Sermonstudio

We must be careful about saying where God can be found in this world because it seems, both in the Bible and in many people's experience, that God is found in situations and places where people would never expect to find anything holy. God can be found in the most ungodly of places. Jesus is a wonderful example of this. Have you ever noticed in the Gospels that he is found most often where others would never dare to tread? Jesus speaks to the woman at the well. She was a person who was not to be talked to. A foreigner. A loose woman. He speaks to a man with a terrible reputation. Jesus touches the untouchable. He meets with the unpopular. Outcasts. Sinners. He didn't worry about how it would "look" to those around him. He said, "I have come to seek and to save the lost."

The irony of that statement is found in the idea that some of the people in Jesus' day thought that there were two groups, the "lost" and the "found" or the "already in the kingdom of God" group. This would have been a foreign idea to Jesus. Jesus did not spend very much time with those who thought they were found (or those who thought they knew how to "get found" without much help from God) because they were missing the point. There wasn't anything to do to get saved except to be lost. The religious leaders of the day (in other words, people like me) thought they had it made. They thought they had already figured it out. Therefore, Jesus chose to spend his time with those who knew they were far short of the kingdom.

A perfect illustration of this is the parable of the lost coin. A woman works all day to find this little lost coin. When she finally does, she rejoices with the angels in heaven and anybody else who will celebrate. What did the coin do to get found? It just remained hidden under the piano where it had been for years. It did not confess its sin. It did not "make a decision to follow the holy coin in the sky." It just lay there until the woman mustered up all of her strength and moved the piano aside to see if the coin might be found there among the dust bunnies.

Despite all of the biblical evidence to the contrary (we will be getting to some Old Testament documentation of God's actions to save the lost in just a moment), we still want to act like we are the ones in charge of getting found. We still want to see ourselves as the ones who do most of the work, the ones who demonstrate to God that we are finally worthy of being found. This is like saying that the coin had to stand up on its own little narrow side and show that it was truly a coin worthy of being discovered. That, of course, is silly, but it is amazing how many times I find myself trying to do the very same thing in order to prove to God that I am worthy of being saved.

The point is this: God already wants to save me. God is saving me and will be saving me until the day when I am fully united with God in the resurrection. But it is so hard to recognize this truth. It is so difficult simply to, as the bumper sticker reads, "Let go and let God."
I don't normally find my inspiration from bumper stickers and that one is not exactly filled with deep, complex spiritual insight, but there is a basic truth to be found there. "Let God." In other words, "Let go, Glen, of your own desire to control everything, including God, and simply allow yourself to live as one who has been found by God." That is not easy for me to do. I know many people in the church who struggle with this also.

We are not alone in this struggle to gain control over God. Jeremiah 31 is a part of the so-called "little book of consolation." It was probably written while the Jews were in exile in Babylon. It was a time of rejoicing, however, because it looks like they are about to be set free. These people whose ancestors and relatives were dragged into captivity are now going to be set free. They will be allowed to return to their homeland, the land flowing with milk and honey, the land of their fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

The passage is filled with announcements of salvation. There will be joy and gladness. The people are to sing aloud and raise shouts. They are to praise the Lord who is bringing salvation to God's people.
Mourning will be turned to joy and parties and celebrations will fill the land! This action is all inclusive too (so much for the idea that the Old Testament is behind the times). The young women will rejoice in the dance; the young men and the old will be merry. My favorite verse is 31:14: "I will give the priests their fill of the fatness." This was a precursor to the common wisdom of our day which I hear repeated all of the time: "I have never known a preacher who turned down a free meal."
That statement is probably true, but we are just seeking our fill of the fatness!

I should ask you to excuse the silliness there, but I won't because that is part of the celebration. We have just celebrated Christmas. I hope your house was filled with silliness, laughter, and lots of "fatness." There is a time for that kind of celebration, and Christmas fits the bill. The season of Advent is all about serious waiting and quiet introspection. It is a time to review our lives and identify the areas we have tried to take over from God. It is a time to consider how we might choose to live in the presence of the Messiah. The season of Advent asks us to examine ourselves and see where we have fallen short of the kingdom of God. This kind of serious introspection can easily lead us to believe that we have no hope of living with the Messiah. If we are honest with ourselves, it will look like there is no way the Messiah would ever bother to come to us.

