God's sovereignty
Commentary
It's Labor Day weekend. Church attendance may be a bit low. But, if the weather's nice, it's hard to blame folks. This is the last chance for an extended getaway, a cookout, a reunion. Church is important, but so is family. Sometimes family just has to come first. Hmmm. What would Jesus say about that?
We'll find out in a moment, but first let's define the common theme of today's lessons. The sovereignty of God surfaces in all the readings as a controlling matrix. We belong to God. God owns us, controls us, uses us. This may or may not be good news, depending on our disposition. Either way, it is a fact. In the first reading, God is likened to a potter who shapes the lives of all people, though what they are determines what God makes of them. The second reading actually speaks of a human slave being returned to his master, but this entire scenario is viewed through a lens that sees slave and master alike as servants of Christ. Finally, the shocking words of Jesus in the Gospel lesson undermine our most cherished convictions about commitment and loyalty and to whom these are due.
Jeremiah 18:1-11
The production of pottery was widely practiced in the Ancient Near East and the method perfected then has not changed much in 2,500 years. The main equipment is a device that looks like two wheels connected by an axle, turned on its side. The potter's feet spin the bottom wheel, causing the top to spin as well. A mound of clay set atop this contraption can be molded with slight pressure of hands, the centrifugal motion ensuring a symmetry unlikely to be obtained otherwise. Someone in your congregation has probably done this, though ceramics is regarded as more of an art or hobby than a practical craft these days.
Interpretation of today's text may be assisted by some basic knowledge of the potter's craft. Typically, a large quantity of clay would be gathered or prepared for the day's work. But this clay could be of differing consistencies; it could vary with regard to texture, density, and pliability. Also, as the day wore on, the consistency of what had been selected could change as it dried in the sun. The wise potter knew that different types of clay were best for different kinds of vessels, and he or she would determine to waste no clay. If a mound proved unsuitable for one purpose -- use it for another!
Here, then, is the parable: Imagine a potter producing, say, drinking vessels with frail, thin sides. He produces several, but under the heat of the sun the day's supply of clay grows tougher and thicker. The latter vessels aren't quite as nice as the first ones. Finally, the potter produces one stodgy piece, looks at it, smashes it, and starts to make a cooking pot instead. To the uninitiated, this might seem like an arbitrary fit, a spontaneous abandonment of the original plan in favor of a new agenda. Not so! The potter knows what he is doing, and his intentions have not changed. The clay has changed and must now be used for something else.
This, or something like this, is what the young prophet Jeremiah observed, and he saw a picture of God's dealings with Israel. God would use Israel no matter what, but God was not limited to using Israel in accord with the original divine intent. If Israel changed, became unsuitable for the holy and noble calling that God first had in mind, God could just use Israel in some other way. God's choice of Israel was not going to change, but Israel's experience of that choice might.
Deuteronomic value judgments enter the prophet's commentary in a way that strains the logic of the parable (note the connection between verses 7 and 9 here and Jeremiah 1:10 in our First Reading two weeks ago). Clay, of course, cannot choose whether or not to be pliable, but Israel can. In this story, "doing evil," not listening to God's voice, marks a nation that must be remolded into something else, and the assumption is that this process will not be a pleasant one. From the perspective of the nation itself, it will be "a disaster" (v. 8). But in this story a nation whose consistency has changed can also "change back," and if it does not wish to be molded into something undesirable, it will do so quickly.
According to verse 11, the divine potter has already sized up the nation of Judah and decided that this is clay best suited for something fairly nasty. God is going to use us either way, the prophet says, but for what do we want to be used? What kind of clay are we? What kind of clay can we become? Quick! This is not a matter for further study. The wheel is already in spin!
Philemon 1-21
How often do you get to read an entire book of the Bible as a scripture lesson? For our Second Reading today, we have almost the whole letter of Paul to Philemon. Go ahead! Read the last three verses, too. Why be stingy?
The situation of the letter is fairly clear from its contents. A slave named Onesimus has run away from his master, Philemon, and come to Paul -- who is in prison. Through Paul's ministry, Onesimus has become a Christian, just as Philemon had at some earlier point. Now, Paul sends Onesimus back to Philemon with this letter, encouraging the latter to let his slave return to Paul.
