Bill Nieporte, Pastor

Luke 10:24-37

Jesus said and did some really horrifying things throughout his ministry.

You probably shutter at the very thought of that sentence, but it is true.  The problem is that many of us have heard the stories and teaching of Jesus so often that they simply don’t carry anymore the impact that they should.   

I wonder what would happen to us if we could hear Jesus’ words as if we’d never heard them before.  What kind of revolutionary impact might they have on our lives if we could hear Jesus again for the first time – without all the filters that familiarity brings. 

Jesus tells us not to worry about what we are going to eat or wear. 

Jesus tells us not to save for a rainy day but to trust God to supply our daily needs.

Jesus tells us that if somebody attacks, don’t fight back, but turn the other cheek.

Jesus says that if somebody robs us we should give them more than what they demand. 

If you want to be great, Jesus says become a servant.

In tough economic times, Jesus says we should give all our money to care for the poor.   

 “Turn the other cheek!”

 “Don’t return violence with violence.” 

 “Love your enemies and bless those who persecute you.”

 “Take up the cross!”

I know what’s going on in your mind right now.  I thought the same thing when I began preparing this message.  “Yes, but…” I thought to myself.  “Yes, Jesus said all those things…but he didn’t really mean it!” 

Next I started offering all the excuses, explanations, and rationalizations that I’ve collected from decades of sermons and Bible studies – the things I’ve learn to take the edge off.  Then I started thinking, “What if the excuses, explanations, and rationalizations are wrong?  What if Jesus really said what he meant and meant what he said?  What if we are not allowed to files away as irrelevant the things that Jesus said that we really don’t like or understand?”

What if we recovered the WOW-factor in Jesus teachings, stories, and actions?

Like with today’s story, for example.  The “parable of the Good Samaritan” is one of the most well-known stories in human literature.  Like you I have heard this story read, preached, and taught in so many sermons and Bible studies that it seemed rather trite to preach it all again.  How can I we get a fresh hearing of this story when we’ve heard it all so many times before?  How can we rediscover the WOW-factor in this story? 

…To hear the rest of this sermon, come to Patterson Avenue Baptist Church this Sunday, July 11th, 2010.  We conduct Bible Studies for all ages at 9:45am, followed by Family Praise worship at 11:00am.  See you then!

The full text and an audio of the sermon will be available online after July 11th

Sermon Title:  “Ain’t It Awful?”

 Text:  1 Kings 19:1-20

Focal Verses 1 Kings 19:11-13

Theme:  Consider Your Call Sunday, October 3, 2010

 (This sermon will be distributed online and via CD to some 1400 plus churches in the Baptist General Association of Virginia for an annual special emphasis aimed at getting folks in the pew to give thought to where God might be calling them – be it as a vocational place of ministry, or volunteer/servant leadership.  If you read if before May 25th, please offer comments for me to take into considersation in the editing process.  Not worried about grammer/typos/spelling, that will be handled over time.  Looking for content suggestions.)

BEGIN:

Have you noticed that more and more people seem to be joining the “Ain’t it Awful Club?”  In fact, there are new chapters forming every day.  Some gather in the neighborhood barber shop or beauty salon.  Others meet at the community coffee house, the corner pub, or next to the water cooler at work. Sometimes they even meet at the church; in Sunday School classes, deacon assemblies, or gatherings of the women’s missionary circles.  I imagine that if you listen carefully, you might even hear and occasional “ain’t it awful?” session taking place in the Pastor’s Study.

What’s an “ain’t it awful” session?   It’s an occasion for people to whine and complain about life’s terrible state of affairs.  In his book Games People Play, Eric Berne says that an “ain’t it awful” session provides people with an opportunity to engage in the sometimes cathartic act of hand-wringing, and brow furrowing.[i] 

 Of course, some subjects seem standard fair for an “ain’t it awful” gripe session.

 “Can you believe those Washington democrats?  They’re spending away our children’s future.  Ain’t it awful?”

 “What about those republicans, they are nothing but a bunch of obstructionist.  The party of no, that’s what they are!  Ain’t it awful?” 

 ”I’m worried about President Obama?  I don’t even think he was born here.  If he’s not the anti-Christ, I don’t know who is!  Ain’t it awful?”

 “It’s Sarah Palin who makes me nervous.  She seems like evil on a broomstick, yet they say that she could be our next president!  Ain’t it awful?”

 ”Want to have some fun?  Say anyone of these statements at the next gathering of your friends or family, and watch what happens.  The “ain’t it awful” game will be enjoined, nothing will be accomplished, and a good time will be had by all. 

It’s not just national politics.  Few subjects are off limits.

 “Did you hear what that fellow over in Iran was saying about Israel?  It sure seems like he’s itching for a fight.  It might mean World War III.  Ain’t it awful?”  

 “I was reading a story the other day about those greedy bankers down there on Wall Street.  They shouldn’t be allowed to get away with all that mess.  Look what it has done to our economy.  Ain’t it awful?”

 “Can you believe the off-season trade the Redskins made to bring in another quarterback?  And he’s an over-the-hill quarterback at that?  Ain’t it awful?”

 “What can’t those kids learn how to pull their pants up and wear a belt?  Ain’t it awful?”

 “You know, the pastor passed me in the hall the other day and he didn’t even say ‘Hello.’  And did you see the tie he was wearing?  Can you believe his wife let him walk out of the house looking like that?  Ain’t it awful?”

 Clergy play along, too.  I heard this from a pastor friend in another state:  “Our church secretary doesn’t even know how to type.  She spends the whole day sitting in the office taking personal phone calls while I am preparing the worship bulletin.  I’d fire her, but her daddy is chairman of the personnel committee, a deacon, Sunday School Director, and our congregation’s biggest financial contributor. “

 “Ain’t it awful?”

