Getting Right
Commentary
I had a coworker tell me the other day about a problem she was having with her computer. She had fiddled and fussed, trying different things to get the program she was using to work properly. Then, finally, she decided to turn her machine off and back on again, and -- voila! -- everything worked splendidly.
That story may sound familiar to you. Many of our devices simply need, from time to time, to restart, reset, reboot. And the principle is not limited to our technology. We have all sorts of patterns for resetting things in other areas of life, as well.
Here’s a guy who goes through an annual process each spring to tune up his lawn mower. Oil and spark plugs and air filters are all replaced, things are cleaned, and when the process is done, he declares, “It runs like new!” It is not a new lawn mower, of course, but it has enjoyed a helpful and necessary reset.
I have several friends who swear by their chiropractors and the benefits of getting “adjusted.” It makes everything work better, they say. Another person feels twenty years younger after a certain sort of “cleansing” diet. And yet another person emerges from a spa feeling like a new person.
So many different ways and means that we have of resetting, renewing. And in every case, we are so pleased by the results. For we cherish the look and feel of a thing that is back to the way it ought to be.
I suspect that our sense for “the way things ought to be” is one of the ways that we are created in God’s image. And our longing for things to be “just right” probably finds its origins in the part of our DNA that remembers Eden. And we will find that the holiday of Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent may be for us a spiritual version of the practices that we cherish in so many other areas of life.
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17 or Isaiah 58:1-12
When we hear the phrase “sound effects,” it usually refers to some technological production of a certain sound, usually in order to enhance some larger presentation. In the old days, for example, sound effects were crucial to radio dramas. Now we take them for granted in movies, television programs, and even more homemade-style videos.
For the purposes of our Old Testament reading, however, I’d like us to think of the phrase “sound effects” somewhat differently. Let us reflect, instead, on the effect of sounds. For we all know from personal experience the dramatic impact that certain sounds can have on us.
Our extended family was together, sharing a vacation home recently, and in working with the unfamiliar kitchen, we briefly set off the smoke alarm. That was an unsettling sound for everyone, of course, and it especially had an effect on the young grandchildren who didn’t know what it meant.
Many sounds can elicit unhappy reactions within us. The piercing sound of a siren, the anguished cry of someone who has been hurt, the proverbial nails on a chalkboard (do people even know what a chalkboard is anymore?). Many kinds of sounds can be troubling to us.
Conversely, there is the lovely effect that certain sounds have on us -- perhaps the birds in the morning, the rain on a summer night, or the waves along a shore. Sounds have so many, many effects. A particular song, a loved one’s voices, a pet’s purring, and more.
The sound effects to consider in the selected passage from Joel are the effects of the sound of a trumpet. Two different times in this message from the Lord, the instruction is given to “blow a trumpet in Zion.” That suggests a particular kind of sound. And what was the effect?
When you and I think of trumpets, we no doubt think first of an instrument for making music. But the trumpet in ancient Israel was not primarily orchestral. Rather, the trumpet was employed as a means for sending a signal. A trumpet, after all, can be heard outdoors and across a considerable distance. And absent the sort of mass communication that we have available to us, a trumpet was an effective way to send a message to an entire community.
The two instructions to “blow a trumpet in Zion,” then, suggests announcements or messages or signals to the community. And, interestingly, the two signals carry two very different messages. The sound effect of the second, therefore, was not meant to be the same as the sound effect of the first.
“Blow a trumpet in Zion, and sound an alarm on my holy mountain,” we read in the first case. The people are expected to tremble at the sound of this trumpet. And what is the reason for this alarm? “The day of the Lord is coming.”
We are acquainted with the theme of “the day of the Lord” as it appears across the pages of scripture. The portrayals of that day are a conspicuously mixed bag. On the one hand, it is a day to be anticipated, full of goodness and glory. On the other hand, as here in Joel, it is a day to be dreaded, full of “darkness and gloom.” The seeming inconsistency is no mystery, however, for both portraits stem from the same reality: namely, the day of the Lord is when God will step in and make things right. That is inarguably good news, of course, for the righteous. For the wicked, however, it spells doom.
