Who May Abide? (WWHS)

This is the text of the message I prepared for the Active Retired group at Kaniva Hospital Day Centre (West Wimmera Health Service) for Tuesday 4th February 2020.

Psalm 15

Today’s psalm is a bit of a gift for me because it is one of my favourite passages of scripture. As a pastor I have lots of favourite passages; I know other ministers and preachers who have the same thing. Indeed most Christians have a favourite passage or two, so for those of us who read scripture for a living it seems straightforward that this would happen. But among the many that I like, Psalm 15 comes near the top and I am always happy when it appears in the lectionary.

Psalm 15:1 begins with a question, and depending upon which English translation you use the words say something like who shall dwell in your tabernacle, who shall live in your holy mountain, or words to that effect. I love the one which reads Lord who can rest in your tent, it sounds so welcoming and inviting; so much more than Lord, who dares to dwell with you, who presumes the privilege of being close to you, living next to you in your shining place of glory. You really know where you stand with each of those, yet both are translations into English from the Greek text used in the time of Jesus, how can they be so different?

I think the answer to that question, how can they be so different, comes back to how we think about God in the first place. One of the commentators I read suggested that Psalm 15 is David’s (earlier) version of the Beatitudes, and the lectionary seems to agree because this Psalm was matched with Matthew 5:1-12 last Sunday. How do you think of the Beatitudes, how do you think of the instructions here? Do you believe that God has set a minimum standard of perfection and that the only way to live in fellowship with God is to live a perfect life? Does this mean for you that imperfect people are kicked out of God’s tent and thrown down the mountain? Is it enough to try your best and rely on God to honour your effort? Or does salvation by grace through faith mean that you don’t have to try at all, and that God will save you and invite you in regardless? All of those options, and others besides them, have been offered by Christian scholars since the time of Jesus; and since it’s Christian scholars who translate the Bible into common languages they will let their bias-slash-theology-slash-interpretation show.

For example, the scholar who wrote who dares and who presumes has a very high view of God’s glory, and he (the scholar) is trying to encourage Christians to be passionate about their faith. The grace of God is not something to be taken for granted, something to be nonchalant about as if it’s your right or entitlement as an Israelite or Judahite. Or a Gentile sinner saved by grace we might add today. God is holy and you can’t just wander in to the Presence of The LORD like that, so this Psalm is full of majesty and challenge. If you want to enter God’s house then you need to be righteous and awestruck.

Yet there is a welcome in God’s grace, and a patience, and a reaching-down to meet the broken and the lost who is dead inside (and maybe outside) and completely unable to do anything. Here is where we can rest in God’s tent and then live in God’s house as people who have been rescued. What follows then is about how God transforms us as we learn the rules of the house, and take on the character of the host. Righteousness and awe are requirements, but they are attributes of those who already live in the house, they are not the tickets for access.

And this is why I like Psalm 15. I like it because it is the double story of how holy and righteous God is, The LORD Almighty, but in the same passage we find God The Father, fatherly in God’s meeting us in the gutter and taking us limp and bleeding into the tent for triage and then into the palace as adopted sons and daughters who become what God is, awe-inspiring and righteous, through the ministry of Christ and his grace.

Those who dwell in the place where God is, who are welcome in God’s presence are those who have been welcomed into God’s presence and who are attentive to God’s attributes so much that they are learning to emulate God’s character. By grace we are saved, and by love we are instructed to follow the Way of The LORD which is the best way to live. God’s desire for the Church is lives which the world recognises as good citizenship; blamelessness, truth-telling, incorruptible, generous, just, and steadfast in faith and obedience.

In my way of thinking, Psalm 15 is not primarily a challenge (although there is that), it is first and foremost a promise of who we are becoming so long as we stay close to Jesus. Amen.

The Advent of Loss: 2 (Blue Christmas)

This is the text of the message I prepared for the community Blue Christmas service in Kaniva for 2019.  The service was hosted by the Uniting Church on behalf of all of the town churches.

John 1:1-14

Imagine a Christmas without all the pageantry. In a field of loss that might be nice, and December 25th itself might pass in quietness, another Wednesday in the world, with nothing to set it apart. Imagine if Christmas Day was just another birthday, someone else’s birthday, and joy to them and all of that, but good that I wasn’t invited, or even aware, because I’m not in the mood for celebration. In fact, even if it was my birthday, and it isn’t, but even if it was I’m just not into it.

Do any of you know what date of the year my birthday is? It’s okay, I don’t know when yours are either. It’s probably no surprise to you that your birthday this year was just another day for me, unremarkable, I don’t even remember what I was doing: unless it was a Sunday of course, in which case I was probably preaching, but then I preach most Sundays anyway so I’m sorry if I didn’t notice your special day. Or was it a Saturday in winter and I was at the footy, same answer, sorry I didn’t notice.

There are days like that for all of us. Not just birthdays, but other significant days and the anniversaries of significant days. There are people in this room, at the very least in this town, who lost friends and family to death this year: but what was I doing on the day that that happened? Can’t say. Others observed days of anniversary: a year, two, ten, perhaps fifty since a loved one died, again days unremarked by me or the rest of you, for the most part. And generally that’s okay, we often don’t need the whole world party to our personal grief, especially when healing has begun and the years have made the memories more fond for what was had and less sharp for what was lost.

But then, then there’s Christmas. I know two people for whom Christmas Day is the anniversary of a father’s passing. But even without that, Christmas Day is a loud and bright day, especially in Australia where it’s all-but midsummer, so the parties are outside with cricket in the street and barbeques in the back yard and it’s hard to hide from celebration even if you want to. That’s not to say that there aren’t lonely people, grieving people, distressed people even on the Day when we celebrate Santa’s coming to earth in human form, it’s just that those sad-sacks get their noses rubbed in by their boisterous neighbours and their cordial-powered, remote-control wielding children.

