Judgment
Commentary
These are hard texts and no responsible exegete can make them easy. If one is looking for good news to preach, it will most likely be found in the second reading, though it lurks around the edges of the other two lessons as well. The theme of the day is Judgment -- judgment that destroys so God can create (first reading), judgment that tries and perfects our faith (second reading), and judgment that divides even our families (Gospel lesson). In no instance is God's judgment pleasant to receive, but in every case it establishes justice, brings in the kingdom, and takes us paradoxically closer to where we finally want to be.
Isaiah 5:1-7
Supposedly, someone once remarked to Mark Twain that they were troubled by all the passages in the Bible which are difficult to understand. "Really?" the wit replied. "I've always been more bothered by the ones that are perfectly clear."
The Song of the Vineyard is a parable requiring little explanation. God has planted a vineyard, cared for it tenderly, and yet it has failed to produce fruit. Perhaps worse, as though to mock, it has produced worthless fruit. So, it has been a waste, and now God will leave it to whatever befalls, remove the walls that protect it, quit pruning it, and just leave it to the thorns that grow, the beasts that trample, whatever.
Verse 7 is probably unnecessary. Who could fail to get the point? But just in case, Isaiah makes it "perfectly clear." The vineyard is Israel. The fruit God wanted was justice. Israel has not produced justice, so now God will abandon Israel. As such, the message seems devoid of hope, but in context, God has already promised in the preceding chapter that a remnant will be spared so that life may begin anew.
The first verse of the song has the prophet referring to God as "my beloved," a term that normally one would use for a spouse or romantic partner. Many critics are amazed by this, possibly because they do not think this way about God themselves. But pietists are nothing new and this sort of language has been used by numerous saints throughout history (Bernard of Clarivaux comes to mind). Isaiah's reference to God as his beloved is similar to Paul's view of Christ as his (that is, the church's) Bridegroom.
In any case, the third verse shifts from speaking in the prophet's voice to speaking with God's own voice, a move that is not rare for prophetic oracles. Thus, a subtle shift in intensity: we were hearing about God; now, suddenly we are hearing from God. The oracle of doom is left ringing in our ears, as we realize the awful consequences of judgment.
Hebrews 11:29--12:2
The roll call of faith begun in last week's second lesson continues today. The author of Hebrews cites key events from Israel's history (the exodus and the conquest), samples names of judges, kings, and prophets, and moves on through events of the Hasmonean period to the present day. The point is to assure us that we are surrounded by a "great cloud of witnesses" whose faith is testimony to the truth of God's promise (Hebrews 11:1).
A couple of further observations are in order: the naming of individuals (especially in v. 32) seems almost random, as though many more could be summoned. The people named are not necessarily prominent biblical figures, nor are they even particularly godly (Barak? Jephthah? Rahab?). They are singled out for one trait only -- their faith. So, today, we may know persons whose confidence in God is staggering, even if their judgment or character or theology sometimes leaves something to be desired.
The first part of the list reads like an endorsement for a success-oriented "theology of glory." We are reminded of the great accomplishments that people of faith have achieved -- in particular, of how, through faith, they have escaped suffering, trial, and trouble. But just as we get our theological hackles up and begin to suspect the scriptures of sounding un-Lutheran, the text turns a corner. "Others," it begins in the middle of verse 35, benefitted differently. They did suffer, and terribly: torture, martyrdom, poverty, exile. They were not spared because of their faith, but sustained by it.
The text sums up its description of these saints with a phrase: those "of whom the world was not worthy" (v. 38). I am reminded of Don McLean's tribute to Vincent Van Gogh: "This world was just not meant for one as beautiful as you." (Of course, the world was meant for beauty and faith, but it has not always proven worthy of either.)
