The Agenda Factor
Sermon
Defining Moments
First Lesson Sermons For Advent/Christmas/Epiphany
Architecture and power are Siamese twins joined at the hip. Rulers have always wanted to translate their power into brick and mortar -- from the tower of Babel and Egypt's pharaohs to Chairman Mao, Joseph Stalin, and Adolf Hitler. I. M. Pei, in his contract given by Fran ois Mitterand to renovate the Louvre, was commissioned to re-establish the glory of France. Serious resources have been committed by rulers to display their strength and grandeur with architecture.
David had finally consolidated his kingdom and established his city on Mount Zion. The cost of this had been enormous and David's hands were bloody from the fighting and intrigue. Now he lived in a fine palace with cedar walls on Mount Zion, and Israel, a nomadic nation of runaway slaves in a tiny crossroads country, was at least looking respectable in the family of nations. King David looked like a king and lived like a king. After all, Hiram, king of Tyre, had made this possible by giving him this beautiful palace. All's well that ends well. No longer an outlaw, no longer a contender -- he was king and looked and lived the part, and he wanted people to notice. He announced to his private chaplain, Nathan, that he had great plans for God's house too. Perhaps David felt guilty about the disparity between his house and God's tent. It could be that after all of this building for himself, he was beginning to have buyer's remorse or builder's remorse. Perhaps it was a rainy night in Jerusalem, and while he was feeling safe and dry in his great house, he had a pang of conscience as he thought of the ark of God in a very vulnerable shelter. Could he not hear the flapping of the tent as the wind blew and the rain descended? "I'll do something for God. I'll build God a house as good as my own," he announced to Nathan. "I live in a palace of cedar, while the ark of God remains in a tent" -- very noble indeed.
People who covet power and court it constantly know instinctively that every opportunity to demonstrate the power they possess must be taken. Yes, David lived well but his God did not. Could David be so powerful and his nomadic desert God live in a battered old tent? After all, the other deities in surrounding empires lived well. Could the God of Israel be much at all if his house was so scruffy?
David prepares to build a suitable "house" for God, a temple fitting for the God of a new great nation (or, at least, a wanna-be nation) and a great king (again, a wanna-be king) like David. Nathan agrees; after all, he would be senior minister in the new temple. It sounded good, and in all likelihood would sit well with the people. The only thing wrong with it was that God did not see it that way.
That night the word of the Lord came to Nathan, saying: "Go and tell my servant David, 'This is what the Lord says: Are you the one to build me a house to dwell in? I have not dwelt in a house from the day I brought the Israelites up out of Egypt to this day. I have been moving from place to place with a tent as my dwelling' " (vv. 4-6).
God said to Nathan, "Go and tell David I have always met my people in a tent. That is how I identify myself with them."
The Lord will make you a house (v. 11). If any houses are to be built or dynasties established, God will do it, not David. David did not fool God by this very generous offer to build God a nice house. This was only an extension of David's plan for himself, disguised as a generous thing to do for God. This empire needed a more manageable, predictable deity, but God had no intention of being domesticated by Israel. "What makes you think you are the one to build me a house to live in?" (2 Samuel 7:5). David needs to shore up his power, but God doesn't need it. Yahweh was not been tied down to a building but has always roamed freely, even before he adopted Israel. Why should he be domesticated now? He will operate on God's agenda, not David's. After all, who is the real king here anyway?
The dwelling in a tent motif carries over to the prologue in John's gospel, "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us" (John 1:14). God always insists on his own agenda. He will not be domesticated.
This kingdom will not be established on David's agenda with his public works program. God has an agenda and he will establish the house of Israel forever, longer and beyond the life of a temple. He will do it his way and in his own time frame, and better than anyone could imagine.
Indeed, the agenda factor is the real issue for most of us. At first glimpse, it appears that God would be a great enhancement for living. Doesn't he part the seas and send the manna? With Jesus many followed at the beginning because he could heal them, feed them, raise them from the dead. Not a bad deal, Hosannah! This taking-up-the-cross stuff should be negotiated out. Sacrifice and the second mile sounds good but it is not to be taken very seriously.