In John’s gospel and the opening chapter, which is really a prologue to the story than the opening of the story itself, we have Christmas without the paraphernalia. No wise men, no shepherds, no angels; no star, no animals, no manger; no baby. What we have is light and a word; a word which is a who (and not a what), a word who is glorious and alive, a word who is light whom banishes the darkness. I wonder what a Christmas pageant would look like if we based it on John’s account rather than Matthew’s or Luke’s. Would it actually be less boisterous if there was no bunch of kids dressed as a flock of lambs, and one solitary boy was dressed as everlasting light instead? I never got to be Joseph when I was a child, although I did play him in a monologue when I was about 42. I wonder how I would have felt had I been chosen to play the real light – the light that comes into the world and shines on all mankind as John 1:9 puts it.

The Good News Translation overlooks the phrase, but in the New American Bible (amongst others) we read in John 1:12 that to those who did accept him he gave the power to become children of God, to those who believe in his name. Now is not the time for a full theology of the Name of Jesus, but briefly, at Blue Christmas, let me say this. The name of the Word who came as light, is Jesus, and that name means “God Saves”. It’s the same Hebrew name as Joshua (Yehu’shua), the one who fit de battle of Jericho and the walls come a tumblin’ down. The phrase “in his name” also means to accept Jesus for all he is and all he stands for: the whole being of Jesus and his story. If you acknowledge and receive Jesus, the one who exists and proclaims the salvation of God, then you will become a son or daughter of God. Many did not accept Jesus when he came, during his life between 4BC and 30AD or whenever exactly it was, John 1:11 tells us that and we know it from other parts of the New Testament too. Many since then and right up to today have also not accepted him, either they have heard the story and rejected it for whatever reason, or they haven’t heard the story properly told at all for whatever reason. That’s why John 1:12 specifically says to those who did accept him, because in John 1:11 we’ve just been told that many didn’t.

And that’s where we find ourselves on Blue Christmas, and others find themselves blue at Christmas, because the story is unacceptable. Here’s a story about eternal light entering the world. Here’s a story about the Word of God, so God’s creative power (remember God created by “saying”) and God’s authority, entering the world. Here’s a story about a man who embodies all of the above and his name is literally “God Saves”, if not “God’s Salvation” as if the man is himself the saviour, and not just a living prophecy whose name is a message, he himself with the name is also the means of salvation. And yet here I am, on Thursday night 19th December 2019 (or Wednesday morning 25th December), and here I am mourning because God did very much NOT save. If God saves then why am I a widow, or an orphan, or a divorcee, or a bankrupt, or a quadriplegic, or a neurotic? Why? All this light you’re speaking about just makes my darkness even more obvious, and it’s just as painful as the noise of children on their new bikes and the sound of their dads on their fourth beer.

You say “God saves”, but I say that’s very hard to accept, let alone believe.

As a pastor I hear that, and I will not trample it. Yes I am a pastor, but only because I am a survivor in life,; and I’m a survivor in life only because I am a Christian. I’m not saying that you cannot survive life without Christianity, but I am saying that I would not have made it this far without Jesus. My story is that I have lost a lot. My grandparents have all died, so my parents (whom I dearly love) have lost their parents (whom they dearly loved). I have lost friends to death, and friends to distance. I have also lost friends to hatred, people who once were close who have turned against me and my family. I have lost health, and poor health has stolen decades of my life; in fact I’m going to say that much of my adulthood has been lost to sickness and disability. I was sexually molested as a child and I have lost most, if not all, of what it means to be in a romantic relationship. So, when you say that God’s salvation is very hard to accept, let alone believe, I believe you, and I accept your story as accurate and true.

But so is John’s story, accurate and true, and I know this because it is also my story. That I am here, after all of that, to tell my story and even more to tell John’s story from the Christian Bible, is all down to the fact that God does save, did save, will save, and that Jesus is the means by which that is accomplished. I am a Christian, a recipient of salvation, because God saved me and not because I saved myself. When I stopped trying to save myself and faced the overwhelming tide of death, because I was out of energy and motivation, that is when God has lifted me out and up and away. If you aren’t there yet well I’m not going to gloat, or accuse, or deny your pain. I will be respectful this Christmas of you in the way that I missed in Christmases past when others denied, excluded, and accused me.

Imagine a Christmas without all the pageantry: in a field of loss that might be nice, and December 25th itself might pass in quietness, another Wednesday in the world, with nothing to set it apart. You know, you are allowed to have it that way, you really are. But if you don’t want to, we’ll be here at 9:00am next Wednesday, and we’ll be telling the stories of how Jesus is God’s Salvation. And we’ll be nice about it too.

Amen.

Respec’

This is the text of the ministry message I wrote for KSSM for the monthly pewsheet in December 2019.

I‘m sure you‘ve noticed that the reputation of religious institutions in Australia, particularly professional forms of Christianity, have taken a huge dive toward disrepect in 2019. The Royal Commission into Intsitutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse didn‘t only review Church organisations, but the fact that it did, and that it found error amongst us, is sonmething for which we must repent. I find it hard to repent of this sort of thing, especially since I am not a perpertator, and most especialy since I have first hand experience with a survivor‘s story: but the fact remains that The Church did wrong and we are The Church so we must do right. That other groups did wrong does not remove from us the burden of The Church‘s guilt; neither that wrong was also done to us does it lessen the guilt we have earned. In fact, even if we were 99% right and only 1% wrong, we would still be 100% responsible for that 1%, and so the sad truth that many in The Church continue to resist redress and regress, and fight to maintain reuptation and standing, has left many Australians with a bad taste of God.

The first centuries Church never had this issue. True they were hated and persectued, martyred to death and exile, but never because they were lacking charity. That the Christians looked after their widows and orphans, and assisted their neighbouring widows and orphans who had been rejected and overlooked the Greek and Roman world earned them the respect of their neighbours. What happened to that?

As Christmas fills the world with the news of God becoming boy, and the profound gift of Heaven being present amongst us in personal glory, may we as The Church live out God‘s desire for a world of shalom: a world that starts in humility and apology from the wrong, and grace and acceptance from the wronged.