Modern readers may wish that Paul had denounced the social institution of slavery as inherently unjust and incompatible with Christianity. But Paul, who probably expects the world to end very soon, is less concerned with social or political reform than with the transformation of human hearts and human relationships. Regardless of whether Onesimus remains legally a slave, he is a son to Paul (v. 10) and a brother to Philemon (v. 16). Paul knows -- as, presumably, does Philemon -- that there is neither slave nor free in Christ Jesus (Galatians 3:28). The church today, of course, has moved beyond Paul to affirm the need to shape the political and social world in a way that reflects the implications of such spiritual realities. We feel called to do this or at least to attempt to do this in whatever imperfect ways we are able. This is an advancement in the church's understanding of its mission that Paul would heartily approve.
The lasting impact of the story for us may lie in its revelation of how an abiding sense of identity in Christ really does trivialize all social markers of status, precisely at the level of valuation. Before we are too hard on Paul for not attempting to abolish slavery in the Roman empire, we might consider the persistence of inequitable social categories in our own world. Christians, someone might argue, ought not be identifiable as "upper class" or "lower class," as "management" or "labor," as "blue collar" or "white collar." Maybe not, but most of us don't really know how to fix these things, how to structure society in such a way that there would be no such distinctions. Some of us, however, have made fair progress at reconsidering the value judgments that can accompany such identifications, of recognizing that unity in Christ means regarding as equals those whose socially defined position is above, below, or merely different from our own.
Luke 14:25-33
Well, here it is -- the text that most preachers want to avoid like the plague. Jesus says we should hate our parents, our siblings, our spouses, our children, even ourselves. That doesn't seem right. What ever happened to "love your neighbor"? Don't family members count as neighbors?
The text seems so strange, or "difficult" as we euphemistically put it, that many will no doubt prefer to pass over it and preach on one of the other two lessons for today. No problem there -- they offer some excellent possibilities. But it almost seems wrong to read such words and not comment, to announce that Jesus said such things and then go on with the service as though nothing has occurred. These cold, stark words can have the effect of stopping everything in its tracks, demanding a response. How can they be ignored?
The commentaries offer some help with interpretation. We learn quickly that the word hate used in many English Bibles (v. 26) does not describe an affective quality. Jesus is not commenting here on how we should feel about our family members or even about how we should treat them. When he does speak of this, the only word he ever uses is love. We should always treat our family members and all others with love.
The point, rather, is disavowal of loyalty -- but that is radical, too! Jesus is striking down the notion of commitment to family. We do not owe our families anything. We may serve them out of love, but we need not, indeed should not, think that we are committed to them. So put, this too seems strange. We are accustomed in the church to speaking of the need for more commitment to family -- witness, for instance, the Promise Keepers.
Perhaps the best way of making this point relevant to modern Americans is to ask the question, "Who owns you?" To whom do you belong? Your parents, Jesus would say, do not own you. Neither do your children. Neither does your spouse. You belong to God, and to God alone. It is in this sense that our commitment to God is unique. We may choose to speak meaningfully of commitment or loyalty to our families, but it is not the same. Only God can rightfully claim to own us. No marriage license or birth certificate gives another the right to make such a claim.
Priorities are a clear implication of this principle, but they do not exhaust its meaning. Obviously, we are to put God first, ahead of family and all else, but Jesus could have said that rather simply without using the strong word hate. He really does mean that we should despise the whole notion of belonging to other human beings -- not just relativize that sense of ownership, but despise it, reject it completely. For one thing, unless we do so, our acts of love toward others become duties, not gifts.
It is at root a stewardship principle that Jesus is establishing, as may be clear from verse 33. Just as we must "give up" all loyalty and commitment to family, so we must also abandon all of our possessions. Luke does not think that all Christians should literally divest themselves of all property so as to increase the quantity of the world's destitute and poverty-
stricken citizens. He does think that we should give up all loyalty and commitment to possessions, so that they make no claim of ownership on us. Again, it is not just a matter of priorities, but of radical reorientation, of recognizing to whom we truly belong.
