Let your light so shine
Commentary
Object:
Sometimes when a certain business -- perhaps an automobile dealership -- is having a big
sale, they will bring searchlights into their parking lot. The lights shine up into the night
sky, drawing attention from miles around. The spectacle will remind some people of the
advertisement or commercial they had seen earlier, while drawing others out of sheer
curiosity.
Let's take that image as a jumping-off point and imagine a larger scene.
You are at a distance -- several miles -- from the business that's having the big promotion. You see the striking searchlight beams scouring the night sky, and you are drawn to find whatever location is the source. As you get closer -- within a few blocks -- you discover more lights. These, however, are not the massive searchlights, but rather they are little luminaries. Candles in bags line the sidewalks for several blocks in every direction from the lot where the great promotion is taking place. They seem to light the path for the neighbors to get to the big event.
When you arrive finally at your destination, you see a third source of light. A large crowd of folks that gathered around holding flashlights and lighters -- like at a concert -- making the immediate area a spectacle of light.
Then, suddenly, the whole scene is overwhelmed by some other light. The area is bathed in light that comes from above. It is a great, brilliant shaft shining down on the location of the big event.
What is this big event? Lights of all sizes draw your attention to it. What is it? It is Jesus. Throughout the three selected lectionary passages for this week, we discover that the big event is Jesus.
Isaiah 42:1-9
This Old Testament passage is simply too rich for our limitations of time and space. For me, the limitation is the space of these pages. And for all of us, come Sunday, the limitation will be the time allotted to the sermon.
The passage comes from what is often identified as the second of three sections of Isaiah -- the portion associated with a message of restoration, hope, and promise for the exiles in Babylon. This lection does, indeed, fit with that broader, contextual theme.
The reference to "my servant" is a common one in the book of Isaiah. Sometimes God's servant is identified in a very specific way, such as Isaiah (20:3), Eliakim (22:20), David (37:35), Jacob (41:8), or Israel (49:3). In several other instances, including our passage, however, the servant is not named. Those anonymous passages often have a messianic ring to them. Indeed, Matthew identifies a portion of Jesus' ministry as fulfillment of this particular servant passage (Matthew 12:15-21).
So it is that we are encouraged to read these verses and think of Jesus.
One phrase that God speaks about Jesus -- "in whom my soul delights" -- is certainly reminiscent of what the Father declares at Jesus' baptism in our gospel lection. Meanwhile, these several phrases -- "my chosen," "I have put my spirit upon him," and the purpose statements of verses 6 and 7 -- bring to mind the passage that Jesus claims about himself in the Nazareth synagogue (see Luke 4:16-21; Isaiah 61:1-2).
The images of verses 2 and 3 are truly lovely. Here is this promised delivery, but he will never be confused with Rambo. He does not burst onto the scene with guns blazing. Rather, this is the one born in a stable and laid in a manger; the one who "comes humble and riding on a donkey" (Zechariah 9:9). Naturally, then, he does not cry out or raise his voice. And even those most feeble (the bruised reeds and dimly burning wicks) are safe with him.
It is a great picture of gentleness that he does not finish off what is damaged or extinguish what is barely alive. Our survival-of-the-fittest world might discard these weak links, reckoning them as disposable. But this carefulness is the necessary first quality of one who would redeem.
We must not confuse gentleness with weakness, however. That he comes quietly and deals tenderly does not mean he is powerless. Quite the contrary, for see what he will accomplish -- justice. This promised servant will "bring forth justice to the nations," he will "faithfully bring forth justice," and he will not be stopped "until he has established justice in the earth."
Because all ancient Hebrew words were apparently built on three-consonant roots, and because the original Old Testament text did not have vowel pointing, the same Hebrew word could mean either "judgment" or "justice." The King James Version, therefore, uses the word "judgment" in each place where, say, the Revised Standard, New Revised Standard, and New King James versions all use "justice." The two words have very different connotations for us, of course, but they do share this fundamental truth in common: When this promised servant comes, he's going to make things right. For those who have been mistreated and oppressed, that will look like justice. For those who have cheated, manipulated, and oppressed, however, it will look like judgment. Either way, the end result is the same.
