Lifting in Lent
Commentary
I bet we have all preached one of those sermons that questions the discipline of "giving up" something for Lent. You can imagine the preacher's words that exhort the listeners to "take on" something. The commitment to some fresh spiritual discipline comes to mind. The children participate and fill those "One Great Hour of Sharing" banks. The pastor puts in a plea for the Wednesday evening service. A Lenten booklet is prepared that provides a devotional for each day. From the quiet of private devotions to programs that include a meal and a study to some services added to the congregation's life, the message comes to the church: "Don't give up; take on."
Maybe for this Sunday it is time to find a new verb for Lent. Instead of "give" and "take," the texts seem to invite reflection upon the verb "lift." On first glance, Lent may not seem to have much to do with "lifting." But the vocabulary is rooted in the liturgy in some of our traditions. The call and response prior to the sacrament of Communion is familiar. "Lift up your hearts -- We lift them up to the Lord." Others may be more familiar with the words from the congregational song, "Lord, we lift your name on high." So the lifting part is not completely foreign to our language of devotion and worship.
But the lifting of a bronze serpent upon a pole described in the Old Testament lesson from Numbers sounds a bit foreign. Our familiarity with the third chapter of John's Gospel doesn't immediately include that reference to Jesus being "lifted up" and the comparison to the lifting offered by Moses. And Paul's language of our being raised up, being lifted with Jesus, is somewhat overshadowed by the memory verse of being saved through faith. On this Fourth Sunday in Lent, it is the lifting that offers a theme.
When pondering "lifting" as a Lenten verb, the question arises as to who is doing the lifting. It is one of the dangers of Lent, isn't it? So quickly the focus can turn to what we might be doing, or giving up, or taking on. The best intentions fostered by a fresh commitment to this spiritual discipline or that experience of corporate worship can quickly slide into the perception that Lent is about us and what we make of it. These texts for the day remind us that God is the one doing the lifting. It is God who commanded Moses to lift that serpent of bronze. It is God who lifted Christ, both to the cross and to glory. It is God who lifts us together with the Risen Christ.
In these last few weeks of Lent, the texts will spark a re-examination of our verbs and our subjects. Indeed, Lent may be about lifting. But it is God doing the lifting. The affirmation that God is the subject of our faith and the object of our worship helps redefine the Lenten journey. For to be saved by grace through faith alone is to affirm that any "giving up" or "taking on" or "lifting" on our part is only in response to what God has done and whom we know God to be.
Numbers 21:4-9
When tackling an Old Testament text from Numbers, most preachers will have to provide a bit of context to the listeners. This particular passage comes right after the death of Aaron at Mount Hor and before the narratives that tell of Balaam in the chapters to follow. The wilderness wanderings continue for the people of Israel. In the midst of story after story, the momentum flows between victory and obedience on the one side and sin and complaint on the other side. So the lesson from Numbers includes some familiar themes and some new challenging ones as well.
As the journey continues away from Mount Hor, the route taken toward the Red Sea avoids the land of Edom. Somewhere along the way and probably all along the way, the people become impatient and voice their complaints to God and to Moses. That ongoing complaint about no water and no food certainly strikes a familiar chord for the Israelites in the wilderness. It is God's reaction that throws off the reader this time around. The Lord sends some poisonous snakes that proceed to bite and kill many people. The people's complaint turns to a plea and something of a confession (v. 7) as they acknowledge their speaking against God and Moses. As if questioning the depth and efficacy of that confession, God does not simply rid the situation of any poisonous snakes. In the aftermath of Moses' prayer for the people, God calls for a sign. The serpent is cast in bronze and placed upon a pole. The punishment was no longer death. Everyone who was bitten was commanded to look at the snake pole and live.
The image of that snake upon the pole presumably represents the threat of death by poison and the memory of God who has heard their complaint. The complex meaning of the snake symbol in the broader cultural life beyond Israel cannot be discounted. Such a serpent image may reflect either chaos, evil and death or fertility, power and life. In the wilderness wanderings, perhaps it is that complexity of ritual and life that is raised before the people of Israel. In his commentary on the book of Numbers, Dennis Olson suggests that this scene stands at an important transition in the book. The pole literally stands between life and death. For those who continue to turn from God's promise, the fate of death was real. Others choose to look to that symbol and experience healing somewhere there just outside the Promised Land. The serpent pole represents the edge of life and death, the edge of the Promised Land, and the edge of sin and obedience.