Such disavowal of loyalty to anything or anyone but God is what Jesus calls counting "the cost of discipleship." Dietrich Bonhoeffer's monumental book by that name had its origin in reflection on this passage. Bonhoeffer himself became an example of one who, like many others, would give up his own life for Christ and the gospel. He made no claim to be an exceptionally brave or heroic man, nor does the evidence present him as such. He did seem to know to whom he belonged, and everything else followed with surprising simplicity from that.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
Jeremiah 18:1-11
Have you ever seen a potter at work at his wheel? If you have, you know that fashioning pottery can be a very strenuous exercise. Potters don't "make a pot." They "throw a pot." The clay is thrown upon the wheel, pounded, whirled, shaped by the artisan's hands and fingers, until it takes the form that the potter wishes for it.
So it is with Israel, according to our text for the morning, and so it is with us. God the Potter is fashioning us into the people that he wants us to be. And sometimes it seems as if he works very strenuously with us, turning us about from some direction we have taken, pounding us with adversity, shaping us by the ups and downs of our daily life until we become the people he wants us to be. But it is all for the purpose of making us into cups that can contain a drink of cold water or into earthen vessels that can hold the treasures of his gospel.
The divine Potter works not only with individuals, however, but also with whole nations, shaping and forming or shattering and discarding. Our text is quite clear about God's sovereignty over all nations, and we must remember that our lives are finally subject not to international politics or multinational corporations or military planning, but to the will of the Lord who rules all of human history.
This narrative in the prophecies of Jeremiah comes from the Deuteronomic strand of material found so copiously in the prophet's book. It records an action of the prophet and the Word of God that came to Jeremiah in the early years of his ministry, after the failure of the Deuteronomic reform in 621 B.C. and before the death of the good king Josiah in 609 B.C. Josiah had tried to reform his apostate nation, banning all Canaanite practices and the worship of the pagan Canaanite gods. But as verse 12 indicates, the people of Judah had refused to change their idolatrous and unjust practices, despite the fact that they had renewed their covenant with the Lord on the basis of the laws of Deuteronomy (2 Chronicles 34-35).
Yet the Lord is incredibly merciful, wanting always to forgive and to restore, if his people will amend their ways and dedicate their hearts anew to God. That mercy is spelled out for Jeremiah and through him, for us, in this analogy to a potter's work. As an artisan works with a lump of clay, occasionally the clay seems to have a mind of its own, taking a shape that the potter never intended. But that does not mean that the potter simply throws away the clay and chooses another lump. No. The potter starts over with the same lump, and reworks it until it has the desired form.
The message is clear for Judah. She is not a covenant people whose ways are pleasing to her Lord. But God will not discard her and forget his covenant with her. Instead he will reform, rework, reshape her life, if she will let him do so.
None of us is beyond God's reforming and renewal of us. Our sinful past need not determine our future. Our divine Potter can mercifully forget our past. He can "remove our transgressions from us" "as far as the east is from the west" (Psalm 103:12). He can make us anew. The old can be done away. We can become God's new creations through Jesus Christ (2 Corinthians 5:17). But we must be willing to let God work that transformation in our sinful lives. We must respond to his mercy, accept his invitation to become new, commit ourselves into his hands to be shaped and molded to his will.
Judah was not willing to allow God that sovereignty. She was the vessel that strived with her Maker, the clay that resisted the Potter (Isaiah 45:9). And so she was destroyed by the armies of Babylonia and sent into exile. Yet, even then, God would not throw her away forever. And afterwards he promised her a future and a hope (Jeremiah 29:10-11).
Should we resist such persistent love that will not discard us as useless? God wants to make of us beautiful earthen vessels into which he can pour his joy and love and which he can use for his purpose. There really is no higher calling that we could have on this earth.
Lutheran Option, Deuteronomy 30:15-20
Israel is portrayed in the Book of Deuteronomy as camped in Moab on the eastern side of the Jordan, looking over into the land that God promised from the first to her forbears. But before she crosses over into the land, Moses delivers three farewell addresses to the people. Those words are contained in the first 26 chapters of the Book. In chapters 27-30, then, the Sinai covenant with the Lord is renewed, and this passage forms the closing instruction of that covenant.
