Invisible link
Commentary
Object:
Now and again, one of my students will come into class and I'll greet her or him, but get
no response. Sometimes I'll even walk up to the student when she sits down, and make
my presence obvious. Then she will look up startled, pull back her hood, and yank the
buds out of her ears or turn down her iPod so that she re-engages the world in which I
exist. When her recorded music was shouted in her ears, she became deaf to this world
and alive to another.
In a sense, that is what each of today's lectionary passages wants to have happen in the Christian's life. Only when we are uniquely and overwhelmingly connected to the music of eternity, and live in the reality of God's glory, can we keep our purpose and identity true (Acts 1), avoid the wiles of the devil (1 Peter 4-5), and nurture a passion that shines with God's own glory (John 17).
Acts 1:6-14
The existence of the Christian church is rooted in several theological declarations. First, we believe that there is a God who created this world and uniquely fashioned our human race with attributes that reflect its maker. Second, through human willfulness the world lost its pristine vitality, and is now caught up in a civil war against its creator. Third, by intruding directly into human affairs for the sake of reclaiming and restoring the world, the creator began a mission of redemption and renewal through the nation of Israel, shaped by the suzerain-vassal covenant formed at Mount Sinai and positioned at the crossroads of global societies as a witness to all peoples. Fourth, because of the inadequacy of this method of operations as the human race expanded rapidly, the creator revised the divine missional strategy, and interrupted human history again in the person of Jesus, who embodied the divine essence, taught the divine will, and through whose death and resurrection established a new understanding of eschatological hope. Fifth, the coming of this messianic age was foretold by the prophets of Israel who called it the "Day of the Lord," and identified its three major aspects: divine judgment on the sins of all nations (including Israel); the sparing of a remnant from Israel who would be the restored seed community of a new global divine initiative; and the coming of the eschatological messianic age in which righteousness and justice would renew both human society and the natural order so that people could again live out their intended purposes and destinies. Sixth, Jesus split this "Day of the Lord" in two, bringing the beginnings of its eternal blessings while withholding the full impact of divine judgment for a time. Seventh, the Christian church is God's new agent for global missional recovery and restoration for the human race.
Each of these themes is implied or explicit in the first two chapters of the book of the Acts of the Apostles. God and sin and the divine mission are all part of the fabric, while Israel's role in the divine mission, along with the changing strategies, is declared openly. Jesus is at the center of all these things, but the unique divine intrusion he brought into the human race is now being withdrawn, and the church must become the ongoing embodiment of Jesus' life and teachings so that it may live out the divine mission until the remainder of the "Day of the Lord" arrives when Jesus returns.
This is seen in the few, but packed, verses of today's lectionary reading. First, Jesus' disciples are nearly beside themselves with new hope and confidence, now that their rabbi has become a death-defeating powerhouse. They see the future in a limited (mis)understanding of all the promises of the prophets -- Israel restored, victorious over the nations, and re-established as the most glorious and wealthy society on earth. Jesus, however, reads history in a new way, marking the change of divine mission strategy from that tied to the geography of Palestine through Israel's national witness to the dispersion of the church among the nations of the earth.
Second, in Jesus' ascension there is a twofold word of promise. On the one hand, Jesus' disappearance is a vote of confidence in his disciples. He is affirming that the work he has begun will be in good hands when left with them. In fact, in the early church there was a parabolic teaching that said when Jesus returned to heaven, amid the triumphant praise of the angels, Gabriel asked his master what contingency plan Jesus had left on earth. "Oh," said Jesus, "I've spent a little time with some fishermen and social misfits and housewives, and they will take care of things now."
Gabriel was stunned. "That's not very encouraging," he said. "You were only with them for three years, and most of them ran out on you when things turned tough. Now you leave the whole mission of God in their hands? I don't get it. What's the backup plan?"
But the early church knew Jesus' response. He shook his head slowly, with a smile, and said, "There is no backup plan. They won't fail. They're my people, and I trust them. I trust them."