Ephesians 2:1-10
The second chapter of Ephesians represents some of Paul's most familiar and memorable sections. Offered within the wider context of Paul's communication to the church at Ephesus, the second chapter builds upon important themes of disobedience, grace, salvation, and the work product of God. In the first chapter, Paul offers the expected salutations and the section of thanksgiving, which is focused on the church's election by God in and through Jesus Christ. Paul's own words of appreciation of the Ephesians faithful quickly turn toward a hymn in praise of Christ. "God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places" (1:20). In the conclusion of chapter 1, Paul affirms Christ as head of the church.
From the end of chapter 2 into chapter 3, the apostle develops his thought on the work of Christ as reconciler and peacemaker. It is Christ who unites those who find themselves called into the household of God. Still to come will be Paul's affirmation on the unity of Christ and his most famous words on the gifts of the Spirit, but in these first verses of chapter 2, the reader encounters Paul's teaching about the benefits of Christ offered to those claimed by the reality of the human condition.
The dualism of Paul affirms the disobedience of all who once lived according to the passions of the flesh. Every word Paul chooses emphasizes "the course of this world." That human condition is characterized by death, trespasses, flesh, senses, and in being children of wrath. It is difficult to miss such descriptions of the human predicament. For Paul, hope comes through the mercy and love of Christ who breathes life into us who find ourselves in the midst of death. Through that action of God in Christ, we become alive together with Christ. Through that action of God in Christ we find ourselves raised up with Christ as well.
In classic language that sparked the Reformation, Paul puts the exclamation point on the syllable of God's action rather than ours. "By grace you have been saved" (v. 5). "For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing, it is the gift of God" (v. 8). Nothing here in Paul's understanding is the result of human works. There is nothing to brag about in human terms. The crafting here belongs to God. "We are what God has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life" (v. 10). We are the crafted artwork of God.
We do not merit God's favor by our good works. However, when such works are the joyful response we offer to God's grace, we discover more clearly what God intends us to be. The affirmation of God's sovereignty includes the acknowledgment that the specifics of our very lives, our life of discipleship, joyfully reflects the plan and mystery of God's salvation. Rather than launching into some classroom discussion of predestination, we can affirm that we have been created to serve God in all that we say and do. The practical aspects of our life of faith give witness to how we were created in the image of God. Our doing may not earn our salvation, but our salvation is embodied in the faithful response of our doing.
John 3:14-21
No doubt a reading from John 3 usually involves either the story of Nicodemus coming to Jesus by night or it begins with the familiar words of John 3:16. On this Fourth Sunday in Lent, the lectionary assignment forces the preacher to enter into the chapter right at the puzzling words about Moses lifting up the serpent (v. 14). Since that scene in the life of Moses and the people of Israel is retold in the assigned Old Testament lection for the day, one senses that the some reflection would be helpful. Of course even the strongest of lectionary advocates may choose to acknowledge that such obvious links in Old Testament and New Testament texts don't have to be developed in the sermon.
To take the assigned reading at face value, the preacher may affirm that John 3:14-15 serves as something of an introduction to John's memory verse. John offers that gospel summary -- "For God so loved the world ..." -- and then he expands upon it. The gift of the Son is intended not for condemnation but for salvation. Notice that the judgment comes with the light of the world. It is the coming of the light that illumines the deeds of those who loved the darkness. According to John, those who believe "do what is true." In their believing, they are drawn to the light that their own lives may glow as a witness to the grace of God.
The promise clause of John 3:16 offers eternal life. Actually the promise is a repeat of verse 15, "that whoever believes in him may have eternal life." The language here, however, isn't about God's love but the Son of Man being lifted up. With John 3:14-15 serving as something of a thesis statement, the language of God's great gift offered in 3:16 restates what it means for Christ to be lifted up like that serpent lifted by Moses in the wilderness.
Following from verse 13, which states that "the one who has ascended into heaven is that one who descended from heaven," the Son of Man being lifted up seems to refer not only to the cross of Christ, but his ascension to a heavenly reign as well. The lifting up must be understood, then, in that Old Testament context from the book of Numbers, with the themes of disobedience, life and death. This work of Christ upon the cross that John goes on to describe in terms of love and light has its first mention in the image of God lifting up the Son of Man in the midst of the wilderness of human disobedience and in the distant wanderings of humanity far away from God. As in the book of Numbers, here in John, that symbol lifted up is a sign of both death and life in the context of the faithfulness of God.
Application
The lectionary assignment offers the church a fresh look at perhaps the most familiar of gospel lessons. Any reading in worship of this section of the third chapter of John that begins at verse 14 ought to catch the listener's attention. A longer reading that begins with Nicodemus may be expected. A reading that starts right at John 3:16 is the norm. But with this assignment, the audience of the word may be jarred a bit as they hear of Moses and the serpent just before the familiar refrain kicks in. The unexpected starting place of the reading offers a starting place of the sermon.