Then, as we move into Chapter 12, the author caps the roll call of faith with the quintessential example, perhaps the only one he needed to mention: Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, that is, the one who begins it and will bring it to completion (Philippians 1:6). We learn something about Jesus' passion here that is not revealed anywhere else in the Bible, namely the strength that enabled him to endure the cross. It was "the joy set before him." He committed himself to this cross out of an absolute obedience to God's will. But he found the strength to fulfill this commitment by focusing on what he would gain from it. What was that? Not eternal life in heaven, for that had been his already. Rather, I think, eternal life with us (compare 11:40). We are his joy, his sustenance.
Now, we are to look to this Jesus, focus on him as he did on us, for he is our joy and the source of our faith.
Luke 12:49-56
The judgment theme of the Vineyard Song resounds in this lesson as well, but here the goal is clearly not ultimate destruction but refinement. Jesus says that he has come to bring fire to the earth. In biblical imagery, this is a symbol for trials that test and, possibly, purify. Here, the fire will have the effect of separation, of division. Some will benefit from it; others will not.
Verses 52-53 shock our sense of "family values." They must have been shocking to Jesus' original audience as well, in a culture where parent-child relationships were especially sacred (and the extended family held in closer esteem than in our day). Surely he does not mean that such divisions are a good thing. They are simply inevitable. When people of faith are put to the test, some pass, some fail. Every family that feels the fire can attest to these effects.
We rejoice to hear (in the second lesson) that Jesus is "the perfecter of our faith" until, now, we discover that this may be how he perfects it. What if our family were to suffer the kinds of things described in Hebrews 11:35-38? There is a certain expectation (a cliche) that shared suffering can become a bond that holds people together. Perhaps it can, but the social reality is that, more often, it divides. At the very least, it divides those who are strengthened by it from those who are devastated, those who find their faith from those who lose it.
What hope do we have in response to so dreadful a word? Two points: First (and, I admit, I need more than this), Jesus brings his followers into a new family -- the mighty cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1) replaces the children or parents who turn away. This notion of the Church as a substitute family has been a powerful concept in cultures where individuals may literally be disowned or shunned for becoming Christians. The time has come for it to be emphasized in American Christianity as well. Regardless of whether they have been explicitly "disowned," many of our members do not have a functional family unit to which they can relate. Jesus expects the church to provide them with one (Mark 10:28-30).
The issues that divide today's families may not be overtly confessional ("I believe in Jesus; you don't"), but they are crises of faith. The stress of life, the fire that has come upon the earth, has put us all to the test, and many have been found wanting. The alcoholics, the adulterers, the abusers ... all those who have failed to "lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely" ... these may be ones who have fallen behind in the race we are to run with perseverance, who may even have dropped out altogether. In any case, they now stand apart from those who fare better. So, families are divided by sin. The church can offer healing to some such families, but, in many instances, it can only be the family that the orphaned and the abandoned otherwise lack.
Still, as a second point, what is to become of the losers? If I care about them, can I just let them go ... my parents or my children? Can I shrug off the tragedy that their faith was not more sure or their trial less severe, taking comfort in the surrogate family of the church? Eventually, perhaps, that is all I can do, but I take comfort in verse 50. Jesus comes not only to cast fire on the earth but also to undergo his own baptism of suffering. If all were to pass through the fire he casts successfully, it seems that his own baptism by fire would be unnecessary. I need to remember that he suffered not only to set an example that inspires some to make it through their trials, but also as an atonement, even for those who don't.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
Isaiah 5:1-7
This passage is famously known as Isaiah's "Song of the Vineyard." It begins with the prophet singing, in what we would describe as troubadour-fashion, a love song about his dod, his friend, the beloved. Everyone is interested in a love affair, of course, and so the song is intended to capture the interest of Isaiah's listeners.
The story that the song tells is simple. The beloved had a vineyard, upon which he lavished the most careful attention, clearing the ground, planting it with choice vines, building a watchtower to guard against wild animals, and even preparing a wine-vat in anticipation of an abundant grape harvest. The beloved therefore expected the vineyard to yield choice grapes, anabim. Instead its grapes were wild, beesim, bitter and full of seeds. (The poem consistently gives contrasts by using Hebrew words that sound very much alike, but that have exactly the opposite meaning.)