Christ The King

This is the message I prepared for KSSM for Sunday 24th November 2019, the Sunday of Christ’s Kingship in Year C.  It was a communion service in both Kaniva and Serviceton in the Churches of Christ tradition, and I was presider

Jeremiah 23:1-6; Colossians 1:11-20; Luke 23:33-43

Well, the kingship of Christ is one of those ideas that divides many in today’s church. The use of such powerful language to describe such a humble man has caused offence for some, and the taking offence by those in contradiction to a clear and Biblical teaching has caused offence in others. It seems to me that to call Christ “King” sparks the same angst as to call God “Father”; what you think of kings depends upon your experience of monarchical government and what you think of fathers depends upon the relationship you had with your own dad. I’m happy with the idea of Jesus as King of Kings and Lord of Lords; I think him being President of Presidents or perhaps Mayor of Mayors is a bit pathetic really, Creation is not a democracy and we are not worse off for living in the Kingdom of Heaven, God’s own realm.

So there’s your introduction: Jesus is King and that’s a good thing in my view.

But what do we actually mean by this statement: Jesus is King, or perhaps Jesus is Lord? Is this just metaphorical language, suggesting that as we acknowledge Christ’s authority in the world we see him as superior to ourselves? If we want to say that Jesus is somehow better than us or above us in rank then why not just call him “teacher” (Rabbi as his mates called him), or even “boss”? Why king? Why lord?

Why not shepherd? Okay that might be a metaphor that even fewer modern people would enjoy, the logic suggesting that all Christians are sheep, but there are shepherd stories in circulation. Indeed the Roman Catholic parish in my hometown, the actual town where I was a child, is called “Christ the Good Shepherd”. Why does Jesus have to be a monarch, why can’t he be something more pasture-pastoral? In he opening verses of Jeremiah 23 The LORD who speaks through the prophet suggests that that is a useful framework for thinking about how God governs the people. In Jeremiah 23:3,4 God says that I myself will gather…and I will bring them back…and they shall not fear any longer…nor shall any be missing. That sounds like a God-thing, it certainly echoes the Good Shepherd motifs of Jesus’ teachings; and if we read on in Jeremiah we find that Jesus is apparently foretold as the king who will come, a descendent of David and one who will rule with wisdom, justice, and righteousness. Jesus will be king, and the sort of king he will be is this sort, the shepherding sort. The sort of king that Jesus will not be is the sort the Judahites and Israelites have already seen; the extortionate tyrant, the poor manager, the disinterested lush, the cashed-up bogan. That might be the style of Israel and Judah’s past, it may even be the style of Europe’s mediaeval, pre-Modern, pre-Revolutionary Past in our thinking, but it is not the way of the Kingship of God.

In today’s reading from the gospel we find ourselves at the crucifixion as Luke records it, and specifically the execution of the one the Romans called “The King of the Jews”. You’ll find those words in Luke 23:37-38. The implications of Jesus’ death are best left for another time, we’ll hear more about that at Easter, because today I want us to focus on the idea that this man is “The King of the Jews” and what it means that this king is being crucified.

You don’t need to be much of a scholar to know that lots of kings throughout all of history have ended up dead at the hands of their enemies. I’m not sure whether Jesus was the only foreign king ever crucified, but Rome would often murder the captured, defeated rulers of the lands they conquered after displaying them in triumphal parades through the city. Such kings or chieftains were usually strangled in a place called the Carcer, which is why many did not allow themselves to be “incarcerated” and would suicide or at least go down fighting on the battle field. Think of Cleopatra. But the Romans didn’t actually consider Jesus a king, did they? No, he was not King of Judea or King of Israel, he was not defeated in battle and he was not taken to Rome as part of a conqueror’s triumph: he was considered a rabble-rouser, a partisan, a rebel, and he was brutally killed in full public view to serve as an example for other trouble makers. Jesus was garbage according to the Romans, and even if Pilate thought Jesus himself harmless, Jesus was not worth upsetting the Sanhedrin over and so he was expendable. The sign above Jesus head was a taunt, a taunt of him and also a taunt of the Jewish people. And yet, and yet it is a title that Christians have invested with prophetic meaning almost since the day of crucifixion itself. Jesus really is the King of the Jews, and that is why his resurrection 36 hours later is such a victory for God’s Chosen People.

Jesus is not the sort of king who gets assassinated after a public rebellion, like Louis XVI of France or Charles I of Great Britain were. He’s never been overthrown and exiled as were Victor Emmanuel III of Italy or Alfonso XIII of Spain. After Jesus was killed Jesus returned; and Jesus was never de-throned. Look at how Jesus acts from the cross, he still has authority in his power to ask God to forgive sins (Luke 23:34) and to promise salvation to a repentant sinner (Luke 23:43); Jesus is King on the cross, not an ex-king or a deposed king, Jesus never relinquishes his kingship and it is never lost to him, even as he dies and is buried. And look at the people, in Luke 23:35 they stand watching at a distance while the Jewish leaders come close to mock Jesus’ kingship, the people are not following the leaders, which makes me wonder who has lost whose prestige at this point. Here’s a hint, you can’t call yourself a leader if you don’t have any followers.

When Paul speaks through his writing to Colossae about the Kingdom of God’s beloved Son I think this is the Son that Paul has in mind. Not just that Jesus is the Son of God, but that Jesus the Son is this crucified and raised King of the Jews. Look at Colossians 1:11-12 where Paul prays may you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father. Our strength, God’s power, our preparation to endure with patience are gifts of God which Jesus lived out as an example on the cross. I’m not certain how Jesus felt in the moment, but if he knew that his work was for the salvation of the world (and he did) then he knew that it would bring delight to God, and that would have buoyed him I think. The same is true of us, who are followers of Jesus and as disciples are literally his students, and as Paul adds in Colossians 1:13 as citizens of the Kingdom of the Son. Our followship of Jesus, our community of discipleship, is founded on the nature and example of the king who endured the cross and displayed God’s power throughout all things (time, space, language) by rising again. That is the story of a king; to call Jesus “boss” or “mayor” is kinda pathetic really.