 The laments go on and on, covering a broad range of topics.  The point is never to fix the problem.  Rather the distress is expressed and satisfaction is gained by wringing a bit of sympathy out of the circumstance.  Then you can come back a day later and do it all over again. 

 Sometimes, however, the “ain’t it awful” laments are much too intense to simply be spoken and then put off to another day of complaining.  Sometimes the challenges faced call into question our sense of identity, purpose, calling and mission.  That’s what happened with the prophet Elijah.

Elijah was a big-time prophet, so great that Jewish tradition places him side by side, shoulder to shoulder, with Moses, the Lawgiver.[ii]   Elijah had the courage to confront potentates about their sinful rebellion against Yahweh.  He spoke with authority to his people, calling them back to the ways of Yahweh.  He was so intimate with Yahweh that when he prayed, the Bible tells us that the dead were raised, fire was called down from the heavens, and nourishing rains came or departed at the command of his voice.

Elijah’s chief nemeses were King Ahab of Israel and his foreign born wife, Jezebel, whose primary ambition was to “shove her religion down the throats of the Jews.”[iii]  Her religion was the worship of Baal, a Canaanite god of fertility, harvest, produce, and sensuality.  When Jezebel and Ahab married she made it her life’s aspiration to establish Baal as Israel’s primary deity.  To accomplish her goal, she had temples erected all over the nation in Baal’s honor while systematically killing all the prophets of Yahweh. 

What made matters worse was that the people refused to make a stand against this idolatry.  In fact, they tried to have it both ways.  They wanted to hold onto Baal with one hand and Yahweh with the other.  They wanted the God of the Exodus on one side, and the god of crop insurance on the other.  For Elijah, this was totally unacceptable.  Elijah speaks to his people, “How long will you waver between two opinions? If Yahweh is God, follow him; but if Baal is God, follow him.”[iv]

This set the stage for a showdown – a contest – between 450 of Baal’s brightest and best prophets, and Elijah, a solitary man standing on behalf of Yahweh.  The face-off took place on Mount Carmel.  Two alters were erected, one for Baal and the other for Yahweh.  Two bulls were brought for burnt offering sacrifices, but no fires were to be lit.  That’s when the gauntlet was thrown down by Elijah.  “You call on the name of your god, and I will call on the name of Yahweh. The god who answers by sending fire—he is God.”[v]

The prophets of Baal went into a full-frenzied culture worship dance, complete with songs and shouts for Baal to come down and consume their offering.  Nothing happened.  They tried again.  This time Elijah taunted them.  “Shout louder,” he said.  “”Maybe Baal is deep in thought, or busy, or perhaps he’s on vacation. Maybe he’s fallen asleep and needs to be awakened.”[vi]  This put the prophets of Baal in a more frantic state of panic.  They shouted louder, cut themselves as a sign of their devotion, and continued singing and dancing throughout the day and into the early evening.  Nothing happened.

Completely spent, they turned their attention toward to Elijah.  “Come closer,” he said.  The people watched as he repaired the altar to Yahweh which lay in ruins.  He added twelve stones to the altar representing the twelve tribes of Israel.  Next he ordered a trench to be built around the wood and commanded that four huge drums of water be poured over the bull.  Then he ordered it to be done again, and then again, three times in all.  By time he was finished, the altar was sitting in a large pool of water.  No one could call this a stunt or a trick.  It would be a full-blown, no questions ask, totally undeniable miracle.

Then Elijah prayed, “Answer me, Yahweh, answer me, so these people will know that you, Yahweh, are God, and that you are turning their hearts back again.”[vii]

As Elijah finished praying, fire immediately fell from heaven.  It consumed the sacrifice and even licked up the water in the trenches.  Then the people knew that Yahweh was the one true God.   They fell on their faces and cried out, “Yahweh—he is God! Yahweh—he is God!”[viii]  That’s what Elijah’s name means in Hebrew:  “Yahweh is God!”[ix]

What happened next is not pretty.  Emboldened by this great miracle, Elijah ordered the people to round up the prophets of Baal and seal this victory in their blood.  Baal prophets were gathered and slaughtered at the wadi Kishon. 

With this act, the scene soon changes back to the capital.  Ahab the king tells Jezebel what happened.  “Elijah arranged a contest between Yahweh and Baal; between himself and the prophets of Baal.  Baal’s impotence was reveal, as was the great power of Yahweh, and all the prophets of Baal were put to death.

The news infuriated Queen Jezebel who vowed vengeance against Elijah for what he had done to her prophets.  “May the gods deal with me, be it ever so severely, if by this time tomorrow I do not make your life like that of one of them.”[x] Put another way, “Within twenty-four hours you’ll be dead.” 

When this death threat reaches Elijah, he panics in fear and is overcome by depression.  After the victory at Mount Carmel, this is not at all what he expected.  Instead of being put to rest, the powers of evil only seemed to intensify, and Elijah knew that the “people who need Mount Carmels in order to believe do not long stay faithful.”[xi]  Elijah reacts by running.  He ran to Beersheba in Judah. Then he ran another day into the wilderness.  Then he ran for another forty-day trek to Mount Horeb, the place where Moses had met Yahweh.  While on the run, Elijah plays a few rounds of “ain’t it awful” with Yahweh.

 “I’ve had enough![xii]  I’m worn out, wiped out, and burned out.  I want to be released from my call and retire from my mission.  Life is just too hard!  Ain’t it awful?”

 Elijah had lost his sense of purpose.

 “Things are no better now than when my ancestors[xiii] were fighting these same battles.  What’s the point?  You try and try and try – but nothing seems to improve.  My zeal, my passion, my strength are gone.  Ain’t it awful?”

 Elijah was discouraged.

  “The people have rejected your covenant and torn down your altars.[xiv] I’ve tried to point them in the right direction, but they won’t listen.  When your other prophets were threatened with death, nobody stuck up for them and nobody will stick up for me.  Ain’t it awful?” 

 Elijah felt underappreciated.

