What would they warn us to do?

I suppose that making decisions at Synod would be a lot easier if someone came back from the dead and told us all what to do. This is especially true on an issue that has been so difficult for the CRC: women in ordained ministry. We don’t have a heavenly perspective yet; we are still trying to struggle through the messiness of life as a Christian community on earth.

Dives wished that Lazarus would come back from the dead to provide some clarity, to let his brothers know that they could not afford to ignore the poor any longer. But when Dives asked Abraham about this, Abraham told him about the way things really worked. He couldn’t send someone back from the dead; even if he could, it wouldn’t actually make things any clearer for his brothers! Instead, the brothers had to rely on what they already had. They had the witness of scripture, and they had the poor who still lived in their midst. By reading their Hebrew Bible, they could already learn about God’s command to care for the poor.

Unlike Dives’ brothers, we do have someone who has come back from the dead: Jesus Christ. Like the brothers, we also have the scriptures, and by reading those scriptures through the lens of the liberating power of the One who arose from the dead, we already have guidance for what to do. Through the scriptures, we already know that God reverses the hierarchy of rich and poor. Through the scriptures, we already know that God breaks down barriers between women and men. Finally, just as the brothers had the poor, the Christian Reformed Church has women, both those who have died and those who are alive and ready to use their gifts in ministry today.

The lives of these women prove what we learn in the scriptures by echoing the words of that early baptismal liturgy: “As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” (Galatians 3:27 – 28)

Let us listen to the One who has come back from the dead, who is attested to in the scriptures, and let us pay attention to the women in our midst who are ready to fully live into their baptismal call.

Prayer:

God, we confess that we are not always open to the ways that your word in scripture challenges us. Forgive us and open our eyes to see the ways that we may live into your world-reversing gospel. Amen.

Luke 10:38 - 42

First Presbyterian Church of Dutch Neck July 22, 2007

Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

What does a typical day in your life look like? For most of us, it’s usually busier than we would like. Maybe you’re a full-time mom, maybe you commute to work and then work long hours, even if you are a kid or if you are retired, you have a schedule to keep, and you probably love the idea of sitting and relaxing for just a few more minutes. Grab your favorite novel, curl up in a chair, and sip a glass of lemonade while the worries of the world slip away.

Contrast that picture with a picture of busily preparing Thanksgiving dinner in a hot kitchen for your entire family. You never know if the turkey will live up to everyone’s expectations, and there are just so many things to keep track of! Kids run around underfoot, and then the house has to be clean before the family arrives. We can suddenly see what is appealing about the story of Mary and Martha. Mary is the one who sits and relaxes, and she’s the one who does the right thing, according to Jesus! It sounds like Jesus is saying to us, “Sit down and stop worrying so much. Grab a glass of lemonade, the new Harry Potter book, and kick up your feet and relax.”

This sounds great, and in a way, I think that this is what Jesus is saying here. Our recreation time is very important, and many of us Americans probably need to take some more time to relax. In another way, though, an encounter with Jesus goes beyond just our down time. As he typically does, Jesus goes beyond our expectations here. Yes, Jesus wants the too-busy Martha to change her schedule, but he wants her to go further than just that. Martha knows that following Jesus is about serving, but in this story Jesus tells her that she first needs to listen to his word. Jesus tells Martha, and us, that our love and service to Jesus and to our neighbors needs to be rooted in our knowledge of Jesus’ love and service to us.

To get deeper into this story, let’s take a look at the character of Martha. At first, she sounds like a very admirable woman. She welcomes Jesus into her home. In the ancient world, hospitality was extremely important, and in the gospels, hospitality to Jesus is even more important. By serving food to Jesus, Martha is doing a very important job.

We can learn just how important by looking at another story by the same author: the book of Acts. Luke probably wrote both Luke and Acts, and there is a story in Acts 6 that reminds me of this story in Luke 10. On first reading our text for today, we may be tempted to quickly write Martha off as the “wrong” sister, but I think that when we read Acts 6 we see that there is more to Martha than first meets the eye.