This agenda issue goes to church with the modern Christian also. Garry Trudeau, the creator of the Doonesbury cartoon, portrays a character and his wife looking for a church. As they interview the pastor of the Little Church of Walden, they ask if the church has a volleyball team. The pastor replies, "No." The couple then exclaims, "And you call yourself a church?"
Most pastors have been through this ordeal, having to answer questions from people "shopping" for churches that meet their agendas. As Trudeau expresses in another cartoon, a questioning couple is talking with the pastor, and they say, "Doesn't the task of redemption imply guilt?" The pastor answers, "Well, yes, I do rely on the occasional disincentive to keep the flock from going astray. Guilt's part of that!" The next panel shows the inquiring couple responding, "I don't know. There is so much negativity in the world as it is...." She says, "That's right. We're looking for a church that's supportive, a place where we can feel good about ourselves. I'm not sure the guilt thing works for us." He replies, "On the other hand, you do offer racquetball." She says, "So did the Unitarians, Honey. Let's shop around some more."
Too many see the Christian life as expressed in the church as the "Good Ship Lollipop." You remember the film, or have seen it in an old movie on television: Shirley Temple dancing joyfully with Bo Jangles on the deck of the Good Ship Lollipop, which is filled with happy people, cared for by a helpful captain and crew who are no more than social directors dedicated to the happiness, entertainment, and indulgence of the passengers. Occasionally, the Good Ship Lollipop as a church gets hijacked by those on board who see its primary purpose as political or social -- either way, they impose their own agendas on the old ship of faith. Others use the Good Ship Lollipop as a means to advance their careers, or otherwise force it to serve their private agendas. And the ship loses its way as well as its purpose for being.
The agenda factor is clear in the old story of the lifesaving station on the coast of Maine. The lifesaving crew was known for the efficiency with which they were able to pull out of the raging surf those whose ship had been torn apart by the rocks along the coast. The lifesaving crews were well disciplined and effectively trained. They took justifiable pride in the way they rescued people from the raging surf. As success came their way, they bought uniforms, built a clubhouse, held parties and other social gatherings, and in every way enjoyed their volunteer work.
They became so absorbed in supporting the work of the lifesaving station that some began to feel that going into the surf to rescue those who were drowning was an imposition. After all, they had to attend to the affairs of the club. So others were hired to do the work of lifesaving so that the original crew could support the work of the club, or foster other work that had presented itself. Finally, after one particularly devastating storm, the hireling rescuers brought an unusually large number of people from the sea and took care of their needs in the newly decorated clubhouse, causing an unusual amount of damage to the carpet and paint. The club had a hastily called meeting, passed a resolution, asking the lifesavers to move to other quarters and in every way separated their activities from that of the club. It seems that in all of this the original agenda had been lost.
The people of God are always in a struggle with the agenda issue. They are like the lighthouse keeper who was given a specified amount of fuel each month with which to light his beacon. His job was to use it judiciously and to make certain there was enough available for an emergency. One day a fisherman, having run out of fuel in his boat, came and asked for a little fuel so he could complete his journey to the shore, and, of course, the lighthouse keeper complied. He was followed by an excursion boat taking tourists to see the deep waters and to appreciate the beautiful shoreline. He found himself in the same predicament, and so to help the people, he gave away some of the precious fuel. Several weeks later a party boat came, filled with revelers. The captain had not made proper provision, so the keeper gave away some more of the precious fuel to help these people also. Finally, on a dark and stormy night, the light was needed, but the keeper had no fuel for the light. Lives were lost unnecessarily. Is this not what happens when the people of God get seduced into personal agendas rather than God's agenda? Energy is used. This seduction obviously happens to churches, but it also occurs to individuals as well. For most modern Christians, the religious life appears to be a good add-on or an acceptable accessory, very much like a better engine or leather upholstery in an automobile. "It should be something to enhance my standing in the community rather than giving me a way to enhance the community," many think. "The programs at church may keep my children off drugs. Who cares about the content of this program? Or the Sunday School lessons and sermons may make me a better businessperson. Who cares about changing my life?" Whatever is being taught is okay as long as it really doesn't go very far.