The fact that the Lord’s message about the day of the Lord to Joel’s audience is one of dire warning reveals, therefore, reveals which side of the equation they are on. What, then, is the “sound effect” of the first trumpet? It is the effect of a smoke alarm: something is wrong! It is the effect of a tornado siren: trouble is coming!
But the larger passage is a testament to God’s grace, for this warning is not about an unavoidable calamity. Rather, this warning becomes an invitation to repent. “Even now,” the Lord encourages them, “Return to me with all your heart, and with fasting, weeping, and mourning.” There is beautiful hope for sinners found in the truth that the Lord “is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger, abounding in mercy and relenting of catastrophe.”
With a hopeful eye toward repentance, therefore, we hear the second trumpet, and that sound has a different effect. “Blow a trumpet in Zion, consecrate a fast, proclaim a solemn assembly.” This trumpet is not the tornado siren; it is the church bell. This is not the signal to hide in the basement, but the signal to gather for worship.
As we observe Ash Wednesday and anticipate the larger season of Lent, let us hear Joel’s trumpets and their sound effects. Let us recognize the sober warning of God to sinners. And let us recognize, too, the gracious invitation from God to come together in humble repentance and rightful worship.
2 Corinthians 5:20b--6:10
Whenever we read a passage of scripture, we acknowledge that we are reading something that was originally written for a different audience. It was not addressed to us. At the same time, however, since we affirm that scripture is uniquely the word of God, and inasmuch as he is unchanging, then we also take what we read as his word to us today. A careful Bible student, therefore, will be attentive to both context and application: both what the message was to the original audience and what the message is to us.
With respect to this selection from 2nd Corinthians, we'll focus our attention just now on the original message. Meanwhile, we will let the contemporary application of Paul's words emerge as part of our larger treatment of all of three of this week's passages.
In terms of the original context, we remember that Paul's relationship with the Corinthians was a challenging one. We are given considerable insight into that relationship, for roughly 10% of the chapters in the entire New Testament are written from Paul to the Christians in Corinth. In those chapters, we see his deep love and concern for them, but we also see that that congregation caused him much grief. Perhaps some measure of grief is always a byproduct of love and concern. But Corinth, among the many churches that Paul founded, seems to have been his problem child.
Within the context of the entire second letter to the Corinthians, we hear Paul feeling the need to defend himself to the Corinthians. Perhaps we personally know the heartache of that dynamic. Here is a man who has done nothing but love and care for and make personal sacrifices on behalf of these people, yet still he finds himself criticized, doubted, and even dismissed. But before we feel sorry for the apostle -- or perhaps for ourselves -- we do well to remember that, in these experiences, we have solidarity with God himself, for that is so often the very dynamic between him and his people.
In our selected passage, then, we recognize that the message Paul writes is not detached, as though it were a tract that might be picked up and read by any stranger. No, he knew and loved these people, and so it is with the urgency that comes from love that he implored them to “be reconciled to God.” Furthermore, the larger contexts of the relationship and of the letter help us to understand the personal credentials that Paul expresses. We think, for example, of his statement that “we are ambassadors for Christ,” as well as the extended chronicle of the apostles’ experiences and hardships.
Let us not mistake the latter half of our passage as either self-pity or pride. I take it rather to be an education for the Corinthians (and, by extension, for us). They and we need to know and to be reminded of what it can cost to follow Jesus. Faithfulness to his calling in our lives can be expected to incur suffering and mistreatment. After all, Jesus said, “It is enough for students to be like their teachers, and servants like their masters. If the head of the house has been called Beelzebub, how much more the members of his household!” (Matthew 10:25 NIV) And, similarly, he told his disciples, “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first.... Remember what I told you: 'A servant is not greater than his master.' If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also” (John 15:18, 20 NIV).
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
I have, in sermons and lessons along the way, nicknamed Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount “God’s Word to Reasonably Good People.” My contention is that Jesus’ audience was filled with folks who considered themselves good, decent, religious folk. Yet he again and again in the Sermon on the Mount challenged the goodness -- the reasonable goodness -- of the audience members. For he was calling them to something higher and better than just being reasonably good. Our righteousness, after all, must surpass that of the scribes and Pharisees if we are to enter the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 5:20)!