On the other hand, Jesus' ascension is stage-managed by "two men dressed in white" who announce the end already at the beginning, by promising the Lord's planned return. In this way, Luke communicates the message that the church lives under eschatological urgency. There is a job to be done: witnessing about Jesus. But those who are going to make testimony are on the clock, and the hours are ticking away. Furthermore, if Jesus is the "Day of the Lord," and his first coming inaugurated the blessings of the messianic age, his second coming will finalize the judgments of God on all that is evil and sinful. Therefore, the work to be done is critical in changing the eternal outcomes for all who live in these times.
Third, Luke spends a little time again on his grand theme of the fellowship of the worshiping community. In his gospel, Luke began with a scene of worship in the temple (Luke 1) and ended with a similar incident (Luke 24). Moreover, the early chapters of the gospel were filled with songs and prayers (Zechariah, Mary, the angels, Simeon). Now again, Luke introduces the great work of Jesus through the church by the power of the Holy Spirit with a scene of worshiping fellowship and prayer. What is interesting this time is that it does not take place in the temple. For good reason, of course -- from this time forward the strategy of the mission of God changes. No longer is the divine intent to bring nations to Israel and the temple to view the glory of the creator there. Instead, the worshiping fellowship will be dispersed among the nations of the world, and people will find God in these pockets of prayer and praise called the church.
Luke certainly wants to keep the focus on the events in this dimension. But it is also wonderful to use his ascension story to imagine what happened in heaven that day. Can you see the angels welcoming back their creator who has become their ward under protection? Can you imagine the tear in the eye of the Father as the Son returns in humble triumph after changing the course of human history, as well as sealing the blessed fate of the stars and galaxies? Can you feel the resonant praise of celestial choirs in the celebration that reverberated to the far reaches of the expanding universe? Can you sense the awe of the archangel Michael as he touched the scars in the human flesh that was now forever wedded to the Son's divine nature? Chuck Girard's great song "Hear The Angels Sing" seems to fit the atmosphere of the occasion.
1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11
Peter was probably aware of the great suffering that was about to unfold as the ominous winds of Nero's power whipped the Roman world. While he begins writing in powerful terms of the great salvation recently brought to humankind through Jesus, and irreversibly guaranteed, by way of both Jesus' resurrection and ascension, for those who believe (1 Peter 1:3-12), he quickly moves on to an extended exhortation to holy living, because these believers in Jesus are God's special people (1 Peter 1:13--2:10), who follow in the footsteps of Jesus (1 Peter 2:11--3:12), and must face, with their master, the sufferings that will fall on all his disciples in these challenging times (1 Peter 3:12--4:19). The tone of Peter's letter is troubled. There is an ominous pall of suffering that clouds every perspective. Jesus suffered. You will suffer, if you are faithful. You must follow Jesus in and through suffering. New trials and greater suffering are coming.
Yet, through the murky shrieks and dark valleys, Peter never loses confidence in God's sovereignty or care. This is the constant underlying theme. Especially in the verses of today's lectionary reading, Peter declares that God is judge of evil, faithful creator, and the chief shepherd who will soon bring untarnishing crowns of glory for those who remain true.
This is an important message, particularly in light of the warnings Peter issues about the wiles of the devil. Persistence often conquers resistance, especially as cunning as the evil one can be. Offering pleasures that appear harmless, they are usually ultimately deadly. Following the path of least resistance, as one person put it, is what makes people and rivers crooked.
We need to learn resistance in many ways in order to survive in life. When two Russian cosmonauts returned to earth in 1982 after 211 days in space, they suffered from dizziness, high pulse rates, and heart palpitations. They couldn't walk for a week. A month later they were still undergoing therapy for atrophied muscles and weakened hearts. In the zero gravity of outer space, their muscles had begun to waste away. Scientists had to design "resistance suits" to counteract the unseen predator. Only with resistance applied against the muscles of the body could they remain strong.