Acts 10:34-43
The parameters of this passage are defined by quotation marks. For ten verses, we hear Peter speaking. But in order for our people to hear Peter properly, they will need for us to establish the context of this long quote. We will explore an imaginative way to set the context if we want to make this passage the primary theme of Sunday's sermon. At a minimum, however, we need at least to explain the events that transpired earlier in chapter 10.
The chief players in the drama include these: First, there is Peter, the apostle, whose worldview was being turned on its ear in a vision from God on a roof in Joppa. Second, there is Cornelius, the Gentile, who had come to worship and serve the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and who needed to hear the gospel of Jesus Christ. And, third, there is the angel, dispatched by God for a surprising mission.
The mission of the angel was to bring the two men, Peter and Cornelius, together. It's a fascinating choice God makes here, for it could be argued that the two men did not really need to come together. That is to say, the vision on the roof theoretically could have been the entire teaching moment for Peter, without the personal encounter and Gentile contact. And the angel himself, of course, could have communicated the good news about Jesus to Cornelius; it would have been a reprise of the Christmas Eve scene in the fields just outside of Bethlehem.
On paper, therefore, we could make the case that Peter and Cornelius did not actually need to be brought together. But Peter and Cornelius were not on paper. They were flesh and blood. And, as such, they did indeed need to be brought together. Peter needed to proclaim the news about Jesus to Gentiles, face-to-face. And Cornelius, like every soul this side of those Bethlehem shepherds, needed to hear that good news from another human being.
The first sentence of Peter's sermon is a startling one, and one perhaps spoken less for the sake of the audience than the preacher. "God shows no partiality." It is a remarkable, paradigm-busting moment, and the church has never been the same.
The rest of Peter's message has been identified by scholars as a kind of proto-gospel. List the statements made by Peter from verses 37 through 42, and you discover a fair outline of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. It is speculated by some, therefore, that the gospels themselves grew very naturally out of the preaching of the early church, as exemplified by this sample sermon from Peter.
Finally, it might be interesting to play a sort of fill-in-the-blank game with our congregations. Read one portion of verse 42, and then let the individuals in your church try to fill in the blank before you read the balance of the verse. "He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one ordained by God as...." It may be that how an individual instinctively fills in that blank would reveal something crucial about that individual's Christology.
Chances are that, in many of our churches, our Christology is more tied to Jesus' first coming than his second coming. Hence, our people think of him first -- and most -- in his incarnational role as Bethlehem baby, teacher, healer, and Savior. They may not be so inclined to think of Jesus in his eschatological role as "judge of the living and the dead," even though the language is familiar to us from the Apostles' Creed.
Matthew 3:13-17
The story at hand is the account of Jesus' baptism by John. What comes before is the preaching of John the Baptist. What comes after is the temptation of Jesus. We are considering this week the image of spotlights that are focused on Jesus. In terms of the gospel story, this is the moment where Jesus moves into that spotlight, and it follows him from this point forward.
Not many people or events from the years prior to Holy Week appear in all four gospels, but John the Baptist does. He is a pivotal figure, and all four evangelists recognize that.
In the case of our particular gospel writer, Matthew, the story of John the Baptist follows the genealogy and birth of Jesus, plus the escape to and return from Egypt. Save for Luke's brief account of an episode when Jesus was twelve (2:41-50), we have no gospel record of Jesus' childhood. And so we fast-forward some thirty years -- from the events surrounding his birth to the preaching of John the Baptist.
Matthew introduces and summarizes John's preaching and ministry in the first twelve verses of chapter 3, concluding with a tantalizing description of "one who is more powerful than I" who will be "coming after me." And so the stage is set for our scene: the arrival of that one who was to come.