Paul goes on in his next paragraph, which our Bibles bookend as Colossians 1:15-20, in much the same way. The New Revised Standard Version subtitles this section “The Supremacy of Christ” which I think is a good take on it, even as I don’t really like subtitles. The one who is king, this saviour who saved through his own death and resurrection, the king of The Kingdom of God, is supreme. You’d better believe he’s supreme, he’s the image of God (well aren’t we all?) but he’s the prize of creation for whom all things were created, and he sits over every creature and every form of power and influence. Christ is king above every other king then, king of kings for sure. But more than above all things in rank he is amongst all things in shape, he’s between the sub-atomic spaces and he drives every bond and force of Physics and Chemistry. Christ is valency, Christ is gravity, Christ is inertia and magnetism. Christ is osmosis and reduction. Christ is the top, and in Christ is the whole made whole. Christ is source, Christ is purpose, Christ is fullness and Christ is incarnation through whom God in all God’s Godfulness acts in and on and with the created order. So, more than a president eh: so much more than a president, so much.

Jesus is pretty important then. Immense. But also close. Look at the last words of our Christian tradition reading today: through Christ God was pleased to reconcile to Godself all things in all dimensions by making shalom through the blood of Jesus’ cross. That’s Colossians 1:20. And think about it, Selah, pause and consider the blood of his cross. Did the cross bleed? Did the cross bleed? No. The blood of his cross is the blood of himself. There is no artificial miracle here of a cross bleeding true blood, there is no falsehood whereby sap was oozing and the illiterate peasants got all sweaty-faced about the magic. We all know what was going on here, Jesus, (Christ, the Supreme One, King of kings and all other things…) bled and died and through that God reconciled all things on Heaven and Earth and made peace. No king has ever done that before. Sure there have been abdications in world history, some rulers have surrendered immediately at the gates in the face of an overwhelming invasion force rather than have his (or her) city besieged and pillaged. But no king has ever died in such a way, at the hand of his own people, so as to bring about God’s completion. The greatest king died the most humble death, the least glorious death, nailed up naked and in public to a tree beside the main highway, having been thrashed to a pulp first, all on the twin crimes of treason and blasphemy, pronounced by a puppet governor and a selfish priesthood.

This is the king we have. Even if he were not king of kings and lord of lords (and he is, let’s not diminish that), but even if he wasn’t, even if there were a number of kings and Jesus-land was but one of a number of nations with constitutional monarchs in whose country we might live, wouldn’t you chose it anyway? I mean I like Elizabeth, Australia’s queen, but given a choice between the UK and the KOG I know where I’d be brexiting to…and it wouldn’t take me three years to make up my mind either.

The Kingship of Jesus seems to be to be the heart of the gospel. Even more than the lamb of God who was slain, even more than the great high priest who knows our every weakness, even more than the friend (what a friend) we have in Jesus, of most central importance to the good news of God is that God is King in the Kingdom of The Son, and that the king is the image of the invisible God. If God is king, and if God is like Jesus, and if Jesus is like this King of the Jews, then the Kingdom of God is the Kingdom of the most wonderful, most adorable, most loving and most welcoming king; a king who is all of that and strong, and authoritative, and commanding, and redeeming.

This, this is the God we adore; this, this is the God we serve.

Amen.

The Happiest Ending is Not an Ending at all. (Pentecost 23C)

This is the text of the message I prepared for Kaniva and Serviceton for Sunday 17th November 2019

Isaiah 65:17-25; Isaiah 12

In Isaiah 65:1-16, so the verses prior to our reading today, we are given the context for what God is saying in our set passage. So, straight off the top, here’s a hint from your preacher: when you set out to read from the Bible read the chapter, not just the verse or two: today’s text has shown it to be true. Today, where God begins to speak to us in Isaiah 65:17 saying I am about to create we have confidence in each of those words because of the page and a half which has gone before, the first sixteen verses of Isaiah 65 and the twin stories which they tell. The I am is God The LORD; and actually I suggest that God is more fully named in the phrase I am about to since God is only knowable by revelation and activity. This I am, this God who is and the God who does, is the One who revealed Godself to the world even before the world began to look. We read that in Isaiah 65:1, and we understand some of that in the story of Christmas where Godself, in all of God’s Godfulness, entered the created world in the form of a created thing to communicate and to pitch a tent amidst humankind. God is ready, God is willing, God is excited about fellowship, and God is present and welcoming even before we’re aware there’s a party about to start. Israel is a hot mess at this point, the exiled ones are well away and the remnant of the old and the broken, whom the Babylonians left behind, have forgotten God and been forgotten by the bulk of God’s people. But God is excited by the thought that there will be a seeking and a finding in the next breath, and God just cannot wait. The God who is, who is the God who does, is about to do what God is first known for, saying I am…about to…create.

For I am about to create new… says The LORD in Isaiah 65:17, new heavens and a new earth; so basically a new everything then, and of such wonder that the old heaven and the old earth (so, this one here) shall not be remembered or come to mind. Who’s up for some of that? Yeah, me too. The best bit within this new everything is the new Jerusalem, a joy, and its people…a delight, in which God will rejoice: and not only “in which” God will rejoice but where God will rejoice, depending how you read Isaiah 65:19. Is it possible, is it true that God will not only rejoice about the new Jerusalem and the restored people, but will God actually do the rejoicing in the actual place, with the actual people? Mm-hmm, yep.

The rejoicing that God does in Jerusalem, where God is actually present in the city, looks like life. Life, doesn’t it? Babies will live to adulthood, and adults will live to 100 and more, so that’s a long life. And people will live in houses they have built, and enjoy the produce of trees they have planted and tended. Everyone will benefit from his or her own work and so these long lives, (long enough to plant and then wait for the maturation of tress from which to enjoy the harvest, long enough to still be considered young at 100), these long lives will be full lives, abundant lives, eternal lives. Big, fat, wide, full, deep, long, tall, complete lives; lives lived in the company of the Presence (big-P) of The LORD.