Ben Weir, in his book, Hostage Bound, Hostage Free (Westminster, 1987), translated this into spiritual terms. He documented the inner resistance that saved his life. During his many months of captivity in Beirut there was a constant nagging to give in to depression and give up to despair. Although his situation was excessive, far beyond that which we normally face, it condensed into eighteen months the wasting that can happen in any spirit over the years. Charles Darwin, who grew up in a strong Presbyterian home, said, in his later years, that he never rejected the Christian faith; instead, he said, it gradually lost its importance to him as he ceased to use it -- no resistance, no resurgence - - no test, no tensile -- no effort, no energy.
Someone told me recently of a young man who was buying his own clothes in preparation for college. He asked a sales clerk what the tag meant when it said "Shrink Resistant." The clerk replied, "Even though that shirt doesn't want to shrink, it will!"
Most of us could wear a label like that on our souls. Only the disciplines of faith cause it to fall off as our resistance to the devil grows.
John 17:1-11
In many respects, this chapter can more appropriately be called "The Lord's Prayer" than the other familiar lines that usually go by that name. Here, Jesus bares his soul before his Father and his disciples in a truly powerful and passionate expression of love and commitment. There are two overarching themes throughout the prayer: unity and mission. Both of these come together in the word Jesus repeatedly uses: glory. The Father lives in splendid glory from before all time. Jesus shares the Father's glory. Jesus came to earth on a mission of revealing the Father's glory in the world darkened by sin, particularly to his disciples. Now Jesus is sending his disciples out to continue that mission, and only the glory of God can bind them together and to heaven's purpose.
They will need Jesus' prayers; though their cause is great, the pitfalls are plentiful. Fred Craddock, retired professor of homiletics at Emory University, says we all have this glorious image of ourselves when we first stand up and confess Jesus Christ, like Jesus' own disciples. Craddock says that it is as if we have been given a brand-new starched and stiff $1,000 bill. We take it to Jesus and shout, "Here! Here's my life! Here's my wealth! Here's all of my being! Take me, Jesus! I give myself to you!"
Jesus takes our bright and shiny and crinkly $1,000 bill. But then he hands it back to us. "Go to the bank," he says. "Cash it in for nickels and dimes."
When we do that, coming home with buckets and baskets and wheelbarrows of coins, he says to us, "Now give me fifteen cents a day for the rest of your life."
All excited, we start out with a flourish. A nickel and a dime, set aside each morning. But there are always so many other things to buy, so many other toys to play with, and soon the nickels and dimes are gone. So is our faith. And so is our uncompromising devotion. Like the beggars on the street, we walk around with limp hands and feeble hearts.
It's easy to love your spouse on the day of your wedding. It's easy to make commitments for a lifetime in the heat of passion. It's easy to soar on a blazing glory star of faith when you join the church. But the world around says: "You'll never make it. You'll never keep your vows. You'll never last."
Jesus knew this about the twelve he had gathered as his own. He also knows it about us, and that is why John included this prayer in his gospel. We have to know how hard Jesus is wrestling for us and our passions. When Jesus asks us for a slow and steady devotion rather than a martyr's burst of passion, we often die inch by inch, a nickel and a dime at a time.
One mother tells this story about her son. He earned a little spending money every winter by shoveling snow from people's driveways. He walks up and down their street. One morning, after a heavy snowfall, he seemed awfully slow in leaving the house. She asked him if there was anything wrong. "No," he said, "I'm just waiting until people get started. I get most of my jobs from people who want to quit halfway through."
Jesus wants to make sure his disciples are going for the goal. He pleads with the Father that they won't drop out of the race. Jesus knows that they will be knocked down by their own pride and passions now and again, and sometimes by the storms of others. But Jesus begs for the power of God to get them up and running again, a nickel and dime each morning, and heading for the finish line of God's glory.