“Let’s face it, Yahweh!  They’ve killed everyone else.  I am the last one who is still making any effort to be faithful to you.[xv]  Ain’t it awful?”

Elijah felt all alone!

  “I want to quit.  I want out of this whole ‘prophet’ thing.  In fact, I’m tired of living.  Let me lie down and go to sleep and never wake up again.  I can’t hear your voice anymore anyways, so what’s the point?[xvi]  Ain’t it awful?”

Elijah felt disconnected from God and just wanted to die. [xvii]

There you have it.  In one moment, Elijah is pictured as a faithful, bold, and courageous prophets so intimately connected to God that when he prayed, fire would fall from heaven at his request.  Then, an instant later, this same prophet is running for his life, in the opposite direction of God’s call, feeling anxious, uncertain, and depressed, coming across as a sanctimonious whiner with suicidal fantasies.    Ain’t it awful?

We may not like this side of Elijah’s personality, but I imagine most of us at least understand it.  I don’t think many of us have seen fire fall from heaven at the sound of our voice, or the dead brought back to life.  We really don’t know what it’s like to be surrounded by the miraculous in the same way as Elijah.  What we do understand is the often frustrating nature of being on mission with God.  We know what it is like to be in a ministry that seems on the verge of a breakthrough, only to have it beset by some silly conflict, or hindered by the lack of commitment.  We know how it feels to climb into our cave, discouraged and depressed, asking God to let us off the hook and to allow us to walk away from it all.  We know what it’s like to play “ain’t it awful” with God.

It would be a mistake to simply say that Elijah is running from Jezebel.  It’s much bigger than that.  This is a story about Elijah attempting to run away his call. It’s a story about Elijah “running from his vocation, from where God wants him to be, and from what God wants him to do.”[xviii]  That’s something most of us probably understand all too well.

 What is important to note is that the “ain’t it awful” frustrations and discouragements of life were not enough to allow Elijah to be excused us from his calling – and those same things in our life don’t excuse us from God’s service either.

Elijah is hiding in a cave, playing a few rounds of “ain’t it awful” with Yahweh.  Finally, Yahweh has had enough.  He’s been patient with the prophet, but it’s time to shake things up and get Elijah back on track.  “Climb out of you cave and go to the mountain for I am about to pass by,” Yahweh commands.[xix]

As Elijah arrives atop Mount Horeb, the fireworks display begins.

First a terrific windstorm rumbles through the area, so powerful that it shatters huge rocks into little pieces.  Yet despite this great display of power, Yahweh was not in the storm.

Next the entire mountainside began to rattle and quake.  What an incredible scene that must have been as powerful tremors shook the ground, and yet Yahweh was not in the earthquake.

After the earthquake there was a raging firestorm, an awesome display of magnificent fury, yet once again Yahweh was not in the fire.

Finally, after all these pyrotechnics, the Bible speaks of “a still small voice.”[xx]  Other translations render this “a gentle whisper,” “a soft whisper,” or “sheer silence.[xxi]  Scholars spend a lot of time focusing on what this phrase means and in so doing often miss the larger point:  Elijah is really no better off after hearing “the gentle whispers” then he was before.  Following all these displays of divine power, the prophet sulks back into the cave, covers his head with his cloak, and continues his “ain’t it awful” laments.[xxii]

 The point here is not so much about how Yahweh speaks.  The Divine can communicate in any way chosen.  Yahweh had spoken to Moses on this same mountain in the middle of a storm, earthquake, and fire.[xxiii]  In the previous chapter, the people witnessed the awesome power of Yahweh as fires fell from heaven consuming the bull offering Elijah had pooled in water.  Now Yahweh was speaking through “gentles whispers.” 

 The point of the story is not the mode of communication, but the message being communicated.  What is that message? 

 “Elijah, I know you’re discouraged, depressed, frustrated and fatigued.  But that’s no excuse.  You can’t quit, give up, give in, or surrender.  You need to keep trusting me.  You need to keep following me.  You heard my call before, now hear it again.  I commissioned you to be my prophet.  Today I am re-commissioning you to that same call.”

That’s an important message for each of us to hear.  The mandate of the church is to “call out and nurture all of its members for ministry and service.”[xxiv] The reality, however, is that while all of us have heard the call of the Divine, many of us find ourselves occasionally hiding, feeling  frustration, discouragement, and opposition.  Frankly, there are times when we’d like to quit, retire, pack it in, and fade into the woodwork.  That’s true whether we be laity or clergy.  I know of many pastors who have prayed, “Lord, let me win the next Publisher’s Clearinghouse Sweepstakes so I can retire early and walk away from it all.” 

God will have none of that, either from Elijah, or from us.

“Go back the way you came,”[xxv] Yahweh says.  “Go back to your calling.  Go back to your mission.  I know life is difficult and dangerous, Elijah, but that’s no excuse for you to be on the run.  Go back the way you came.”

This is a call story.  Elijah had been called to serve God.  Now he is being called again.  That’s how it is for us, sometimes, isn’t it?  God calls us.  We respond.  Things get tough.  We want to quit on God.  But God is not willing to quit on us.  God calls us and then calls us again.  Sometimes God calls us again and again and again. 

“Go back the way you came,” Yahweh says.  “When you get there, here’s what you will find. Elisha will accept the invitation to become your student and eventual successor.  Not only that, when you get back, you’ll find seven thousand others who have never bowed down to Baal.”[xxvi] 

How foolish we can be, thinking that we are in this whole enterprise all by ourselves.  I’ve been there, with Elijah.  Have you?  “God, I am the only one who cares.  I am the only one who gets it.  I preach and teach, invite and challenge.  I make all the right moves and say all the right things, but I’m all alone.  Ain’t it awful?”