Well, our gospel lection is an excerpt from Jesus’ Sermon the Mount, and I believe that we see in this passage evidence of both the reasonable goodness of his audience and his call to something better.
First, the profile of the audience members as good, religious folk is implicit in the unquestioned assumption that these are people who fast, who pray, and who give to the poor. Jesus is, you see, preaching to the choir. This audience is not the “sinners” that he was so often criticized for engaging. Indeed, during the sermon, he makes occasional disparaging references to those whom his audience would regard as less religious, less devout.
Second, we see also Jesus’ call to something better. They may be decent folks who fast and pray and give, but he urges them to better praying, better fasting, and better giving. Specifically, he challenges them to completely reorient their “righteousness.”
The pattern is the same across all three acts of piety. On the one hand, there is the human inclination to perform for a human audience and to seek the praise and approval of people. On the other hand, there is the sacred opportunity to live our lives before an audience of one and to desire only his praise and approval.
You and I do not live in a culture anymore where praying aloud on street corners is likely to win much applause. Conversely, we have exceeded the world of first-century Palestine in our methods of ‘sounding a trumpet’ to draw attention to our generosity. And fasting? That element of this tripartite piety has largely been abandoned by American Christendom. As we read and hear Jesus’ teachings, therefore, let us see his original audience clearly, and let us recognize that we are not superior to them. They are well-meaning religious people whose religiosity needs adjusting. And perhaps so, too, with us.
The key to this excerpt of teaching, of course, is not in the failures but in the goal. In other words, whether our falling short is the same as or different from that of Jesus’ original audience, the ideal that he holds up for them is marvelously the same for us. And that ideal is the redirection of all of life toward God. Let him be the only one who sees my fast. Let him be the only audience for my prayer. And let him be my motive and my reward for my giving.
It is easy to become complacent as reasonably good people. Jesus does not call us to be reasonably good, however. Rather, again and again, he challenges us to be unreasonably good -- turning the other cheek and giving to anyone who asks; loving enemies and going extra miles. He does not want us to be reasonably good; he wants us to be godly. And the best first step toward godliness is to learn to do all that we do for God.
Application
If it feels good to have our lawn mower “like new,” how much more our souls? If it is energizing to get our bodies cleaned out, how much more our hearts? We have discovered certain tricks and techniques to reset other elements of life. Ash Wednesday invites us to learn how to do a spiritual reset.
First, we observe in our selected passages a tone of urgency. Surely that is conveyed by the sound of Joel’s trumpets. And, likewise, we sense in Paul’s word to the Corinthians that there is no excuse for foot-dragging or postponing. Now is the time! Today is the day! The first step toward our spiritual reset, therefore, is a no-nonsense urgency.
Second, we perceive that the stakes are high. The analogies of tune-ups and chiropractors are embarrassing and trivial when juxtaposed with the spiritual concerns of this day and upcoming season. For themes of Joel, Paul, and Jesus are sin, salvation, and a right relationship with God. If we want the latter, then the first step is to repent of the former.
In my nearly forty years of ministry, I have observed a declining awareness of sin. It is no longer a part of our culture’s vocabulary. And, more importantly, it is no longer a part of our culture’s worldview. Consequently, our people may not be at all equipped to reflect on what parts of their lives -- thoughts, words, and deeds -- are displeasing to a holy God. But the reality is that they cannot fully experience Christ’s salvation apart from a recognition of their sin. And so, the second step toward our spiritual reset is to recognize our sins and repent of them.
Finally, we observed in the selection from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount the call to a reoriented life. Surely that is an underlying assumption of Joel’s exhortation to repent. And Paul is embodying for his audience a life that has been radically reoriented. This, then, is the final, critical step toward the sort of spiritual reset that our souls yearn for. For when our lives have turned, like a sunflower toward the sun, to a posture of doing all that we do before the audience of One, then we will feel -- and live! -- like new.
Alternative Application(s)
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21 — “Of Chickens, Eggs, and Treasures”
We human beings are cause-and-effect oriented creatures. That is how we come to understand the world and how it works. From infancy, we discover that crying elicits certain responses from those who surround us, usually resulting in our being held and fed and changed. And all through our lives, we keep discovering -- in nature, in business, in our relationships, and in our bodies -- that certain causes have predictable effects. Indeed, it is when the cause-and-effect paradigm seems to break down that we face a crisis. We scratch our heads and object, “That’s not the way it’s supposed to be!”
