When the past gets in the way
Commentary
Sports fans know that certain players need to have short memories. The closer coming
out of the bullpen in the ninth inning to save a one-run game has to be able to forget the
night before when he gave up a game-winning home run in a similar situation. The
quarterback who trots out onto the field to lead his team has to forget that the last pass he
threw was intercepted and run back for a touchdown. The basketball player at the foul
line, about to take his second shot, has to put out of his mind the fact that he missed the
first one.
So it is that the competitive athlete has to be able to forget the failure that is behind him in order to move ahead successfully.
Meanwhile, his coach knows something more. The coach knows that his team must also be able to forget the success that is behind them.
The basketball players are jumping up and down in celebration, for they've won their first two match-ups of the NCAA Tournament, and they're in the "Sweet Sixteen." They and their fans are in party mode. Their coach's smile is more reserved, however. "Still a lot of basketball left to play," he cautions.
The pro football fans are thrilled because their team is headed to the conference championship game. They're just one step removed from the Super Bowl. "But we haven't won anything yet," the coach says matter-of-factly. "We go into next week's game 0-0."
A preoccupation with past failures may cripple our potential for success in the future. Just as surely, a fixation on yesterday's success may also interfere with tomorrow's achievement. The past has an undeniable impact on our present and our future, and certainly learning from our past is a key to future success. Yet, the time comes when, for the sake of the future, we must forget the past.
Isaiah 43:16-21
The emcee stands up to introduce the featured speaker for the evening. As a natural part of that introduction, the emcee cites the accomplishments of the special guest.
"Here is what he has done in his business. Here is a list of things he has achieved in his field. Here is a bibliography of all that he has written. Now let's welcome him to our gathering. I know that many of you have tracked his career and read his books, and now you are eager to hear what he has to say...."
And when he comes to the podium, the first thing he says is this: "Forget everything that I've done and ignore all that I've written prior to tonight."
That is the effect of the first three verses of our Old Testament passage for this week. The word of the Lord is introduced by a clear reference to one of God's great and memorable deeds from the past, and then the word that comes from the Lord is, essentially, "Forget about what I've done in the past."
Now the truth is that remembering God's mighty deeds of old is a significant theme in scripture. In many passages, the people of God are encouraged -- indeed, commanded -- to remember. Such remembering builds faith, maintains perspective, and bolsters obedience. So then why does God suggest such an unorthodox thing as this: "Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old"?
Because "I am about to do a new thing."
I have on several occasions attended concerts in which the singer/songwriter has been recording music for more than twenty years. With that sort of repertoire and following, such artists face an interesting challenge: so many who attend their concerts are so deeply fond of the old, familiar music that they are mostly uninterested in the artists' new music. It must be very difficult for a singer to present his newest stuff to an audience that really came to hear what he wrote fifteen years ago.
Surely God faces that same challenge with his own people. We become so fond of what he has done in the past. It is our testimony, after all! We turn into fans of God's greatest hits from the '60s and '70s, while tuning out the new thing he may be writing, singing, and doing today.
The Jews who heard the proclamation of Isaiah 43 -- very likely exiles in Babylon -- remembered how God had delivered their ancestors from slavery in Egypt. God's Word was introduced from that historical context. But that was then, and this is now. God instructed them to put that former deliverance out of their minds, for he was about to do a new thing for them.
As we review the two stories involved, coming from opposite ends of Old Testament history, we see the truth of it. How God delivered the Hebrew slaves from Egypt in the days of Moses is an entirely different sort of event from the process by which God retrieved the Jews from their Babylonian captivity. Beyond that, the work of God anticipated by this and similar passages in Isaiah speak to more than just the exilic Jews. We taste the flavor of a messianic age in these promises -- an achievement of God still yet to be completed, and therefore we are among the generations that need to be alert to the new things God will do.
Philippians 3:4b-14
The theme song from the sweeping 1973 movie, The Way We Were, reflects on the mixed memories of people who had loved each other. And along the way, the singer observes, "What's too painful to remember we simply choose to forget."
That may reflect a natural human instinct. As surely as it is our reflex to shrink back from physical pain, we may also try to steer clear of emotional pain. We prefer to forget the times and places that were painful for us.
We'd like to be able to forget our past failures and foolishness. We rejoice in the gospel assurance that God will not remember our past sins. When we hear Paul say that he is forgetting what lies behind him, these are the kinds of things that come to mind.
