Are You A Basket Case?
Sermon
A 'NEW AND IMPROVED' JESUS?
Sermons For Lent And Easter
We have a large, cylindrical basket by our fireplace which holds firewood. And we have another wonderful basket, perhaps a half-bushel in size, which was given to us by friends. It is hand-woven and crafted by a 92-year-old man who cut the tree, shaved off the strips, soaked them, and then created this lovely container; solid and stable, a treasure. I have a bread-basket; dainty, finely woven, and perfect - fashioned by a cultured, saintly woman in a church I served as pastor. Another everyday basket that now holds onions, potatoes, or whatever, came to us filled with fresh Georgia peaches.There are baskets all over the house; some given to us by children, others by friends. They came to us empty, or sometimes filled with jelly, homemade bread, or some other thoughtful gift. In nearly every room we have baskets which have silk or fresh flowers in them. A basket stands on the kitchen counter with fruit. Other small baskets in bathrooms hold candles, soap, or wash clothes. Each of these baskets evokes a remembrance of some person, event, or place.
I remember serving as pastor of a small, rural church which used handwoven baskets as offering plates. And baskets carry dishes of wonderful food for almost every church dinner you have ever attended.
But how many times do you see people fill baskets and bring them to the altar of the sanctuary in a basket? Interestingly enough, in this text for Lent 1, the vessels the Hebrews were to use to bring their first fruits and tithes to the place of worship was a basket. Every translation I checked uses the word "basket" - not a cloth bag, nor a jar, nor an earthen vessel, but a basket! And, as these Israelites brought their baskets to the altar, they recited the events in their lives which had brought them to this place.
But, this musty, ancient, almost stuffy Old Testament lesson can have little meaning for us unless we, too, join them in remembrance of our own journey. Lent is a time of remembrance and, as we begin this six-week trek, we start by filling our baskets with recollections of the blessings of God upon our lives.
We Recollect The Past
These people of long ago said (freely translated), "Our father, Jacob, was a wanderer. Like a gypsy he went from southern Canaan to Haran and back and then he migrated to Egypt. We grew into a mighty nation, but we became slaves. It was not an easy time. We suffered, we toiled, we were mistreated, and in our misery we cried out to the Lord."
Can you, like these Hebrews, remember what life was like before your deliverance; before Christ set you free? Some of you can't recall, for you've been blessed with being a Christian from a very tender age. Many persons are baptized as babies. I love to baptize babies, so that they never know the full extent of what it is to be owned by the devil. They may, in future years, be bothered, oppressed, and tempted by him, but never know enslavement to the enemy.
I was converted at the age of 15 years, but I still have vivid recollections of the nightmare of not being free. I was afraid nearly all the time. I was afraid of the second coming, lest Christ appear and I would not go with the saints he had come to claim. I hated to go to bed at night, scared that I might die and my soul be eternally lost. Even though I prayed, I had no certainty that my prayers were heard, for a guilty conscience made me doubt that God would hear.
Like Pharaoh, the devil is a hard task-master. Sometimes it is difficult to be a Christian, but it is infinitely more difficult to be enslaved by Satan. He takes our lives and controls them until we are no longer free to make good decisions. We try, but we have no power to resist temptation. We acknowledge the truth of the Scripture which says, "The way of the transgressor is hard."
We are asked to recall our past bondage, for we forget so easily. Two American Indians were visiting New York City for the first time and were stopped on the street by an admiring older woman. "Are you a real Indian?" she asked one of the native Americans. "Yes, I am," he replied. "How do you like our city?" she inquired. "Fine," he answered, "How do you like our country?" We often take our Christian privilege rather lightly, for we have forgotten how much we are in debt. We forget how far we have come, how dramatic our rescue has been, and what great cause we have for gratitude and rejoicing. The Psalmist sang, (40:2) "He brought me up also out of the horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings."