And not just that, because if that wasn’t enough of a promise there’s more to come. These long and fruitful lives will also be peaceful lives, shalom-ful lives, (BTW shalom-ful is a great word, even if I’m not entirely sure if it existed before now), lives without anxiety or grief, lives where wolves and lambs are safe in each other’s company, where lions don’t eat people and snakes don’t eat at all. This last point, found in Isaiah 65:25, is important when you consider the rest of the picture: this is a new Eden. Long life, full life, abundant life, non-anxious life, worshipful life, a life of companionship with God; this is what Eden was like, until the serpent spoke up and wrecked it all. But in this new Eden the serpent eats dust from the outset, there is no room for a second Fall, this Eden will last forever and will never be corrupted. The happy ending to the long story of Israel and Judah in exile; the story during which the people were taken away to Babylonia and then Persia and their identity as the Chosen people of the Promised Land was destroyed, and the cities and towns and farms and fields they left behind were destroyed, and the temple of God in Jerusalem was destroyed, the happy ending to that story is actually no ending at all. The end of the people’s story is the eternity of God, as wide and high as it is long, and full, so full, so very very full.

Can you imagine what a word of hope that was to the first hearers? Imagine if you were in exile, or you were one of those left behind amongst the ruins because you weren’t worthy even of slavery. Imagine that God said that what is coming next is everything you could never imagine of joy and restoration.

As our Christian calendar moves to its end, where today is the penultimate Sunday in the year, and our last Sunday in this long season in green stretching all the way back to Pentecost, we are closing in on Advent. Advent is more than just a month of daily chocolates and me in a purple shirt, it is the season of preparation for the Church when we think of Jesus coming to Earth as a human child, and of his return one day as the King of Glory. It is a time when we remember that at the Last Day the new Jerusalem will descend from Heaven, that a new Heaven and a new Earth will be completed, and God will again live in our midst (and we will live in the very centre of God’s presence) and that God’s Kingdom will have no end. No end, but also no edges, and no roof, God’s Kingdom is not just a future but it is a wideness in very dimension, a fullness in every conceivable thing. Even without the lived experience of a physical exile, of a life of slavery under a foreign empire, of colonisation and subjugation, even if you haven’t had any of that the promise of what God has in mind and the absolute certainty that it will occur should be thrilling for you. Is it? Do you really grasp what it is that is coming? This is why I get annoyed when Christianity is boxed so tightly around a formula of repentance to guarantee a place above the sky after death. If your Christian expectation is for “a glorious afterlife” then man (woman or child) you are selling yourself so short, and you have missed the whole point of God’s self-revelation through Jesus the Christ.

Lift up your eyes.

Today’s psalm comes to us from Isaiah 12. So yes, it is a psalm, it’s just from a different part of the Bible: same genre though, it’s a song of God. Again, the best place to begin reading is back a page or two, in this case the oracle which occupies all of Isaiah 11 and which in some Bibles carries the subheading “the peaceful kingdom” and in others “the righteous branch”. It’s important to remember that these headings are twentieth (or twenty-first) century additions in English, they’re not in the original text, and they’re there to offer help to understanding the passage. I say this because it’s true, I also say it because I don’t find either of those headings helpful in this case, so I’m going to ignore them. In fact, Isaiah 11, in the Newly Infallible Damien Version, has the title “the ideal king”. This king, upon whom God’s Spirit rests, is wise and just and fair and honourable, he is worthy to be praised. This king calls and the whole of humanity answers, all who are homeless are called home, drawn home indeed, and the home to which they come is filled with love and the generous abundance of every good thing. This home is better than Heaven, this home is the new Jerusalem upon the new Earth, this is Eden in all that it would have become if 6000 years or 6000 million years of what became of God’s good creation had not strayed from the Master’s plan. Good eh? More than.

And so we come to Isaiah 12:1 and the words [y]ou will say in that day: I will give thanks to you O LORD. What day? That day. THAT day. The day when the ideal king summons you home to the better Eden: that day. And what will you say on that day? Well the rest of Isaiah 12 is what you will say; thank you because you saved me, you comforted me, you restored me, I trust in you and I trust you to be my strength and my might. You will say that The LORD is my salvation, (Isaiah 12:2), I am not my salvation and I cannot save myself, salvation is a gift of God, drawn from the wells of God: wells I did not dig fed by aquifers I did not fill. And what else will you say on that day? You will say [g]ive thanks to The LORD, call on God’s name, make known God’s deeds among the nations, proclaim that God’s name is exalted. (Isaiah 12:4.) Good eh? More than.

So, to recap; in two places in Isaiah we are told that God is about to begin the work of restoration. In fact God has already begun the work of restoration, what is about to happen is that God is about to invite creation to enter the workspace and be the completion of it. It is God who is doing this, the I AM, the Creator, the King who is the root of Jesse (so a Davidic sovereign, a filling of God’s promise to David himself). That’s what we’ve heard so far. What we have also heard so far is that this restoration is not Heaven, it is Eden; but better even than Heaven and Eden it is an Eden WITHOUT THE SERPENT. This is Eden and it will never be withdrawn from us, or we from it, because the King himself, a grandson of David and The LORD God will live amongst us in that Eden. Look at Isaiah 12:6 where it says great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel. Where? In our midst! Who? The Holy One of Israel. Now that, that is a promise.

So, what does it all mean? What does it mean for us, Christians of The Wimmera and The Tatiara. Two things I think come to me immediately from the text.

  1. It’s Jesus we’re looking for. Jesus is the root of Jesse, the grandson of David.

  2. It’s God we’re looking for. In the Vulgate, which was an update of earlier Latin translations from koine Greek (the original language of the New Testament and the working language of the Old Testament in the form of the Septuagint) into decent Latin, Isaiah 12:2-3 read God is my saviour rather than my salvation. God was not just the one making the promise and giving the assurance, it was Godself doing the actual saving. Judaism didn’t teach that so explicitly, even in Jesus’ time, but early Christianity did. You’ll find that wording in the New King James Version for example where Isaiah 12:2 reads Behold, God is my saviour and Lord, I will trust in Him and be saved by Him. So it’s personal, not just that I am saved but that God personally did the saving.