In Acts 6, we learn about the very first deacons of the Christian church. Some widows in the community were not getting enough food, but the twelve disciples said, “It is not right that we should neglect the word of God in order to wait on tables.” The “word” here is the same “word” that Mary listens to at Jesus’ feet. The word for “waiting on tables” is diakoneo, from which we get the word “deacon.” Martha does this exact same thing when she prepares the meal – she is “deaconing” for Jesus. I’ll bet that when Luke wrote Luke 10 and Acts 6, he had both stories in mind. Here’s how the story goes in Acts: “’It is not right that we should neglect the word of God in order to wait on tables. Therefore, friends, select from among yourselves seven men of good standing, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to this task, while we, for our part, will devote ourselves to prayer and to serving the word.’ What they said pleased the whole community.”

The job of deacon, when it was instituted, was a very important job that only highly respected people could hold. They are described as “men of good standing, full of the Spirit and of wisdom.” These were the kind of people who would do the meal preparation, so Martha was a deacon before the church had even begun. She welcomed Jesus into her home and prepared a meal for him. This was a high and holy calling, to serve Jesus in a very practical way, and Martha lived into this calling in this story.

I don’t have kids, which I hear makes you very busy. For me, the busiest time in my life so far was my last couple of years in college. I had a lot of homework, a part-time job, and several student organizations to participate in. I was too busy. I knew I had to cut some of it out, but all of it seemed so good and worthwhile. After a while, though, the same thing happened to me that happened to Martha. I stopped thinking about how good and worthwhile everything was; I only thought about how much it was. Luke says that Martha was “distracted by her many tasks,” and Jesus says that she is “worried and distracted by many things.”

If we read the Bible as a whole, we recognize that all Christians, like the first deacons and like Martha, are called to hospitality and service. Our service should be like a name tag for us, identifying us as those who love Jesus. Martha showed her love for Jesus through service, but something went wrong. The story doesn’t tell us just what went wrong, but it is not hard for us 21^st century American Christians to imagine. We too fill our lives with important, Christian service, but sometimes we forget our reason for doing it. We know how to show our love for Jesus, but sometimes we lose track of why. Whether this service is through the church, in our families, or in our professional lives, we forget that all of it is service to the God who created all of these things.

The Christian tradition has sometimes used the story of Mary and Martha to set up the active life against the contemplative life. That is, which is the better way to serve Jesus? Is it through service, through feeding the hungry and caring for the poor? Or is it through quiet devotion to Jesus, through prayer and meditation on the Scriptures? Jesus says that Mary has “chosen the better part,” so many Christians have said that contemplation is more important, and that service is only secondary. Martin Luther even made Mary and Martha into symbols of justification by works and justification by grace. He wrote, “Martha, your work must be punished and regarded for nothing….I do not want any work but Mary’s, and that is faith.”

Now, there were reasons for Luther to write this in the 16^th century, but I do not think that we can write Martha off so quickly. In Luke, the story that Jesus tells just before visiting Martha’s home is very interesting. It is the story of the Good Samaritan. Right before Jesus visits the home of a certain woman named Martha, he has a conversation with a certain lawyer about what it means to love one’s neighbor. In the Good Samaritan story, obeying God is about service. The Good Samaritan stops to help the stranger by the side of the road, provides him with shelter and money, and goes on his way. Martha was on her way to being the Good Samaritan, but she lost her purpose in going there.

So, Martha may be more like a tragic hero than a villain. Even so, as we search for the best way to follow Jesus today, how do we avoid her fate? What does it mean for us to be like Mary? Well, I wonder why Luke places this story right next to the story of the Good Samaritan. It could be that, as we read through this part of the gospel, we are getting a lesson in what Christian discipleship looks like. The Good Samaritan tells us that following Jesus means serving those around us. Mary and Martha tell us that we can never keep this service up if we forget that it’s Jesus who we’re following. We need service, but not empty service. Not a busy schedule for the sake of a busy schedule, but a life rich in serving others because of what Jesus has already done for us.

Martha had the service part down, but she wasn’t able to sit and listen to the word of Jesus to her. What about us? We sometimes have the service part down, but why? Why do we serve? Christian service is not in contrast to quietly listening to Jesus’ word, but it is because we have listened to Jesus’ word to us that we serve. Flip a few chapters back to Luke 8:21, where Jesus says that his family includes “those who hear the word of God and do it.” “Those who hear the word of God and do it.” This is a great way to define Good Samaritan discipleship and Mary discipleship: hearing the word of God and doing it. So, is contemplation or action more important for the Christian? Fred Craddock writes, “If we were to ask Jesus which example applies to us, the Samaritan or Mary, his answer would probably be Yes.”