Though we are not given any significant details about the relationship between Jesus and John, some gospel accounts strongly suggest that John knew who Jesus was. And not just in the sense that they were acquainted or kin; but, rather, that John (from the womb!) somehow recognized Jesus' unique role. We do see in John those momentary, human doubts when he is in jail; but apart from that circumstance, he seems clear about Jesus' identity and role.
Because of that clear understanding on John's part, when Jesus comes to be baptized, John's reflex is to resist. "I need to be baptized by you," John objects. The scene is reminiscent of Peter's reaction to the prospect of having Jesus wash his feet. Perhaps whenever we see Jesus clearly, we feel ill at ease with how he comes to us and what he does for us. So Peter retracts his filthy feet. Charles Wesley marvels, "O love divine what hast thou done! The immortal God hath died for me!" Isaac Watts cries, "My richest gain I count but loss / and pour contempt on all my pride." And John the Baptist exclaims, "I need to be baptized by you."
John's statement is a remarkable one. There's no evidence that the baptizer expressed the need to be baptized before or after this moment. And, notably, he didn't respond at all this way when the religious leaders of the day came down to the Jordan. But he perceived that Jesus was like no one else; that Jesus could do for him what no one else could; and just Jesus' presence made John aware of his own spiritual need.
Jesus does not spell out in detail why he should be baptized by John rather than the other way around. He simply explains that it is "to fulfill all righteousness."
This dialogue with John is only reported in Matthew's gospel, and that may be significant. Both of the concepts in Jesus' explanation -- "fulfill" and "righteousness" -- are important themes for Matthew. It is consistent with larger issues in this gospel that Jesus should do something to fulfill all righteousness, just as he did not "come to abolish the law or the prophets ... but to fulfill" (5:17).
After John consents, the baptism becomes a still more dramatic scene, and this part of the story is recounted in all three synoptics. Matthew reports -- and Mark and Luke agree, though in slightly different words -- that "the heavens were opened." Just what that looks like, we don't know. The same phenomenon is expressed, however, in several other places in the New Testament. Jesus tells Nathanael, "Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man" (John 1:51). Just prior to being stoned, Stephen exclaimed, "Look, I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!" (Acts 7:56). Peter's vision on a rooftop begins with the report that "He saw the heaven opened and something like a large sheet coming down" (Acts 10:11). Toward the end of Revelation, John says, "Then I saw heaven opened, and there was a white horse! Its rider is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and makes war" (Revelation 19:11). Whatever the exact look of the occurrence, therefore, it seems to indicate that some barrier is temporarily removed, and human beings are given a glimpse of things not ordinarily visible.
What becomes visible is the Spirit "like a dove." And just as the Spirit alights on Jesus, there is "a voice from heaven" that identifies Jesus as "my Son." Accordingly, we have the entire Trinity physically manifested on this unique and amazing occasion.
Application
We noted above that Matthew invites us to understand the Isaiah passage as being about Jesus. We see there a picture of him that is consistent with what is reported in the gospels. He is humble and unassuming. He does not run roughshod over the fragile or dismiss the feeble. He blesses and delivers others, without promoting or congratulating himself.
I suggested at the beginning of this week's installment that Jesus is "the big event." I imagined all sorts of lights shining on some big event and directing our attention to it. He is that big event. And though he does not seek the spotlight for himself, all the lights are turned on him, nonetheless.
The "lights" I have in mind are the witnesses -- those that direct our attention to him. We see, in these three passages, quite a collection of them.
Chronologically, we might say that the prophets bear witness to him first. Before he is named or fully understood, they are sketching out a picture of him so that we might recognize him when he comes. They point from afar, and they invite us to seek him out. Peter confirms this in his message, saying, "All the prophets testify about him."
Peter also identifies himself -- and his group -- among those witnesses. And since "we are witnesses" and "chosen by God as witnesses," "he commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one ordained by God." Peter and the other apostles, standing nearer to Jesus in time and space than the prophets, also shine their light on him and invite our attention.