God has lifted us out of sinking sand to solid rock, from shades of night to plains of light, and from terrible bondage to marvelous freedom. Someone said, jubilantly, "Out of the mire and into the choir!" Whether we sing in the choir or not, God has certainly put a song in our hearts, a praise to our God. May we never forget how black was our darkness before divine light shone upon us! In our success, in our security, in our salvation, let us not forget God.
In Pennsylvania, there is a small, mining town called Centralia. More than 20 years ago a fire broke out in one of the many tunnels and shafts that honeycomb the earth underneath the town. Local officials tried to extinguish the fire, and failed. Then state, and finally federal, mine officials tried to put it out. But nothing seems to do it, it still will not quit burning. Every now and then a puff of smoke will seep through the surface and no one can forget that the fire is still burning down there. That's just how active and persistent sin is in us. The devil never stops trying to get at us. We are not self-sufficient, we are not independent, we cannot make it on our own.
Again and again God reminded his people - and us - "Remember and do not forget how you provoked the Lord your God to wrath in the wilderness (Deuteronomy 9:7)." Their days had been filled with evil. They did monumental wickedness against God; they were angry, they rebelled, they grumbled and complained, they worshiped other gods, they were disobedient and God said, "Remember, and do not forget." It is so easy to forget how bad we have been, how sinful, how wicked, how desperate our plight. How easy it is to be proud, how difficult to be truly humble. Though we would never say it aloud, sometimes we privately think God is pretty lucky to have us and that we did him the favor to let him convert us.
But if we truly remember what our past has been, then we can, as we bring our baskets of remembrance, be ...
Reminded Of Present Mercy
God wants to do something for us! Isn't that wonderful news? The story goes that Arnold Palmer was asked by an oil sheik to come and lay out and supervise the building of a golf course in Kuwait. Palmer went, built a magnificent course, and was paid extremely well for it. As he prepared to leave and return home, the sheik came to him and asked him what he could give him as a gift. "Nothing," Palmer said, "you've already paid me a fortune and I don't need anything at all." But the sheik persisted, "Isn't there anything I could give you? Just tell me, anything at all?" Finally, Arnold said rather nonchalantly, "O well, give me a golf club," and he thought nothing more of the incident. He got on a plane, flew home, and was met at the airport by his secretary, whose opening question was, "Mr. Palmer, what in the world are you going to do with the Westshore Hills Country Club?" We simply have no idea of how much God wants to help us, bless us, and redeem us.
The Israelites said, as they brought their baskets to the altar, "God heard our cries and brought us out of Egypt. With his mighty hand and outstretched arm he performed wonderful signs and miracles for us: he turned water into blood, caused great darkness to descend on our enemies, plagued them with locusts, flies, frogs, and boils. For us, he divided the waters of the Red Sea, fed us quail and manna in the wilderness, gave us water in the desert, and brought us to this land."
Those ancient peoples had a mighty Moses to plead their cause before Pharaoh to lead them from bondage. But when Satan and our sins held us captive, who would deliver us? Jesus is our Moses, and he carried far more than a simple rod in his hand. Jesus carried a heavy cross on his back and was nailed to that tree, instead of ourselves. On that lonely gibbet he purchased our redemption. What glorious mercy is his! It seems that God is foolishly in love with us. He seems to have forgotten heaven and earth, his own happiness and pleasure, and has given his entire deity to deal lovingly with us. Christ dies, not because he is sinful, but because we are. He gave everything to comfort me, to help me, to identify with me.
Of course we are not worthy; never have been, never shall be. Ted Bundy, the convicted mass murderer, was executed in the electric chair in Florida in January of 1989. He had been tried and found guilty of the death of a 12-year-old girl, and had confessed to at least 22 more murders. Yet, just before he died at 7:06 on that Tuesday morning, he was allowed to speak with his mother on the phone. She said to him; this man of the heinous crimes: "You will always be my precious son." We, of course, feel that his crimes were utterly despicable, but somehow no matter what he had done, they could not kill the love in his mother's heart. We don't think our own sins were quite of that magnitude; but then we have no real idea of how offensive sin is to a holy God, or we would bow our heads in shame. But however multitudinous our sins, how heavy our guilt, it can't touch the love that God has for us. He continues to rescue us with a mighty hand and outstretched arm on Calvary's cross-tree.