No, I’m not all alone.  When I pay attention, I see many of you.  I see deacons who honor their call by laboring consistently, often in obscurity, visiting the homebound and residents in nearby nursing homes.  I see Sunday School teachers, preparing lessons, caring for their students, while equipping them for a lifestyle of discipleship.  I see ladies in WMU circles who always remind us of mission opportunities, both in this community and around the world.  I see staff members and ministry team leaders who serve God in far too many ways to count.  I see some of you, people with no positions or titles, who live out your call daily on the job, in your school, and in our community.

Alone?  Elijah wasn’t alone.  I am not alone, either.  How arrogant of me to fantasize otherwise.  There are many around me who get it.  Oh, and by the way, if you’ve ever engaged in that “ain’t it awful” lament that you are all alone in your devotion to God, quit it.  It’s not true.  We are all surrounded by many people who serve God daily, with great passion and devotion. 

“Go back the way you came,” Yahweh says to Elijah.  “And when you return, anoint Hazael as king over Aram.  Then anoint Jehu as king over Israel.  Then anoint Elisha as your student and successor.”[xxvii]

I find this very informative.  Yahweh says, “Go back the way you came, and when you arrive, anoint.”  That sounds rather mundane, doesn’t it?  In fact, it was mundane.  The daily deeds of the prophetic office did not involve great oration or miraculous deeds.  Raising the dead, holding back the rains, and calling fire from heaven, were not the normal fare of the prophetic life.  These acts were the exception, not the rule.  The daily job of the prophet was the everyday act of anointing people, places, and things. 

 One of the things that tend to keep us grounded is the personal touch of ministry.  If I am feeling a bit overwhelmed in my calling, it’s usually because I have allowed myself to become preoccupied with activity instead of people.  I get bothered by the sense that I need to produce a winning sermon, teach an amazing Bible study, or heal some broken aspect of congregation’s institution’s structure.   I guess all of that has a place, but sometimes this kind of burden becomes a distraction.  It has a tendency to make the focus on ministry be on me.

It’s in those times that I feel the call of God toward the mundane.  It’s on those occasions that a visit to the nursing home puts things back into perspective.  It’s on days like that when I go away and spend time praying – connecting with God while remembering you.  It’s in situations like these when a few phone calls to sick connect me with the real needs of everyday people. 

 “Go back the way you came,” Yahweh says to Elijah.  “Go back and do the everyday deed of anointing others.” 

Several years back I took part in a deacon ordination.  After the service, one of those who was ordained said something that’s been stuck in my mind ever since.   She said, “The way I see it, my call to be a deacon is not my gift to God, but God’s gift to me.” 

 That’s true no matter what our calling might be.  Being called to join God in service is more a gift from God than a gift for God.  It’s this call that gives our lives purpose, direction, and passion. 

 The great prophet Elijah got discouraged.  He became depressed and felt dejected.  He faced frustration and fatigue and felt defeated.  It should come as no surprise that we might feel that way from time to time.  Sometimes the “ain’t it awful” scenarios of life can wear us down and drive us into hiding.

 That’s what makes the grace of a second calling (and perhaps even a third, fourth, or fifth calling) so very meaningful.  It’s a reminder that God still is able to use us.  It’s a confirmation that God never gives up on us.  It is an affirmation that by God’s grace we can be recovered and re-commissioned.  When dealing with the “ain’t it awful” scenarios of life, this is truly good news.  Amen.

---

[i] Eric Berne, Games People Play: The Basic Handbook of Transactional Analysis, by Ballantine Books, 1969,

[ii] H. Stephen Shoemaker, Retelling the Biblical Story: The Theology and Practice of Narrative Preaching, by Broadman Press, 1985, page 59.

[iii] Ibid. page 60.

[iv] 1 Kings 18:21, NIV

[v] 1 Kings 18:24, NIV

[vi] I Kings 18:27-28, NIV

[vii] 1 King 18:37, NIV

[viii] 1 Kings 18:39, NIV

[ix] Shoemaker, page 65.

[x] 1 Kings 19:1, NIV

[xi] Ibid. page 70.

[xii]  See 1 Kings 19:4

[xiii] See 1 King 19:5

[xiv] See 1 Kings 19:10

[xv] Ibid.

[xvi] See 1 King 19:13-14.  God asks Elijah a second time, “What are you doing here?”  Elijah repeats his earlier lament, indicating perhaps that he felt so discouraged and dejected that he no longer felt connected from God. 

[xvii]David Beelen, “The Whisper of God,” cep.calvinseminary.edu, mp3 audio.

[xviii] Richard Nelson, First and Second Kings, ed. James Luther Mays, Interpretation, by John Knox Press, 1987, page 126.

[xix] See 1 Kings 19:11

[xx] 1 Kings 19:12, KJV

[xxi] The NIV renders “a gentile whisper”; the HCSB reads “a soft whisper”; while the NRSV offers a more literal rendering of “sheer silence.”

[xxii] See 1 Kings 19:14

[xxiii] See Exodus 19:16-19.

[xxiv] Ken Dibble, www.consideryourcall.org, Sponsored by the Emerging Leaders Team, Virginia Baptist Mission Board, 2009, home page. 

[xxv] See 1 Kings 19:15

[xxvi] See 1 Kings 19:17

[xxvii] See 1 Kings 19:15-16

Mark 9:30-37

Let’s be honest.  Sometimes Jesus says things that we really don’t like.

 

It happens in today’s scripture reading – right there in verse thirty-five.  “If anyone wants to be first, they need to move to the back of the line!”

 

We don’t like that. 

 

Those who are last are called losers in our society – in virtually any society. 

 

Those who are last are seldom heard.  When they do get a hearing, their views are typically put-down and disrespected.  They are poked fun at and teased – not in some fun-loving, good-natured way – but manners that are cruel and lacking in any sense of mercy

 

So, when Jesus says, “If anyone wants to be first, they need to move to the back of the line!” we don’t like it for several reasons!

