Blocking and tackling
Commentary
On a typical NFL football team, there are some players who get all the attention and
glory, and other players who are nearly anonymous. That line is typically drawn
according to position.
On offense, for example, the quarterback, the running back, and the star wide receiver are traditionally the players that get all the hype. These are among the so-called "skill" positions. These are the players focused on by fantasy football fans. And these are the guys who, at the end of the day, have the capacity for flashy statistics: yards passing, yards rushing, yards receiving; completion percentage; yards after catch; rushing average; and, most important, how many touchdowns.
Meanwhile, among the players and positions traditionally overlooked are the offensive guards and tackles. Everything that the stars achieve depends on these anonymous and unheralded big men, but they still fly below the radar of appreciation and applause.
The running back says, "I carried the ball 23 times for 136 yards and two touchdowns." He had a good day. The receiver says, "I caught 8 passes for 120 yards and two touchdowns." He had a good day. The interior lineman says, "I blocked my guy all day long." He, too, had a good day, but who cares? He is not swarmed for post-game autographs and interviews.
The church in first-century Corinth may have suffered a bit from that same phenomenon. Fascinated by the flashy, they needed to be reminded about the fundamentals. We gather from Paul's first epistle to them that they had their own notion of the "skill" positions in the church: tongues, healing, miracles, and such. The apostle had to remind them about the basic blocking and tackling of the Christian life -- such as love -- without which all the rest would amount to nothing.
Jeremiah 1:4-10
We are fortunate to have in scripture the accounts of a number of different people being called by God. Moses, Gideon, Isaiah, Peter and Andrew, James and John, Matthew, and Paul are among them. We see different individuals respond to God's call in very different ways. Moses is famously reluctant. Isaiah volunteers. Peter and company are immediately responsive.
Here in this episode, we catch a glimpse of Jeremiah's call from God, and we sense that Jeremiah is reticent. In the spirit of Moses at the burning bush, Jeremiah feels quite unqualified, and he expresses that hesitation to God. The Lord, however, is very quick to dismiss Jeremiah's objection.
We see in this single episode several themes that are woven throughout scripture.
First, there is the divine employment of the unqualified. As we mentioned above, Jeremiah's response is reminiscent of Moses, who also tried to point out to God that he was, in some way, not the right man for the job. Gideon (Judges 6:15), Saul (1 Samuel 9:21), and Peter (Luke 5:8) all registered similar objections. Add to those instances the old, barren woman from whom God intended to generate whole nations; the overmatched boy with a sling; and the small, improbable band of men charged with taking the good news to the whole world; and we see God's proclivity for hiring unqualified workers. The one whose "power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9) seems to delight in winning with lousy teams.
Second, there is the gracious stubbornness of God. Jeremiah voices his hesitation, but neither the form nor the content of Jeremiah's response makes God go away. He is not driven off by Jeremiah's reluctance; neither is he repelled by Jeremiah's inadequacies. Instead, he persists with Jeremiah, in spite of both his disinclinations and his disqualifications. And that is gospel for us, for you and I need God to be persistent. If he were easily discouraged or quickly dissuaded, we would all be lost. Every saint is a testimony to God's stubborn grace: the God who both begins a good work in us and who is faithful to complete it (Philippians 1:6).
Third, there is God's engagement with youth. We do not know how old Jeremiah was, but he was young enough to say, apparently with a straight face, "I am only a boy." The Hebrew word used by Jeremiah is "imprecise." On the one hand, Abraham uses the same word to refer to young men who accompanied him in battle (Genesis 14:24); on the other hand, the writer of Exodus uses it to describe the baby, Moses, when he was found by the Pharaoh's daughter (Exodus 2:6).
Whatever the exact age and stage of Jeremiah, it is certainly true that God willingly engages and effectively uses the very young. In the New Testament, we are fond of the image of Jesus welcoming the children, and we are reminded of Paul's challenge to young Timothy (1 Timothy 4:12). In the Old Testament, meanwhile, we see baby Moses providentially spared, young Samuel called at night, and the shepherd boy, David, used in battle: all while they were still quite young.