Recently I participated in a funeral service in an Episcopalian church. The wife of a church member had died and the priest graciously invited this Presbyterian pastor to participate. The worship leaders processed in with the family. It was a memorial service with no casket. We did, however, process in behind the cross being carried high. In all my years of ministry, it was the first time I had that opportunity to share in that part of the Anglican liturgy. Of course I found myself looking to the cross high upon that pole. Despite any discomfort in my Presbyterian blood, I thought about the symbolism of that cross leading us in and out at the time of death. For the people of God, the symbol itself stands on the edge of life and death and life eternal.
Here in the final weeks of Lent, any fascination with our own abilities to maintain a Lenten discipline has started to wear thin. The readings for the day call our attention once again to the primary action of God in and through Jesus Christ. Throughout the imagery and the theology of the texts, it is God who does the lifting. The narrative from Numbers affirms that God's action begins amid our own wilderness wanderings and the sin of our disobedience. God still acts. The bronze serpent lifted by Moses packed a complexity of meaning that rests on the boundaries of life and death, faithfulness and obedience. John's citation of that symbol only deepens the meaning of his own use of the symbolism of the cross.
"For God so loved the world that" God lifted Christ to the cross. Christ's saving death upon the cross accomplishes the work of salvation as the cross itself continues in its role as a lingering sign for the people of God. While we may have lost all sense of the meaning and complexity as the cross as it is lost in popular culture, with his reference to Moses, John asserts the history and the complex meaning of the sign.
As God lifted Christ to the cross, God lifted the only begotten Son to resurrection life. God lifted the Risen Christ to that heavenly throne as well. God's action of lifting continues in the Ephesians text. Here, through the work of Christ, it is the faithful who are lifted. By grace the faithful are lifted to experience life in the Spirit. By grace the faithful are saved and lifted to experience eternal life. By grace through faith, the children of God are lifted into the heavenly places, the very throne of God. God's action includes the works of those whom God has made. God lifts what God has made, even those of us created in God's image, that we might display the very crafted work of God.
An Alternative Application
The familiar text of John 3:16ff provides much of the information that the church utilizes when pondering the love of God, the grace of God, and the giving of God. However, another characteristic of God is mentioned as well: that of judgment. God's judgment here in John is far from an eschatological task. It is also understood as something more than condemnation. For God's judgment comes in the form of light. God's judgment relates to those who love darkness and those who are drawn to the light. The church tends to cast judgment as a negative, end of life issue. Here in John, especially coming on the heels of that everlasting promise of John 3:16, God's judgment is defined in a profoundly different way. Picking up again on Paul's image from Ephesians, that we are God's crafted work created for good works, it may be argued that God's judgment here shall be understood as shedding light that we might discover who we are and what God intends us to be. Perhaps judgment is less about condemnation and more about God's claiming us as God's own.
First Lesson Focus
Numbers 21:4-9
This is one of those ancient Old Testament texts that appear to be very strange to us. It smacks of the time when ancient people thought they could do away with a dangerous creature by making an image of it and worshiping it. It smacks of magic and sorcery. But actually this text has nothing to do with such things, and it is important enough in the Bible that our Lord Jesus refers specifically to it in John 3:14-21, comparing his being lifted up on the cross with Moses lifting up the bronze serpent in the wilderness. That the bronze serpent did become an object of idolatrous worship is evidenced by the fact that King Hezekiah of Judah had to destroy the serpent image kept in the temple, because the people had begun worshiping it as an image connected with Baal (2 Kings 18:4). But originally this story had nothing to do either with idolatry or with magic. Just what is involved in this ancient tale, and why does our Lord later refer to it?
In the story in Numbers 21, Israel has been redeemed from slavery in Egypt, and is slowly making her way through the desert in her journey toward the Promised Land. She is forbidden to pass through the land of Edom, however, by means of the King's Highway (Numbers 20:14-18), and so she must skirt that kingdom through some very forbidding desert territory. She frequently suffers from a lack of food and water, and that is the complaint that she levels against Moses in our text for the morning. However, the Lord has repeatedly furnished the grumbling people with water, manna, and quail, and because Israel does not trust him to continue doing so, the people complain against their leader. But the complaint against Moses is actually a complaint against God, and that brings retribution with it. The Lord sends fiery serpents among the people, who are bit and die from the bite. In Isaiah 14:29 and 30:6, we hear of fiery serpents and apparently they are to be understood as a special, unearthly kind of creature, sent by God against his foes.