Then it happens. Christ is born. All things are made new. The Messiah comes despite our shortcomings and our failures. The Christ of God comes into our lives and overwhelms us with the grace of God's goodness. It is amazing and mystifying. It is miraculous. And before we know it a party breaks out.

This is the story of the prodigal son, too. You know how it goes. The prodigal is off in some far-away place living the high life until the cash runs out. The cash, of course, came from his inheritance. When he asked his father for the money, he was saying, "Dad, I wish you were dead, because I want my money now." The prodigal finds himself living with pigs (it sounds like my college dorm) and decides that life as a servant on his father's farm would be better than this. He works up a nice little speech to give to his father, then he heads for home. Before the son has a chance to give the speech, the father sees him on the road and sprints down to meet him and shower him with love. The son gives the speech, but apparently the father doesn't hear it, because he orders a celebration. The one who is lost is found and a party breaks out.

What did the son do to deserve this? Nothing. He is coming, remember, to cut a deal with his dad in order to become a farmhand. Dad ignores this and welcomes him home fully and makes him king for a day. "He was dead and now he is alive again. Let's have a party!"1

That story illustrates the actions that God has been taking since the beginning of time: reconciliation and renewal. God has been present in one form or another, reconciling us to God's self since Adam first stirred in the mud.

The Israelites found themselves hauled off to Babylon because they failed to trust in God. They failed to trust in the one who would do anything, including, ultimately, sending the beloved son, to bring them into relationship. They wanted to put their trust in politics. They wanted to seek military arrangements and treaties to ensure their safety. Some did turn away from God and deny their need for God in their lives, but others simply tried to keep God in line with a list of other things that felt important to them. These were worse than those who turned completely away from God, because they had reduced God to nothing more than one of the little good-luck charms that were kept on top of the dresser.

The fact is all they ever needed to live with peace in the world was already there in the relationship that God had promised to give to them. No matter what might happen, even military takeover and rule, God promised to be there with them. Instead, they tried to take control for themselves and keep God in line.

When they are set free from Babylon they are instructed to do just one thing: like the prodigal son, they are to return home. They are to go back to their homeland and let the celebrations begin.

That is not always easy to do. Even when we know we are stuck in the mire of our own sins and complications, there is this voice (I think this voice is especially strong in America) that says, "Yes, but." The voice says, "Yes, but before you can return home you need to make sure you are worthy. You need to demonstrate how you have changed. Once you have proven yourself in this way, then the party can begin."

This stifling approach knows no theological boundaries. Evangelicals and literalists will point to some sort of pietistic actions that one must take. Liberals and mainline denomination types will ask for a record of work among the poor before they let anyone in to the party. God, however, simply says, "Go home."

There is a story from 200 years ago that is said to be true. A Portuguese ship was stuck off the coast of South America. They had run aground on a sand bar and were unable to move the ship. They were running low on food and water and were getting desperate. After many days they saw another ship on the horizon and were able to send a message to it describing their predicament. The other ship signaled back, "Lower your buckets." It seems that they were floating at the mouth of the Amazon river where the water would have been fresh.2

Often in our lives when we find ourselves stuck, trying desperately to fix our situations, all we need to do is let go, lower the buckets, and let God fill them with the amazing grace of heaven. We'll be tempted to try to prove that we deserve the fresh water of God's love, but that isn't necessary.

Let's do it, because as soon as we lower our buckets to the grace of God we can get the party started. Besides, we ministerial types want to get started on our share of the fatness!

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1. I owe this interpretation to Robert Capon, Parables of Grace (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), pp. 129-144.

2. Bruce Larson, What God Wants to Know (San Francisco: Harper, 1993), p. 29.