Thus, as with a parable, the prophet's listeners are asked to make a decision. Was there anything more that the beloved could do for his vineyard? Obviously, the answer is no. The listeners are undoubtedly disgusted with such an unproductive crop. (Cf. the same device used by the prophet Nathan to arouse David's indignation in 2 Samuel 12:1-7.)
The result is that the beloved will stop caring for the vineyard, will break down its wall, let it be trampled and devoured by animals, and -- most astounding of all -- command the clouds to hold back their rain! With that sentence, the listeners are brought up short. Only God can command the rain, and the prophet's audience suddenly realizes that the love song has been about the Lord and his people Israel. The beloved is God in his constant and intimate care for his chosen folk, and Israel is his vineyard. That latter is a figure often used throughout the Bible (cf. Jeremiah 2:21; Psalm 80:8-16; Mark 12:1-11; John 15:1). And the final stanza of the song spells out that meaning. God looked for Israel to bring forth justice, mispat, and instead it produced bloodshed, mispah. He expected from Israel righteousness, sedaqah, and got the cry, seqah, of the oppressed and poor instead.
It is not difficult to see ourselves in this song, for God has been our beloved, the one who loves us, for a very long time, has he not? Think of all the intimate care he has lavished upon us from our beginning. Job tells us that it was God who shaped us so carefully in our mothers' wombs (Job 10:8-11), and then he brought us forth and gave us our breath of life, marking each one of us with our own individuality and fingerprints and DNA like no other. He was with us through all of our youth, though perhaps we did not know it, and now, says the Psalmist, he is acquainted with all of our ways, knowing when we sit down and when we rise (Psalm 139:2-3), surrounding us with his mercy as if with air. God even numbers the hairs of our heads, Jesus teaches (Matthew 10:30 and par.), and he knows our needs before we ever ask.
God loves us so much that, seeing our sins, our desperations, our deaths that would separate us from him, he sent his beloved Son to take all of our miseries upon himself, dying that we might live with our God. And then God raised that Son and gave us the promise of eternal life with him in glory. All, all of that has been love poured out upon this congregation assembled here this morning.
And what has God expected from us in response to his amazing love? Surely he can do no more for our abundant benefit than he has already done. So what should be our love in return for his love? Gratitude, dear vineyard of the Lord, gratitude. Thankfulness which issues in the will to praise and serve our Lord of love all our days. Gratitude which honors his loving lordship over our lives and tries each day to walk in the ways of goodness and justice and peace which he has set out before us. Loving us with all his mighty heart, God expects from us love and obedience to him with all our hearts and might, in everything we do. That is the "reasonable service" of anyone who loves the Lord (cf. Romans 12:1-3).
Lutheran Option, Jeremiah 23:23-29
This is a dangerous passage for a minister to preach, because it is dealing with false prophecy. It comes at the end of the collection of Jeremiah's oracles on the false prophets (Jeremiah 23:9-32), and it deals with those prophets who have been preaching "peace, peace" to the people of Judah, when the people actually have no peace with God (cf. 6:14; 8:11).
Ignoring the people's sin and the coming judgment of God upon it, the false prophets are like our "therapeutic preachers" of today. Their aim is to make their audience feel good about themselves, assuring the people that all is well, and that God accepts and loves them just the way they are, with no necessity for the listeners to change their ways.
But, says Jeremiah, the false prophets are saying, "Thus says the Lord," when the Lord has not sent them (Jeremiah 23:31-
32). They have not "stood in the council of the Lord to perceive and to hear his word" (23:18). Jeremiah is referring to God's heavenly council (cf. 1 Kings 22:13-28 for the scene). But in our terms, the false prophets have not had that intimate, daily communion with God from which issues true prophetic speech. In fact, the false prophets even steal oracles from one another (Jeremiah 23:30), a practice not unknown in our day among some clergy. Occasionally, whole sermons are clipped out of seminary library books, to be used by preachers. And I personally have heard of preachers who dishonestly use one of my published sermons as their own. We have our own false prophets in our society.