How does that happen? In a sense, Jesus wants to inspire them with the kind of "magnificent obsession" that author Lloyd Douglas wrote about in his novel of that name. The book is about a fellow named Robert Merrick. He's young. He's rich. He's drunk. Life is a game for him, a game of using people and tossing them aside. A game of playing with his toys in his self-centered world.
Then it happens: He's out on his yacht; the wind catches the sail and throws the boom at him; he falls into the water, unconscious, and is rescued, barely alive. At the same moment, a world-famous doctor, dedicated, devoted, a saver of lives, drowns in a freak accident just down the beach. Young Merrick lies in the hospital. His eyes are closed, and everybody thinks he's unconscious. Two nurses stand over him and one shakes her head.
"What a tragedy ..." she says. "A great man who saves lives [is] lost, and this fellow, who never did any good for anybody, [is] saved!"
Merrick knows it's true. He's alive, but he's never really lived. He was pulled from the water, but for no good reason. In that moment, in that instant of judgment, Merrick gains his "magnificent obsession." He'll go to university. He'll get a degree in medicine. He'll take the doctor's place. He'll save lives and begin to truly live himself.
A magnificent obsession! A purpose for which to live and a cause for which to die. That's the atmosphere that pervades Jesus' prayer. My Father! The glory of God! Jesus' magnificent obsession carries him and those who are his on from glory to glory (2 Corinthians 3:18).
Application
Richard Mouw, in his book, Calvinism in the Las Vegas Airport, mentions a conversation with an immigrant from eastern Europe. He had asked her where she was from, and she told him all about her former community, family, and especially her grandmother. When she turned the tables and asked him where he was from, he said, "Oh, a suburb of Los Angeles." But that meant nothing to her.
"No!" she said. "Where are you from? Who was your grandmother?" She meant to get at the culture that made him the person he was today.
So with these lectionary passages. The goal is to get our people to know who they are, whose they are, and to claim that identity as their primary point of reference in all things.
Alternative Application
Acts 1:6-14. If you did not yet celebrate Jesus' ascension, today is the day to make use of Acts 1 and talk about Jesus' finished work, his coronation day in heaven, and the trust he bestows on his church as we carry on with the transforming mission of God's evangelistic grace.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 68:1-10, 32-35
What are the attributes of God? Sitting in the midst of fifteen or twenty children each Sunday, the pastor asks these questions, "What is God like? How would you describe God?" One child's hand shoots up and he squeals out, "God is huge!" True. God is huge. So huge, in fact, that mere human capacity cannot comprehend even a portion of the reality of God. Another repeats the nearly vapid Sunday school aphorism that "God is love!" Also true. But the mining of 1 John is a mighty task not likely to be accomplished during the children's sermon. The pastor's own son looks slyly as his hand moves upward. "God," he says, "has a big, fat behind!"
After the waves of laughter coming from across the church begin to subside, and the pastor sets aside thoughts of revenge regarding his son, it begins to dawn on him that this is a nearly pointless exercise. Our nearly endless attempts to quantify and categorize God are about as laughable as the young boy's comment about God's posterior. There is no way to get a handle on the awesome reality of the divine. There is no possible arrangement of verbiage that can describe it.
But this much we can harvest from scripture. This much we can glean from 5,000 years of Judeo-Christian heritage. This much is clear. God is about justice. God is, as this psalm points out to us, "a father to orphans and protector of widows." God houses the homeless and leads the prisoners out of their cells into prosperity, and God sets the bar for "his" people, calling them to be the agents of this justice.
Across the landscape of our sacred texts this theme is steady. It soars above our private religiosity and mocks us as century after century we continue in our comical efforts to place the holy in a box that we can both define and therefore control. It is all rather pointless.
The bottom line, as far as the God of Israel is concerned, is justice. Eugene Peterson's "Message" paraphrases Amos 5:24 and pulls out the essence of it. "Do you know what I want? I want justice -- oceans of it. I want fairness -- Rivers of it. That's what I want. That's all I want."