Fourth, and quite prominent within this passage, is the theme of God's preordained will for people. This is a perilous path to go down, for we soon find ourselves in the deep waters of many complex theological issues and questions. Foreknowledge, election, and predestination; the relationship between God's sovereignty and human freedom; Calvinism vs. Arminianism; the implications of double predestination; this is the difficult terrain we encounter when we venture down this path. At a minimum, however, we can cheerfully affirm the beautiful image of God's prenatal call and claim on Jeremiah's life. Whether one emphasizes God's sovereign choice or God's prevenient grace, the fact and the testimony remains that he is interested in us before we are interested in him, and that he is at work in our lives before we recognize it.
1 Corinthians 13:1-13
Our epistle lection for this Sunday is, simply, one of the most famous, familiar, and fond passages in all of scripture. Often called "the love chapter," 1 Corinthians 13 is a staple at wedding ceremonies, as well as a common text for posters, bulletin covers, and needlepoints. After only the Lord's Prayer and the Psalm 23, 1 Corinthians 13 may be the best-recognized and most-recited passage in the Bible. And yet, for all of its familiarity, it may not be widely understood.
The first issue, as always, is context, but this passage has been so frequently excerpted that it is, in so many minds, completely independent of its context. That original context, then, may be a necessary place for us to begin in preaching this passage.
The larger discussion at this point in 1 Corinthians is the gifts of the Spirit, both in the lives of individuals and in the life of the church. The true significance of love is only really evident within that larger context. And yet, at the same time, it is worth noting that what has happened to chapters 12 through 14 of 1 Corinthians does, in some way, prove Paul's point. He asserts that the rest of the gifts are temporal and will come to an end, but that "love never ends." And, sure enough, the discussion of the other gifts in which the love chapter is found is generally eclipsed by -- sometimes even forgotten because of -- the power and beauty of love.
The chapter also suffers somewhat from the fact that it is so associated with wedding ceremonies. It has become, as a result, something of an adornment. It is a thing of beauty, like the flowers or the dresses, but not a thing of great meaning. And what meaning it has is often misunderstood as romantic in nature.
See, then, what has happened to our popular understanding of this passage. We have taken it out of its original context -- a discussion of the gifts of the Spirit -- and reestablished it in a new context -- wedding ceremonies. So Paul's grand explication of love now has, for many, all the profundity of a Barry Manilow song.
Romance, of course, is not at all the style or content of 1 Corinthians 13, and we do well to distance ourselves and our people from such a reading and hearing of this text. The word "love," along with both our understanding and our exercise of it, has become so devalued in our culture. It is confused (at least by the young, if not more) with enthusiasm. And it has become the word to articulate how much I want a person or thing, when of course what 'I want' has nothing whatever to do with the profound love that Paul describes here.
The initial point Paul makes, dovetailing with his preceding discussion of the gifts of the Spirit, is that the other gifts are proven to be empty and lifeless without love. Then, having established the essential importance of love, Paul follows with a several-verse description of what love is and what it is not.
Perhaps you have been in class or retreat settings, as I have, where those selected verses (4-7) are excerpted and turned into a two-part exercise. First, each individual in the group is asked to replace the word "love" (or its pronoun) in each phrase with his or her own name. Since I am supposed to be characterized by this quality of love, using Paul's description of love to describe me becomes a powerful diagnostic to show me specifically where I fall short. And then, second, each individual is asked to replace the word "love" in each phrase with Jesus' name. This is a devotional sort of exercise, inviting us to meditate on him, his nature, and his love.
Finally, Paul argues for the eternal quality of love. The rest of the gifts are temporal in their necessity and usefulness, but this love "never ends." It is one of a very few things that abides, and it is the greatest of even those.
Luke 4:21-30
Our gospel lection comes from Jesus' return to his hometown, Nazareth. A homecoming ought to have a certain warmth and happiness to it. This particular episode, however, turns ugly fast.