Certainly our society is full of religious messengers these days, those who claim to speak for God, or those who maintain that they have a new revelation from God. Televangelists, authors of religious books, New Age gurus of every sort, feminist re-imaginers, self-appointed "doctors" of theology, media reports -- on every hand, we are barraged with so-called spiritual messages, and it becomes confusing sometimes to know how to separate the true Word of God from the utterances of our present-day false prophets. Those in New Testament times had the same difficulty.
"Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the
spirits to see if they are of God; for many false
prophets have gone out into the world" (1 John 4:1).
And the Book of Deuteronomy found it necessary to give two tests of true prophecy (Deuteronomy 13:1-3; 18:21-22), tests which are still a good measure for us.
First, says Deuteronomy, if a prophet tells you to go after and serve other gods whom you have not known, that is a false prophet and "you shall not listen to the words of that prophet" (Deuteronomy 13:2-3). In short, those of us who follow Jesus Christ know there is one God, the Father of our Lord. He is the God to whose word we cling in faith and obedience. Therefore, when you hear someone tell you that he or she is speaking in the name of the Lord, ask yourself, "Do that person's words accord with the true revelation of God which we have in Jesus Christ? Do they accord with what the universal church everywhere has always believed?"
Second, Deuteronomy says that if a prophet's words come to pass, they are truly the Word of the Lord. Indeed, that is why the oracles of the prophets which we have in the Old Testament have been preserved -- because their words came to pass.
Lying behind that is an understanding of the Word of God. As our text for the day says, in Jeremiah 23:29, the Word of the Lord is like fire, or like a hammer that breaks rock in pieces. The Word of the Lord is powerful; it brings about results. So when you hear someone preaching a message from God these days, ask yourself, "Is this the Word of the same God who overcame sin at the cross of Jesus Christ and who conquered death on Easter morn? Is this the Word of God that created a people and a church and guided them and comforted them, judged them and saved them through all the ages? Or is this some alien word of a false prophet that has no power?" The Word of God does that of which it speaks, and if you line up some modern word of some preacher against the revelation of God in Jesus Christ, given us in the scriptures, you will know if the preacher is a false messenger of God or a true one.
Isaiah 5:1-7
Supposedly, someone once remarked to Mark Twain that they were troubled by all the passages in the Bible which are difficult to understand. "Really?" the wit replied. "I've always been more bothered by the ones that are perfectly clear."
The Song of the Vineyard is a parable requiring little explanation. God has planted a vineyard, cared for it tenderly, and yet it has failed to produce fruit. Perhaps worse, as though to mock, it has produced worthless fruit. So, it has been a waste, and now God will leave it to whatever befalls, remove the walls that protect it, quit pruning it, and just leave it to the thorns that grow, the beasts that trample, whatever.
Verse 7 is probably unnecessary. Who could fail to get the point? But just in case, Isaiah makes it "perfectly clear." The vineyard is Israel. The fruit God wanted was justice. Israel has not produced justice, so now God will abandon Israel. As such, the message seems devoid of hope, but in context, God has already promised in the preceding chapter that a remnant will be spared so that life may begin anew.
The first verse of the song has the prophet referring to God as "my beloved," a term that normally one would use for a spouse or romantic partner. Many critics are amazed by this, possibly because they do not think this way about God themselves. But pietists are nothing new and this sort of language has been used by numerous saints throughout history (Bernard of Clarivaux comes to mind). Isaiah's reference to God as his beloved is similar to Paul's view of Christ as his (that is, the church's) Bridegroom.
In any case, the third verse shifts from speaking in the prophet's voice to speaking with God's own voice, a move that is not rare for prophetic oracles. Thus, a subtle shift in intensity: we were hearing about God; now, suddenly we are hearing from God. The oracle of doom is left ringing in our ears, as we realize the awful consequences of judgment.