This psalm grasps this fundamental nature of God and chooses to celebrate it. It is a celebration that might well suit us today.
In a sense, that is what each of today's lectionary passages wants to have happen in the Christian's life. Only when we are uniquely and overwhelmingly connected to the music of eternity, and live in the reality of God's glory, can we keep our purpose and identity true (Acts 1), avoid the wiles of the devil (1 Peter 4-5), and nurture a passion that shines with God's own glory (John 17).
Acts 1:6-14
The existence of the Christian church is rooted in several theological declarations. First, we believe that there is a God who created this world and uniquely fashioned our human race with attributes that reflect its maker. Second, through human willfulness the world lost its pristine vitality, and is now caught up in a civil war against its creator. Third, by intruding directly into human affairs for the sake of reclaiming and restoring the world, the creator began a mission of redemption and renewal through the nation of Israel, shaped by the suzerain-vassal covenant formed at Mount Sinai and positioned at the crossroads of global societies as a witness to all peoples. Fourth, because of the inadequacy of this method of operations as the human race expanded rapidly, the creator revised the divine missional strategy, and interrupted human history again in the person of Jesus, who embodied the divine essence, taught the divine will, and through whose death and resurrection established a new understanding of eschatological hope. Fifth, the coming of this messianic age was foretold by the prophets of Israel who called it the "Day of the Lord," and identified its three major aspects: divine judgment on the sins of all nations (including Israel); the sparing of a remnant from Israel who would be the restored seed community of a new global divine initiative; and the coming of the eschatological messianic age in which righteousness and justice would renew both human society and the natural order so that people could again live out their intended purposes and destinies. Sixth, Jesus split this "Day of the Lord" in two, bringing the beginnings of its eternal blessings while withholding the full impact of divine judgment for a time. Seventh, the Christian church is God's new agent for global missional recovery and restoration for the human race.
Each of these themes is implied or explicit in the first two chapters of the book of the Acts of the Apostles. God and sin and the divine mission are all part of the fabric, while Israel's role in the divine mission, along with the changing strategies, is declared openly. Jesus is at the center of all these things, but the unique divine intrusion he brought into the human race is now being withdrawn, and the church must become the ongoing embodiment of Jesus' life and teachings so that it may live out the divine mission until the remainder of the "Day of the Lord" arrives when Jesus returns.
This is seen in the few, but packed, verses of today's lectionary reading. First, Jesus' disciples are nearly beside themselves with new hope and confidence, now that their rabbi has become a death-defeating powerhouse. They see the future in a limited (mis)understanding of all the promises of the prophets -- Israel restored, victorious over the nations, and re-established as the most glorious and wealthy society on earth. Jesus, however, reads history in a new way, marking the change of divine mission strategy from that tied to the geography of Palestine through Israel's national witness to the dispersion of the church among the nations of the earth.
Second, in Jesus' ascension there is a twofold word of promise. On the one hand, Jesus' disappearance is a vote of confidence in his disciples. He is affirming that the work he has begun will be in good hands when left with them. In fact, in the early church there was a parabolic teaching that said when Jesus returned to heaven, amid the triumphant praise of the angels, Gabriel asked his master what contingency plan Jesus had left on earth. "Oh," said Jesus, "I've spent a little time with some fishermen and social misfits and housewives, and they will take care of things now."
Gabriel was stunned. "That's not very encouraging," he said. "You were only with them for three years, and most of them ran out on you when things turned tough. Now you leave the whole mission of God in their hands? I don't get it. What's the backup plan?"
But the early church knew Jesus' response. He shook his head slowly, with a smile, and said, "There is no backup plan. They won't fail. They're my people, and I trust them. I trust them."