Every preacher knows that there are the passages folks love to hear preached, and then there are others that are not so welcome. It is human nature to prefer a sermon on "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28) over one on "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me" (Luke 9:23). They are both teachings of Jesus. They are both relevant to us. They are both invitations. But they are not equally welcome words.
Jesus went before a congregation in Nazareth and preached an unwelcome message.
Selecting two stories from the people's scriptures that, taken together, were sure to tweak their noses, Jesus proposed an offensive thesis: namely, that God sometimes chooses to do his work, not among his own chosen people, but among the Gentiles. Indeed, that God's own people are sometimes the ones least receptive to his work and his word.
It was an unthinkable proposition, and while he clearly had texts to support his hypothesis, his conclusion was most unorthodox -- perhaps even heretical. And the people responded with a kind of righteous indignation.
Beyond that, their response was also one of personal animus. For Jesus was not just making an unorthodox observation from scripture; he was also pointing the finger at them. If the discussion could have remained a theoretical and arm's-length debate about the ministries of Elijah and Elisha, that might have been tolerable. But the thrust of Jesus' message was not theoretical and historical; instead, the application of it was present and personal. It was about them and him, and their failure to respond properly to him.
Then the improper response begins.
The final line from this episode is striking. Luke describes a mob scene that, under other circumstances, would have been lethal. We have, on our television screens, seen occasional incidents in which an angry crowd has gotten hold of an individual, an automobile, a piece of property, or a section of a town, and done devastating damage. Here in Nazareth, an incensed mob manhandles Jesus out of the synagogue and to the very edge of the cliff on which the town was built. They meant to throw him over. They meant to kill him; yet, Luke reports, "He passed through the midst of them and went on his way."
No evidence of a struggle. No Chuck Norris or Arnold Schwarzenegger heroics to burst out of the crowd. Not even Samson's jawbone of a donkey or David's slingshot is employed. He simply walks through the midst of the crowd.
How does that happen? You and I sometimes find it difficult -- in a mall at Christmas, or outside the stadium after a game -- to work our way through a crowd that doesn't even know or care who we are. But when the crowd is focused on you -- out to get you -- how do you just pass through the midst of it?
The same one who eluded Herod's death decree in Bethlehem; the same one who walked on stormy waters; the same one who had the authority to say a word and cast out a demon, heal at a distance, and call a corpse out of a tomb; that one can walk through the midst of a crowd that is intent on killing him. The episode here, in Luke, offers additional meaning and credibility to Jesus' strong claim in John: "No one takes (my life) from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father" (John 10:18).
Application
If the gifts of the Spirit were a spectator sport, you can imagine which players would get the applause and be hounded for autographs.
Here is this two-man team that does a tongues-and-interpretation combo. The crowds cheer.
Here is a player with a gift of healing: one disease and disability after another is thwarted by his God-given gift. The fans are really on their feet now.
And here is a spiritual athlete whose faith is so strong that he moves mountains before our eyes. The crowd goes absolutely wild -- they're doing "the wave"!
Meanwhile, in a far corner of the field, there is another player, who is hardly noticed. He is surrounded by irritations, yet is dealing with each one patiently. He is being fouled by other players, yet he keeps no record of it. When he does something well, he does not spike the ball, or dance, or draw attention to himself. He does not seek the spotlight or insist on things going his way, and when his teammates get all the glory, he is happy for them, and cheers for them as loudly as anyone.
The other players -- the flashy ones, the especially gifted ones -- get all of the attention and accolades. Yet, at the end of the season, when God designates the MVP, the fans are surprised by his decision: "the greatest of these is love."
Alternative Applications
Jeremiah 1:4-10. "The Case Of The Cautious Candidate." I had a friend who was considering a job offer. He wanted the job, and he applied for it. He went through the whole application and interview process quite successfully, and in the end, the company offered him the job. But he hesitated to take it.
As we talked about it, he shared with me that he had doubts about his qualifications.
"Do they think you're qualified?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Well, that's their call," I said. "You only need to make your decision for you. You don't have to make their decision for them."