The Future
Those Israelites recited their thanks before the altar, and said, "God has finally brought us here to Canaan, this land of milk and honey, and we rejoice in all the good things he has given."
Well, today we bring our baskets - our hearts - divinely woven by the hands of our Creator Father, and we begin Lent by remembering past sins and present mercies. We are overwhelmed by his forgiveness and love. We have not yet reached our heavenly Canaan, but we are on the way. An old gospel song says, "We're on the way to Canaan land, We're on the way, a pilgrim band; Divinely guided day by day, We're on the way, we're on the way!"
There is an old, old story about an Indian chief who wanted to test the strength of his four sons. He asked them to run, in a single effort, as far up the side of a mountain as each of them could reach by his own strength. On the appointed day, the boys left at daybreak. The first returned with a branch of spruce, indicating the height he had attained. The second brought back a twig of pine. The third brought an alpine shrub, from much higher up the mountain. But it was by the light of the moon that the fourth son finally made his way back. There he came; worn and exhausted, his feet were torn by the rocks. "What did you bring, and how high did you ascend?" the chief asked. "Sire," the boy replied, "where I went there was neither spruce nor pine to shelter me from the sun, nor flower to cheer my path, but only rocks and snow and barren land. My feet are torn, I am exhausted, and I have come late ..."
"But then a wonderful light came into his eyes and he added, "And, father, I saw the sea!"
Today, we remember with sorrow, our sins. We recall with gratitude our mercy and we look to the future with God. But in the future we still can only see the vague outline of the form that hanged on Good Friday's cross. We can't really see him, it is only by faith that we know he is there.
But one day, when the future is not a dim, distant hope but rather a clear and present reality, they will ask us what we see, and we will say: "I have climbed and climbed, sometimes slipping back into my old ways. Often the path was rough and I stumbled and fell, other times it was smooth and pleasant, but as I have climbed, I have finally arrived here in heaven's land of milk and honey, and I see Jesus! It was worth it all. The trials were really nothing. I'd do it again and again. A glimpse of Christ has erased all the trials and the sight of him has satisfied every longing of my heart!
But not yet. This is only part of the journey now that we have run. We have not arrived, but we have glimpsed the future glorious, and we press on. Today our baskets hold only our poor hearts of love, but as ordinary as our gifts are, we offer them to him, and he accepts them and calls them, because of his fathomlessness for us, precious. Hallelujah! What a Savior!
I remember serving as pastor of a small, rural church which used handwoven baskets as offering plates. And baskets carry dishes of wonderful food for almost every church dinner you have ever attended.
But how many times do you see people fill baskets and bring them to the altar of the sanctuary in a basket? Interestingly enough, in this text for Lent 1, the vessels the Hebrews were to use to bring their first fruits and tithes to the place of worship was a basket. Every translation I checked uses the word "basket" - not a cloth bag, nor a jar, nor an earthen vessel, but a basket! And, as these Israelites brought their baskets to the altar, they recited the events in their lives which had brought them to this place.
But, this musty, ancient, almost stuffy Old Testament lesson can have little meaning for us unless we, too, join them in remembrance of our own journey. Lent is a time of remembrance and, as we begin this six-week trek, we start by filling our baskets with recollections of the blessings of God upon our lives.
We Recollect The Past
These people of long ago said (freely translated), "Our father, Jacob, was a wanderer. Like a gypsy he went from southern Canaan to Haran and back and then he migrated to Egypt. We grew into a mighty nation, but we became slaves. It was not an easy time. We suffered, we toiled, we were mistreated, and in our misery we cried out to the Lord."
Can you, like these Hebrews, remember what life was like before your deliverance; before Christ set you free? Some of you can't recall, for you've been blessed with being a Christian from a very tender age. Many persons are baptized as babies. I love to baptize babies, so that they never know the full extent of what it is to be owned by the devil. They may, in future years, be bothered, oppressed, and tempted by him, but never know enslavement to the enemy.