When the Israelites suffer God's judgment upon them, they begin to realize that their complaint has been not against Moses but against God himself, whom they have failed to trust for their well-being. They therefore appeal to Moses to intercede with them before the Lord, in order that the serpents will be taken away. Moses, in his prophetic role, prays such an intercessory prayer -- an accustomed role of the prophets in the Old Testament -- and the Lord answers by giving him instructions for the healing of the people. Moses is to make a bronze serpent -- probably called "fiery" because of its color -- and set it on a pole. Then if someone who is bitten looks at the bronze serpent, he or she will live and not die. Moses carries out such instructions, and the people are granted the means of healing following their repentance of their complaint against the Lord.
We should note that nothing is automatic in this story. The people are not automatically saved from death by their repentance of their sinfulness. And those who are bitten are not automatically cured when they look at the bronze serpent on the pole. No. The people must obey the instructions of the Lord. Their only healing comes from God, not from some automatic cure-all, and they must believe that God will heal them by following his instructions. God alone has power over the death-dealing serpents, and his remedy alone will bring the return of life to those bitten. But it is trust in his power and his remedy that brings healing, not the act of looking at the bronze serpent in itself. Trust in God's power must be acted out in obedience to his instruction. Trust must be evidenced in deed.
So it is too with us in relation to the cross of Jesus Christ, is it not? Our Lord proclaims in John 12:32 that when he is lifted up from the earth, he will draw all people to himself. But the crucifixion in itself does not automatically bring that about. While Christ dies for all people everywhere, his death does not mechanically bring about the conversion of all humanity, any more than looking at the bronze serpent mechanically brought about the healing of the Israelites in the desert. No. Faith is involved, and obedience is involved. Those who are looking for salvation from Jesus Christ must trust that he is the One who can grant them that salvation. And then they must obey Christ's instructions leading to that eternal life that Jesus promises both here and hereafter. As our Lord put it in the Sermon on the Mount, "Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few" (Matthew 7:13-14). We must intentionally choose the way of life and not death (cf. Deuteronomy 30:15-10). We must trust the Giver of Life, and listen to his word, if we would find the healing and wholeness that come from his cross and resurrection.
But how ready the Lord God is to give us that healing and wholeness, according to our text for the morning! The Israelite people have committed blasphemy against the Lord, terming the manna that he has given them as "worthless" and loathing it (v. 5), and by accusing Moses of trying to lead them out into the wilderness to die (v. 5).
And yet, as soon as Moses utters his prayer of intercession on behalf of the accusatory folk, God hears and grants a remedy for their ills, so that they will not die even from the bites of the snakes that undoubtedly inhabit the desert. God is more than ready to forgive and to heal. God is eager to grant life instead of death, and to save instead of condemn. In all of the stories of the Bible, no matter what their antiquity, that gracious nature of the Lord shines through, and finally we have to know and confess that this God of the Bible, this Holy One of Israel, is a God of overwhelming love.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22
Psalm 107 provides vocabulary for four different groups to give thanks to God for deliverance: those rescued from the desert (vv. 4-9), those delivered from prison (vv. 10-16), those healed from sickness (vv. 17-22), and those who survived storms at sea (vv. 23-32). All of these have been redeemed from their trouble, and so the psalm opens by advising, "Let the redeemed of the Lord say so."
The portion of this psalm designated for today refers to the deliverance of the sick, and though it speaks from the old view that sickness is the result of sin (v. 17), its description of the misery of the ill is right on: they "endured affliction" (v. 17) and "loathed any kind of food" (v. 18). But the point of this part of the psalm, of course, is that God should be thanked for their healing.
The connection between this text and the First Lesson is strong. In the Numbers reading, the people of Israel were healed from the venomous bites of the fiery serpents by looking at the serpent of brass on the pole. While it is strange that God permitted such an object among people who had been given the second commandment, the point of the story is that it is God who provided the cure.
A physician who cared for our family in a previous town had a sign in his waiting room that increased my confidence in the doctor himself. The sign read, "We dress the wound, but God heals." This psalm is a reminder that no matter what the procedure or medicine or therapy that saves or extends our life, healing is God's realm.
Talking about divine healing always leads to the questions about the many who are not healed. Those are generally unanswerable, and it's not a lot of comfort to conclude that God chooses not to heal, or perhaps that he purposely limits himself. Nonetheless, the reality is that when we call on the name of the Lord, his help generally does not mean an immediate fix of the problem or a once-for-all disposal of the pain. But it does mean something real that enables us either to change the outcome in some way or to view it differently if we can't change it -- and to know through all that happens that we are loved by God and never beyond his care.