 

First, our society teaches us just the opposite.   Nobody says to the Washington Redskins, “Your ambition for this season is to lose all of your games.”  Oh, it might happen, but that’s not what the team aims for.  In sports, at work, at school, in life – we are taught to be number one and to look out for the interests of number one.

 

Second, if Jesus is serious, it means that we have to change our opinion of those at the back of the line.  We have to change our opinion of those who are poor, weak, strange, and odd.  We’ve got to realize that these are kinds of people – these people that we don’t think so much of – these are the very people whom Jesus lifts up as significant. 

 

We don’t like that too much. 

 

Thirds, we don’t like what Jesus has to say, because it means that if we are truly going to be about the business of the Kingdom, we are going to have to put ourselves up and move to the back of the line.

 

That means we have to give up any pretense towards greatness.

 

That means we are going to have to give up on the notion of always getting our way.

 

That means that we are going to have to give up our possessions. 

 

That means we are going to have to own up to our vices and dishonesty.

 

That means that we have to give up our stubborn pride.

 

That means we are going to have to befriend people we’d normally avoid.

 

That means we’ll stop shrinking away from suffering and injustice.

 

That means we won’t be afraid to go into dangerous and dark places.

 

That means we will need to stop our obsessions with what is trivial.

 

That means we will need to get over ourselves.

 

That means we will have to die to self.

 

Let’s face it; we don’t like this kind of talk. 

 

Here’s the thing.  Jesus’ statement is clear and unequivocal.  There is no sense of nuance or any hint of fine distinction.  Jesus says what he means in no uncertain terms. 

 

“If anyone wants to be first, they need to move to the back of the line!”

 

The disciples didn’t like it much.  In fact, there is a long stretch of scripture here in the middle section of Marks’ Gospel that the disciples didn’t like very much at all.  It’s all this talk about Jesus being betrayed, arrested, beaten, abused, and murdered that really got to them.

 

They had this idea that being Messiah meant you were the big cheese, the top dog, large and in charge.  In fact, this is what seemed to prompt their traveling.

 

As you listened to the Gospel lesson from Mark, I imagine that you might have developed an immediate sense of what I might preach.  It is a familiar text and I know that when I first read it in preparation for this sermon, I had an immediate sense of the direction in which I would be preaching – probably the same direction that you would from today’s scripture. 

 

Jesus and his disciples are walking from village to village, making their way toward Jerusalem and toward the cross.  Jesus has previously told them as much.

 

In Mark 8, Jesus says, “The Son of Man is going to suffer and bleed and die – and on the third day rise again.” 

 

Today he says, “In today’s lesson he says pretty much the same thing:  “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.”

 

Mark reports to us that the disciples did not understand what Jesus was saying.  I am sure that’s true, but I have a sneaking suspicion that they did not want to understand.  They were looking for Jesus to ride into Jerusalem, drive out their Roman oppressors, and establish himself as King.  That was the common assumption the culture carried as to what the “Messiah” would look like.

 

So, they didn’t understand – - they didn’t comprehend – they couldn’t really accept the notion that the Messiah would be betrayed, killed, and then rise from the dead.  It did not fit into their template. 

 

“I’m going to be betrayed and murdered and then raised from the dead!”

 

“Huh?  We don’t get it!” they thought to themselves, and then they started arguing about who would be the greatest, the most important, the most influential among them when they arrived in Jerusalem and Jesus set up his Kingdom. 

 

They traveled down the road a bit till they arrived at Capernaum.  They probably stopped at Peter’s home for a day or two of rest.  When they arrived, Jesus asked, “What were you fellows arguing about?”

 

They really didn’t want to tell him.  They might not have understood – have comprehended – everything Jesus was saying, but they knew enough to know that Jesus didn’t like this kind of talk.  Still, they couldn’t help themselves.  There was something in them – something in us – that wants to be at the front of the line.

 

We hate it when somebody jumps a place in front of us, don’t we?

 

Somebody jumps in front of us in the lunch line.

 

Somebody pushes their way in front of us in the checkout line.

 

Somebody swerves in traffic to get the spot in front of us at the traffic light.

 

We hate it.  It bugs us all day.  That was our rightful place.  We belong at the front of the line.  We feel like we’ve earned it.  We’ve put in our time.  We’ve worked hard.  We’ve paid our dues.  Now it’s our turn to shine.  That’s our spot up there.

 

That’s what Peter thought!  “Jesus calls me ‘The Rock.’” Peter said.  “ He knows I am loyal and faithful and that he can trust be to be right at his side to the very end.  I am the greatest!”

 

That’s what James and John thought.  “When Jesus comes into in glory, he’s going to two strong personal body guards.  We’ve been with him from the start and we will be with him to the end, one on his right hand and the other on his left.  We are the greatest.” 

 

That’s what Judas thought.  “Jesus is going to need a general for his army, and who better than a battle tested zealot like me.  I am the greatest.”

 

That’s what Matthew though.  “Setting up a new government is hard work.  Jesus will need somebody who knows how to keep the books, collect taxes, and take care of administrative tasks like that.  Jesus is going to need somebody like me!  I am the greatest.” 

 

Folks still act that way today.  Folks want to move to the front of the line. 

 

“A good education is the foundation prosperous society.  That’s why educators are so very important,” say the teachers.

 

“We provide release and relaxation from stress and strain of life, that’s why we are so very important to the well-being of our society,” say the entertainers.

 

“Without us, you’d not have the freedom’s you enjoy.  We are the brightest and the best,” say those who serve in military.

 

“When you are sick or injured, who provides treatment and healing?  It is me, the doctor!  Try to get along without folks in the medical profession for too long and you’ll see that we are the most important segment of society.”

 

“Everything else in society is meaningless without some sense of morality and an understanding of the deeper spiritual life.  What everyone else does is important, but what we preachers talk about is ultimate meaning,” say the clergy.