I was converted at the age of 15 years, but I still have vivid recollections of the nightmare of not being free. I was afraid nearly all the time. I was afraid of the second coming, lest Christ appear and I would not go with the saints he had come to claim. I hated to go to bed at night, scared that I might die and my soul be eternally lost. Even though I prayed, I had no certainty that my prayers were heard, for a guilty conscience made me doubt that God would hear.
Like Pharaoh, the devil is a hard task-master. Sometimes it is difficult to be a Christian, but it is infinitely more difficult to be enslaved by Satan. He takes our lives and controls them until we are no longer free to make good decisions. We try, but we have no power to resist temptation. We acknowledge the truth of the Scripture which says, "The way of the transgressor is hard."
We are asked to recall our past bondage, for we forget so easily. Two American Indians were visiting New York City for the first time and were stopped on the street by an admiring older woman. "Are you a real Indian?" she asked one of the native Americans. "Yes, I am," he replied. "How do you like our city?" she inquired. "Fine," he answered, "How do you like our country?" We often take our Christian privilege rather lightly, for we have forgotten how much we are in debt. We forget how far we have come, how dramatic our rescue has been, and what great cause we have for gratitude and rejoicing. The Psalmist sang, (40:2) "He brought me up also out of the horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings."
God has lifted us out of sinking sand to solid rock, from shades of night to plains of light, and from terrible bondage to marvelous freedom. Someone said, jubilantly, "Out of the mire and into the choir!" Whether we sing in the choir or not, God has certainly put a song in our hearts, a praise to our God. May we never forget how black was our darkness before divine light shone upon us! In our success, in our security, in our salvation, let us not forget God.
In Pennsylvania, there is a small, mining town called Centralia. More than 20 years ago a fire broke out in one of the many tunnels and shafts that honeycomb the earth underneath the town. Local officials tried to extinguish the fire, and failed. Then state, and finally federal, mine officials tried to put it out. But nothing seems to do it, it still will not quit burning. Every now and then a puff of smoke will seep through the surface and no one can forget that the fire is still burning down there. That's just how active and persistent sin is in us. The devil never stops trying to get at us. We are not self-sufficient, we are not independent, we cannot make it on our own.
Again and again God reminded his people - and us - "Remember and do not forget how you provoked the Lord your God to wrath in the wilderness (Deuteronomy 9:7)." Their days had been filled with evil. They did monumental wickedness against God; they were angry, they rebelled, they grumbled and complained, they worshiped other gods, they were disobedient and God said, "Remember, and do not forget." It is so easy to forget how bad we have been, how sinful, how wicked, how desperate our plight. How easy it is to be proud, how difficult to be truly humble. Though we would never say it aloud, sometimes we privately think God is pretty lucky to have us and that we did him the favor to let him convert us.
But if we truly remember what our past has been, then we can, as we bring our baskets of remembrance, be ...
Reminded Of Present Mercy
God wants to do something for us! Isn't that wonderful news? The story goes that Arnold Palmer was asked by an oil sheik to come and lay out and supervise the building of a golf course in Kuwait. Palmer went, built a magnificent course, and was paid extremely well for it. As he prepared to leave and return home, the sheik came to him and asked him what he could give him as a gift. "Nothing," Palmer said, "you've already paid me a fortune and I don't need anything at all." But the sheik persisted, "Isn't there anything I could give you? Just tell me, anything at all?" Finally, Arnold said rather nonchalantly, "O well, give me a golf club," and he thought nothing more of the incident. He got on a plane, flew home, and was met at the airport by his secretary, whose opening question was, "Mr. Palmer, what in the world are you going to do with the Westshore Hills Country Club?" We simply have no idea of how much God wants to help us, bless us, and redeem us.
The Israelites said, as they brought their baskets to the altar, "God heard our cries and brought us out of Egypt. With his mighty hand and outstretched arm he performed wonderful signs and miracles for us: he turned water into blood, caused great darkness to descend on our enemies, plagued them with locusts, flies, frogs, and boils. For us, he divided the waters of the Red Sea, fed us quail and manna in the wilderness, gave us water in the desert, and brought us to this land."