The gospel writer, Matthew, serves a role among his written witnesses, and in his account, he reveals the most dramatic witness of all -- the great light from above -- the voice of the Father and the descent of the Spirit. The same Father who promised his coming in Isaiah now confirms his arrival at the Jordan River.
From near and far and from above, all the lights are trained on him, so that the world might see him and come to him. And, from the pulpit, we will add our humble wattage to that effort.
Alternative Application
Acts 10:34-43. "Unorthodox Truth." This brief sermon by Peter was preached in the city of Caesarea, along Israel's Mediterranean coast. In order to set the context for the story, however, we do well to travel fifty-some miles to the southeast. The temple in Jerusalem was a long way from the home of Cornelius where Peter shared this message, but its walls might well have been shaken by what Peter said.
Accordingly, before we go to Caesarea, let's visit Jerusalem first. Nestled among the hills of Judea, we see the ancient walled city. And, prominent along the city's eastern wall, we see the grand and glorious temple.
There is the building itself, of course, which we call the temple, but it is only the centerpiece of a much larger complex. Surrounding the grand edifice is a series of courtyards. They do not quite form concentric squares, but they do reflect relative proximities to the temple.
Nearest to the temple building itself -- and, by implication, nearest to God -- is the inner court, which is accessed only by the priests. One layer out is the court of men, by which was meant Jewish men. A little further removed was the court of women. And then, finally, conspicuously separated from the others and farthest away from the temple itself, there was the large area designated as the court of the Gentiles.
A bird's-eye view of the temple complex revealed the orthodoxy of the day. But fifty miles away, a Jewish man stood in the house of a Gentile man and declared, "I truly understand that God shows no partiality."
And the walls come a-tumblin' down.
It's hard to imagine the paradigm shift required within Peter's mind and heart in order to make this statement. He managed to overcome the prevailing orthodoxy and discover God's truth.
We must not work mischief with this passage, pretending that it represents things it does not. It does not claim that God is without discretion or is altogether indifferent. Rather, it goes on to specify that "anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him." The message, therefore, is not that every prevailing orthodoxy is untrue or that every wall of distinction should come down. It does rightly remind us, however, that God is interested in all peoples; and it cautions us that our lines may not be his.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 29
Anyone who has ever worked with other people knows that it's important to give credit where it's due. If a coworker does a good job on a project, he or she should be acknowledged for a job well done. If a supervisor or boss has people working for him or her, it's common knowledge that praise given for work done is not only a good idea, it makes good business sense.
Yes, it's a pretty simple formula, and most people live by it in one form or another. The child gets a good grade in school, the parents offer praise. The friend does a favor, she gets the voice of thanks. And if someone "goes the extra mile" (Matthew 5:41), we turn up the volume of praise.
This psalm comes with the volume on high! Giving God the praise, the credit, and the glory flow from these words with breathtaking clarity. The greatness and wonder of God is harvested in words that span a dizzying spectrum. From the giddiness of a young calf to gale force winds that lay whole forests to waste, God's power is present and in charge. From the mystic beauty of ocean's depth to the visceral boom of thunderstorms close at hand, God sits, as the psalmist notes, "on the throne."
Indeed, it's a good thing to give credit where it's due. Not only is it the right and honest thing to do, it's also a source of relief. That's right. God's in charge, not me. Alleluia! If I'm not in charge, then I don't need to be in control. And if I don't need to be in control, then I can release my spirit and my heart for obedience, not to my desires, but to God's!
For these reasons, praying this psalm is a powerful way to center the spirit and orient the heart. Placing God at the center, giving God the glory and the credit, and then removing ourselves from the drive to control are key components on the path to faithfulness.
And, like our conversion to faith, which ever unfolds in prayer and faithfulness, this is not a prayer said only once. This is a prayer repeated often as we learn ever and always to give ourselves to God's sovereignty in our lives. So it is that we "ascribe" to God the glory and the splendor. So it is that we give ourselves to God in worship, not merely on Sunday mornings, but in each moment of our lives.