Yet, these are not the kinds of things that Paul has in mind. His foolishness and sins are not the subject, not the point. Quite the contrary, Paul is identifying those things of which he had reason to be proud. It's not the faults and failures that he's talking about leaving behind: it's his treasures and trophies.
Get out two sheets of paper. Title the one "Regrets." Title the other "Resume." The long list that we would generate on the first sheet of paper represents what we would like to put behind us. But what appears on the other sheet of paper represents our achievements: the things of which we are proud. It is a sort of a spiritual resume that Paul summarizes for the Philippian Christians: his proud lineage, his impeccable personal righteousness, his exemplary zeal. Yet, these are the very things Paul says that he puts behind him.
Paul goes so far as to reckon the things on his resume as "rubbish." The underlying Greek word, skubalon, appears only once in the New Testament, and it is a dramatic word. It can be used to refer to any sort of refuse, including animal excrement. It is the sort of word one might use, in an impassioned moment, to refer to the painful and regrettable things in one's past. Paul uses it, however, in reference to the things of which he could boast.
Is this some sort of mania? Is it self-loathing on the part of the apostle? No, it is a calculation and a decision, and it brings to mind two other characters in scripture.
On the negative side, we think of Esau. Made foolish by his appetite, Esau traded his birthright as the firstborn son for a mere bowl of stew. The Old Testament narrator observes, "Thus Esau despised his birthright" (Genesis 25:34). Esau made a calculation, you see, that one thing -- the stew -- was so desirable and so valuable to him that it made the birthright disposable by comparison.
At the other end of the spectrum is the pearl merchant in Jesus' parable (Matthew 13:45- 46). Having come across an uncommonly fine specimen, the merchant traded the whole rest of his collection in order to purchase this single "pearl of great price."
This is the nature of Paul's calculation and decision, as well. It's not that the former things in Paul's life had no value; rather, they were easily disposed of "because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord." Just as the pearl merchant traded his entire collection of pearls in order to purchase the one, Paul says, "I have suffered the loss of all things ... in order that I may gain Christ."
Finally, there is a lovely parallelism in verse 12 that deserves our attention. Speaking of the goal toward which he strives, Paul writes, "I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own." The King James Version captures the same symmetry while revealing a different sense of the original Greek verb: "that I may apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus."
The repeated Greek verb, katalambano, is used for actions as diverse as a demon seizing control of a boy (Mark 9:18), from people understanding or comprehending a thing (Acts 10:34; Ephesians 3:18), to a woman being caught in adultery (John 8:3), to a runner obtaining the prize (1 Corinthians 9:24).
The symmetry of language yields a symmetrical and beautiful image: First, Christ taking firm hold of Paul, and then Paul responding by taking firm hold of the prize Christ has for him. It is a portrait of every Christian's testimony in its initiation, its chronology, and its intimacy.
John 12:1-8
The scene begins with a hint of a countdown.
A narrator has different devices for identifying the timing of a story. The traditional fairy tale, for example, begins "once upon a time." That and "long, long ago" help to create a vague and enchanted setting for the story. The historical approach, which Luke uses, for example, in introducing the ministry of John the Baptist, sets the story against the landmarks of contemporary historical figures (see Luke 3:1-2). A narrator might also choose to frame an event in terms of what came before: "the next day" or "not long after," for example.
In the case of this week's gospel lection, this narrator chooses to present the story at hand in light of what is ahead. It was "six days before the Passover" when Jesus arrived in Bethany. By referencing what was ahead, John sets the tone of a countdown. Everything that happens in the present moment is looking ahead and pointing forward. The focus is future, and rightly so.
In the synoptic gospels, the focus shifts at Caesarea Philippi. The occasion of Peter's confession and Jesus' first prediction of what will happen to him in Jerusalem reads like a watershed: everything after that flows toward the eventful final week.
John's gospel is arranged quite differently, and in its intensity it may feel all along like it points toward that week and toward the cross. In any event, the "present" of this episode has the shadow of the future hanging over it.
This passage gives us an additional (albeit unpleasant) peek into the soul of Judas. Apart from this incident, Judas remains largely a mystery to us. He is not high profile enough in earlier events from Jesus' ministry for us to feel like we know him. We don't have the account of when Jesus called him, or how he came to follow Jesus. We don't know what his occupation was or had been. We don't know anything about his family or origins. And, apart from this episode, the only substantive thing we know about him is that he betrayed Jesus, apparently for money, only to feel such remorse after the fact that he returned the money and then went out and ended his own life.