Those ancient peoples had a mighty Moses to plead their cause before Pharaoh to lead them from bondage. But when Satan and our sins held us captive, who would deliver us? Jesus is our Moses, and he carried far more than a simple rod in his hand. Jesus carried a heavy cross on his back and was nailed to that tree, instead of ourselves. On that lonely gibbet he purchased our redemption. What glorious mercy is his! It seems that God is foolishly in love with us. He seems to have forgotten heaven and earth, his own happiness and pleasure, and has given his entire deity to deal lovingly with us. Christ dies, not because he is sinful, but because we are. He gave everything to comfort me, to help me, to identify with me.
Of course we are not worthy; never have been, never shall be. Ted Bundy, the convicted mass murderer, was executed in the electric chair in Florida in January of 1989. He had been tried and found guilty of the death of a 12-year-old girl, and had confessed to at least 22 more murders. Yet, just before he died at 7:06 on that Tuesday morning, he was allowed to speak with his mother on the phone. She said to him; this man of the heinous crimes: "You will always be my precious son." We, of course, feel that his crimes were utterly despicable, but somehow no matter what he had done, they could not kill the love in his mother's heart. We don't think our own sins were quite of that magnitude; but then we have no real idea of how offensive sin is to a holy God, or we would bow our heads in shame. But however multitudinous our sins, how heavy our guilt, it can't touch the love that God has for us. He continues to rescue us with a mighty hand and outstretched arm on Calvary's cross-tree.
The Future
Those Israelites recited their thanks before the altar, and said, "God has finally brought us here to Canaan, this land of milk and honey, and we rejoice in all the good things he has given."
Well, today we bring our baskets - our hearts - divinely woven by the hands of our Creator Father, and we begin Lent by remembering past sins and present mercies. We are overwhelmed by his forgiveness and love. We have not yet reached our heavenly Canaan, but we are on the way. An old gospel song says, "We're on the way to Canaan land, We're on the way, a pilgrim band; Divinely guided day by day, We're on the way, we're on the way!"
There is an old, old story about an Indian chief who wanted to test the strength of his four sons. He asked them to run, in a single effort, as far up the side of a mountain as each of them could reach by his own strength. On the appointed day, the boys left at daybreak. The first returned with a branch of spruce, indicating the height he had attained. The second brought back a twig of pine. The third brought an alpine shrub, from much higher up the mountain. But it was by the light of the moon that the fourth son finally made his way back. There he came; worn and exhausted, his feet were torn by the rocks. "What did you bring, and how high did you ascend?" the chief asked. "Sire," the boy replied, "where I went there was neither spruce nor pine to shelter me from the sun, nor flower to cheer my path, but only rocks and snow and barren land. My feet are torn, I am exhausted, and I have come late ..."
"But then a wonderful light came into his eyes and he added, "And, father, I saw the sea!"
Today, we remember with sorrow, our sins. We recall with gratitude our mercy and we look to the future with God. But in the future we still can only see the vague outline of the form that hanged on Good Friday's cross. We can't really see him, it is only by faith that we know he is there.
But one day, when the future is not a dim, distant hope but rather a clear and present reality, they will ask us what we see, and we will say: "I have climbed and climbed, sometimes slipping back into my old ways. Often the path was rough and I stumbled and fell, other times it was smooth and pleasant, but as I have climbed, I have finally arrived here in heaven's land of milk and honey, and I see Jesus! It was worth it all. The trials were really nothing. I'd do it again and again. A glimpse of Christ has erased all the trials and the sight of him has satisfied every longing of my heart!
But not yet. This is only part of the journey now that we have run. We have not arrived, but we have glimpsed the future glorious, and we press on. Today our baskets hold only our poor hearts of love, but as ordinary as our gifts are, we offer them to him, and he accepts them and calls them, because of his fathomlessness for us, precious. Hallelujah! What a Savior!