Let's take that image as a jumping-off point and imagine a larger scene.
You are at a distance -- several miles -- from the business that's having the big promotion. You see the striking searchlight beams scouring the night sky, and you are drawn to find whatever location is the source. As you get closer -- within a few blocks -- you discover more lights. These, however, are not the massive searchlights, but rather they are little luminaries. Candles in bags line the sidewalks for several blocks in every direction from the lot where the great promotion is taking place. They seem to light the path for the neighbors to get to the big event.
When you arrive finally at your destination, you see a third source of light. A large crowd of folks that gathered around holding flashlights and lighters -- like at a concert -- making the immediate area a spectacle of light.
Then, suddenly, the whole scene is overwhelmed by some other light. The area is bathed in light that comes from above. It is a great, brilliant shaft shining down on the location of the big event.
What is this big event? Lights of all sizes draw your attention to it. What is it? It is Jesus. Throughout the three selected lectionary passages for this week, we discover that the big event is Jesus.
Isaiah 42:1-9
This Old Testament passage is simply too rich for our limitations of time and space. For me, the limitation is the space of these pages. And for all of us, come Sunday, the limitation will be the time allotted to the sermon.
The passage comes from what is often identified as the second of three sections of Isaiah -- the portion associated with a message of restoration, hope, and promise for the exiles in Babylon. This lection does, indeed, fit with that broader, contextual theme.
The reference to "my servant" is a common one in the book of Isaiah. Sometimes God's servant is identified in a very specific way, such as Isaiah (20:3), Eliakim (22:20), David (37:35), Jacob (41:8), or Israel (49:3). In several other instances, including our passage, however, the servant is not named. Those anonymous passages often have a messianic ring to them. Indeed, Matthew identifies a portion of Jesus' ministry as fulfillment of this particular servant passage (Matthew 12:15-21).
So it is that we are encouraged to read these verses and think of Jesus.
One phrase that God speaks about Jesus -- "in whom my soul delights" -- is certainly reminiscent of what the Father declares at Jesus' baptism in our gospel lection. Meanwhile, these several phrases -- "my chosen," "I have put my spirit upon him," and the purpose statements of verses 6 and 7 -- bring to mind the passage that Jesus claims about himself in the Nazareth synagogue (see Luke 4:16-21; Isaiah 61:1-2).
The images of verses 2 and 3 are truly lovely. Here is this promised delivery, but he will never be confused with Rambo. He does not burst onto the scene with guns blazing. Rather, this is the one born in a stable and laid in a manger; the one who "comes humble and riding on a donkey" (Zechariah 9:9). Naturally, then, he does not cry out or raise his voice. And even those most feeble (the bruised reeds and dimly burning wicks) are safe with him.
It is a great picture of gentleness that he does not finish off what is damaged or extinguish what is barely alive. Our survival-of-the-fittest world might discard these weak links, reckoning them as disposable. But this carefulness is the necessary first quality of one who would redeem.
We must not confuse gentleness with weakness, however. That he comes quietly and deals tenderly does not mean he is powerless. Quite the contrary, for see what he will accomplish -- justice. This promised servant will "bring forth justice to the nations," he will "faithfully bring forth justice," and he will not be stopped "until he has established justice in the earth."
Because all ancient Hebrew words were apparently built on three-consonant roots, and because the original Old Testament text did not have vowel pointing, the same Hebrew word could mean either "judgment" or "justice." The King James Version, therefore, uses the word "judgment" in each place where, say, the Revised Standard, New Revised Standard, and New King James versions all use "justice." The two words have very different connotations for us, of course, but they do share this fundamental truth in common: When this promised servant comes, he's going to make things right. For those who have been mistreated and oppressed, that will look like justice. For those who have cheated, manipulated, and oppressed, however, it will look like judgment. Either way, the end result is the same.