A young man had become very interested in his faith. He started studying the scriptures and adopting additional ways to deepen his spiritual life and feed his own soul. One day after much struggle, he announced to his pastor that all this religious activity had to cease because his wife was greatly disturbed by it. Her reasoning was very straightforward. She said to her husband, "I like our lifestyle and our place in the community. I'm afraid that if you keep this up, you'll give it all up and become a missionary, or move to the inner city, or join the Salvation Army, or do social work." "It's destroying our marriage," he said, "therefore, I'm changing churches so I can start over, save my marriage, and find a new agenda."
What is God's agenda if it's not to live as a captive of Israel in a nice house, or in our churches, domesticated and well-fed? God began to reveal it to David by reminding him again of his providential care. Notice the "I will's" of God preceded by a series of statements in the first-person singular: "I took you...," "I have been with you...," "I have cut off all your enemies...," "I will make you...," "I will appoint a place for my people..." (vv. 8-10). Here the action shifts from what the king plans to do to a reminder of what God has done. In other words, "I know what I'm doing," God says. "You've done rather well on my agenda so far, and it will be my agenda all the way." This forces us to ask ourselves, "Who is really king here?" If a house for God is to be built, it will be done by God and not by David. Only God can establish the house of Israel and the throne of David forever. Locking up God in a fancy house at this time would not do it.
This passage (2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16) is the foundation for the Messianic hope of Israel. It became the hope for the revival of David's rule after the fall of Jerusalem in 587 B.C.E. It was after this that Israel began to look forward to a new king from the house of David. Here we see that the agenda of God was far greater than the agenda of David.
The Old Testament prophets base their understanding of the kingdom of God on the promise God gave David in 2 Samuel 7. David's agenda was too small; he wanted to establish a rule that would be temporal. He focused on a God located in a nice house, and God would not be localized. Instead, his plan was to establish a kingdom that would begin with David and ultimately change the human heart and extend to all eternity. God will do his agenda. Gabriel's message to Mary speaks of the house of David (Luke 1:32). Peter begins his message at Pentecost in Acts 2:29-30 talking about the house of David. Paul in Romans 1:3 refers to the seed of David.
Now we have waited for his coming. On Christmas we celebrate it, and we must realize that this living, unmanageable God is leading us to something new. Let's be open to his agenda for us. Let's re-examine ourselves and see if perhaps God has an agenda for us greater than anything we can imagine. Let's not force him into our agenda.
David had finally consolidated his kingdom and established his city on Mount Zion. The cost of this had been enormous and David's hands were bloody from the fighting and intrigue. Now he lived in a fine palace with cedar walls on Mount Zion, and Israel, a nomadic nation of runaway slaves in a tiny crossroads country, was at least looking respectable in the family of nations. King David looked like a king and lived like a king. After all, Hiram, king of Tyre, had made this possible by giving him this beautiful palace. All's well that ends well. No longer an outlaw, no longer a contender -- he was king and looked and lived the part, and he wanted people to notice. He announced to his private chaplain, Nathan, that he had great plans for God's house too. Perhaps David felt guilty about the disparity between his house and God's tent. It could be that after all of this building for himself, he was beginning to have buyer's remorse or builder's remorse. Perhaps it was a rainy night in Jerusalem, and while he was feeling safe and dry in his great house, he had a pang of conscience as he thought of the ark of God in a very vulnerable shelter. Could he not hear the flapping of the tent as the wind blew and the rain descended? "I'll do something for God. I'll build God a house as good as my own," he announced to Nathan. "I live in a palace of cedar, while the ark of God remains in a tent" -- very noble indeed.
People who covet power and court it constantly know instinctively that every opportunity to demonstrate the power they possess must be taken. Yes, David lived well but his God did not. Could David be so powerful and his nomadic desert God live in a battered old tent? After all, the other deities in surrounding empires lived well. Could the God of Israel be much at all if his house was so scruffy?
David prepares to build a suitable "house" for God, a temple fitting for the God of a new great nation (or, at least, a wanna-be nation) and a great king (again, a wanna-be king) like David. Nathan agrees; after all, he would be senior minister in the new temple. It sounded good, and in all likelihood would sit well with the people. The only thing wrong with it was that God did not see it that way.