Israel's entrance into the land of Canaan will form for her, in Deuteronomy's theology, a time of testing. Will she remain faithful to the Lord who has delivered her from slavery in Egypt, and who has guided her through the terrors of the wilderness, giving her manna to eat and water from the rock? Or will she go after the fertility gods of the Canaanites and seek her good and her life from them?
Israel stands at midpoint in her journey. Her redemption out of slavery lies in the past. Her entrance into the good life of rest and salvation in the promised land lies ahead. And in that situation, Israel's journey is very much like ours in our pilgrimage with God. We too are at the midpoint between our redemption out of slavery to sin and death by the cross of Christ and our final salvation in the Kingdom of God. The question of Deuteronomy is therefore very much a question for us also. Will we be faithful to the God who redeemed us and who has guided us through the wildernesses of our lives? Or will we run after other gods and things and look to them for our good and salvation? We too face the test of our faith, the test that can give us life or death, blessing or curse.
Our Lord Jesus set that test very clearly before us in the Sermon on the Mount. "Enter by the narrow gate," he taught. "for the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard, that leads to life, and those who find it are few" (Matthew 7:13-14). Life or death, blessing or curse. We still face that choice.
Deuteronomy is very clear as to what we are to do in order to choose life. Four verb phrases in our text characterize that choice: "obey the commandments," "loving the Lord," "walking in his ways," "keeping his commandments" (v. 16). At the center of Deuteronomy's law is the command to love the Lord with all our heart and soul and might (Deuteronomy 6:5), and we have that love, says Deuteronomy, when we obey the Lord's commandments and walk accoding to his will, given us in the scriptures. Jesus said the same thing. "If you love me, you will keep my commandments" (John 14:15).
But that is not a legalistic command in either Old Testament or New. It points to our obedience out of a heart full of gratitude for all that the Lord has done for us. As 1 John would say, "We love because he first loved us" (1 John 4:19). We respond in obedience to God's love by walking in the way of his guidance in his commandments, given us in the scriptures. And that love and that obedience, proclaim both Testaments, form the way to life and not death, to blessing and not curse. If we desire life, abundant life, pressed down and running over, that life comes from the Lord who redeemed us and whom we now love with all our hearts.
We'll find out in a moment, but first let's define the common theme of today's lessons. The sovereignty of God surfaces in all the readings as a controlling matrix. We belong to God. God owns us, controls us, uses us. This may or may not be good news, depending on our disposition. Either way, it is a fact. In the first reading, God is likened to a potter who shapes the lives of all people, though what they are determines what God makes of them. The second reading actually speaks of a human slave being returned to his master, but this entire scenario is viewed through a lens that sees slave and master alike as servants of Christ. Finally, the shocking words of Jesus in the Gospel lesson undermine our most cherished convictions about commitment and loyalty and to whom these are due.
Jeremiah 18:1-11
The production of pottery was widely practiced in the Ancient Near East and the method perfected then has not changed much in 2,500 years. The main equipment is a device that looks like two wheels connected by an axle, turned on its side. The potter's feet spin the bottom wheel, causing the top to spin as well. A mound of clay set atop this contraption can be molded with slight pressure of hands, the centrifugal motion ensuring a symmetry unlikely to be obtained otherwise. Someone in your congregation has probably done this, though ceramics is regarded as more of an art or hobby than a practical craft these days.
Interpretation of today's text may be assisted by some basic knowledge of the potter's craft. Typically, a large quantity of clay would be gathered or prepared for the day's work. But this clay could be of differing consistencies; it could vary with regard to texture, density, and pliability. Also, as the day wore on, the consistency of what had been selected could change as it dried in the sun. The wise potter knew that different types of clay were best for different kinds of vessels, and he or she would determine to waste no clay. If a mound proved unsuitable for one purpose -- use it for another!
Here, then, is the parable: Imagine a potter producing, say, drinking vessels with frail, thin sides. He produces several, but under the heat of the sun the day's supply of clay grows tougher and thicker. The latter vessels aren't quite as nice as the first ones. Finally, the potter produces one stodgy piece, looks at it, smashes it, and starts to make a cooking pot instead. To the uninitiated, this might seem like an arbitrary fit, a spontaneous abandonment of the original plan in favor of a new agenda. Not so! The potter knows what he is doing, and his intentions have not changed. The clay has changed and must now be used for something else.