The old philosophical question plays on this understanding of cause and effect. “Which came first,” we ask, “the chicken or the egg?” We understand that there is a cause-and-effect relationship between chickens and eggs. The question, however, is which of the two was the original cause.
It’s because of this strong paradigm of cause and effect that we learn to appreciate -- and even insist on -- a certain order for doing things. We know that A needs to happen in order for B to succeed. And so, we will, from time to time, caution someone not to “put the cart before the horse.”
In the selected excerpt from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount that is our gospel lection this week, Jesus presents us with a cause-and-effect principle, but what he claims may surprise us. “Where your treasure is,” Jesus says, “there your heart will be also.”
Really? Is that how it works? Most of us tend to assume that the cause and effect are the other way around.
Our “heart,” in this teaching, suggests our affections, our priorities, our allegiances, and our values. And I think that most of us would contend that our money follows those things. In other words, where we spend and where we give is an extension or result of our allegiances and priorities. But, no: Jesus says that the flow goes in the opposite direction. He claims that our hearts follow our treasure.
I had a friend years ago whose dog was his constant companion. The dog lived with him in his room in a fraternity house in college. The dog went places with him in his car. The dog was brought along to all sorts of social events. The dog, it seems, had his heart.
After graduating from college, however, this friend got a good job with a big downtown firm. Soon he was driving a much nicer car. And it wasn’t long before he was living in a very nice house.
And what of the dog? Well, the dog wasn’t allowed to ride in the nice car. And the beloved dog was severely restricted in terms of where he could and couldn’t go in the house. It was a dramatic change from the way things used to be.
The heart followed the treasure, you see. When my friend’s room and car were pretty junky, the dog was welcome. But when the house and car were upgraded, the dog was downgraded.
If you and I find that we need to change our hearts in some way, therefore, it seems that our first step should be to change our treasures. Let us put our valuables where our values ought to be, and we’ll discover that our hearts and minds will follow. For Jesus’ answer to this chicken-and-egg question is a surprising one: “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”
That story may sound familiar to you. Many of our devices simply need, from time to time, to restart, reset, reboot. And the principle is not limited to our technology. We have all sorts of patterns for resetting things in other areas of life, as well.
Here’s a guy who goes through an annual process each spring to tune up his lawn mower. Oil and spark plugs and air filters are all replaced, things are cleaned, and when the process is done, he declares, “It runs like new!” It is not a new lawn mower, of course, but it has enjoyed a helpful and necessary reset.
I have several friends who swear by their chiropractors and the benefits of getting “adjusted.” It makes everything work better, they say. Another person feels twenty years younger after a certain sort of “cleansing” diet. And yet another person emerges from a spa feeling like a new person.
So many different ways and means that we have of resetting, renewing. And in every case, we are so pleased by the results. For we cherish the look and feel of a thing that is back to the way it ought to be.
I suspect that our sense for “the way things ought to be” is one of the ways that we are created in God’s image. And our longing for things to be “just right” probably finds its origins in the part of our DNA that remembers Eden. And we will find that the holiday of Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent may be for us a spiritual version of the practices that we cherish in so many other areas of life.
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17 or Isaiah 58:1-12
When we hear the phrase “sound effects,” it usually refers to some technological production of a certain sound, usually in order to enhance some larger presentation. In the old days, for example, sound effects were crucial to radio dramas. Now we take them for granted in movies, television programs, and even more homemade-style videos.
For the purposes of our Old Testament reading, however, I’d like us to think of the phrase “sound effects” somewhat differently. Let us reflect, instead, on the effect of sounds. For we all know from personal experience the dramatic impact that certain sounds can have on us.
Our extended family was together, sharing a vacation home recently, and in working with the unfamiliar kitchen, we briefly set off the smoke alarm. That was an unsettling sound for everyone, of course, and it especially had an effect on the young grandchildren who didn’t know what it meant.