That night the word of the Lord came to Nathan, saying: "Go and tell my servant David, 'This is what the Lord says: Are you the one to build me a house to dwell in? I have not dwelt in a house from the day I brought the Israelites up out of Egypt to this day. I have been moving from place to place with a tent as my dwelling' " (vv. 4-6).
God said to Nathan, "Go and tell David I have always met my people in a tent. That is how I identify myself with them."
The Lord will make you a house (v. 11). If any houses are to be built or dynasties established, God will do it, not David. David did not fool God by this very generous offer to build God a nice house. This was only an extension of David's plan for himself, disguised as a generous thing to do for God. This empire needed a more manageable, predictable deity, but God had no intention of being domesticated by Israel. "What makes you think you are the one to build me a house to live in?" (2 Samuel 7:5). David needs to shore up his power, but God doesn't need it. Yahweh was not been tied down to a building but has always roamed freely, even before he adopted Israel. Why should he be domesticated now? He will operate on God's agenda, not David's. After all, who is the real king here anyway?
The dwelling in a tent motif carries over to the prologue in John's gospel, "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us" (John 1:14). God always insists on his own agenda. He will not be domesticated.
This kingdom will not be established on David's agenda with his public works program. God has an agenda and he will establish the house of Israel forever, longer and beyond the life of a temple. He will do it his way and in his own time frame, and better than anyone could imagine.
Indeed, the agenda factor is the real issue for most of us. At first glimpse, it appears that God would be a great enhancement for living. Doesn't he part the seas and send the manna? With Jesus many followed at the beginning because he could heal them, feed them, raise them from the dead. Not a bad deal, Hosannah! This taking-up-the-cross stuff should be negotiated out. Sacrifice and the second mile sounds good but it is not to be taken very seriously.
This agenda issue goes to church with the modern Christian also. Garry Trudeau, the creator of the Doonesbury cartoon, portrays a character and his wife looking for a church. As they interview the pastor of the Little Church of Walden, they ask if the church has a volleyball team. The pastor replies, "No." The couple then exclaims, "And you call yourself a church?"
Most pastors have been through this ordeal, having to answer questions from people "shopping" for churches that meet their agendas. As Trudeau expresses in another cartoon, a questioning couple is talking with the pastor, and they say, "Doesn't the task of redemption imply guilt?" The pastor answers, "Well, yes, I do rely on the occasional disincentive to keep the flock from going astray. Guilt's part of that!" The next panel shows the inquiring couple responding, "I don't know. There is so much negativity in the world as it is...." She says, "That's right. We're looking for a church that's supportive, a place where we can feel good about ourselves. I'm not sure the guilt thing works for us." He replies, "On the other hand, you do offer racquetball." She says, "So did the Unitarians, Honey. Let's shop around some more."
Too many see the Christian life as expressed in the church as the "Good Ship Lollipop." You remember the film, or have seen it in an old movie on television: Shirley Temple dancing joyfully with Bo Jangles on the deck of the Good Ship Lollipop, which is filled with happy people, cared for by a helpful captain and crew who are no more than social directors dedicated to the happiness, entertainment, and indulgence of the passengers. Occasionally, the Good Ship Lollipop as a church gets hijacked by those on board who see its primary purpose as political or social -- either way, they impose their own agendas on the old ship of faith. Others use the Good Ship Lollipop as a means to advance their careers, or otherwise force it to serve their private agendas. And the ship loses its way as well as its purpose for being.
The agenda factor is clear in the old story of the lifesaving station on the coast of Maine. The lifesaving crew was known for the efficiency with which they were able to pull out of the raging surf those whose ship had been torn apart by the rocks along the coast. The lifesaving crews were well disciplined and effectively trained. They took justifiable pride in the way they rescued people from the raging surf. As success came their way, they bought uniforms, built a clubhouse, held parties and other social gatherings, and in every way enjoyed their volunteer work.