Hebrews 11:29--12:2
The roll call of faith begun in last week's second lesson continues today. The author of Hebrews cites key events from Israel's history (the exodus and the conquest), samples names of judges, kings, and prophets, and moves on through events of the Hasmonean period to the present day. The point is to assure us that we are surrounded by a "great cloud of witnesses" whose faith is testimony to the truth of God's promise (Hebrews 11:1).
A couple of further observations are in order: the naming of individuals (especially in v. 32) seems almost random, as though many more could be summoned. The people named are not necessarily prominent biblical figures, nor are they even particularly godly (Barak? Jephthah? Rahab?). They are singled out for one trait only -- their faith. So, today, we may know persons whose confidence in God is staggering, even if their judgment or character or theology sometimes leaves something to be desired.
The first part of the list reads like an endorsement for a success-oriented "theology of glory." We are reminded of the great accomplishments that people of faith have achieved -- in particular, of how, through faith, they have escaped suffering, trial, and trouble. But just as we get our theological hackles up and begin to suspect the scriptures of sounding un-Lutheran, the text turns a corner. "Others," it begins in the middle of verse 35, benefitted differently. They did suffer, and terribly: torture, martyrdom, poverty, exile. They were not spared because of their faith, but sustained by it.
The text sums up its description of these saints with a phrase: those "of whom the world was not worthy" (v. 38). I am reminded of Don McLean's tribute to Vincent Van Gogh: "This world was just not meant for one as beautiful as you." (Of course, the world was meant for beauty and faith, but it has not always proven worthy of either.)
Then, as we move into Chapter 12, the author caps the roll call of faith with the quintessential example, perhaps the only one he needed to mention: Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, that is, the one who begins it and will bring it to completion (Philippians 1:6). We learn something about Jesus' passion here that is not revealed anywhere else in the Bible, namely the strength that enabled him to endure the cross. It was "the joy set before him." He committed himself to this cross out of an absolute obedience to God's will. But he found the strength to fulfill this commitment by focusing on what he would gain from it. What was that? Not eternal life in heaven, for that had been his already. Rather, I think, eternal life with us (compare 11:40). We are his joy, his sustenance.
Now, we are to look to this Jesus, focus on him as he did on us, for he is our joy and the source of our faith.
Luke 12:49-56
The judgment theme of the Vineyard Song resounds in this lesson as well, but here the goal is clearly not ultimate destruction but refinement. Jesus says that he has come to bring fire to the earth. In biblical imagery, this is a symbol for trials that test and, possibly, purify. Here, the fire will have the effect of separation, of division. Some will benefit from it; others will not.
Verses 52-53 shock our sense of "family values." They must have been shocking to Jesus' original audience as well, in a culture where parent-child relationships were especially sacred (and the extended family held in closer esteem than in our day). Surely he does not mean that such divisions are a good thing. They are simply inevitable. When people of faith are put to the test, some pass, some fail. Every family that feels the fire can attest to these effects.
We rejoice to hear (in the second lesson) that Jesus is "the perfecter of our faith" until, now, we discover that this may be how he perfects it. What if our family were to suffer the kinds of things described in Hebrews 11:35-38? There is a certain expectation (a cliche) that shared suffering can become a bond that holds people together. Perhaps it can, but the social reality is that, more often, it divides. At the very least, it divides those who are strengthened by it from those who are devastated, those who find their faith from those who lose it.
What hope do we have in response to so dreadful a word? Two points: First (and, I admit, I need more than this), Jesus brings his followers into a new family -- the mighty cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1) replaces the children or parents who turn away. This notion of the Church as a substitute family has been a powerful concept in cultures where individuals may literally be disowned or shunned for becoming Christians. The time has come for it to be emphasized in American Christianity as well. Regardless of whether they have been explicitly "disowned," many of our members do not have a functional family unit to which they can relate. Jesus expects the church to provide them with one (Mark 10:28-30).