This, or something like this, is what the young prophet Jeremiah observed, and he saw a picture of God's dealings with Israel. God would use Israel no matter what, but God was not limited to using Israel in accord with the original divine intent. If Israel changed, became unsuitable for the holy and noble calling that God first had in mind, God could just use Israel in some other way. God's choice of Israel was not going to change, but Israel's experience of that choice might.
Deuteronomic value judgments enter the prophet's commentary in a way that strains the logic of the parable (note the connection between verses 7 and 9 here and Jeremiah 1:10 in our First Reading two weeks ago). Clay, of course, cannot choose whether or not to be pliable, but Israel can. In this story, "doing evil," not listening to God's voice, marks a nation that must be remolded into something else, and the assumption is that this process will not be a pleasant one. From the perspective of the nation itself, it will be "a disaster" (v. 8). But in this story a nation whose consistency has changed can also "change back," and if it does not wish to be molded into something undesirable, it will do so quickly.
According to verse 11, the divine potter has already sized up the nation of Judah and decided that this is clay best suited for something fairly nasty. God is going to use us either way, the prophet says, but for what do we want to be used? What kind of clay are we? What kind of clay can we become? Quick! This is not a matter for further study. The wheel is already in spin!
Philemon 1-21
How often do you get to read an entire book of the Bible as a scripture lesson? For our Second Reading today, we have almost the whole letter of Paul to Philemon. Go ahead! Read the last three verses, too. Why be stingy?
The situation of the letter is fairly clear from its contents. A slave named Onesimus has run away from his master, Philemon, and come to Paul -- who is in prison. Through Paul's ministry, Onesimus has become a Christian, just as Philemon had at some earlier point. Now, Paul sends Onesimus back to Philemon with this letter, encouraging the latter to let his slave return to Paul.
Modern readers may wish that Paul had denounced the social institution of slavery as inherently unjust and incompatible with Christianity. But Paul, who probably expects the world to end very soon, is less concerned with social or political reform than with the transformation of human hearts and human relationships. Regardless of whether Onesimus remains legally a slave, he is a son to Paul (v. 10) and a brother to Philemon (v. 16). Paul knows -- as, presumably, does Philemon -- that there is neither slave nor free in Christ Jesus (Galatians 3:28). The church today, of course, has moved beyond Paul to affirm the need to shape the political and social world in a way that reflects the implications of such spiritual realities. We feel called to do this or at least to attempt to do this in whatever imperfect ways we are able. This is an advancement in the church's understanding of its mission that Paul would heartily approve.
The lasting impact of the story for us may lie in its revelation of how an abiding sense of identity in Christ really does trivialize all social markers of status, precisely at the level of valuation. Before we are too hard on Paul for not attempting to abolish slavery in the Roman empire, we might consider the persistence of inequitable social categories in our own world. Christians, someone might argue, ought not be identifiable as "upper class" or "lower class," as "management" or "labor," as "blue collar" or "white collar." Maybe not, but most of us don't really know how to fix these things, how to structure society in such a way that there would be no such distinctions. Some of us, however, have made fair progress at reconsidering the value judgments that can accompany such identifications, of recognizing that unity in Christ means regarding as equals those whose socially defined position is above, below, or merely different from our own.
Luke 14:25-33
Well, here it is -- the text that most preachers want to avoid like the plague. Jesus says we should hate our parents, our siblings, our spouses, our children, even ourselves. That doesn't seem right. What ever happened to "love your neighbor"? Don't family members count as neighbors?
The text seems so strange, or "difficult" as we euphemistically put it, that many will no doubt prefer to pass over it and preach on one of the other two lessons for today. No problem there -- they offer some excellent possibilities. But it almost seems wrong to read such words and not comment, to announce that Jesus said such things and then go on with the service as though nothing has occurred. These cold, stark words can have the effect of stopping everything in its tracks, demanding a response. How can they be ignored?