Acts 10:34-43
The parameters of this passage are defined by quotation marks. For ten verses, we hear Peter speaking. But in order for our people to hear Peter properly, they will need for us to establish the context of this long quote. We will explore an imaginative way to set the context if we want to make this passage the primary theme of Sunday's sermon. At a minimum, however, we need at least to explain the events that transpired earlier in chapter 10.
The chief players in the drama include these: First, there is Peter, the apostle, whose worldview was being turned on its ear in a vision from God on a roof in Joppa. Second, there is Cornelius, the Gentile, who had come to worship and serve the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and who needed to hear the gospel of Jesus Christ. And, third, there is the angel, dispatched by God for a surprising mission.
The mission of the angel was to bring the two men, Peter and Cornelius, together. It's a fascinating choice God makes here, for it could be argued that the two men did not really need to come together. That is to say, the vision on the roof theoretically could have been the entire teaching moment for Peter, without the personal encounter and Gentile contact. And the angel himself, of course, could have communicated the good news about Jesus to Cornelius; it would have been a reprise of the Christmas Eve scene in the fields just outside of Bethlehem.
On paper, therefore, we could make the case that Peter and Cornelius did not actually need to be brought together. But Peter and Cornelius were not on paper. They were flesh and blood. And, as such, they did indeed need to be brought together. Peter needed to proclaim the news about Jesus to Gentiles, face-to-face. And Cornelius, like every soul this side of those Bethlehem shepherds, needed to hear that good news from another human being.
The first sentence of Peter's sermon is a startling one, and one perhaps spoken less for the sake of the audience than the preacher. "God shows no partiality." It is a remarkable, paradigm-busting moment, and the church has never been the same.
The rest of Peter's message has been identified by scholars as a kind of proto-gospel. List the statements made by Peter from verses 37 through 42, and you discover a fair outline of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. It is speculated by some, therefore, that the gospels themselves grew very naturally out of the preaching of the early church, as exemplified by this sample sermon from Peter.
Finally, it might be interesting to play a sort of fill-in-the-blank game with our congregations. Read one portion of verse 42, and then let the individuals in your church try to fill in the blank before you read the balance of the verse. "He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one ordained by God as...." It may be that how an individual instinctively fills in that blank would reveal something crucial about that individual's Christology.
Chances are that, in many of our churches, our Christology is more tied to Jesus' first coming than his second coming. Hence, our people think of him first -- and most -- in his incarnational role as Bethlehem baby, teacher, healer, and Savior. They may not be so inclined to think of Jesus in his eschatological role as "judge of the living and the dead," even though the language is familiar to us from the Apostles' Creed.
Matthew 3:13-17
The story at hand is the account of Jesus' baptism by John. What comes before is the preaching of John the Baptist. What comes after is the temptation of Jesus. We are considering this week the image of spotlights that are focused on Jesus. In terms of the gospel story, this is the moment where Jesus moves into that spotlight, and it follows him from this point forward.
Not many people or events from the years prior to Holy Week appear in all four gospels, but John the Baptist does. He is a pivotal figure, and all four evangelists recognize that.
In the case of our particular gospel writer, Matthew, the story of John the Baptist follows the genealogy and birth of Jesus, plus the escape to and return from Egypt. Save for Luke's brief account of an episode when Jesus was twelve (2:41-50), we have no gospel record of Jesus' childhood. And so we fast-forward some thirty years -- from the events surrounding his birth to the preaching of John the Baptist.
Matthew introduces and summarizes John's preaching and ministry in the first twelve verses of chapter 3, concluding with a tantalizing description of "one who is more powerful than I" who will be "coming after me." And so the stage is set for our scene: the arrival of that one who was to come.