And for those many times when healing does occur -- even things as simple as the healing of minor wound -- we know whom to thank.
Maybe for this Sunday it is time to find a new verb for Lent. Instead of "give" and "take," the texts seem to invite reflection upon the verb "lift." On first glance, Lent may not seem to have much to do with "lifting." But the vocabulary is rooted in the liturgy in some of our traditions. The call and response prior to the sacrament of Communion is familiar. "Lift up your hearts -- We lift them up to the Lord." Others may be more familiar with the words from the congregational song, "Lord, we lift your name on high." So the lifting part is not completely foreign to our language of devotion and worship.
But the lifting of a bronze serpent upon a pole described in the Old Testament lesson from Numbers sounds a bit foreign. Our familiarity with the third chapter of John's Gospel doesn't immediately include that reference to Jesus being "lifted up" and the comparison to the lifting offered by Moses. And Paul's language of our being raised up, being lifted with Jesus, is somewhat overshadowed by the memory verse of being saved through faith. On this Fourth Sunday in Lent, it is the lifting that offers a theme.
When pondering "lifting" as a Lenten verb, the question arises as to who is doing the lifting. It is one of the dangers of Lent, isn't it? So quickly the focus can turn to what we might be doing, or giving up, or taking on. The best intentions fostered by a fresh commitment to this spiritual discipline or that experience of corporate worship can quickly slide into the perception that Lent is about us and what we make of it. These texts for the day remind us that God is the one doing the lifting. It is God who commanded Moses to lift that serpent of bronze. It is God who lifted Christ, both to the cross and to glory. It is God who lifts us together with the Risen Christ.
In these last few weeks of Lent, the texts will spark a re-examination of our verbs and our subjects. Indeed, Lent may be about lifting. But it is God doing the lifting. The affirmation that God is the subject of our faith and the object of our worship helps redefine the Lenten journey. For to be saved by grace through faith alone is to affirm that any "giving up" or "taking on" or "lifting" on our part is only in response to what God has done and whom we know God to be.
Numbers 21:4-9
When tackling an Old Testament text from Numbers, most preachers will have to provide a bit of context to the listeners. This particular passage comes right after the death of Aaron at Mount Hor and before the narratives that tell of Balaam in the chapters to follow. The wilderness wanderings continue for the people of Israel. In the midst of story after story, the momentum flows between victory and obedience on the one side and sin and complaint on the other side. So the lesson from Numbers includes some familiar themes and some new challenging ones as well.
As the journey continues away from Mount Hor, the route taken toward the Red Sea avoids the land of Edom. Somewhere along the way and probably all along the way, the people become impatient and voice their complaints to God and to Moses. That ongoing complaint about no water and no food certainly strikes a familiar chord for the Israelites in the wilderness. It is God's reaction that throws off the reader this time around. The Lord sends some poisonous snakes that proceed to bite and kill many people. The people's complaint turns to a plea and something of a confession (v. 7) as they acknowledge their speaking against God and Moses. As if questioning the depth and efficacy of that confession, God does not simply rid the situation of any poisonous snakes. In the aftermath of Moses' prayer for the people, God calls for a sign. The serpent is cast in bronze and placed upon a pole. The punishment was no longer death. Everyone who was bitten was commanded to look at the snake pole and live.
The image of that snake upon the pole presumably represents the threat of death by poison and the memory of God who has heard their complaint. The complex meaning of the snake symbol in the broader cultural life beyond Israel cannot be discounted. Such a serpent image may reflect either chaos, evil and death or fertility, power and life. In the wilderness wanderings, perhaps it is that complexity of ritual and life that is raised before the people of Israel. In his commentary on the book of Numbers, Dennis Olson suggests that this scene stands at an important transition in the book. The pole literally stands between life and death. For those who continue to turn from God's promise, the fate of death was real. Others choose to look to that symbol and experience healing somewhere there just outside the Promised Land. The serpent pole represents the edge of life and death, the edge of the Promised Land, and the edge of sin and obedience.
Ephesians 2:1-10
The second chapter of Ephesians represents some of Paul's most familiar and memorable sections. Offered within the wider context of Paul's communication to the church at Ephesus, the second chapter builds upon important themes of disobedience, grace, salvation, and the work product of God. In the first chapter, Paul offers the expected salutations and the section of thanksgiving, which is focused on the church's election by God in and through Jesus Christ. Paul's own words of appreciation of the Ephesians faithful quickly turn toward a hymn in praise of Christ. "God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places" (1:20). In the conclusion of chapter 1, Paul affirms Christ as head of the church.