  3. And point three is of course the Christian understanding that points one and two intersect, God who does the saving Godself does so through the work of Jesus, the root of Jesse. Isaiah wasn’t saying that, but The Vulgate did, and so am I.

I said two things, and then went to three dot points. But that was only one thing. The second thing, without dot points, is that Jesus has saved us for the new Eden, not for the old Heaven. Now I’m not redefining Christianity here, relax and don’t get upset: if you want to go to Heaven and you are fully confident that Jesus wants you there then you will be there, and you will see me there. (This I know, for the Bible tells me so.) But the point is that God intended creation to be here, where God could walk in the cool of the evening with God’s own friend Adam, and that Adam would be God’s friend and he would not be ashamed of who he was (or was not) in God’s presence. This is what Jesus brought to us through his death and resurrection, not only the golden city above the clouds, but the fullness of what the Earth was always supposed to be, and what it will be again, and more so what it will become in the form of what it should have become, the place of God’s personal dwelling among God’s beloved people. This is the Kingdom of God, not so much a place (although in the fullness of time there will be an Earth location) as the reality that God reigns today, God reigns here, and God’s presence is upon us and amongst us where we love and worship and serve God and each other.

This is the outset of Eternity, not yet as long and wide and high and full as it shall be when God’s presence comes down, but Eternity nonetheless. The reality of Eternity today is the news of Eternity tomorrow, and that is good news indeed. It is tidings of great joy, it is the meaning of Christmas. It is, in every degree, the gospel.

Amen.

Celebrating The City (Pentecost 18C)

This is the text of the message I prepared for Sunday 13th October 2019, the 18th Sunday in Pentecost in Year C.  This was a combined service with all of the churches in Kaniva in celebration of Kaniva Agricultural Show which had been held the previous day.  We gathered in the Shire Hall in Kaniva for church: I was the preacher and a youth band from The Salvation Army in Geelong lead us in worship and song.  That band had been performing at the Show.

Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7; Psalm 66:1-12; 2 Timothy 2:8-15

One of the great themes of the Hebrew scriptures is the story of God’s continued deliverance of Jews from their gentile enemies. There’s the whole story of the Exodus to start with, the many victories of the Judges, then the kings Saul, Solomon, and especially David, and Esther, who whilst a queen was actually a queen-consort in a foreign land. Outside the centuries covered by the Jewish scriptures, but well within Jewish history, is the Maccabean overthrow of the Syrians in 167 BC. Maybe we could add Israel’s wars in 1967 and 1973 to our list. One description I have heard of the Jewish festivals like Passover (Exodus) and Purim (Esther) is the phrase “they tried to kill us, but God delivered us, so let’s eat!” Jewish history inside and outside the Bible is the story of deliverance repeated.

So what happens when God does not deliver? What happens when God’s people are in the minority, in decline, in exile, and specifically not in Canaan? In Jeremiah 29 we can read Jeremiah’s letter which he addressed to the whole community of the first and second exiles, specifically including the priests and prophets amongst the people. Jeremiah is still in Jerusalem at this stage so we’re talking around the year 597 BC, but he’ll be in Babylon within a decade when Nebuchadnezzar’s armies return for another cartload or three of Judahites. Surprisingly in the context of all those stories where God has saved the people from their enemies, what Jeremiah says is that Babylon is the correct place for the People of God right now, and that it was God’s plan all along that they be there. It is always God’s desire that God’s own people are actively completing God’s work in the world, that is what discipleship is all about. God’s instruction to the Judahites of Jeremiah’s day was to settle down and live abundant lives: they were to engage with their Babylonian neighbours and build homes and families of their own, make new and deeper friendships and relationships, and not hide away in ghettos. In other words the Judahites and Israelites were to grow in every way imaginable, and to make sure that Babylonia grew because of them. Jeremiah encourages them to practice domestic life according to Jewish cultural patterns and to remain faithful to God, but they were not be isolated and angry. This is also true of us, the people of God’s nation should keep their faith and their religious and cultural identity, but they should share an abundant life with the people around them, especially those who badger and malign the faithful out of spite and ignorance, so that everyone may come to understand the grace and love of God.

In Jeremiah 29:7 we read in some English translations that God desires the peace and prosperity of the city to which the exiles have been sent, but in Hebrew this is “shalom” in all that that word conveys. Shalom is more than peace, it is restful and complete well-being, not only the absence of war but the absence of anxiety. “You are to work towards and intercede with me for the shalom of Babylon” says The LORD, because in Babylon’s shalom is the exiles’ shalom. More so Jeremiah adds in 29:8b that the exiles and the remnant in Judah are not to listen to anyone who tells them otherwise: this message of shalom is the correct Word of The LORD, as opposed to what the other prophets are saying. The truth is that the apparently bad news of exile is actually God’s news, and the supposedly good news of a near release is false hope and false prophecy. Hananiah says that the exile will be over in two years’ time, but he’s an idiot so don’t listen to him, and don’t go setting up a partisan resistance movement to overthrow the oppressors. Settle petals.

No, the correct response to recognising the place where God has put you is to sing praise and thanksgiving to God because of what God has done: for you and for us all. In Psalm 66 we are encouraged to actively remember and proclaim aloud the glorious history of the salvation of out nation; specifically how God rescued us (including each of us) from oppression and oppressors. This might seem an odd response to exile, but God is the true king and every other king and president is less than God is. God will overrule governments to preserve God’s people. God has kept us from death and destruction in the past and God has used hard times to refine us and to bring us through and make us better people than we would have been had we had an easier life. In Psalm 66:4 we read that all the earth bows down…sings praises, and the chosen nation is asked to pause and reflect (Selah) on this. What God has done for us God has done for all humankind (Psalm 66:5), but so far we are the only ones who know. Since God has caused us to grow, has growed us up, we must be adult about this and we must no longer be selfish: we must share the news, share the joy, invite everyone we know to the concert of adoration and thanksgiving. After a time of walking through the hard places, where God actually opened up a road through the sea, Psalm 66:8 tells us to “drop to your knees in adoration” and “shout out God’s glory” so that everyone knows about it. Like the exiles we were bound up and dragged away, we went through hell and high water (Psalm 66:12a) but we have been brought through, and we have been brought to a place of plenty (Psalm 66:12b). That is worth celebrating with songs of praise, isn’t it?