Though we are not given any significant details about the relationship between Jesus and John, some gospel accounts strongly suggest that John knew who Jesus was. And not just in the sense that they were acquainted or kin; but, rather, that John (from the womb!) somehow recognized Jesus' unique role. We do see in John those momentary, human doubts when he is in jail; but apart from that circumstance, he seems clear about Jesus' identity and role.
Because of that clear understanding on John's part, when Jesus comes to be baptized, John's reflex is to resist. "I need to be baptized by you," John objects. The scene is reminiscent of Peter's reaction to the prospect of having Jesus wash his feet. Perhaps whenever we see Jesus clearly, we feel ill at ease with how he comes to us and what he does for us. So Peter retracts his filthy feet. Charles Wesley marvels, "O love divine what hast thou done! The immortal God hath died for me!" Isaac Watts cries, "My richest gain I count but loss / and pour contempt on all my pride." And John the Baptist exclaims, "I need to be baptized by you."
John's statement is a remarkable one. There's no evidence that the baptizer expressed the need to be baptized before or after this moment. And, notably, he didn't respond at all this way when the religious leaders of the day came down to the Jordan. But he perceived that Jesus was like no one else; that Jesus could do for him what no one else could; and just Jesus' presence made John aware of his own spiritual need.
Jesus does not spell out in detail why he should be baptized by John rather than the other way around. He simply explains that it is "to fulfill all righteousness."
This dialogue with John is only reported in Matthew's gospel, and that may be significant. Both of the concepts in Jesus' explanation -- "fulfill" and "righteousness" -- are important themes for Matthew. It is consistent with larger issues in this gospel that Jesus should do something to fulfill all righteousness, just as he did not "come to abolish the law or the prophets ... but to fulfill" (5:17).
After John consents, the baptism becomes a still more dramatic scene, and this part of the story is recounted in all three synoptics. Matthew reports -- and Mark and Luke agree, though in slightly different words -- that "the heavens were opened." Just what that looks like, we don't know. The same phenomenon is expressed, however, in several other places in the New Testament. Jesus tells Nathanael, "Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man" (John 1:51). Just prior to being stoned, Stephen exclaimed, "Look, I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!" (Acts 7:56). Peter's vision on a rooftop begins with the report that "He saw the heaven opened and something like a large sheet coming down" (Acts 10:11). Toward the end of Revelation, John says, "Then I saw heaven opened, and there was a white horse! Its rider is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and makes war" (Revelation 19:11). Whatever the exact look of the occurrence, therefore, it seems to indicate that some barrier is temporarily removed, and human beings are given a glimpse of things not ordinarily visible.
What becomes visible is the Spirit "like a dove." And just as the Spirit alights on Jesus, there is "a voice from heaven" that identifies Jesus as "my Son." Accordingly, we have the entire Trinity physically manifested on this unique and amazing occasion.
Application
We noted above that Matthew invites us to understand the Isaiah passage as being about Jesus. We see there a picture of him that is consistent with what is reported in the gospels. He is humble and unassuming. He does not run roughshod over the fragile or dismiss the feeble. He blesses and delivers others, without promoting or congratulating himself.
I suggested at the beginning of this week's installment that Jesus is "the big event." I imagined all sorts of lights shining on some big event and directing our attention to it. He is that big event. And though he does not seek the spotlight for himself, all the lights are turned on him, nonetheless.
The "lights" I have in mind are the witnesses -- those that direct our attention to him. We see, in these three passages, quite a collection of them.
Chronologically, we might say that the prophets bear witness to him first. Before he is named or fully understood, they are sketching out a picture of him so that we might recognize him when he comes. They point from afar, and they invite us to seek him out. Peter confirms this in his message, saying, "All the prophets testify about him."
Peter also identifies himself -- and his group -- among those witnesses. And since "we are witnesses" and "chosen by God as witnesses," "he commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one ordained by God." Peter and the other apostles, standing nearer to Jesus in time and space than the prophets, also shine their light on him and invite our attention.