Many sounds can elicit unhappy reactions within us. The piercing sound of a siren, the anguished cry of someone who has been hurt, the proverbial nails on a chalkboard (do people even know what a chalkboard is anymore?). Many kinds of sounds can be troubling to us.
Conversely, there is the lovely effect that certain sounds have on us -- perhaps the birds in the morning, the rain on a summer night, or the waves along a shore. Sounds have so many, many effects. A particular song, a loved one’s voices, a pet’s purring, and more.
The sound effects to consider in the selected passage from Joel are the effects of the sound of a trumpet. Two different times in this message from the Lord, the instruction is given to “blow a trumpet in Zion.” That suggests a particular kind of sound. And what was the effect?
When you and I think of trumpets, we no doubt think first of an instrument for making music. But the trumpet in ancient Israel was not primarily orchestral. Rather, the trumpet was employed as a means for sending a signal. A trumpet, after all, can be heard outdoors and across a considerable distance. And absent the sort of mass communication that we have available to us, a trumpet was an effective way to send a message to an entire community.
The two instructions to “blow a trumpet in Zion,” then, suggests announcements or messages or signals to the community. And, interestingly, the two signals carry two very different messages. The sound effect of the second, therefore, was not meant to be the same as the sound effect of the first.
“Blow a trumpet in Zion, and sound an alarm on my holy mountain,” we read in the first case. The people are expected to tremble at the sound of this trumpet. And what is the reason for this alarm? “The day of the Lord is coming.”
We are acquainted with the theme of “the day of the Lord” as it appears across the pages of scripture. The portrayals of that day are a conspicuously mixed bag. On the one hand, it is a day to be anticipated, full of goodness and glory. On the other hand, as here in Joel, it is a day to be dreaded, full of “darkness and gloom.” The seeming inconsistency is no mystery, however, for both portraits stem from the same reality: namely, the day of the Lord is when God will step in and make things right. That is inarguably good news, of course, for the righteous. For the wicked, however, it spells doom.
The fact that the Lord’s message about the day of the Lord to Joel’s audience is one of dire warning reveals, therefore, reveals which side of the equation they are on. What, then, is the “sound effect” of the first trumpet? It is the effect of a smoke alarm: something is wrong! It is the effect of a tornado siren: trouble is coming!
But the larger passage is a testament to God’s grace, for this warning is not about an unavoidable calamity. Rather, this warning becomes an invitation to repent. “Even now,” the Lord encourages them, “Return to me with all your heart, and with fasting, weeping, and mourning.” There is beautiful hope for sinners found in the truth that the Lord “is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger, abounding in mercy and relenting of catastrophe.”
With a hopeful eye toward repentance, therefore, we hear the second trumpet, and that sound has a different effect. “Blow a trumpet in Zion, consecrate a fast, proclaim a solemn assembly.” This trumpet is not the tornado siren; it is the church bell. This is not the signal to hide in the basement, but the signal to gather for worship.
As we observe Ash Wednesday and anticipate the larger season of Lent, let us hear Joel’s trumpets and their sound effects. Let us recognize the sober warning of God to sinners. And let us recognize, too, the gracious invitation from God to come together in humble repentance and rightful worship.
2 Corinthians 5:20b--6:10
Whenever we read a passage of scripture, we acknowledge that we are reading something that was originally written for a different audience. It was not addressed to us. At the same time, however, since we affirm that scripture is uniquely the word of God, and inasmuch as he is unchanging, then we also take what we read as his word to us today. A careful Bible student, therefore, will be attentive to both context and application: both what the message was to the original audience and what the message is to us.
With respect to this selection from 2nd Corinthians, we'll focus our attention just now on the original message. Meanwhile, we will let the contemporary application of Paul's words emerge as part of our larger treatment of all of three of this week's passages.
In terms of the original context, we remember that Paul's relationship with the Corinthians was a challenging one. We are given considerable insight into that relationship, for roughly 10% of the chapters in the entire New Testament are written from Paul to the Christians in Corinth. In those chapters, we see his deep love and concern for them, but we also see that that congregation caused him much grief. Perhaps some measure of grief is always a byproduct of love and concern. But Corinth, among the many churches that Paul founded, seems to have been his problem child.