On the other hand, Jesus' ascension is stage-managed by "two men dressed in white" who announce the end already at the beginning, by promising the Lord's planned return. In this way, Luke communicates the message that the church lives under eschatological urgency. There is a job to be done: witnessing about Jesus. But those who are going to make testimony are on the clock, and the hours are ticking away. Furthermore, if Jesus is the "Day of the Lord," and his first coming inaugurated the blessings of the messianic age, his second coming will finalize the judgments of God on all that is evil and sinful. Therefore, the work to be done is critical in changing the eternal outcomes for all who live in these times.
Third, Luke spends a little time again on his grand theme of the fellowship of the worshiping community. In his gospel, Luke began with a scene of worship in the temple (Luke 1) and ended with a similar incident (Luke 24). Moreover, the early chapters of the gospel were filled with songs and prayers (Zechariah, Mary, the angels, Simeon). Now again, Luke introduces the great work of Jesus through the church by the power of the Holy Spirit with a scene of worshiping fellowship and prayer. What is interesting this time is that it does not take place in the temple. For good reason, of course -- from this time forward the strategy of the mission of God changes. No longer is the divine intent to bring nations to Israel and the temple to view the glory of the creator there. Instead, the worshiping fellowship will be dispersed among the nations of the world, and people will find God in these pockets of prayer and praise called the church.
Luke certainly wants to keep the focus on the events in this dimension. But it is also wonderful to use his ascension story to imagine what happened in heaven that day. Can you see the angels welcoming back their creator who has become their ward under protection? Can you imagine the tear in the eye of the Father as the Son returns in humble triumph after changing the course of human history, as well as sealing the blessed fate of the stars and galaxies? Can you feel the resonant praise of celestial choirs in the celebration that reverberated to the far reaches of the expanding universe? Can you sense the awe of the archangel Michael as he touched the scars in the human flesh that was now forever wedded to the Son's divine nature? Chuck Girard's great song "Hear The Angels Sing" seems to fit the atmosphere of the occasion.
1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11
Peter was probably aware of the great suffering that was about to unfold as the ominous winds of Nero's power whipped the Roman world. While he begins writing in powerful terms of the great salvation recently brought to humankind through Jesus, and irreversibly guaranteed, by way of both Jesus' resurrection and ascension, for those who believe (1 Peter 1:3-12), he quickly moves on to an extended exhortation to holy living, because these believers in Jesus are God's special people (1 Peter 1:13--2:10), who follow in the footsteps of Jesus (1 Peter 2:11--3:12), and must face, with their master, the sufferings that will fall on all his disciples in these challenging times (1 Peter 3:12--4:19). The tone of Peter's letter is troubled. There is an ominous pall of suffering that clouds every perspective. Jesus suffered. You will suffer, if you are faithful. You must follow Jesus in and through suffering. New trials and greater suffering are coming.
Yet, through the murky shrieks and dark valleys, Peter never loses confidence in God's sovereignty or care. This is the constant underlying theme. Especially in the verses of today's lectionary reading, Peter declares that God is judge of evil, faithful creator, and the chief shepherd who will soon bring untarnishing crowns of glory for those who remain true.
This is an important message, particularly in light of the warnings Peter issues about the wiles of the devil. Persistence often conquers resistance, especially as cunning as the evil one can be. Offering pleasures that appear harmless, they are usually ultimately deadly. Following the path of least resistance, as one person put it, is what makes people and rivers crooked.
We need to learn resistance in many ways in order to survive in life. When two Russian cosmonauts returned to earth in 1982 after 211 days in space, they suffered from dizziness, high pulse rates, and heart palpitations. They couldn't walk for a week. A month later they were still undergoing therapy for atrophied muscles and weakened hearts. In the zero gravity of outer space, their muscles had begun to waste away. Scientists had to design "resistance suits" to counteract the unseen predator. Only with resistance applied against the muscles of the body could they remain strong.