Jeremiah, among others, felt unqualified for what God was calling him to do. But qualifications are for the employer to judge. That's God's call. He knows the job, and he knows which prospect he wants to hire. I'm not sure that there has been a reluctant candidate yet who has talked him out of his personnel decision: who has made God say, "I was wrong; you are right."
Likewise with us. There's a good chance that God will call each of us to do for him something that we will feel unqualified, under equipped, or overmatched to do. But that's his call to make, not ours. It's his work. And if I am the one he has chosen to do this particular segment of it, then I can be assured that the same one who was with Jeremiah will be with me.
Jeremiah 1:4-10; Luke 4:21-30. "Tough Appointment." I am a United Methodist clergy, and so I live my life under appointment. In our system, a pastor is appointed to a church by the presiding bishop for one year at a time. While many of our churches, frankly, operate with a more congregational mentality, the fact remains that the bishop decides which pastors will be appointed to serve which churches.
I don't think I would reveal state secrets to say that not every United Methodist clergyperson is equally thrilled with the appointment he or she receives.
The Old Testament and gospel lections this week, however, remind us that the servant of God receives his or her appointment from God. And, it is often an inhospitable assignment.
God's instructions to Jeremiah are blunt and no-nonsense: "You shall go to all to whom I send you." Jeremiah is not encouraged to pick and choose. He is not applauded for hitting 75 or 80 percent of his targets. He is to go wherever God sends him. And, on top of that, he is to say, "whatever I command you." That, we know from the rest of his story, is an unsavory task. And God's next imperative -- "Do not be afraid of them" -- drives home the prospect of a hostile audience.
We are reminded of Jeremiah's tough assignment and experience, then, when we get to Jesus' appointment at the Nazareth synagogue. He recounts the truth of God's own people being antagonistic toward God's prophets; and then he experiences it himself, firsthand.
In a consumer culture, where our parishioners are conditioned to eschew uncomfortable messages and assignments, God's tough appointments will be unwelcome news. It is a part of discipleship that we should preach to them, however. (And it is a part of discipleship that we should model for them, too.)
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 71:1-6
Most people, at one time or another, have had the regrettable experience of needing refuge. Untold millions around this war-ripped world are literally refugees, whose lives are shattered as they are uprooted and left bereft of home, family, and any visible means of sustenance. Countless women around the world suffer from the brutality of abuse by their male partners, and are in need of refuge. Each day the numbers of homeless poor on the streets of America grows and grows. They, too, need refuge.
The great likelihood is that most of the people reading these words will not require refuge in the way that those described above require it. Most will be able to understand the need. If not literally because of war or physical conflict, many have experienced a need for refuge within the context of human relationships. It could be conflict at work or within the family. It might be strife in the neighborhood or within the church congregation. A job can be lost, a loved one can pass away, calamity can strike in the form of a crippling disease -- the list is endless. No matter how or where it occurs, most people know what it feels like to need a refuge in times of struggle. Most people know what it feels like to be in need of rescue.
The psalm under consideration here offers God as rescuer and refuge. This, of course, is a good thing. The hope is that people of faith everywhere would be able to embrace God as a "rock of refuge," in times of need. Moreover, the persistent hope would be that God would not be the rescuer of last resort. In other words, it would be a wonderful thing if God would be among the first resources reached for when trouble raises its head.
It's a good bet, though, that that is not usually the case. When strife or trouble comes home to roost, most folks run through the gambit of other available options before turning in desperation to God. Friends, family, lawyers, bosses, cops, and even preachers are more likely to be sought out before God is turned to as a rescuer.
The question begs asking. Why is that? Is it that faith is not strong enough? Is it that trust -- or belief fails? Perhaps so. But it is more likely that God becomes the rescuer of last resort because there is no habit, no discipline, no practice of turning to God when times are pretty good. Could it be that the starting place for such holy refuge is as simple as the discipline of daily prayer? Is it feasible that a life that is practiced in turning to God in praise and celebration will more readily reach for that same God when the cause for celebration evaporates and trouble takes its place?
What if, as this psalmist indicates, God were the source of hope and help since the earliest days of childhood? Perhaps then, the consolation and refuge of the holy might well be present even as trouble knocks at the door. Maybe then the resources to deal with what life brings might all be a little easier to locate.