Within the context of the entire second letter to the Corinthians, we hear Paul feeling the need to defend himself to the Corinthians. Perhaps we personally know the heartache of that dynamic. Here is a man who has done nothing but love and care for and make personal sacrifices on behalf of these people, yet still he finds himself criticized, doubted, and even dismissed. But before we feel sorry for the apostle -- or perhaps for ourselves -- we do well to remember that, in these experiences, we have solidarity with God himself, for that is so often the very dynamic between him and his people.
In our selected passage, then, we recognize that the message Paul writes is not detached, as though it were a tract that might be picked up and read by any stranger. No, he knew and loved these people, and so it is with the urgency that comes from love that he implored them to “be reconciled to God.” Furthermore, the larger contexts of the relationship and of the letter help us to understand the personal credentials that Paul expresses. We think, for example, of his statement that “we are ambassadors for Christ,” as well as the extended chronicle of the apostles’ experiences and hardships.
Let us not mistake the latter half of our passage as either self-pity or pride. I take it rather to be an education for the Corinthians (and, by extension, for us). They and we need to know and to be reminded of what it can cost to follow Jesus. Faithfulness to his calling in our lives can be expected to incur suffering and mistreatment. After all, Jesus said, “It is enough for students to be like their teachers, and servants like their masters. If the head of the house has been called Beelzebub, how much more the members of his household!” (Matthew 10:25 NIV) And, similarly, he told his disciples, “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first.... Remember what I told you: 'A servant is not greater than his master.' If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also” (John 15:18, 20 NIV).
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
I have, in sermons and lessons along the way, nicknamed Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount “God’s Word to Reasonably Good People.” My contention is that Jesus’ audience was filled with folks who considered themselves good, decent, religious folk. Yet he again and again in the Sermon on the Mount challenged the goodness -- the reasonable goodness -- of the audience members. For he was calling them to something higher and better than just being reasonably good. Our righteousness, after all, must surpass that of the scribes and Pharisees if we are to enter the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 5:20)!
Well, our gospel lection is an excerpt from Jesus’ Sermon the Mount, and I believe that we see in this passage evidence of both the reasonable goodness of his audience and his call to something better.
First, the profile of the audience members as good, religious folk is implicit in the unquestioned assumption that these are people who fast, who pray, and who give to the poor. Jesus is, you see, preaching to the choir. This audience is not the “sinners” that he was so often criticized for engaging. Indeed, during the sermon, he makes occasional disparaging references to those whom his audience would regard as less religious, less devout.
Second, we see also Jesus’ call to something better. They may be decent folks who fast and pray and give, but he urges them to better praying, better fasting, and better giving. Specifically, he challenges them to completely reorient their “righteousness.”
The pattern is the same across all three acts of piety. On the one hand, there is the human inclination to perform for a human audience and to seek the praise and approval of people. On the other hand, there is the sacred opportunity to live our lives before an audience of one and to desire only his praise and approval.
You and I do not live in a culture anymore where praying aloud on street corners is likely to win much applause. Conversely, we have exceeded the world of first-century Palestine in our methods of ‘sounding a trumpet’ to draw attention to our generosity. And fasting? That element of this tripartite piety has largely been abandoned by American Christendom. As we read and hear Jesus’ teachings, therefore, let us see his original audience clearly, and let us recognize that we are not superior to them. They are well-meaning religious people whose religiosity needs adjusting. And perhaps so, too, with us.
The key to this excerpt of teaching, of course, is not in the failures but in the goal. In other words, whether our falling short is the same as or different from that of Jesus’ original audience, the ideal that he holds up for them is marvelously the same for us. And that ideal is the redirection of all of life toward God. Let him be the only one who sees my fast. Let him be the only audience for my prayer. And let him be my motive and my reward for my giving.
It is easy to become complacent as reasonably good people. Jesus does not call us to be reasonably good, however. Rather, again and again, he challenges us to be unreasonably good -- turning the other cheek and giving to anyone who asks; loving enemies and going extra miles. He does not want us to be reasonably good; he wants us to be godly. And the best first step toward godliness is to learn to do all that we do for God.
Application
If it feels good to have our lawn mower “like new,” how much more our souls? If it is energizing to get our bodies cleaned out, how much more our hearts? We have discovered certain tricks and techniques to reset other elements of life. Ash Wednesday invites us to learn how to do a spiritual reset.