The issues that divide today's families may not be overtly confessional ("I believe in Jesus; you don't"), but they are crises of faith. The stress of life, the fire that has come upon the earth, has put us all to the test, and many have been found wanting. The alcoholics, the adulterers, the abusers ... all those who have failed to "lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely" ... these may be ones who have fallen behind in the race we are to run with perseverance, who may even have dropped out altogether. In any case, they now stand apart from those who fare better. So, families are divided by sin. The church can offer healing to some such families, but, in many instances, it can only be the family that the orphaned and the abandoned otherwise lack.
Still, as a second point, what is to become of the losers? If I care about them, can I just let them go ... my parents or my children? Can I shrug off the tragedy that their faith was not more sure or their trial less severe, taking comfort in the surrogate family of the church? Eventually, perhaps, that is all I can do, but I take comfort in verse 50. Jesus comes not only to cast fire on the earth but also to undergo his own baptism of suffering. If all were to pass through the fire he casts successfully, it seems that his own baptism by fire would be unnecessary. I need to remember that he suffered not only to set an example that inspires some to make it through their trials, but also as an atonement, even for those who don't.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
Isaiah 5:1-7
This passage is famously known as Isaiah's "Song of the Vineyard." It begins with the prophet singing, in what we would describe as troubadour-fashion, a love song about his dod, his friend, the beloved. Everyone is interested in a love affair, of course, and so the song is intended to capture the interest of Isaiah's listeners.
The story that the song tells is simple. The beloved had a vineyard, upon which he lavished the most careful attention, clearing the ground, planting it with choice vines, building a watchtower to guard against wild animals, and even preparing a wine-vat in anticipation of an abundant grape harvest. The beloved therefore expected the vineyard to yield choice grapes, anabim. Instead its grapes were wild, beesim, bitter and full of seeds. (The poem consistently gives contrasts by using Hebrew words that sound very much alike, but that have exactly the opposite meaning.)
Thus, as with a parable, the prophet's listeners are asked to make a decision. Was there anything more that the beloved could do for his vineyard? Obviously, the answer is no. The listeners are undoubtedly disgusted with such an unproductive crop. (Cf. the same device used by the prophet Nathan to arouse David's indignation in 2 Samuel 12:1-7.)
The result is that the beloved will stop caring for the vineyard, will break down its wall, let it be trampled and devoured by animals, and -- most astounding of all -- command the clouds to hold back their rain! With that sentence, the listeners are brought up short. Only God can command the rain, and the prophet's audience suddenly realizes that the love song has been about the Lord and his people Israel. The beloved is God in his constant and intimate care for his chosen folk, and Israel is his vineyard. That latter is a figure often used throughout the Bible (cf. Jeremiah 2:21; Psalm 80:8-16; Mark 12:1-11; John 15:1). And the final stanza of the song spells out that meaning. God looked for Israel to bring forth justice, mispat, and instead it produced bloodshed, mispah. He expected from Israel righteousness, sedaqah, and got the cry, seqah, of the oppressed and poor instead.
It is not difficult to see ourselves in this song, for God has been our beloved, the one who loves us, for a very long time, has he not? Think of all the intimate care he has lavished upon us from our beginning. Job tells us that it was God who shaped us so carefully in our mothers' wombs (Job 10:8-11), and then he brought us forth and gave us our breath of life, marking each one of us with our own individuality and fingerprints and DNA like no other. He was with us through all of our youth, though perhaps we did not know it, and now, says the Psalmist, he is acquainted with all of our ways, knowing when we sit down and when we rise (Psalm 139:2-3), surrounding us with his mercy as if with air. God even numbers the hairs of our heads, Jesus teaches (Matthew 10:30 and par.), and he knows our needs before we ever ask.
God loves us so much that, seeing our sins, our desperations, our deaths that would separate us from him, he sent his beloved Son to take all of our miseries upon himself, dying that we might live with our God. And then God raised that Son and gave us the promise of eternal life with him in glory. All, all of that has been love poured out upon this congregation assembled here this morning.