On offense, for example, the quarterback, the running back, and the star wide receiver are traditionally the players that get all the hype. These are among the so-called "skill" positions. These are the players focused on by fantasy football fans. And these are the guys who, at the end of the day, have the capacity for flashy statistics: yards passing, yards rushing, yards receiving; completion percentage; yards after catch; rushing average; and, most important, how many touchdowns.
Meanwhile, among the players and positions traditionally overlooked are the offensive guards and tackles. Everything that the stars achieve depends on these anonymous and unheralded big men, but they still fly below the radar of appreciation and applause.
The running back says, "I carried the ball 23 times for 136 yards and two touchdowns." He had a good day. The receiver says, "I caught 8 passes for 120 yards and two touchdowns." He had a good day. The interior lineman says, "I blocked my guy all day long." He, too, had a good day, but who cares? He is not swarmed for post-game autographs and interviews.
The church in first-century Corinth may have suffered a bit from that same phenomenon. Fascinated by the flashy, they needed to be reminded about the fundamentals. We gather from Paul's first epistle to them that they had their own notion of the "skill" positions in the church: tongues, healing, miracles, and such. The apostle had to remind them about the basic blocking and tackling of the Christian life -- such as love -- without which all the rest would amount to nothing.
Jeremiah 1:4-10
We are fortunate to have in scripture the accounts of a number of different people being called by God. Moses, Gideon, Isaiah, Peter and Andrew, James and John, Matthew, and Paul are among them. We see different individuals respond to God's call in very different ways. Moses is famously reluctant. Isaiah volunteers. Peter and company are immediately responsive.
Here in this episode, we catch a glimpse of Jeremiah's call from God, and we sense that Jeremiah is reticent. In the spirit of Moses at the burning bush, Jeremiah feels quite unqualified, and he expresses that hesitation to God. The Lord, however, is very quick to dismiss Jeremiah's objection.
We see in this single episode several themes that are woven throughout scripture.
First, there is the divine employment of the unqualified. As we mentioned above, Jeremiah's response is reminiscent of Moses, who also tried to point out to God that he was, in some way, not the right man for the job. Gideon (Judges 6:15), Saul (1 Samuel 9:21), and Peter (Luke 5:8) all registered similar objections. Add to those instances the old, barren woman from whom God intended to generate whole nations; the overmatched boy with a sling; and the small, improbable band of men charged with taking the good news to the whole world; and we see God's proclivity for hiring unqualified workers. The one whose "power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9) seems to delight in winning with lousy teams.
Second, there is the gracious stubbornness of God. Jeremiah voices his hesitation, but neither the form nor the content of Jeremiah's response makes God go away. He is not driven off by Jeremiah's reluctance; neither is he repelled by Jeremiah's inadequacies. Instead, he persists with Jeremiah, in spite of both his disinclinations and his disqualifications. And that is gospel for us, for you and I need God to be persistent. If he were easily discouraged or quickly dissuaded, we would all be lost. Every saint is a testimony to God's stubborn grace: the God who both begins a good work in us and who is faithful to complete it (Philippians 1:6).
Third, there is God's engagement with youth. We do not know how old Jeremiah was, but he was young enough to say, apparently with a straight face, "I am only a boy." The Hebrew word used by Jeremiah is "imprecise." On the one hand, Abraham uses the same word to refer to young men who accompanied him in battle (Genesis 14:24); on the other hand, the writer of Exodus uses it to describe the baby, Moses, when he was found by the Pharaoh's daughter (Exodus 2:6).
Whatever the exact age and stage of Jeremiah, it is certainly true that God willingly engages and effectively uses the very young. In the New Testament, we are fond of the image of Jesus welcoming the children, and we are reminded of Paul's challenge to young Timothy (1 Timothy 4:12). In the Old Testament, meanwhile, we see baby Moses providentially spared, young Samuel called at night, and the shepherd boy, David, used in battle: all while they were still quite young.