First, we observe in our selected passages a tone of urgency. Surely that is conveyed by the sound of Joel’s trumpets. And, likewise, we sense in Paul’s word to the Corinthians that there is no excuse for foot-dragging or postponing. Now is the time! Today is the day! The first step toward our spiritual reset, therefore, is a no-nonsense urgency.
Second, we perceive that the stakes are high. The analogies of tune-ups and chiropractors are embarrassing and trivial when juxtaposed with the spiritual concerns of this day and upcoming season. For themes of Joel, Paul, and Jesus are sin, salvation, and a right relationship with God. If we want the latter, then the first step is to repent of the former.
In my nearly forty years of ministry, I have observed a declining awareness of sin. It is no longer a part of our culture’s vocabulary. And, more importantly, it is no longer a part of our culture’s worldview. Consequently, our people may not be at all equipped to reflect on what parts of their lives -- thoughts, words, and deeds -- are displeasing to a holy God. But the reality is that they cannot fully experience Christ’s salvation apart from a recognition of their sin. And so, the second step toward our spiritual reset is to recognize our sins and repent of them.
Finally, we observed in the selection from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount the call to a reoriented life. Surely that is an underlying assumption of Joel’s exhortation to repent. And Paul is embodying for his audience a life that has been radically reoriented. This, then, is the final, critical step toward the sort of spiritual reset that our souls yearn for. For when our lives have turned, like a sunflower toward the sun, to a posture of doing all that we do before the audience of One, then we will feel -- and live! -- like new.
Alternative Application(s)
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21 — “Of Chickens, Eggs, and Treasures”
We human beings are cause-and-effect oriented creatures. That is how we come to understand the world and how it works. From infancy, we discover that crying elicits certain responses from those who surround us, usually resulting in our being held and fed and changed. And all through our lives, we keep discovering -- in nature, in business, in our relationships, and in our bodies -- that certain causes have predictable effects. Indeed, it is when the cause-and-effect paradigm seems to break down that we face a crisis. We scratch our heads and object, “That’s not the way it’s supposed to be!”
The old philosophical question plays on this understanding of cause and effect. “Which came first,” we ask, “the chicken or the egg?” We understand that there is a cause-and-effect relationship between chickens and eggs. The question, however, is which of the two was the original cause.
It’s because of this strong paradigm of cause and effect that we learn to appreciate -- and even insist on -- a certain order for doing things. We know that A needs to happen in order for B to succeed. And so, we will, from time to time, caution someone not to “put the cart before the horse.”
In the selected excerpt from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount that is our gospel lection this week, Jesus presents us with a cause-and-effect principle, but what he claims may surprise us. “Where your treasure is,” Jesus says, “there your heart will be also.”
Really? Is that how it works? Most of us tend to assume that the cause and effect are the other way around.
Our “heart,” in this teaching, suggests our affections, our priorities, our allegiances, and our values. And I think that most of us would contend that our money follows those things. In other words, where we spend and where we give is an extension or result of our allegiances and priorities. But, no: Jesus says that the flow goes in the opposite direction. He claims that our hearts follow our treasure.
I had a friend years ago whose dog was his constant companion. The dog lived with him in his room in a fraternity house in college. The dog went places with him in his car. The dog was brought along to all sorts of social events. The dog, it seems, had his heart.
After graduating from college, however, this friend got a good job with a big downtown firm. Soon he was driving a much nicer car. And it wasn’t long before he was living in a very nice house.
And what of the dog? Well, the dog wasn’t allowed to ride in the nice car. And the beloved dog was severely restricted in terms of where he could and couldn’t go in the house. It was a dramatic change from the way things used to be.
The heart followed the treasure, you see. When my friend’s room and car were pretty junky, the dog was welcome. But when the house and car were upgraded, the dog was downgraded.
If you and I find that we need to change our hearts in some way, therefore, it seems that our first step should be to change our treasures. Let us put our valuables where our values ought to be, and we’ll discover that our hearts and minds will follow. For Jesus’ answer to this chicken-and-egg question is a surprising one: “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”