In this episode, however, we get to know Judas just a bit better, and we don't like what we see. In the wake of Mary's extravagant act of love and worship, Judas objects. "Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?"
The voice that complains about a genuine act of love and worship will always be a dissonant one. And the eyes that see the price tag attached to everything will often be unwelcome. There may be a time and a place for such concerns, but Judas' objection was out of place. Especially so because what Mary did was genuine, while Judas' concern was not. John is deliberate about observing Judas' ulterior motives.
We have known people, of course, who might have said the same thing that Judas did. They would have seen the event the same way without the sinister self-interest that animated Judas. And so we should ponder whether Jesus' response to Judas would have been different if Judas' motives had been pure.
As it was, Jesus challenged Judas' reasoning with a new perspective: "You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me." His response is reminiscent of his answer to the question asked by John's disciples about fasting (see Matthew 9:14-15). He does not dismiss the need to provide for the poor, but he is mindful of a reality that Judas and the rest are not: namely, that not all opportunities are equal. And while the opportunity to bless the poor is ongoing, the opportunity to do something for Jesus was momentary.
Jesus said that Mary had bought the expensive perfume "so that she might keep it for the day of my burial." That was the solemn nature of this momentary opportunity: the looming prospect of Jesus' death. That is the future event toward which the episode points, and the reason for the "countdown" quality of the narration.
We don't know the background to explain Jesus' statement about Mary's purchase. What did she know or suspect that she had set aside perfume for the burial of this man who was not very old? Why employ an item set aside for a burial on a person who is still alive? Jesus does not elaborate in a way that answers these questions for us. What we do know is that her act and his words, like John's narration, point to the future. The near future, at that.
John's gospel is the only one that tells us about the raising of Lazarus. We meet Mary and Martha elsewhere (see Luke 10:38-42), but Lazarus is the sole province of John. In keeping with John's distinctive use of Jesus' miracles, the raising of Lazarus has a significance that exceeds the boundaries of the individual and family for whom it was done. The miracle reveals something about Jesus, and it had a far-reaching impact on others: causing belief in multitudes, causing consternation among Jesus' opponents, and prompting the great crowds in nearby Jerusalem when Jesus arrived on Palm Sunday.
Application
"New occasions teach new duties, / time makes ancient good uncouth, / they must upward still and onward, / who would keep abreast of truth" (from James R. Lowell, "Once To Every Man And Nation").
It may be that James Lowell's message to his mid-nineteenth-century contemporaries are rightly echoed in every generation. Human beings tend to fall so in love with what we have already known that we are reluctant to learn and embrace something new.
A distinction should be made, of course, between two kinds of new. There is the new that is merely additional, and there is the new that is entirely different. To add new vocabulary words to a language I already know is of the first order, and we are generally receptive to that. But to learn an entirely new language is to embark on something foreign, and we often resist that.
We follow a Lord who is always leading forward. We serve a God who is always doing something new. And while the past may be a cause of celebration, thanksgiving, and witness, it must not become baggage that prevents us from moving forward into God's new thing.
Each of this week's passages look to the future. God would do a new thing for the exiled Jews, and it would be quite different from what he had done for their ancestors in Egypt. Paul had a life, purpose, and righteousness of his own in the past, but it all had to be jettisoned in order to attain what new thing Christ had for him. And while Jesus had done a remarkable thing for Lazarus in the past, he was about to do something new and greater himself in a matter of days.
This truth should not become a weapon we wield to demolish other people's traditions merely to advance our own agendas. Rather, it is a sobering caution for every man and woman of God to be prepared to leave even the cherished and sacred past behind in order to participate in God's good future.
Alternative Application
Philippians 3:4b-14. "Equal And Opposite Reaction." In physics class, we learned Newton's principle that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The force exerted upon an object is matched by some corresponding energy or force within that object.
Meanwhile, we observed above the marvelous symmetry found in Philippians 3:12. The verb that Paul used to describe Christ's work in his life is the same verb he used, in turn, to describe his own response. Perhaps, then, Paul's testimony in verse 12 represents a spiritual version of the physics principle.
For Paul, the gracious work of Christ in his life produced an analogous response within him. The Lord's initiation was matched by Paul's response, as illustrated by the repetition of the verb. The question raised for us, then, is the degree to which our response to Christ is also truly reciprocal.