From the end of chapter 2 into chapter 3, the apostle develops his thought on the work of Christ as reconciler and peacemaker. It is Christ who unites those who find themselves called into the household of God. Still to come will be Paul's affirmation on the unity of Christ and his most famous words on the gifts of the Spirit, but in these first verses of chapter 2, the reader encounters Paul's teaching about the benefits of Christ offered to those claimed by the reality of the human condition.
The dualism of Paul affirms the disobedience of all who once lived according to the passions of the flesh. Every word Paul chooses emphasizes "the course of this world." That human condition is characterized by death, trespasses, flesh, senses, and in being children of wrath. It is difficult to miss such descriptions of the human predicament. For Paul, hope comes through the mercy and love of Christ who breathes life into us who find ourselves in the midst of death. Through that action of God in Christ, we become alive together with Christ. Through that action of God in Christ we find ourselves raised up with Christ as well.
In classic language that sparked the Reformation, Paul puts the exclamation point on the syllable of God's action rather than ours. "By grace you have been saved" (v. 5). "For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing, it is the gift of God" (v. 8). Nothing here in Paul's understanding is the result of human works. There is nothing to brag about in human terms. The crafting here belongs to God. "We are what God has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life" (v. 10). We are the crafted artwork of God.
We do not merit God's favor by our good works. However, when such works are the joyful response we offer to God's grace, we discover more clearly what God intends us to be. The affirmation of God's sovereignty includes the acknowledgment that the specifics of our very lives, our life of discipleship, joyfully reflects the plan and mystery of God's salvation. Rather than launching into some classroom discussion of predestination, we can affirm that we have been created to serve God in all that we say and do. The practical aspects of our life of faith give witness to how we were created in the image of God. Our doing may not earn our salvation, but our salvation is embodied in the faithful response of our doing.
John 3:14-21
No doubt a reading from John 3 usually involves either the story of Nicodemus coming to Jesus by night or it begins with the familiar words of John 3:16. On this Fourth Sunday in Lent, the lectionary assignment forces the preacher to enter into the chapter right at the puzzling words about Moses lifting up the serpent (v. 14). Since that scene in the life of Moses and the people of Israel is retold in the assigned Old Testament lection for the day, one senses that the some reflection would be helpful. Of course even the strongest of lectionary advocates may choose to acknowledge that such obvious links in Old Testament and New Testament texts don't have to be developed in the sermon.
To take the assigned reading at face value, the preacher may affirm that John 3:14-15 serves as something of an introduction to John's memory verse. John offers that gospel summary -- "For God so loved the world ..." -- and then he expands upon it. The gift of the Son is intended not for condemnation but for salvation. Notice that the judgment comes with the light of the world. It is the coming of the light that illumines the deeds of those who loved the darkness. According to John, those who believe "do what is true." In their believing, they are drawn to the light that their own lives may glow as a witness to the grace of God.
The promise clause of John 3:16 offers eternal life. Actually the promise is a repeat of verse 15, "that whoever believes in him may have eternal life." The language here, however, isn't about God's love but the Son of Man being lifted up. With John 3:14-15 serving as something of a thesis statement, the language of God's great gift offered in 3:16 restates what it means for Christ to be lifted up like that serpent lifted by Moses in the wilderness.
Following from verse 13, which states that "the one who has ascended into heaven is that one who descended from heaven," the Son of Man being lifted up seems to refer not only to the cross of Christ, but his ascension to a heavenly reign as well. The lifting up must be understood, then, in that Old Testament context from the book of Numbers, with the themes of disobedience, life and death. This work of Christ upon the cross that John goes on to describe in terms of love and light has its first mention in the image of God lifting up the Son of Man in the midst of the wilderness of human disobedience and in the distant wanderings of humanity far away from God. As in the book of Numbers, here in John, that symbol lifted up is a sign of both death and life in the context of the faithfulness of God.
Application
The lectionary assignment offers the church a fresh look at perhaps the most familiar of gospel lessons. Any reading in worship of this section of the third chapter of John that begins at verse 14 ought to catch the listener's attention. A longer reading that begins with Nicodemus may be expected. A reading that starts right at John 3:16 is the norm. But with this assignment, the audience of the word may be jarred a bit as they hear of Moses and the serpent just before the familiar refrain kicks in. The unexpected starting place of the reading offers a starting place of the sermon.