 Jesus replies, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”  

 

Yes, yes, we get that.  Be a servant.  Do some good deeds.  When you find yourself at the front of the line, don’t forget where you came from.  Do something nice for all those poor souls you’ve left behind, just not too much.  Don’t do so much that you lose your position or privilege and prominence at the front of the line. 

 

No, Jesus doesn’t let them (or us) slip by so easily.  He illustrates exactly what he means with actions and words. 

 

“And then Jesus took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, ‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me, welcomes not me, but the one who sent me.”

 

I wish I could show you some pictures.  There are dozens of pictures illustrating this scene.  There is Jesus, every hair combed neatly in place, his beard trim and tidy.  Then there are the children.  He is surrounded by children.  Fit young people who appear to be the perfect picture of good health and good hygiene.  Jesus grabs one of these children up in his arms, hugs them, and places them in the center of the room.  Then he says, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me, welcomes not me, but the one who sent me.”

 

I wish I could show you these pictures because I don’t think they really represent how the scene played out. 

 

Have you seen those pictures that come to us from time to time in mission magazines or news broadcast from remote sections of the world where are unkempt and unclean?  Have you seen those pictures of children who are hungry and malnourished, victims of poverty and injustice?  I want you to put those children in your mental picture of what happened in the text because it is much more accurate and meaningful than the pretty pictures we so often see and paint in our minds.

 

In the days of Jesus, more than half of the children born never lived to become adults.  Many were killed at birth (particularly girl children).  Others were simply put out in the field to starve to death.  In times of shortages of food, children were fed last. 

 

It was not a good time to be a child.  They were viewed as chattel – as unproductive, burdensome, and simply another mouth to be fed.  Among the religious elite of the day, they ranked right below tax-collectors.  That’s a pretty a pretty low ranking in any society. 

 

It’s a child who looks like this that Jesus swoops up in his arms.  It is a child that poor, hungry, starving, needy, abuse, misused, forgotten and considered of little or no value.  That’s who Jesus sets in the center of the room where the disciples sit after arguing about “who’s the greatest” and “who’s the most important.”  Then Jesus looks at the disciples and says:

 

“Whoever receive a little child like this, receives me and the one who sent me.”

 

I heard a fellow speak recently about reading the Bible.  This young man is a fairly new convert to Christianity.  He said, “The more I read the Bible the more I feel I have to unlearn everything I’d previously learned.”

 

Would that those of us who have been around Christianity for a while to read the Bible that way.  We’ve domesticated the Bible.  We’ve smooth out the rough edges.  We read it in such a way that it confirms what we already know, believe, and do.  We read it in such a way as to allow it to politely inform and educate and education.  I don’t think that’s why God gave us the Bible.  The Bible is there to help us unlearn everything the world teaches us about what valuable and important.  The Bible is a radical book that challenges our assumptions and seeks to lead us toward total life transformation. 

 

We see that in this story.  When Jesus lifts up the child and places it in the center of the room, he is calling his disciples to a radical new vision of what the Kingdom of God is all about.

 

The disciples were busy arguing over who would be the greatest!  Who has time for such bickering in God’s Kingdom?  There are people to be loved, a gospel to be preached, and ministry to be done.  There are hungry folks to be fed, orphans to be cared for, homeless to be sheltered, elderly to be visited, and poor folks who need justice and a job.  Who has time to argue over whose more important in a world such as ours? 

 

We are drawn to the argument because it allows us to escape responsibility and avoid action.  Jesus wants his disciples to have nothing to do with such foolishness. 

 

Jesus embraced a small child and said, “Whoever receives on such child receives me and the one who sent me.”  Most people would overlook a child, but not Jesus.  If we want to receive the kingdom, we must receive the King.  If you want to receive the Kingdom, you must embrace the poor and needy and neglected and forgotten.  That’s where you’ll find Jesus.    That’s where you’ll see the image of God in this world.

 

“Whoever receives one of these little ones receives me and the one who sent me.” 

 

I don’t know about you, but when I read this story, it brings to minds some things I need to unlearn.  It teaches me that the greatest act of worship comes when we reach out to the down and out.  It teaches me that Christian piety is best expressed when we love and accept others, regardless of race, or class, or religion, or economics, or culture.  It teaches me that welcoming God into our midst means welcoming those who are a bit odd and a little strange because that’s how Jesus did things – and we are his followers. 

 

Jesus said, ‘Whoever welcomes the little ones in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me, welcomes not me, but the one who sent me.”

That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the other side.” Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”

 

He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.

 

He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” 

 

They were terrified and asked each other, “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!”  -  Mark 4:35-41

 

 

Not too long ago I moved from the Eastern Shore of Virginia to the city of Richmond, where I now serve as pastor at the Patterson Avenue Baptist Church.

 

I had several good years on ministry on the Eastern Shore. That said I am glad to be in Richmond. The reason has nothing to do with the people or the culture and everything to do with the water. I did not like being so close to the water.

 

Each day on the Shore I picked up my mail from a little Post Office in a town called Nassawadox, which is an old Native American word meaning “between two waters.” We lived between two waters – about three miles from the Atlantic to the east, and about eight miles from the Chesapeake Bay west.

 

It is a little scary to live so close to the water.

 

You would hear about the danger often on the nightly news. A swimmer would venture too far out into the Chesapeake Bay, a boat would, or a vehicle goes over the railing on the Bay Bridge Tunnel. Sometimes there would be a happy conclusion to the story. The Coast Guard or a Lifeguard would spring to action and the people involved in the accident would be rescued. On other occasions, however, the reports would not end so positively as a rescue operation would become a recovery effort.

 

It is a little scary to live so close to the water.