What is a law in physics is only a hope in the spiritual realm, for while the Lord's work is red hot, his people may only manage to be lukewarm. While his love is abiding and constant, our love is fickle and vacillating.
We are not expected to initiate with God. We are expected to reciprocate, however. We would do well to identify what word we would choose to characterize the Lord's work in our lives. Then we ask the question: Does the same word that describes his work in me deserve to be used for my response to him?
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 126
There's nothing quite as wonderful as looking at an old car that's been restored to its former luster. A 1932 Ford Victoria Coupe, rumbling down the road brings a thrill. The rust has been cleaned off, the torn upholstery replaced, and missing windows have been installed. It is a work of art. It is also a work of love. Such restoration projects, as anyone involved in them can attest, are not for the weak of heart. Restoring a classic automobile requires painstaking attention to detail, and the patience of Job. After the body has been sanded and repaired, layer after layer of paint must be applied and rubbed down. Then comes polish and more rubbing. Engines, too, need to be rebuilt. Sometimes needed parts aren't available and have to be custom made. This is quite a job indeed!
As the Lenten season draws to a close, we look, as a people, to a time when God will restore our fortunes. Unlike the people in this psalm, however, we don't look to the restoration of a nation, or even of the car we're driving. We look to restoration through new life in Jesus Christ.
Still, though, the question of restoration bears asking. As we look to the restorer of all things to attend to us, what is it that requires fixing or repair? What is it that might need to be replaced? For some, it might be a broken heart. Others might be steeped in anger and find themselves in need of scraping off the rust of resentment. Still others might find the need for a new engine; a new driving purpose. In the pastor business this is called "burn-out." How does God restore a worn out people -- a broken-down church -- a deflated and over-used pastor?
There are, of course, many answers. One, though, that this psalm touches on is the ability to dream (v. 1). When God restored the fortunes, the people were like ones who dreamed. One needs ask, though, which came first -- the chicken or the egg? The dream or the restoration?
The ability to dream, to vision, to see a new reality is the beginning of a holy process. It is the ability to see that pile of rust and rot and envision a gleaming Model A in pristine shape. God sees us that way and envisions a new life, a new beginning for us. The trick is for us to catch that vision; for God's people to grow vulnerable to seeing things a new way -- a different way. God plants the dream seed in each heart. God envisions restoration and new life. God leads the way, then as now, into Jerusalem, to Gesthemane and Golgotha, and on to an empty tomb. Again, the trick is to catch the vision.
So it is that the competitive athlete has to be able to forget the failure that is behind him in order to move ahead successfully.
Meanwhile, his coach knows something more. The coach knows that his team must also be able to forget the success that is behind them.
The basketball players are jumping up and down in celebration, for they've won their first two match-ups of the NCAA Tournament, and they're in the "Sweet Sixteen." They and their fans are in party mode. Their coach's smile is more reserved, however. "Still a lot of basketball left to play," he cautions.
The pro football fans are thrilled because their team is headed to the conference championship game. They're just one step removed from the Super Bowl. "But we haven't won anything yet," the coach says matter-of-factly. "We go into next week's game 0-0."
A preoccupation with past failures may cripple our potential for success in the future. Just as surely, a fixation on yesterday's success may also interfere with tomorrow's achievement. The past has an undeniable impact on our present and our future, and certainly learning from our past is a key to future success. Yet, the time comes when, for the sake of the future, we must forget the past.
Isaiah 43:16-21
The emcee stands up to introduce the featured speaker for the evening. As a natural part of that introduction, the emcee cites the accomplishments of the special guest.
"Here is what he has done in his business. Here is a list of things he has achieved in his field. Here is a bibliography of all that he has written. Now let's welcome him to our gathering. I know that many of you have tracked his career and read his books, and now you are eager to hear what he has to say...."
And when he comes to the podium, the first thing he says is this: "Forget everything that I've done and ignore all that I've written prior to tonight."
That is the effect of the first three verses of our Old Testament passage for this week. The word of the Lord is introduced by a clear reference to one of God's great and memorable deeds from the past, and then the word that comes from the Lord is, essentially, "Forget about what I've done in the past."
Now the truth is that remembering God's mighty deeds of old is a significant theme in scripture. In many passages, the people of God are encouraged -- indeed, commanded -- to remember. Such remembering builds faith, maintains perspective, and bolsters obedience. So then why does God suggest such an unorthodox thing as this: "Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old"?
Because "I am about to do a new thing."