Recently I participated in a funeral service in an Episcopalian church. The wife of a church member had died and the priest graciously invited this Presbyterian pastor to participate. The worship leaders processed in with the family. It was a memorial service with no casket. We did, however, process in behind the cross being carried high. In all my years of ministry, it was the first time I had that opportunity to share in that part of the Anglican liturgy. Of course I found myself looking to the cross high upon that pole. Despite any discomfort in my Presbyterian blood, I thought about the symbolism of that cross leading us in and out at the time of death. For the people of God, the symbol itself stands on the edge of life and death and life eternal.
Here in the final weeks of Lent, any fascination with our own abilities to maintain a Lenten discipline has started to wear thin. The readings for the day call our attention once again to the primary action of God in and through Jesus Christ. Throughout the imagery and the theology of the texts, it is God who does the lifting. The narrative from Numbers affirms that God's action begins amid our own wilderness wanderings and the sin of our disobedience. God still acts. The bronze serpent lifted by Moses packed a complexity of meaning that rests on the boundaries of life and death, faithfulness and obedience. John's citation of that symbol only deepens the meaning of his own use of the symbolism of the cross.
"For God so loved the world that" God lifted Christ to the cross. Christ's saving death upon the cross accomplishes the work of salvation as the cross itself continues in its role as a lingering sign for the people of God. While we may have lost all sense of the meaning and complexity as the cross as it is lost in popular culture, with his reference to Moses, John asserts the history and the complex meaning of the sign.
As God lifted Christ to the cross, God lifted the only begotten Son to resurrection life. God lifted the Risen Christ to that heavenly throne as well. God's action of lifting continues in the Ephesians text. Here, through the work of Christ, it is the faithful who are lifted. By grace the faithful are lifted to experience life in the Spirit. By grace the faithful are saved and lifted to experience eternal life. By grace through faith, the children of God are lifted into the heavenly places, the very throne of God. God's action includes the works of those whom God has made. God lifts what God has made, even those of us created in God's image, that we might display the very crafted work of God.
An Alternative Application
The familiar text of John 3:16ff provides much of the information that the church utilizes when pondering the love of God, the grace of God, and the giving of God. However, another characteristic of God is mentioned as well: that of judgment. God's judgment here in John is far from an eschatological task. It is also understood as something more than condemnation. For God's judgment comes in the form of light. God's judgment relates to those who love darkness and those who are drawn to the light. The church tends to cast judgment as a negative, end of life issue. Here in John, especially coming on the heels of that everlasting promise of John 3:16, God's judgment is defined in a profoundly different way. Picking up again on Paul's image from Ephesians, that we are God's crafted work created for good works, it may be argued that God's judgment here shall be understood as shedding light that we might discover who we are and what God intends us to be. Perhaps judgment is less about condemnation and more about God's claiming us as God's own.
First Lesson Focus
Numbers 21:4-9
This is one of those ancient Old Testament texts that appear to be very strange to us. It smacks of the time when ancient people thought they could do away with a dangerous creature by making an image of it and worshiping it. It smacks of magic and sorcery. But actually this text has nothing to do with such things, and it is important enough in the Bible that our Lord Jesus refers specifically to it in John 3:14-21, comparing his being lifted up on the cross with Moses lifting up the bronze serpent in the wilderness. That the bronze serpent did become an object of idolatrous worship is evidenced by the fact that King Hezekiah of Judah had to destroy the serpent image kept in the temple, because the people had begun worshiping it as an image connected with Baal (2 Kings 18:4). But originally this story had nothing to do either with idolatry or with magic. Just what is involved in this ancient tale, and why does our Lord later refer to it?
In the story in Numbers 21, Israel has been redeemed from slavery in Egypt, and is slowly making her way through the desert in her journey toward the Promised Land. She is forbidden to pass through the land of Edom, however, by means of the King's Highway (Numbers 20:14-18), and so she must skirt that kingdom through some very forbidding desert territory. She frequently suffers from a lack of food and water, and that is the complaint that she levels against Moses in our text for the morning. However, the Lord has repeatedly furnished the grumbling people with water, manna, and quail, and because Israel does not trust him to continue doing so, the people complain against their leader. But the complaint against Moses is actually a complaint against God, and that brings retribution with it. The Lord sends fiery serpents among the people, who are bit and die from the bite. In Isaiah 14:29 and 30:6, we hear of fiery serpents and apparently they are to be understood as a special, unearthly kind of creature, sent by God against his foes.