And what has God expected from us in response to his amazing love? Surely he can do no more for our abundant benefit than he has already done. So what should be our love in return for his love? Gratitude, dear vineyard of the Lord, gratitude. Thankfulness which issues in the will to praise and serve our Lord of love all our days. Gratitude which honors his loving lordship over our lives and tries each day to walk in the ways of goodness and justice and peace which he has set out before us. Loving us with all his mighty heart, God expects from us love and obedience to him with all our hearts and might, in everything we do. That is the "reasonable service" of anyone who loves the Lord (cf. Romans 12:1-3).
Lutheran Option, Jeremiah 23:23-29
This is a dangerous passage for a minister to preach, because it is dealing with false prophecy. It comes at the end of the collection of Jeremiah's oracles on the false prophets (Jeremiah 23:9-32), and it deals with those prophets who have been preaching "peace, peace" to the people of Judah, when the people actually have no peace with God (cf. 6:14; 8:11).
Ignoring the people's sin and the coming judgment of God upon it, the false prophets are like our "therapeutic preachers" of today. Their aim is to make their audience feel good about themselves, assuring the people that all is well, and that God accepts and loves them just the way they are, with no necessity for the listeners to change their ways.
But, says Jeremiah, the false prophets are saying, "Thus says the Lord," when the Lord has not sent them (Jeremiah 23:31-
32). They have not "stood in the council of the Lord to perceive and to hear his word" (23:18). Jeremiah is referring to God's heavenly council (cf. 1 Kings 22:13-28 for the scene). But in our terms, the false prophets have not had that intimate, daily communion with God from which issues true prophetic speech. In fact, the false prophets even steal oracles from one another (Jeremiah 23:30), a practice not unknown in our day among some clergy. Occasionally, whole sermons are clipped out of seminary library books, to be used by preachers. And I personally have heard of preachers who dishonestly use one of my published sermons as their own. We have our own false prophets in our society.
Certainly our society is full of religious messengers these days, those who claim to speak for God, or those who maintain that they have a new revelation from God. Televangelists, authors of religious books, New Age gurus of every sort, feminist re-imaginers, self-appointed "doctors" of theology, media reports -- on every hand, we are barraged with so-called spiritual messages, and it becomes confusing sometimes to know how to separate the true Word of God from the utterances of our present-day false prophets. Those in New Testament times had the same difficulty.
"Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the
spirits to see if they are of God; for many false
prophets have gone out into the world" (1 John 4:1).
And the Book of Deuteronomy found it necessary to give two tests of true prophecy (Deuteronomy 13:1-3; 18:21-22), tests which are still a good measure for us.
First, says Deuteronomy, if a prophet tells you to go after and serve other gods whom you have not known, that is a false prophet and "you shall not listen to the words of that prophet" (Deuteronomy 13:2-3). In short, those of us who follow Jesus Christ know there is one God, the Father of our Lord. He is the God to whose word we cling in faith and obedience. Therefore, when you hear someone tell you that he or she is speaking in the name of the Lord, ask yourself, "Do that person's words accord with the true revelation of God which we have in Jesus Christ? Do they accord with what the universal church everywhere has always believed?"
Second, Deuteronomy says that if a prophet's words come to pass, they are truly the Word of the Lord. Indeed, that is why the oracles of the prophets which we have in the Old Testament have been preserved -- because their words came to pass.
Lying behind that is an understanding of the Word of God. As our text for the day says, in Jeremiah 23:29, the Word of the Lord is like fire, or like a hammer that breaks rock in pieces. The Word of the Lord is powerful; it brings about results. So when you hear someone preaching a message from God these days, ask yourself, "Is this the Word of the same God who overcame sin at the cross of Jesus Christ and who conquered death on Easter morn? Is this the Word of God that created a people and a church and guided them and comforted them, judged them and saved them through all the ages? Or is this some alien word of a false prophet that has no power?" The Word of God does that of which it speaks, and if you line up some modern word of some preacher against the revelation of God in Jesus Christ, given us in the scriptures, you will know if the preacher is a false messenger of God or a true one.