I have on several occasions attended concerts in which the singer/songwriter has been recording music for more than twenty years. With that sort of repertoire and following, such artists face an interesting challenge: so many who attend their concerts are so deeply fond of the old, familiar music that they are mostly uninterested in the artists' new music. It must be very difficult for a singer to present his newest stuff to an audience that really came to hear what he wrote fifteen years ago.
Surely God faces that same challenge with his own people. We become so fond of what he has done in the past. It is our testimony, after all! We turn into fans of God's greatest hits from the '60s and '70s, while tuning out the new thing he may be writing, singing, and doing today.
The Jews who heard the proclamation of Isaiah 43 -- very likely exiles in Babylon -- remembered how God had delivered their ancestors from slavery in Egypt. God's Word was introduced from that historical context. But that was then, and this is now. God instructed them to put that former deliverance out of their minds, for he was about to do a new thing for them.
As we review the two stories involved, coming from opposite ends of Old Testament history, we see the truth of it. How God delivered the Hebrew slaves from Egypt in the days of Moses is an entirely different sort of event from the process by which God retrieved the Jews from their Babylonian captivity. Beyond that, the work of God anticipated by this and similar passages in Isaiah speak to more than just the exilic Jews. We taste the flavor of a messianic age in these promises -- an achievement of God still yet to be completed, and therefore we are among the generations that need to be alert to the new things God will do.
Philippians 3:4b-14
The theme song from the sweeping 1973 movie, The Way We Were, reflects on the mixed memories of people who had loved each other. And along the way, the singer observes, "What's too painful to remember we simply choose to forget."
That may reflect a natural human instinct. As surely as it is our reflex to shrink back from physical pain, we may also try to steer clear of emotional pain. We prefer to forget the times and places that were painful for us.
We'd like to be able to forget our past failures and foolishness. We rejoice in the gospel assurance that God will not remember our past sins. When we hear Paul say that he is forgetting what lies behind him, these are the kinds of things that come to mind.
Yet, these are not the kinds of things that Paul has in mind. His foolishness and sins are not the subject, not the point. Quite the contrary, Paul is identifying those things of which he had reason to be proud. It's not the faults and failures that he's talking about leaving behind: it's his treasures and trophies.
Get out two sheets of paper. Title the one "Regrets." Title the other "Resume." The long list that we would generate on the first sheet of paper represents what we would like to put behind us. But what appears on the other sheet of paper represents our achievements: the things of which we are proud. It is a sort of a spiritual resume that Paul summarizes for the Philippian Christians: his proud lineage, his impeccable personal righteousness, his exemplary zeal. Yet, these are the very things Paul says that he puts behind him.
Paul goes so far as to reckon the things on his resume as "rubbish." The underlying Greek word, skubalon, appears only once in the New Testament, and it is a dramatic word. It can be used to refer to any sort of refuse, including animal excrement. It is the sort of word one might use, in an impassioned moment, to refer to the painful and regrettable things in one's past. Paul uses it, however, in reference to the things of which he could boast.
Is this some sort of mania? Is it self-loathing on the part of the apostle? No, it is a calculation and a decision, and it brings to mind two other characters in scripture.
On the negative side, we think of Esau. Made foolish by his appetite, Esau traded his birthright as the firstborn son for a mere bowl of stew. The Old Testament narrator observes, "Thus Esau despised his birthright" (Genesis 25:34). Esau made a calculation, you see, that one thing -- the stew -- was so desirable and so valuable to him that it made the birthright disposable by comparison.
At the other end of the spectrum is the pearl merchant in Jesus' parable (Matthew 13:45- 46). Having come across an uncommonly fine specimen, the merchant traded the whole rest of his collection in order to purchase this single "pearl of great price."
This is the nature of Paul's calculation and decision, as well. It's not that the former things in Paul's life had no value; rather, they were easily disposed of "because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord." Just as the pearl merchant traded his entire collection of pearls in order to purchase the one, Paul says, "I have suffered the loss of all things ... in order that I may gain Christ."
Finally, there is a lovely parallelism in verse 12 that deserves our attention. Speaking of the goal toward which he strives, Paul writes, "I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own." The King James Version captures the same symmetry while revealing a different sense of the original Greek verb: "that I may apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus."
The repeated Greek verb, katalambano, is used for actions as diverse as a demon seizing control of a boy (Mark 9:18), from people understanding or comprehending a thing (Acts 10:34; Ephesians 3:18), to a woman being caught in adultery (John 8:3), to a runner obtaining the prize (1 Corinthians 9:24).