 

I remember when I first visited the Eastern Shore about seven year ago. We approached the 22-Mile long Bridge-Tunnel as the sun was setting. Have any of you ever traveled that monstrosity? We paid the toll and began to cross with a bit of fear and apprehension. It was not just the long expanse. It was “the tunnel.” I had been through tunnels before, but never a tunnel that cut through water. I did not like it! My daughter Michelle liked it. She has always been something of a sophisticated jokester, and even at the time (being only 10 years old), she knew exactly what to say to make her somewhat aqua phobic daddy feel a bit nervous. As we made it to the halfway point in the first tube, Michelle said, “Hey Daddy is that water I see coming in from the walls?”

 

It is a little scary to live so close to the water.

 

When I was a young boy, my father decided to teach me how to swim. We would head over to my Uncle Al and Aunt Vie’s home. They had a nice pool in the back yard. It would not take long before the “lessons” began. His methodology was what might be called the “sink or swim” approach. He would to toss me into the deep end of the pool. Then I would either sink or swim. Now believe me, it wasn’t by choice, but somehow I always managed to sink and my father would need to come into the pool and fish me out just before I died. The “sink or swim” approach did not work for me. In fact, I have never really learned how to swim.

 

When I went to college at Stetson University in Deland, Florida, one of the requirements for graduation was that we needed to pass a swimming proficiency text. The test amounted to diving into an Olympic sized swimming pool, swimming its length six times, and wading in water for 3 minutes. If we did not know how to swim, instructions would be provided.

 

I took that class four times – and never passed the test. I did not even come close. It was embarrassing.

 

During my senior year, I took the class again. Everyone who was signed up for the class knew how to swim. The first day of class, each one passed the test – leaving me the only student. The women’s swim coach looked at me with a bit of disdain on her face.

 

“Oh, Nieporte! It’s you again!” She had been the instructor through each of my failed attempts to learn how to swim.

 

“Nieporte, what do you plan to do after you graduate!” she said.

 

“I will be attending seminary and studying to be a pastor!”

 

“I hope you plan on being a Methodist.  You might not be able to handle the deep water.”

 

“No ma’am.  I am a Baptist.” 

 

“Where will you be attending seminary?” she asked.

 

“I am planning on attending the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky.”

 

“Great, that’s the Midwest. There are no oceans there.”

 

“Yes,” I said. “No oceans. There is the Ohio River, though!”

 

“Shut up!” she said.

 

I stood silently.

 

“If you can swim the length of the pool just one time and can wade for just fifteen second, I will let you pass this class.”

 

“I’ll give it my best shot,” I said, as I entered the waters. I passed this test (barely).

As I left the pool area, she said, “Please stay away from the Ohio River when you move to Kentucky. Also, you might want to consider being a Methodist. They use less water when they do baptisms. I would hate to hear about you drowning in a baptismal pool!”

It is a little scary to live so close to the water.

 

That is the point of today’s scripture lesson from Mark’s Gospel. The water can be a scary, dangerous place.

 

I have been to the Sea of Galilee. In 1987, I toured the Middle East with a group of seminarians. One afternoon we had the opportunity to visit a museum that housed an unearthed fishing boat dated to the time of Jesus. It was a long and narrow vessel. You would be able to fit 13 people on such a boat, but it would be a tight fit.

 

After the tour, we all boarded a schooner to cross the Sea of Galilee. It was a beautiful day, hardly a cloud in the sky. The waters were clam. I was nervous, but doing my best not to let it show.

 

The water is surrounded on one side by very high mountain ranges. For a time, they can keep a storm front at bay. Occasionally, however, the front will burst over the mountains or cut through the valleys and hit the waters. In a matter of minutes, the waters can move from being crystal calm to deadly dangerous. That is what happened while we were on the boat. The only comfort I felt in the whole storm was the knowledge that everyone else on the boat seemed just as nervous as I did. It was as if God was trying to give a bunch of preachers a sermon illustration.

 

As quickly as the storm had arrived, it left. We reached the other side in one piece and continued our tour. However, I have never forgotten that storm. Each time I read this story from the Bible, I remember my experience on the Sea of Galilee.

 

It is a little scary to live so close to the water.

 

I know that the water beckons us on occasion – especially over the past few months of summer. We plan fishing trips. We plan trips to the beach to frolic in the surf or walked along the shore of the ocean. I have been told that several of you spend several months during the year swimming, boating, and fishing out at Lake Gaston. Even those of us who vacation in the mountains find our way to the waters during these hot summer months. We take canoe trips, white water rafting, or go fly-fishing. The water holds for us great beauty and majesty.

 

Yet we cannot escape the reality that no matter how beautiful the water, it is a little scary to get too close. That is why we build fences around swimming pools. That is why we stock our boats with life jackets. That is why a university like the one I attended expects its graduates to know how to swim.

 

It is a little scary to live so close to the water. There is danger in the waters.

 

We see the danger in today’s text. It is a familiar story. Jesus and his disciples are crossing the waters. Jesus is sleeping comfortably in the back of the boat. The disciples, many of them well-worn watermen, are steering the boat toward its destination. Suddenly one of those deadly storms broke through the valleys and over the mountain ridge, and hit the otherwise calm waters.

 

At first, the watermen were fine. They had seen this all before. They were not scared. They relished watching the fear on the faces those less experienced with the water, like Thomas, Judas, and Matthew. After a few minutes, however, the wind had grown fiercer and even experienced watermen like Peter, James, and John became nervous. The boat was in danger of capsizing and they were all in danger of drowning. They were afraid.

We hear this story and we know how to spiritualize its meaning. We have heard the sermons and the metaphors. We are the disciples. The storms are the difficulties we face in life – financial burdens, conflicts, and perhaps the aches and pains of sickness and illness. Maybe we see the storms at those things that beset the church – things like declining attendance, waning offerings, and our diminishing influence in society.

 

Whatever the cause, we see these things as the storms of life and the dangers in the water.

Then Jesus speaks, “Have you still no faith?”

 

We hear these words as a reminder that Jesus is with us in the boat and that he will wake just in time to calm the stormy sea.