When the Israelites suffer God's judgment upon them, they begin to realize that their complaint has been not against Moses but against God himself, whom they have failed to trust for their well-being. They therefore appeal to Moses to intercede with them before the Lord, in order that the serpents will be taken away. Moses, in his prophetic role, prays such an intercessory prayer -- an accustomed role of the prophets in the Old Testament -- and the Lord answers by giving him instructions for the healing of the people. Moses is to make a bronze serpent -- probably called "fiery" because of its color -- and set it on a pole. Then if someone who is bitten looks at the bronze serpent, he or she will live and not die. Moses carries out such instructions, and the people are granted the means of healing following their repentance of their complaint against the Lord.
We should note that nothing is automatic in this story. The people are not automatically saved from death by their repentance of their sinfulness. And those who are bitten are not automatically cured when they look at the bronze serpent on the pole. No. The people must obey the instructions of the Lord. Their only healing comes from God, not from some automatic cure-all, and they must believe that God will heal them by following his instructions. God alone has power over the death-dealing serpents, and his remedy alone will bring the return of life to those bitten. But it is trust in his power and his remedy that brings healing, not the act of looking at the bronze serpent in itself. Trust in God's power must be acted out in obedience to his instruction. Trust must be evidenced in deed.
So it is too with us in relation to the cross of Jesus Christ, is it not? Our Lord proclaims in John 12:32 that when he is lifted up from the earth, he will draw all people to himself. But the crucifixion in itself does not automatically bring that about. While Christ dies for all people everywhere, his death does not mechanically bring about the conversion of all humanity, any more than looking at the bronze serpent mechanically brought about the healing of the Israelites in the desert. No. Faith is involved, and obedience is involved. Those who are looking for salvation from Jesus Christ must trust that he is the One who can grant them that salvation. And then they must obey Christ's instructions leading to that eternal life that Jesus promises both here and hereafter. As our Lord put it in the Sermon on the Mount, "Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few" (Matthew 7:13-14). We must intentionally choose the way of life and not death (cf. Deuteronomy 30:15-10). We must trust the Giver of Life, and listen to his word, if we would find the healing and wholeness that come from his cross and resurrection.
But how ready the Lord God is to give us that healing and wholeness, according to our text for the morning! The Israelite people have committed blasphemy against the Lord, terming the manna that he has given them as "worthless" and loathing it (v. 5), and by accusing Moses of trying to lead them out into the wilderness to die (v. 5).
And yet, as soon as Moses utters his prayer of intercession on behalf of the accusatory folk, God hears and grants a remedy for their ills, so that they will not die even from the bites of the snakes that undoubtedly inhabit the desert. God is more than ready to forgive and to heal. God is eager to grant life instead of death, and to save instead of condemn. In all of the stories of the Bible, no matter what their antiquity, that gracious nature of the Lord shines through, and finally we have to know and confess that this God of the Bible, this Holy One of Israel, is a God of overwhelming love.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22
Psalm 107 provides vocabulary for four different groups to give thanks to God for deliverance: those rescued from the desert (vv. 4-9), those delivered from prison (vv. 10-16), those healed from sickness (vv. 17-22), and those who survived storms at sea (vv. 23-32). All of these have been redeemed from their trouble, and so the psalm opens by advising, "Let the redeemed of the Lord say so."
The portion of this psalm designated for today refers to the deliverance of the sick, and though it speaks from the old view that sickness is the result of sin (v. 17), its description of the misery of the ill is right on: they "endured affliction" (v. 17) and "loathed any kind of food" (v. 18). But the point of this part of the psalm, of course, is that God should be thanked for their healing.
The connection between this text and the First Lesson is strong. In the Numbers reading, the people of Israel were healed from the venomous bites of the fiery serpents by looking at the serpent of brass on the pole. While it is strange that God permitted such an object among people who had been given the second commandment, the point of the story is that it is God who provided the cure.
A physician who cared for our family in a previous town had a sign in his waiting room that increased my confidence in the doctor himself. The sign read, "We dress the wound, but God heals." This psalm is a reminder that no matter what the procedure or medicine or therapy that saves or extends our life, healing is God's realm.
Talking about divine healing always leads to the questions about the many who are not healed. Those are generally unanswerable, and it's not a lot of comfort to conclude that God chooses not to heal, or perhaps that he purposely limits himself. Nonetheless, the reality is that when we call on the name of the Lord, his help generally does not mean an immediate fix of the problem or a once-for-all disposal of the pain. But it does mean something real that enables us either to change the outcome in some way or to view it differently if we can't change it -- and to know through all that happens that we are loved by God and never beyond his care.
And for those many times when healing does occur -- even things as simple as the healing of minor wound -- we know whom to thank.