Fourth, and quite prominent within this passage, is the theme of God's preordained will for people. This is a perilous path to go down, for we soon find ourselves in the deep waters of many complex theological issues and questions. Foreknowledge, election, and predestination; the relationship between God's sovereignty and human freedom; Calvinism vs. Arminianism; the implications of double predestination; this is the difficult terrain we encounter when we venture down this path. At a minimum, however, we can cheerfully affirm the beautiful image of God's prenatal call and claim on Jeremiah's life. Whether one emphasizes God's sovereign choice or God's prevenient grace, the fact and the testimony remains that he is interested in us before we are interested in him, and that he is at work in our lives before we recognize it.
1 Corinthians 13:1-13
Our epistle lection for this Sunday is, simply, one of the most famous, familiar, and fond passages in all of scripture. Often called "the love chapter," 1 Corinthians 13 is a staple at wedding ceremonies, as well as a common text for posters, bulletin covers, and needlepoints. After only the Lord's Prayer and the Psalm 23, 1 Corinthians 13 may be the best-recognized and most-recited passage in the Bible. And yet, for all of its familiarity, it may not be widely understood.
The first issue, as always, is context, but this passage has been so frequently excerpted that it is, in so many minds, completely independent of its context. That original context, then, may be a necessary place for us to begin in preaching this passage.
The larger discussion at this point in 1 Corinthians is the gifts of the Spirit, both in the lives of individuals and in the life of the church. The true significance of love is only really evident within that larger context. And yet, at the same time, it is worth noting that what has happened to chapters 12 through 14 of 1 Corinthians does, in some way, prove Paul's point. He asserts that the rest of the gifts are temporal and will come to an end, but that "love never ends." And, sure enough, the discussion of the other gifts in which the love chapter is found is generally eclipsed by -- sometimes even forgotten because of -- the power and beauty of love.
The chapter also suffers somewhat from the fact that it is so associated with wedding ceremonies. It has become, as a result, something of an adornment. It is a thing of beauty, like the flowers or the dresses, but not a thing of great meaning. And what meaning it has is often misunderstood as romantic in nature.
See, then, what has happened to our popular understanding of this passage. We have taken it out of its original context -- a discussion of the gifts of the Spirit -- and reestablished it in a new context -- wedding ceremonies. So Paul's grand explication of love now has, for many, all the profundity of a Barry Manilow song.
Romance, of course, is not at all the style or content of 1 Corinthians 13, and we do well to distance ourselves and our people from such a reading and hearing of this text. The word "love," along with both our understanding and our exercise of it, has become so devalued in our culture. It is confused (at least by the young, if not more) with enthusiasm. And it has become the word to articulate how much I want a person or thing, when of course what 'I want' has nothing whatever to do with the profound love that Paul describes here.
The initial point Paul makes, dovetailing with his preceding discussion of the gifts of the Spirit, is that the other gifts are proven to be empty and lifeless without love. Then, having established the essential importance of love, Paul follows with a several-verse description of what love is and what it is not.
Perhaps you have been in class or retreat settings, as I have, where those selected verses (4-7) are excerpted and turned into a two-part exercise. First, each individual in the group is asked to replace the word "love" (or its pronoun) in each phrase with his or her own name. Since I am supposed to be characterized by this quality of love, using Paul's description of love to describe me becomes a powerful diagnostic to show me specifically where I fall short. And then, second, each individual is asked to replace the word "love" in each phrase with Jesus' name. This is a devotional sort of exercise, inviting us to meditate on him, his nature, and his love.
Finally, Paul argues for the eternal quality of love. The rest of the gifts are temporal in their necessity and usefulness, but this love "never ends." It is one of a very few things that abides, and it is the greatest of even those.
Luke 4:21-30
Our gospel lection comes from Jesus' return to his hometown, Nazareth. A homecoming ought to have a certain warmth and happiness to it. This particular episode, however, turns ugly fast.
Every preacher knows that there are the passages folks love to hear preached, and then there are others that are not so welcome. It is human nature to prefer a sermon on "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28) over one on "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me" (Luke 9:23). They are both teachings of Jesus. They are both relevant to us. They are both invitations. But they are not equally welcome words.