 

I wonder, however, if we might not be approaching the text all wrong. I wonder if the danger in the water is not the wind and the rain of the storm, but rather the presence of Jesus Christ.

 

Look what happens in this text. Jesus and his disciples travel by boat across the Sea of Galilee. Part way through their journey, a storm comes up and they become frightened. They wake Jesus up! “Don’t you care that we are all about to die?” Jesus wakes up and calms the sea and that is when they become truly terrified. They were afraid of the storm, but not nearly as fearful as they were of Jesus power to calm it.

 

Jesus calmed the waters and silenced the wind and the text paints a picture of twelve men who were scared to death by what they had just witnessed. “Who is this man that even the wind and the sea obey him?” They sense that there was something about Jesus presence and power that was dangerous. If Jesus can do what he did with that storm, then what might he have in mind to do with them? It is an important question, and people ask that question all the time; and we need to pay closer attention to that question.

 

“Who is this man, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

 

There is something dangerous in the water. That is what this text teaches us. There is something dangerous in the water. There is this incredibly awesome, life changing power in the water. It is Jesus. If Jesus has the power to turn a storm inside out, just think about what he might do with you and me. We think that we have our lives together. We think out boat is so trustworthy. Then Jesus steps in and brings all sorts of revolutionary change to our lives.

 

“Who is this man, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

 

That is a good question for each of us to consider. I worry about the people who talk about faith in such a manner that they lose respect for the awesome nature of God.

 

There was a woman like this in my first church. She walked with God and talked with God about everything – and it was amazing the things God told her. One day she was going to the grocery store and she was a bit tired. She did not want to walk too far to get into the store, so she prayed, “Lord, give me a parking space up close when I get to Winn Dixie. And you know what, Pastor. God answered my prayer, hallelujah!”

 

Now she was a perfectly healthy young woman. She could have walked a bit without too much trouble. But her understanding of faith was that God was there to provide her with everything she wanted and felt she needed – even a good parking place at the grocery store.

 

I believe in the intimacy of God – but I want you to know that sometimes that intimacy is an awesome thing. It is awesome when I realize that God is not so interested in doing something for me as He in doing something in me and through me. Jesus is with me in the boat called life. That is an amazingly awesome thought to consider. It can be just a bit scary. What kind of person would I be, anyways, if I lost my awesome respect for the power of God?

 

“Who is this man, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

 

Fred Craddock tells a story about a pastor friend of his who went to visit one of his parishioners in the hospital. The woman was suffering from a terminal disease, and the pastor went to visit her knowing that, at the end of that visit, he would pray one of those prayers that acknowledges the desperation of that situation, and that accepts, as fact, that not much is going to change. I know about prayers like that, I have prayed prayers like that dozens of times in hospital rooms, living rooms, and nursing homes. They are honest and pastorally sensitive, and often they are the only appropriate kinds of prayers to pray.

 

“God we thank you that you love us and never let us God. No matter what the circumstances of our lives, you are there. The situation in which we pray is tough, and we ask that if you choose not to change the situation, that you will change us and teach us how to trust in your loving grace. Amen!”

 

It was a good prayer. It is the kind of prayer that Craddock says the pastor was about to pray. But the woman prevailed upon him to beg God to heal her. So, against his better judgment, he prayed a different kind of prayer altogether. He prayed fervently, even while he understood what a long shot that prayer was. Then when that prayer was over, he left that room. A few days later, he was back for another visit. The woman was sitting up in the bed. The tubes had been removed, and the curtains were open. She said to him, “You won’t believe what has happened.” She said, “The doctors noticed some changes the other day, and called for more x-rays, and they have told me that they can no longer see any sign of a tumor! I’m going home tomorrow.”

 

The pastor said later, “When I got out to the parking lot, I looked up into the skies and said, ‘Don’t ever do that to me again!”‘

 

Of course, he did not mean it – but he did. He, like many of us, had lost touch with the awesome nature of God’s power and presence in Jesus Christ. He was just going through the motions, but then Jesus made an appearance and what happened was otherwise unmanageable.

 

The disciples looked over at Jesus. He had done something remarkable with the storm. Might he do the same thing to them? It was a scary thought. There they were in the water, staring the dangerous Christ straight in the eye.

 

Now here is a great question – the question I want you to keep in the back of your mind throughout this revival. Are you ready? Here it is! What remarkable things might Jesus have planned for your life?

 

In a sense, I guess I am still surrounded by the winds and the waves of some mighty waters in my new city of residence. I am not talking about the James River, which winds its way through my hometown of Richmond. I am talking about the rushing waters of constant change.

 

You are in the middle of these rushing waters too.. Our world is in a condition of constant flux and change. Our society is changing at a rapid pace – with new technologies, new cultural and language groups, and at least two generations of adults who have seldom, if ever, even bee been in a church, much less having heard anything about the Gospel of Jesus.

 

It is scary to live so close to these waters, but that is where we find ourselves. We cannot pretend that nothing has change – at least not if we want to be an authentic followers of Jesus Christ. You see, Jesus is in the midst of these waters. His hands are outstretched toward ours, beckoning us to join him in the awesome and courageous task of taking His gospel into the world.

 

“Who is this man, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

 

No wonder those disciples were afraid and bewildered. There was an awesome presence with them in their little boat. Of course, they were overwhelmed. Who wouldn’t be? For what can be safe, in such a presence?

 

Now I am sure you know something about the church. It is a respectable institution making its productive contributions to society. The church is like a family. People come to be a part of that great big family. Not only that, but the church is also a church as a program center. Folks come to take classes, so meet people, to serve their community. The church is about all of those things and more!

 

But, for God’s sake, let us not underestimate the church as a vessel that contains a awesome presence, which has incredible power. Jesus is here. His life courses through our veins. Jesus has the power to transform us, to transform our community, to transform our world, and to make of us something we had not figured on.

 

 ”Who is this man, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”