The gospel writer, Matthew, serves a role among his written witnesses, and in his account, he reveals the most dramatic witness of all -- the great light from above -- the voice of the Father and the descent of the Spirit. The same Father who promised his coming in Isaiah now confirms his arrival at the Jordan River.
From near and far and from above, all the lights are trained on him, so that the world might see him and come to him. And, from the pulpit, we will add our humble wattage to that effort.
Alternative Application
Acts 10:34-43. "Unorthodox Truth." This brief sermon by Peter was preached in the city of Caesarea, along Israel's Mediterranean coast. In order to set the context for the story, however, we do well to travel fifty-some miles to the southeast. The temple in Jerusalem was a long way from the home of Cornelius where Peter shared this message, but its walls might well have been shaken by what Peter said.
Accordingly, before we go to Caesarea, let's visit Jerusalem first. Nestled among the hills of Judea, we see the ancient walled city. And, prominent along the city's eastern wall, we see the grand and glorious temple.
There is the building itself, of course, which we call the temple, but it is only the centerpiece of a much larger complex. Surrounding the grand edifice is a series of courtyards. They do not quite form concentric squares, but they do reflect relative proximities to the temple.
Nearest to the temple building itself -- and, by implication, nearest to God -- is the inner court, which is accessed only by the priests. One layer out is the court of men, by which was meant Jewish men. A little further removed was the court of women. And then, finally, conspicuously separated from the others and farthest away from the temple itself, there was the large area designated as the court of the Gentiles.
A bird's-eye view of the temple complex revealed the orthodoxy of the day. But fifty miles away, a Jewish man stood in the house of a Gentile man and declared, "I truly understand that God shows no partiality."
And the walls come a-tumblin' down.
It's hard to imagine the paradigm shift required within Peter's mind and heart in order to make this statement. He managed to overcome the prevailing orthodoxy and discover God's truth.
We must not work mischief with this passage, pretending that it represents things it does not. It does not claim that God is without discretion or is altogether indifferent. Rather, it goes on to specify that "anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him." The message, therefore, is not that every prevailing orthodoxy is untrue or that every wall of distinction should come down. It does rightly remind us, however, that God is interested in all peoples; and it cautions us that our lines may not be his.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 29
Anyone who has ever worked with other people knows that it's important to give credit where it's due. If a coworker does a good job on a project, he or she should be acknowledged for a job well done. If a supervisor or boss has people working for him or her, it's common knowledge that praise given for work done is not only a good idea, it makes good business sense.
Yes, it's a pretty simple formula, and most people live by it in one form or another. The child gets a good grade in school, the parents offer praise. The friend does a favor, she gets the voice of thanks. And if someone "goes the extra mile" (Matthew 5:41), we turn up the volume of praise.
This psalm comes with the volume on high! Giving God the praise, the credit, and the glory flow from these words with breathtaking clarity. The greatness and wonder of God is harvested in words that span a dizzying spectrum. From the giddiness of a young calf to gale force winds that lay whole forests to waste, God's power is present and in charge. From the mystic beauty of ocean's depth to the visceral boom of thunderstorms close at hand, God sits, as the psalmist notes, "on the throne."
Indeed, it's a good thing to give credit where it's due. Not only is it the right and honest thing to do, it's also a source of relief. That's right. God's in charge, not me. Alleluia! If I'm not in charge, then I don't need to be in control. And if I don't need to be in control, then I can release my spirit and my heart for obedience, not to my desires, but to God's!
For these reasons, praying this psalm is a powerful way to center the spirit and orient the heart. Placing God at the center, giving God the glory and the credit, and then removing ourselves from the drive to control are key components on the path to faithfulness.
And, like our conversion to faith, which ever unfolds in prayer and faithfulness, this is not a prayer said only once. This is a prayer repeated often as we learn ever and always to give ourselves to God's sovereignty in our lives. So it is that we "ascribe" to God the glory and the splendor. So it is that we give ourselves to God in worship, not merely on Sunday mornings, but in each moment of our lives.