Jesus went before a congregation in Nazareth and preached an unwelcome message.
Selecting two stories from the people's scriptures that, taken together, were sure to tweak their noses, Jesus proposed an offensive thesis: namely, that God sometimes chooses to do his work, not among his own chosen people, but among the Gentiles. Indeed, that God's own people are sometimes the ones least receptive to his work and his word.
It was an unthinkable proposition, and while he clearly had texts to support his hypothesis, his conclusion was most unorthodox -- perhaps even heretical. And the people responded with a kind of righteous indignation.
Beyond that, their response was also one of personal animus. For Jesus was not just making an unorthodox observation from scripture; he was also pointing the finger at them. If the discussion could have remained a theoretical and arm's-length debate about the ministries of Elijah and Elisha, that might have been tolerable. But the thrust of Jesus' message was not theoretical and historical; instead, the application of it was present and personal. It was about them and him, and their failure to respond properly to him.
Then the improper response begins.
The final line from this episode is striking. Luke describes a mob scene that, under other circumstances, would have been lethal. We have, on our television screens, seen occasional incidents in which an angry crowd has gotten hold of an individual, an automobile, a piece of property, or a section of a town, and done devastating damage. Here in Nazareth, an incensed mob manhandles Jesus out of the synagogue and to the very edge of the cliff on which the town was built. They meant to throw him over. They meant to kill him; yet, Luke reports, "He passed through the midst of them and went on his way."
No evidence of a struggle. No Chuck Norris or Arnold Schwarzenegger heroics to burst out of the crowd. Not even Samson's jawbone of a donkey or David's slingshot is employed. He simply walks through the midst of the crowd.
How does that happen? You and I sometimes find it difficult -- in a mall at Christmas, or outside the stadium after a game -- to work our way through a crowd that doesn't even know or care who we are. But when the crowd is focused on you -- out to get you -- how do you just pass through the midst of it?
The same one who eluded Herod's death decree in Bethlehem; the same one who walked on stormy waters; the same one who had the authority to say a word and cast out a demon, heal at a distance, and call a corpse out of a tomb; that one can walk through the midst of a crowd that is intent on killing him. The episode here, in Luke, offers additional meaning and credibility to Jesus' strong claim in John: "No one takes (my life) from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father" (John 10:18).
Application
If the gifts of the Spirit were a spectator sport, you can imagine which players would get the applause and be hounded for autographs.
Here is this two-man team that does a tongues-and-interpretation combo. The crowds cheer.
Here is a player with a gift of healing: one disease and disability after another is thwarted by his God-given gift. The fans are really on their feet now.
And here is a spiritual athlete whose faith is so strong that he moves mountains before our eyes. The crowd goes absolutely wild -- they're doing "the wave"!
Meanwhile, in a far corner of the field, there is another player, who is hardly noticed. He is surrounded by irritations, yet is dealing with each one patiently. He is being fouled by other players, yet he keeps no record of it. When he does something well, he does not spike the ball, or dance, or draw attention to himself. He does not seek the spotlight or insist on things going his way, and when his teammates get all the glory, he is happy for them, and cheers for them as loudly as anyone.
The other players -- the flashy ones, the especially gifted ones -- get all of the attention and accolades. Yet, at the end of the season, when God designates the MVP, the fans are surprised by his decision: "the greatest of these is love."
Alternative Applications
Jeremiah 1:4-10. "The Case Of The Cautious Candidate." I had a friend who was considering a job offer. He wanted the job, and he applied for it. He went through the whole application and interview process quite successfully, and in the end, the company offered him the job. But he hesitated to take it.
As we talked about it, he shared with me that he had doubts about his qualifications.
"Do they think you're qualified?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Well, that's their call," I said. "You only need to make your decision for you. You don't have to make their decision for them."
Jeremiah, among others, felt unqualified for what God was calling him to do. But qualifications are for the employer to judge. That's God's call. He knows the job, and he knows which prospect he wants to hire. I'm not sure that there has been a reluctant candidate yet who has talked him out of his personnel decision: who has made God say, "I was wrong; you are right."