Ben Weir, in his book, Hostage Bound, Hostage Free (Westminster, 1987), translated this into spiritual terms. He documented the inner resistance that saved his life. During his many months of captivity in Beirut there was a constant nagging to give in to depression and give up to despair. Although his situation was excessive, far beyond that which we normally face, it condensed into eighteen months the wasting that can happen in any spirit over the years. Charles Darwin, who grew up in a strong Presbyterian home, said, in his later years, that he never rejected the Christian faith; instead, he said, it gradually lost its importance to him as he ceased to use it -- no resistance, no resurgence - - no test, no tensile -- no effort, no energy.
Someone told me recently of a young man who was buying his own clothes in preparation for college. He asked a sales clerk what the tag meant when it said "Shrink Resistant." The clerk replied, "Even though that shirt doesn't want to shrink, it will!"
Most of us could wear a label like that on our souls. Only the disciplines of faith cause it to fall off as our resistance to the devil grows.
John 17:1-11
In many respects, this chapter can more appropriately be called "The Lord's Prayer" than the other familiar lines that usually go by that name. Here, Jesus bares his soul before his Father and his disciples in a truly powerful and passionate expression of love and commitment. There are two overarching themes throughout the prayer: unity and mission. Both of these come together in the word Jesus repeatedly uses: glory. The Father lives in splendid glory from before all time. Jesus shares the Father's glory. Jesus came to earth on a mission of revealing the Father's glory in the world darkened by sin, particularly to his disciples. Now Jesus is sending his disciples out to continue that mission, and only the glory of God can bind them together and to heaven's purpose.
They will need Jesus' prayers; though their cause is great, the pitfalls are plentiful. Fred Craddock, retired professor of homiletics at Emory University, says we all have this glorious image of ourselves when we first stand up and confess Jesus Christ, like Jesus' own disciples. Craddock says that it is as if we have been given a brand-new starched and stiff $1,000 bill. We take it to Jesus and shout, "Here! Here's my life! Here's my wealth! Here's all of my being! Take me, Jesus! I give myself to you!"
Jesus takes our bright and shiny and crinkly $1,000 bill. But then he hands it back to us. "Go to the bank," he says. "Cash it in for nickels and dimes."
When we do that, coming home with buckets and baskets and wheelbarrows of coins, he says to us, "Now give me fifteen cents a day for the rest of your life."
All excited, we start out with a flourish. A nickel and a dime, set aside each morning. But there are always so many other things to buy, so many other toys to play with, and soon the nickels and dimes are gone. So is our faith. And so is our uncompromising devotion. Like the beggars on the street, we walk around with limp hands and feeble hearts.
It's easy to love your spouse on the day of your wedding. It's easy to make commitments for a lifetime in the heat of passion. It's easy to soar on a blazing glory star of faith when you join the church. But the world around says: "You'll never make it. You'll never keep your vows. You'll never last."
Jesus knew this about the twelve he had gathered as his own. He also knows it about us, and that is why John included this prayer in his gospel. We have to know how hard Jesus is wrestling for us and our passions. When Jesus asks us for a slow and steady devotion rather than a martyr's burst of passion, we often die inch by inch, a nickel and a dime at a time.
One mother tells this story about her son. He earned a little spending money every winter by shoveling snow from people's driveways. He walks up and down their street. One morning, after a heavy snowfall, he seemed awfully slow in leaving the house. She asked him if there was anything wrong. "No," he said, "I'm just waiting until people get started. I get most of my jobs from people who want to quit halfway through."
Jesus wants to make sure his disciples are going for the goal. He pleads with the Father that they won't drop out of the race. Jesus knows that they will be knocked down by their own pride and passions now and again, and sometimes by the storms of others. But Jesus begs for the power of God to get them up and running again, a nickel and dime each morning, and heading for the finish line of God's glory.
How does that happen? In a sense, Jesus wants to inspire them with the kind of "magnificent obsession" that author Lloyd Douglas wrote about in his novel of that name. The book is about a fellow named Robert Merrick. He's young. He's rich. He's drunk. Life is a game for him, a game of using people and tossing them aside. A game of playing with his toys in his self-centered world.