The commentaries offer some help with interpretation. We learn quickly that the word hate used in many English Bibles (v. 26) does not describe an affective quality. Jesus is not commenting here on how we should feel about our family members or even about how we should treat them. When he does speak of this, the only word he ever uses is love. We should always treat our family members and all others with love.
The point, rather, is disavowal of loyalty -- but that is radical, too! Jesus is striking down the notion of commitment to family. We do not owe our families anything. We may serve them out of love, but we need not, indeed should not, think that we are committed to them. So put, this too seems strange. We are accustomed in the church to speaking of the need for more commitment to family -- witness, for instance, the Promise Keepers.
Perhaps the best way of making this point relevant to modern Americans is to ask the question, "Who owns you?" To whom do you belong? Your parents, Jesus would say, do not own you. Neither do your children. Neither does your spouse. You belong to God, and to God alone. It is in this sense that our commitment to God is unique. We may choose to speak meaningfully of commitment or loyalty to our families, but it is not the same. Only God can rightfully claim to own us. No marriage license or birth certificate gives another the right to make such a claim.
Priorities are a clear implication of this principle, but they do not exhaust its meaning. Obviously, we are to put God first, ahead of family and all else, but Jesus could have said that rather simply without using the strong word hate. He really does mean that we should despise the whole notion of belonging to other human beings -- not just relativize that sense of ownership, but despise it, reject it completely. For one thing, unless we do so, our acts of love toward others become duties, not gifts.
It is at root a stewardship principle that Jesus is establishing, as may be clear from verse 33. Just as we must "give up" all loyalty and commitment to family, so we must also abandon all of our possessions. Luke does not think that all Christians should literally divest themselves of all property so as to increase the quantity of the world's destitute and poverty-
stricken citizens. He does think that we should give up all loyalty and commitment to possessions, so that they make no claim of ownership on us. Again, it is not just a matter of priorities, but of radical reorientation, of recognizing to whom we truly belong.
Such disavowal of loyalty to anything or anyone but God is what Jesus calls counting "the cost of discipleship." Dietrich Bonhoeffer's monumental book by that name had its origin in reflection on this passage. Bonhoeffer himself became an example of one who, like many others, would give up his own life for Christ and the gospel. He made no claim to be an exceptionally brave or heroic man, nor does the evidence present him as such. He did seem to know to whom he belonged, and everything else followed with surprising simplicity from that.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
Jeremiah 18:1-11
Have you ever seen a potter at work at his wheel? If you have, you know that fashioning pottery can be a very strenuous exercise. Potters don't "make a pot." They "throw a pot." The clay is thrown upon the wheel, pounded, whirled, shaped by the artisan's hands and fingers, until it takes the form that the potter wishes for it.
So it is with Israel, according to our text for the morning, and so it is with us. God the Potter is fashioning us into the people that he wants us to be. And sometimes it seems as if he works very strenuously with us, turning us about from some direction we have taken, pounding us with adversity, shaping us by the ups and downs of our daily life until we become the people he wants us to be. But it is all for the purpose of making us into cups that can contain a drink of cold water or into earthen vessels that can hold the treasures of his gospel.
The divine Potter works not only with individuals, however, but also with whole nations, shaping and forming or shattering and discarding. Our text is quite clear about God's sovereignty over all nations, and we must remember that our lives are finally subject not to international politics or multinational corporations or military planning, but to the will of the Lord who rules all of human history.
This narrative in the prophecies of Jeremiah comes from the Deuteronomic strand of material found so copiously in the prophet's book. It records an action of the prophet and the Word of God that came to Jeremiah in the early years of his ministry, after the failure of the Deuteronomic reform in 621 B.C. and before the death of the good king Josiah in 609 B.C. Josiah had tried to reform his apostate nation, banning all Canaanite practices and the worship of the pagan Canaanite gods. But as verse 12 indicates, the people of Judah had refused to change their idolatrous and unjust practices, despite the fact that they had renewed their covenant with the Lord on the basis of the laws of Deuteronomy (2 Chronicles 34-35).