Likewise with us. There's a good chance that God will call each of us to do for him something that we will feel unqualified, under equipped, or overmatched to do. But that's his call to make, not ours. It's his work. And if I am the one he has chosen to do this particular segment of it, then I can be assured that the same one who was with Jeremiah will be with me.
Jeremiah 1:4-10; Luke 4:21-30. "Tough Appointment." I am a United Methodist clergy, and so I live my life under appointment. In our system, a pastor is appointed to a church by the presiding bishop for one year at a time. While many of our churches, frankly, operate with a more congregational mentality, the fact remains that the bishop decides which pastors will be appointed to serve which churches.
I don't think I would reveal state secrets to say that not every United Methodist clergyperson is equally thrilled with the appointment he or she receives.
The Old Testament and gospel lections this week, however, remind us that the servant of God receives his or her appointment from God. And, it is often an inhospitable assignment.
God's instructions to Jeremiah are blunt and no-nonsense: "You shall go to all to whom I send you." Jeremiah is not encouraged to pick and choose. He is not applauded for hitting 75 or 80 percent of his targets. He is to go wherever God sends him. And, on top of that, he is to say, "whatever I command you." That, we know from the rest of his story, is an unsavory task. And God's next imperative -- "Do not be afraid of them" -- drives home the prospect of a hostile audience.
We are reminded of Jeremiah's tough assignment and experience, then, when we get to Jesus' appointment at the Nazareth synagogue. He recounts the truth of God's own people being antagonistic toward God's prophets; and then he experiences it himself, firsthand.
In a consumer culture, where our parishioners are conditioned to eschew uncomfortable messages and assignments, God's tough appointments will be unwelcome news. It is a part of discipleship that we should preach to them, however. (And it is a part of discipleship that we should model for them, too.)
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 71:1-6
Most people, at one time or another, have had the regrettable experience of needing refuge. Untold millions around this war-ripped world are literally refugees, whose lives are shattered as they are uprooted and left bereft of home, family, and any visible means of sustenance. Countless women around the world suffer from the brutality of abuse by their male partners, and are in need of refuge. Each day the numbers of homeless poor on the streets of America grows and grows. They, too, need refuge.
The great likelihood is that most of the people reading these words will not require refuge in the way that those described above require it. Most will be able to understand the need. If not literally because of war or physical conflict, many have experienced a need for refuge within the context of human relationships. It could be conflict at work or within the family. It might be strife in the neighborhood or within the church congregation. A job can be lost, a loved one can pass away, calamity can strike in the form of a crippling disease -- the list is endless. No matter how or where it occurs, most people know what it feels like to need a refuge in times of struggle. Most people know what it feels like to be in need of rescue.
The psalm under consideration here offers God as rescuer and refuge. This, of course, is a good thing. The hope is that people of faith everywhere would be able to embrace God as a "rock of refuge," in times of need. Moreover, the persistent hope would be that God would not be the rescuer of last resort. In other words, it would be a wonderful thing if God would be among the first resources reached for when trouble raises its head.
It's a good bet, though, that that is not usually the case. When strife or trouble comes home to roost, most folks run through the gambit of other available options before turning in desperation to God. Friends, family, lawyers, bosses, cops, and even preachers are more likely to be sought out before God is turned to as a rescuer.
The question begs asking. Why is that? Is it that faith is not strong enough? Is it that trust -- or belief fails? Perhaps so. But it is more likely that God becomes the rescuer of last resort because there is no habit, no discipline, no practice of turning to God when times are pretty good. Could it be that the starting place for such holy refuge is as simple as the discipline of daily prayer? Is it feasible that a life that is practiced in turning to God in praise and celebration will more readily reach for that same God when the cause for celebration evaporates and trouble takes its place?
What if, as this psalmist indicates, God were the source of hope and help since the earliest days of childhood? Perhaps then, the consolation and refuge of the holy might well be present even as trouble knocks at the door. Maybe then the resources to deal with what life brings might all be a little easier to locate.