Then it happens: He's out on his yacht; the wind catches the sail and throws the boom at him; he falls into the water, unconscious, and is rescued, barely alive. At the same moment, a world-famous doctor, dedicated, devoted, a saver of lives, drowns in a freak accident just down the beach. Young Merrick lies in the hospital. His eyes are closed, and everybody thinks he's unconscious. Two nurses stand over him and one shakes her head.
"What a tragedy ..." she says. "A great man who saves lives [is] lost, and this fellow, who never did any good for anybody, [is] saved!"
Merrick knows it's true. He's alive, but he's never really lived. He was pulled from the water, but for no good reason. In that moment, in that instant of judgment, Merrick gains his "magnificent obsession." He'll go to university. He'll get a degree in medicine. He'll take the doctor's place. He'll save lives and begin to truly live himself.
A magnificent obsession! A purpose for which to live and a cause for which to die. That's the atmosphere that pervades Jesus' prayer. My Father! The glory of God! Jesus' magnificent obsession carries him and those who are his on from glory to glory (2 Corinthians 3:18).
Application
Richard Mouw, in his book, Calvinism in the Las Vegas Airport, mentions a conversation with an immigrant from eastern Europe. He had asked her where she was from, and she told him all about her former community, family, and especially her grandmother. When she turned the tables and asked him where he was from, he said, "Oh, a suburb of Los Angeles." But that meant nothing to her.
"No!" she said. "Where are you from? Who was your grandmother?" She meant to get at the culture that made him the person he was today.
So with these lectionary passages. The goal is to get our people to know who they are, whose they are, and to claim that identity as their primary point of reference in all things.
Alternative Application
Acts 1:6-14. If you did not yet celebrate Jesus' ascension, today is the day to make use of Acts 1 and talk about Jesus' finished work, his coronation day in heaven, and the trust he bestows on his church as we carry on with the transforming mission of God's evangelistic grace.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 68:1-10, 32-35
What are the attributes of God? Sitting in the midst of fifteen or twenty children each Sunday, the pastor asks these questions, "What is God like? How would you describe God?" One child's hand shoots up and he squeals out, "God is huge!" True. God is huge. So huge, in fact, that mere human capacity cannot comprehend even a portion of the reality of God. Another repeats the nearly vapid Sunday school aphorism that "God is love!" Also true. But the mining of 1 John is a mighty task not likely to be accomplished during the children's sermon. The pastor's own son looks slyly as his hand moves upward. "God," he says, "has a big, fat behind!"
After the waves of laughter coming from across the church begin to subside, and the pastor sets aside thoughts of revenge regarding his son, it begins to dawn on him that this is a nearly pointless exercise. Our nearly endless attempts to quantify and categorize God are about as laughable as the young boy's comment about God's posterior. There is no way to get a handle on the awesome reality of the divine. There is no possible arrangement of verbiage that can describe it.
But this much we can harvest from scripture. This much we can glean from 5,000 years of Judeo-Christian heritage. This much is clear. God is about justice. God is, as this psalm points out to us, "a father to orphans and protector of widows." God houses the homeless and leads the prisoners out of their cells into prosperity, and God sets the bar for "his" people, calling them to be the agents of this justice.
Across the landscape of our sacred texts this theme is steady. It soars above our private religiosity and mocks us as century after century we continue in our comical efforts to place the holy in a box that we can both define and therefore control. It is all rather pointless.
The bottom line, as far as the God of Israel is concerned, is justice. Eugene Peterson's "Message" paraphrases Amos 5:24 and pulls out the essence of it. "Do you know what I want? I want justice -- oceans of it. I want fairness -- Rivers of it. That's what I want. That's all I want."
This psalm grasps this fundamental nature of God and chooses to celebrate it. It is a celebration that might well suit us today.