The symmetry of language yields a symmetrical and beautiful image: First, Christ taking firm hold of Paul, and then Paul responding by taking firm hold of the prize Christ has for him. It is a portrait of every Christian's testimony in its initiation, its chronology, and its intimacy.
John 12:1-8
The scene begins with a hint of a countdown.
A narrator has different devices for identifying the timing of a story. The traditional fairy tale, for example, begins "once upon a time." That and "long, long ago" help to create a vague and enchanted setting for the story. The historical approach, which Luke uses, for example, in introducing the ministry of John the Baptist, sets the story against the landmarks of contemporary historical figures (see Luke 3:1-2). A narrator might also choose to frame an event in terms of what came before: "the next day" or "not long after," for example.
In the case of this week's gospel lection, this narrator chooses to present the story at hand in light of what is ahead. It was "six days before the Passover" when Jesus arrived in Bethany. By referencing what was ahead, John sets the tone of a countdown. Everything that happens in the present moment is looking ahead and pointing forward. The focus is future, and rightly so.
In the synoptic gospels, the focus shifts at Caesarea Philippi. The occasion of Peter's confession and Jesus' first prediction of what will happen to him in Jerusalem reads like a watershed: everything after that flows toward the eventful final week.
John's gospel is arranged quite differently, and in its intensity it may feel all along like it points toward that week and toward the cross. In any event, the "present" of this episode has the shadow of the future hanging over it.
This passage gives us an additional (albeit unpleasant) peek into the soul of Judas. Apart from this incident, Judas remains largely a mystery to us. He is not high profile enough in earlier events from Jesus' ministry for us to feel like we know him. We don't have the account of when Jesus called him, or how he came to follow Jesus. We don't know what his occupation was or had been. We don't know anything about his family or origins. And, apart from this episode, the only substantive thing we know about him is that he betrayed Jesus, apparently for money, only to feel such remorse after the fact that he returned the money and then went out and ended his own life.
In this episode, however, we get to know Judas just a bit better, and we don't like what we see. In the wake of Mary's extravagant act of love and worship, Judas objects. "Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?"
The voice that complains about a genuine act of love and worship will always be a dissonant one. And the eyes that see the price tag attached to everything will often be unwelcome. There may be a time and a place for such concerns, but Judas' objection was out of place. Especially so because what Mary did was genuine, while Judas' concern was not. John is deliberate about observing Judas' ulterior motives.
We have known people, of course, who might have said the same thing that Judas did. They would have seen the event the same way without the sinister self-interest that animated Judas. And so we should ponder whether Jesus' response to Judas would have been different if Judas' motives had been pure.
As it was, Jesus challenged Judas' reasoning with a new perspective: "You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me." His response is reminiscent of his answer to the question asked by John's disciples about fasting (see Matthew 9:14-15). He does not dismiss the need to provide for the poor, but he is mindful of a reality that Judas and the rest are not: namely, that not all opportunities are equal. And while the opportunity to bless the poor is ongoing, the opportunity to do something for Jesus was momentary.
Jesus said that Mary had bought the expensive perfume "so that she might keep it for the day of my burial." That was the solemn nature of this momentary opportunity: the looming prospect of Jesus' death. That is the future event toward which the episode points, and the reason for the "countdown" quality of the narration.
We don't know the background to explain Jesus' statement about Mary's purchase. What did she know or suspect that she had set aside perfume for the burial of this man who was not very old? Why employ an item set aside for a burial on a person who is still alive? Jesus does not elaborate in a way that answers these questions for us. What we do know is that her act and his words, like John's narration, point to the future. The near future, at that.
John's gospel is the only one that tells us about the raising of Lazarus. We meet Mary and Martha elsewhere (see Luke 10:38-42), but Lazarus is the sole province of John. In keeping with John's distinctive use of Jesus' miracles, the raising of Lazarus has a significance that exceeds the boundaries of the individual and family for whom it was done. The miracle reveals something about Jesus, and it had a far-reaching impact on others: causing belief in multitudes, causing consternation among Jesus' opponents, and prompting the great crowds in nearby Jerusalem when Jesus arrived on Palm Sunday.
Application
"New occasions teach new duties, / time makes ancient good uncouth, / they must upward still and onward, / who would keep abreast of truth" (from James R. Lowell, "Once To Every Man And Nation").