Yet the Lord is incredibly merciful, wanting always to forgive and to restore, if his people will amend their ways and dedicate their hearts anew to God. That mercy is spelled out for Jeremiah and through him, for us, in this analogy to a potter's work. As an artisan works with a lump of clay, occasionally the clay seems to have a mind of its own, taking a shape that the potter never intended. But that does not mean that the potter simply throws away the clay and chooses another lump. No. The potter starts over with the same lump, and reworks it until it has the desired form.
The message is clear for Judah. She is not a covenant people whose ways are pleasing to her Lord. But God will not discard her and forget his covenant with her. Instead he will reform, rework, reshape her life, if she will let him do so.
None of us is beyond God's reforming and renewal of us. Our sinful past need not determine our future. Our divine Potter can mercifully forget our past. He can "remove our transgressions from us" "as far as the east is from the west" (Psalm 103:12). He can make us anew. The old can be done away. We can become God's new creations through Jesus Christ (2 Corinthians 5:17). But we must be willing to let God work that transformation in our sinful lives. We must respond to his mercy, accept his invitation to become new, commit ourselves into his hands to be shaped and molded to his will.
Judah was not willing to allow God that sovereignty. She was the vessel that strived with her Maker, the clay that resisted the Potter (Isaiah 45:9). And so she was destroyed by the armies of Babylonia and sent into exile. Yet, even then, God would not throw her away forever. And afterwards he promised her a future and a hope (Jeremiah 29:10-11).
Should we resist such persistent love that will not discard us as useless? God wants to make of us beautiful earthen vessels into which he can pour his joy and love and which he can use for his purpose. There really is no higher calling that we could have on this earth.
Lutheran Option, Deuteronomy 30:15-20
Israel is portrayed in the Book of Deuteronomy as camped in Moab on the eastern side of the Jordan, looking over into the land that God promised from the first to her forbears. But before she crosses over into the land, Moses delivers three farewell addresses to the people. Those words are contained in the first 26 chapters of the Book. In chapters 27-30, then, the Sinai covenant with the Lord is renewed, and this passage forms the closing instruction of that covenant.
Israel's entrance into the land of Canaan will form for her, in Deuteronomy's theology, a time of testing. Will she remain faithful to the Lord who has delivered her from slavery in Egypt, and who has guided her through the terrors of the wilderness, giving her manna to eat and water from the rock? Or will she go after the fertility gods of the Canaanites and seek her good and her life from them?
Israel stands at midpoint in her journey. Her redemption out of slavery lies in the past. Her entrance into the good life of rest and salvation in the promised land lies ahead. And in that situation, Israel's journey is very much like ours in our pilgrimage with God. We too are at the midpoint between our redemption out of slavery to sin and death by the cross of Christ and our final salvation in the Kingdom of God. The question of Deuteronomy is therefore very much a question for us also. Will we be faithful to the God who redeemed us and who has guided us through the wildernesses of our lives? Or will we run after other gods and things and look to them for our good and salvation? We too face the test of our faith, the test that can give us life or death, blessing or curse.
Our Lord Jesus set that test very clearly before us in the Sermon on the Mount. "Enter by the narrow gate," he taught. "for the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard, that leads to life, and those who find it are few" (Matthew 7:13-14). Life or death, blessing or curse. We still face that choice.
Deuteronomy is very clear as to what we are to do in order to choose life. Four verb phrases in our text characterize that choice: "obey the commandments," "loving the Lord," "walking in his ways," "keeping his commandments" (v. 16). At the center of Deuteronomy's law is the command to love the Lord with all our heart and soul and might (Deuteronomy 6:5), and we have that love, says Deuteronomy, when we obey the Lord's commandments and walk accoding to his will, given us in the scriptures. Jesus said the same thing. "If you love me, you will keep my commandments" (John 14:15).
But that is not a legalistic command in either Old Testament or New. It points to our obedience out of a heart full of gratitude for all that the Lord has done for us. As 1 John would say, "We love because he first loved us" (1 John 4:19). We respond in obedience to God's love by walking in the way of his guidance in his commandments, given us in the scriptures. And that love and that obedience, proclaim both Testaments, form the way to life and not death, to blessing and not curse. If we desire life, abundant life, pressed down and running over, that life comes from the Lord who redeemed us and whom we now love with all our hearts.