This is why Paul finds it possible to proclaim the gospel even in chains. The chains of imprisonment will not silence him and they cannot silence the good news of Jesus the liberator, because Paul’s task is to continue to proclaim salvation to those who do not yet know that they are saved. God is faithful to Godself, Paul knows and he says that God will never go back on a promise or fail to deliver those whose trust is in God. God is worthy of praise because God is faithful toward those who persevere for the sake of the good news. In 2 Timothy 2:14-15 we read why it is so important that Timothy teaches the message of perseverance directly to the church he pastors, and why Christians must never get caught up in jargon. Let every person who trusts God for deliverance plainly speak the truth that the world needs to hear, because that is the task set by God for each one of us. It’s not the job of the overseers to silence the people, but to instruct them in the good news (of what the gospel actually is) and to empower them to proclaim it by the word of their own story and testimony. Be zealous for the truth so that the gospel of Jesus Christ (the Son of David) is proclaimed, and nothing else. Paul specifically reminds Timothy about false teachers, and like Jeremiah six hundred years earlier he counsels him to stay away from the self-seeking idiots who have a different agenda. Listen to God, hold fast to the good news of salvation, and trust in God’s timing for the completion of the work which God has been conducting since time began.

Well that’s all great; God is faithful even in the hard times, and even if there seems to be more tunnel than light we are encouraged to stay faithful and not be looking for a sneaky, early exit. But what do we actually do about it? I can honestly say that I do not feel that my life in Kaniva is a form of exile: I hope you don’t either. Okay, so compared with Serviceton and Broughton it’s a bit of a dive, but I like Kaniva and I enjoy living amongst the Kanivan people. As Christians we might say that all life on earth is exile because Heaven is the home for which we long to return: I think that’s a bit simplistic in light of what we’ve heard from scripture this morning, but there is some truth in it. It’s not the whole truth, but it’s not wrong. But even if the Wimmera and the Tatiara, let alone Corio, are not exactly places of exile, they are places where God is not so central as God was in Jerusalem, or shall be in the New Jerusalem. Since we live in a place which is not all that God wants for us so we must pray for the shalom of our cities.

This morning, as many of the Church in Kaniva who have wanted to gather have gathered in this place. There is only one Church in Kaniva even though it meets in six buildings with six different surnames. There is a common purpose and a shared culture amongst us. Yesterday our town was filled with visitors, and today we have the mob from Geelong participating as sisters and brothers in Christ. As Church (singular with a capital-C) and churches (plural with a small-c) we are the God’s light in the world, in Kaniva and its districts. As Victorians whose state motto is “Peace and Prosperity” we pray for the shalom of our home. We pray for the shalom of Melbourne our capital, for Kaniva our town, for Servi and Broughton and Nhill and all the other places we live, for Geelong. We pray that God would bless us and our neighbours, somewhat anxious that God will want to bless our neighbours through us, thereby giving us jobs, yet hopeful that God will indeed look with favour on our homes and industries.

So together in Kaniva this morning we celebrate God’s goodness to us recalling that God’s record for coming through is 100%. The Jewish exiles from the land may have lasted for decades, centuries, and millennia at a time, but God always called the people home and we know from scripture that the call to all the world is still there. One day soon we will be home, but this day we pray for the place where we are today and we sow into this. Today as we pray we build homes, we build lives and families, we build and plant and put down foundations in the place where we are because the place where we are is the place where God is, and God is with us here.

Go, sow, build, grow, pray and praise: they need to see it and hear it so that they will know it, and grow and sow and build and worship too.

Amen.

Wail

Lamentations 1:1-6; Lamentations 3:19-26; Psalm 137

Well! In all of my years as a Christian in church I don’t remember ever hearing a sermon on Lamentations. That’s not to say it’s never happened; more likely the message as it was didn’t connect with me or appeal to me, so I didn’t take much notice. I hope that today is not like that for you. On the other hand I have heard sermons on Psalm 137:1 with its famous disco riff By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down and we wept when we remembered Zion, popularised by Boney-M; less so on the notoriously misquoted Psalm 137:9 where God commands all Christians to bash out the brains of infants and rip the wings off newborn puppies. Yeah, that got your attention didn’t it!

And, like I did with Philemon last month, when I began my reading for this sermon I wondered why we need Lamentations in the Bible at all. I mean, isn’t there enough moaning and sighing going on in Psalms and all of the prophets, why Israel needs a specific book just to lament I don’t know. Well, I do know now, but I was wondering then. Like Philemon which in one way is about the specific message of reconciliation wherein it would be safe for Onesimus to return home, the big theme of the Jewish Bible is homecoming. You have messed up and you have been kicked out, but God is ready to welcome you home: be you Adam and Eve kicked out from Eden, or Saul kicked out from the kingship, or the entire nation of Judah kicked out from their land and into exile in Babylon. Exodus is about the journey home and Joshua and Judges is about how home is then made homely. Ezra-Nehemiah is a similar story. The stories of Kings explain why the exile happened, the messing up leading to the kicking out, and many prophets take up that story with the words of warning included. This is where Lamentations comes in, it is the sorrowful tale of the sorrowful people sorrowing: it is the explanation of why the people of Psalm 137 wept, and why God’s chosen nation had to remember Zion as a decimated past home rather than living in its glorious present. Sometimes it’s good to remember what was lost so that we appreciate it if we get it back: and even if we don’t get it back we are able to see with hindsight how faithful God has been to us, and we are prompted to worship.