It may be that James Lowell's message to his mid-nineteenth-century contemporaries are rightly echoed in every generation. Human beings tend to fall so in love with what we have already known that we are reluctant to learn and embrace something new.
A distinction should be made, of course, between two kinds of new. There is the new that is merely additional, and there is the new that is entirely different. To add new vocabulary words to a language I already know is of the first order, and we are generally receptive to that. But to learn an entirely new language is to embark on something foreign, and we often resist that.
We follow a Lord who is always leading forward. We serve a God who is always doing something new. And while the past may be a cause of celebration, thanksgiving, and witness, it must not become baggage that prevents us from moving forward into God's new thing.
Each of this week's passages look to the future. God would do a new thing for the exiled Jews, and it would be quite different from what he had done for their ancestors in Egypt. Paul had a life, purpose, and righteousness of his own in the past, but it all had to be jettisoned in order to attain what new thing Christ had for him. And while Jesus had done a remarkable thing for Lazarus in the past, he was about to do something new and greater himself in a matter of days.
This truth should not become a weapon we wield to demolish other people's traditions merely to advance our own agendas. Rather, it is a sobering caution for every man and woman of God to be prepared to leave even the cherished and sacred past behind in order to participate in God's good future.
Alternative Application
Philippians 3:4b-14. "Equal And Opposite Reaction." In physics class, we learned Newton's principle that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The force exerted upon an object is matched by some corresponding energy or force within that object.
Meanwhile, we observed above the marvelous symmetry found in Philippians 3:12. The verb that Paul used to describe Christ's work in his life is the same verb he used, in turn, to describe his own response. Perhaps, then, Paul's testimony in verse 12 represents a spiritual version of the physics principle.
For Paul, the gracious work of Christ in his life produced an analogous response within him. The Lord's initiation was matched by Paul's response, as illustrated by the repetition of the verb. The question raised for us, then, is the degree to which our response to Christ is also truly reciprocal.
What is a law in physics is only a hope in the spiritual realm, for while the Lord's work is red hot, his people may only manage to be lukewarm. While his love is abiding and constant, our love is fickle and vacillating.
We are not expected to initiate with God. We are expected to reciprocate, however. We would do well to identify what word we would choose to characterize the Lord's work in our lives. Then we ask the question: Does the same word that describes his work in me deserve to be used for my response to him?
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 126
There's nothing quite as wonderful as looking at an old car that's been restored to its former luster. A 1932 Ford Victoria Coupe, rumbling down the road brings a thrill. The rust has been cleaned off, the torn upholstery replaced, and missing windows have been installed. It is a work of art. It is also a work of love. Such restoration projects, as anyone involved in them can attest, are not for the weak of heart. Restoring a classic automobile requires painstaking attention to detail, and the patience of Job. After the body has been sanded and repaired, layer after layer of paint must be applied and rubbed down. Then comes polish and more rubbing. Engines, too, need to be rebuilt. Sometimes needed parts aren't available and have to be custom made. This is quite a job indeed!
As the Lenten season draws to a close, we look, as a people, to a time when God will restore our fortunes. Unlike the people in this psalm, however, we don't look to the restoration of a nation, or even of the car we're driving. We look to restoration through new life in Jesus Christ.
Still, though, the question of restoration bears asking. As we look to the restorer of all things to attend to us, what is it that requires fixing or repair? What is it that might need to be replaced? For some, it might be a broken heart. Others might be steeped in anger and find themselves in need of scraping off the rust of resentment. Still others might find the need for a new engine; a new driving purpose. In the pastor business this is called "burn-out." How does God restore a worn out people -- a broken-down church -- a deflated and over-used pastor?
There are, of course, many answers. One, though, that this psalm touches on is the ability to dream (v. 1). When God restored the fortunes, the people were like ones who dreamed. One needs ask, though, which came first -- the chicken or the egg? The dream or the restoration?
The ability to dream, to vision, to see a new reality is the beginning of a holy process. It is the ability to see that pile of rust and rot and envision a gleaming Model A in pristine shape. God sees us that way and envisions a new life, a new beginning for us. The trick is for us to catch that vision; for God's people to grow vulnerable to seeing things a new way -- a different way. God plants the dream seed in each heart. God envisions restoration and new life. God leads the way, then as now, into Jerusalem, to Gesthemane and Golgotha, and on to an empty tomb. Again, the trick is to catch the vision.