They became so absorbed in supporting the work of the lifesaving station that some began to feel that going into the surf to rescue those who were drowning was an imposition. After all, they had to attend to the affairs of the club. So others were hired to do the work of lifesaving so that the original crew could support the work of the club, or foster other work that had presented itself. Finally, after one particularly devastating storm, the hireling rescuers brought an unusually large number of people from the sea and took care of their needs in the newly decorated clubhouse, causing an unusual amount of damage to the carpet and paint. The club had a hastily called meeting, passed a resolution, asking the lifesavers to move to other quarters and in every way separated their activities from that of the club. It seems that in all of this the original agenda had been lost.
The people of God are always in a struggle with the agenda issue. They are like the lighthouse keeper who was given a specified amount of fuel each month with which to light his beacon. His job was to use it judiciously and to make certain there was enough available for an emergency. One day a fisherman, having run out of fuel in his boat, came and asked for a little fuel so he could complete his journey to the shore, and, of course, the lighthouse keeper complied. He was followed by an excursion boat taking tourists to see the deep waters and to appreciate the beautiful shoreline. He found himself in the same predicament, and so to help the people, he gave away some of the precious fuel. Several weeks later a party boat came, filled with revelers. The captain had not made proper provision, so the keeper gave away some more of the precious fuel to help these people also. Finally, on a dark and stormy night, the light was needed, but the keeper had no fuel for the light. Lives were lost unnecessarily. Is this not what happens when the people of God get seduced into personal agendas rather than God's agenda? Energy is used. This seduction obviously happens to churches, but it also occurs to individuals as well. For most modern Christians, the religious life appears to be a good add-on or an acceptable accessory, very much like a better engine or leather upholstery in an automobile. "It should be something to enhance my standing in the community rather than giving me a way to enhance the community," many think. "The programs at church may keep my children off drugs. Who cares about the content of this program? Or the Sunday School lessons and sermons may make me a better businessperson. Who cares about changing my life?" Whatever is being taught is okay as long as it really doesn't go very far.
A young man had become very interested in his faith. He started studying the scriptures and adopting additional ways to deepen his spiritual life and feed his own soul. One day after much struggle, he announced to his pastor that all this religious activity had to cease because his wife was greatly disturbed by it. Her reasoning was very straightforward. She said to her husband, "I like our lifestyle and our place in the community. I'm afraid that if you keep this up, you'll give it all up and become a missionary, or move to the inner city, or join the Salvation Army, or do social work." "It's destroying our marriage," he said, "therefore, I'm changing churches so I can start over, save my marriage, and find a new agenda."
What is God's agenda if it's not to live as a captive of Israel in a nice house, or in our churches, domesticated and well-fed? God began to reveal it to David by reminding him again of his providential care. Notice the "I will's" of God preceded by a series of statements in the first-person singular: "I took you...," "I have been with you...," "I have cut off all your enemies...," "I will make you...," "I will appoint a place for my people..." (vv. 8-10). Here the action shifts from what the king plans to do to a reminder of what God has done. In other words, "I know what I'm doing," God says. "You've done rather well on my agenda so far, and it will be my agenda all the way." This forces us to ask ourselves, "Who is really king here?" If a house for God is to be built, it will be done by God and not by David. Only God can establish the house of Israel and the throne of David forever. Locking up God in a fancy house at this time would not do it.
This passage (2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16) is the foundation for the Messianic hope of Israel. It became the hope for the revival of David's rule after the fall of Jerusalem in 587 B.C.E. It was after this that Israel began to look forward to a new king from the house of David. Here we see that the agenda of God was far greater than the agenda of David.
The Old Testament prophets base their understanding of the kingdom of God on the promise God gave David in 2 Samuel 7. David's agenda was too small; he wanted to establish a rule that would be temporal. He focused on a God located in a nice house, and God would not be localized. Instead, his plan was to establish a kingdom that would begin with David and ultimately change the human heart and extend to all eternity. God will do his agenda. Gabriel's message to Mary speaks of the house of David (Luke 1:32). Peter begins his message at Pentecost in Acts 2:29-30 talking about the house of David. Paul in Romans 1:3 refers to the seed of David.
Now we have waited for his coming. On Christmas we celebrate it, and we must realize that this living, unmanageable God is leading us to something new. Let's be open to his agenda for us. Let's re-examine ourselves and see if perhaps God has an agenda for us greater than anything we can imagine. Let's not force him into our agenda.