Some women from Dutch Neck went on a retreat this spring. The theme of the retreat was “Having a Mary heart in a Martha world.” I like this title because it emphasizes Mary’s heart. We are indeed called to service and hospitality like Martha, but the world does this with Martha’s heart. We are called to serve with a Mary heart. Do we serve because it makes us look good? Do we serve because it will give us a better chance of getting into a good college? Do we serve because being busy makes us feel important? I think this was why I made myself so busy in college. Or do we serve because we listen to God’s word and hear in that word the joyful news that God loves us in spite of all our bad motivations? Our service should consist not in being worried and distracted by many things, but in hearing the word of God’s love for us and in responding with joyful gratitude by serving those around us.

Another group from Dutch Neck gathered in Trenton to help build a Habitat for Humanity home a few weeks ago. One of the work days was followed by a festive dinner back at the church. This dinner reflects the true nature of the entire day of work: a celebration. For many of you who went, the service was done not out of drudgery or obligation, but out of joy and gratitude. We are a people who are loved by God. Because of that, we do not need to be worried and distracted by anything. Because we are a people who are loved by God, we can serve our neighbors. Because we are a people who are loved by God, hearing Jesus’ word enables us to do this service. Because we are a people who are loved by God, we can welcome Jesus into our hearts, sit at his feet, and serve him.

Luke 15:1 - 32

Devotional booklet for "Synod Cloud of Witnesses" June 2007

We sing about “amazing grace,” “wonderful grace of Jesus,” and “the glories of God’s grace” for good reason. God’s grace is amazing, wonderful, and glorious. But sometime, I would like to write a hymn called, “A little too much grace for us to handle.”

That’s why Jesus told this parable in the first place, after all. The Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling about the fact that Jesus ate with sinners. Jesus gave his intimate meal-time companionship to people who didn’t deserve the ground Jesus walked on! This was too much to handle. They thought that Jesus should take a stand for morality and purity by refusing to eat with these people, but Jesus shocked them with his extravagant grace.

To really drive the point home, Jesus told the Pharisees and scribes a now-familiar parable: the story of the prodigal son. In this story, the younger of two sons demands his inheritance from his father, telling him in effect that he considers him to be dead. He takes off to another country and wastes the money.

When a famine arises in that country, the son is left with nothing. The reasonable ending to this story, the ending that we could handle, is the ending that the son imagines. His father is a reasonable man, and maybe he will take him back in as a servant and give him something to eat.

But this is a parable, and parables have a way of completely sidestepping our expectations. Verse 20 says, “But while [the son] was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him.” And then he proceeds to throw a huge party for him.

This is too much grace for just a prodigal. The son says it himself, “I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” (vs. 19 and 21) For the older brother, this is a little too much grace to handle. He protests by refusing to join the party, so the father pleads with him to come inside.

The story ends here, and we never find out how the older brother responds. I would like to think that Luke is including us, the readers, in the story at this point. We are often greeted with a grace that is too much for us to handle. Our expectations about other people, about the church, and about the way that God works in the world are often surpassed by a God whose grace is too much for us to handle. Will we, cast as the older brother, remain outside the party, unable to handle this extravagant grace? Or will we grow to accept the outrageous things that God does, and join in the celebration over the lost and found brother?

Many of the challenges that we encounter are in places where the grace of God seems mysteriously absent. In these places, we continue to struggle and pray that God will work. But perhaps there are other challenges that we encounter in places where the grace of God is all too present. This grace is sometimes so extravagant that it is too much to handle. Let us grow to accept and acknowledge this grace, because God is inviting us to come inside and join the celebration!

As I write this in May, I don’t know what’s going to happen at Synod 2007. Perhaps a decision will be made in which you feel that the church “squanders its money in a far country,” like the prodigal son. In that case, take heart! We still worship a God who is gracious, and we still worship a God who will continue to surprise us with divine grace in the future. Perhaps a decision will be made in which you feel the extravagant grace of God working in our church. In that case, come inside and join the celebration!

Prayer:

Heavenly Father, your extravagant grace shocks us, your prodigal children. Thank you for this grace, and give us more grace to accept the marvelous ways that you work in the world. Amen.