In Lamentations 1:1 we read how the daughter of Zion mourns like a widow, how the much cherished princess is now a servant-girl. Her husband is not dead, rather he has left her and now he is threatening her with divorce, that’s why she’s a widow. All comfort is gone, everyone has betrayed her and abandoned her; the daughter of Zion is alone in her grief, except for her enemies who are abusing her we read in Lamentations 1:3. What a tale of woe for the one whom God has caused to suffer: by taking away all her strength and every means of rebuilding that strength the daughter of Zion has been utterly destroyed by God. The sobbing goes on for a bit, and we take it up again in Lamentations 3:19 where Zion is now characterised as a man, and he is speaking for himself rather than being described by a narrator as the daughter of Zion was. Zion speaks like Job here, bitterness is in his mouth and he is utterly desolate, but even in that there comes a spark of joy. Here, again, is the thought that even if God will not restore what we have lost that it was God who gave all the good things first, and God is faithful to God’s own character. God is worthy of worship, and beginning at Lamentations 3:22 that is what we hear and see. The song of Zion is returning to the mournfully abandoned man and he no longer feels betrayed.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases sings the son of Zion, perhaps with clenched fists and gritted teeth. “I will hope, I will hope,” he says, grasping at that small flicker of light, blowing on that one last bit of red in the coals and ashes of his incinerated life. Like Job he says “I am not cut off”: everyone and everything may be gone, every “thing” and every “one”, but not God. God is here because God is faithful, and not only faithful but steadfast, and not only steadfast but steadfast in love. I have hope, says the son of Zion, I have hope because God always brings the dawn and with the dawn God always brings my portion. Maybe the point has come in time where the son of Zion has confronted his exile, he’s taking account of his sins and recognises why he is in Babylon now and not in Zion. Not every disaster that befalls a believer in God is divine punishment, neither is distress always the plain consequences of sinful behaviour; however in this case it is the truth. God is faithful, and I am faithless: and because I am faithless I am here, in exile, and not in Jerusalem; and because God is faithful I am here, in exile, and not in Hell or otherwise dead. Where there is life there is hope; and even here, by the rivers of Babylon, I am living and I am alive, and God is present. Thanks be to God.

As someone who loves God fiercely, and who knows that he is loved by God with even greater ferocity, I like that the language of the Bible is bold. And as a man who has lived with illness and disability for all of his adult life, and much of that psychological and emotional, I like that the language is not only bold but dead-set blunt. Lamentations is honest in its grief, as is much of Job, and many of the psalms including Psalm 137.

By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down and we wept when we remembered Zion; and it’s no wonder when you consider what we have just heard. They didn’t just weep, they lamented like the darling daughter who is shut out in the cold not only by daddy but by her fiance. They grieved like the king who has lost everything and everyone, and all he has is cold ashes and boiling memories. That’s what’s going on for them, so when the Babylonians say “hey, gissa song then, how about one of those songs where you boast about how awesome your God is and how Zion is impregnable, bahahaha”, they are not laughing. No, they are seething. First they whinge, and rightly so, about how it’s all a taunt and that even if it wasn’t there is no mood for joy and celebration when you’re living in exile. Then they grieve when they think of the songs themselves, songs about the land God gave them and the land they filled with crops and children, a land that is now desolate and abandoned. No-one wants to be reminded of what was once glorious but is now a ruin, yet these are hymns of praise to God and isn’t God worthy of praise even if the people have sinned and the land has been wrecked? Yes, God is worthy, and in signing God’s praises the memory of what has been lost comes to the forefront. Look at Psalm 137:4 and Psalm 137:7 where the poet refuses to forget God but the memory of God is also the memory of defeat. God’s beautiful city was destroyed by bogan pagans, and as a royal priest and a holy citizen that triggers rage in the poet, which is why he wants everyone and everything associated with the Babylonians dead. Again this is raw, honest, blunt language: but because it is these things it is also worship. To pray like this is to trust God completely, to trust God with your emotions and your vulnerability, to have the greatest respect for God, the God who laid you low in Exile but who hears your righteous rage at what has become of Israel.

The commentaries that I read all said about Psalm 137:9 that it’s good to vent. God doesn’t really want you caving in the skulls of toddlers and God is not going to be doing that sort of thing on your behalf: no children were harmed in the making of this story. If you’re that upset then have a good yell and a good spit and get it out there; however there’s more to it than that, and the commentators say more. The point is not only that it’s good to be raw and honest with God, although it is, but that God is not violent like that. Remember that God is steadfast in love; love doesn’t kill children, even the children of enemies, even the children of the Babylonians who had killed Judahite children. Even exile and slavery are not good reasons to kill people, says God.

To kill children is to kill hope. We see this in the church today where we wonder about the next generation; we wonder whether there will even be a next generation. God who is steadfast in love and alongside us in presence is the source of hope, and the promise to Abram back in the day was not only the land of Canaan but also the millions of descendants who would occupy it. What if God engineered the return of Israel and Judah from exile, just as God had caused the exodus from Egypt in the first place, but the nations had no children and so the nations died out in the land. “That’s not who I am,” says God, God is not the sort of personality to cut off hope from anyone, even from Babylon: neither is God the sort who repays an eye for an eye. As Christians we know that God is faithful to all who place their hope and trust in God, you don’t have to have had a Jewish mother for God to love you as one of the chosen: it seems this love and invitation extends even to the Babylonians. Hope must not be killed, babies must be allowed to live, God is to be glorified even in the depressing place of mockery and isolation.

Our hope lives because our God lives: this is the message of Lamentations and of Psalm 137. That we live in a hole of human construction is not God’s fault, but it is God’s concern. God is concerned because God’s people are suffering, and God’s remedy is coming just as sure as it did last time, in Egypt.

Even in a time of lamentation, of anger and bitterness and shame, we can rejoice in the steadfast love of God.

Amen.

Sunday 6th October 2019

Serviceton Church of Christ