Priceless
Sermon
Sermons on the First Readings
Series II, Cycle C
Object:
The Island of Rodriguez in the Pacific Ocean, not that far from Zanzibar, has mainly managed to stay out of the notice of history, if history is the record of slaughter and disease. But thanks to extraordinary events far, far away it managed to impinge itself on human history on at least one occasion.
On August 27 of 1883, James Wallis, chief of police on Rodriguez Island, not far from Zanzibar, wrote: "Several times during the night (26-27) reports were heard coming from the eastward, like the distant roar of heavy guns. These reports continued at intervals of between three and four hours, until 3 p.m. on August 27, and the last two were heard in the directions of Oyster Bay and Port Mathurie."What Wallis was hearing were the distant eruptions of the Volcano Krakatoa, 2,968 miles away. There is no recorded instance in human history of a sound being heard from further away.
Except, of course, the echoes of that hammer driving in the nails on a hill far away, on Golgotha.
The sound is not only heard among Christians 2,000 years later, but it was heard hundreds of years earlier, by the prophet Isaiah, who was looking at a people who had lost sight of their salvation, who mistook prices for real values.
Isaiah was one who knew suffering firsthand. He had endured ridicule, persecution, physical punishment, and if we are to believe tradition, he would eventually be murdered for his faith. His task -- to proclaim God's news for his time and for all time -- was not a task he took lightly. Certainly, if we read his commissioning correctly, it was in the presence of God himself and the heavenly throne room that he took upon himself the task of being God's messenger.
In the present passage, Isaiah can only express surprise -- a surprise he expects we will share. Who would believe what he has to report -- that someone would be willing to innocently endure not just physical pain, but abuse, misunderstanding, shame? How could it be that the servant God intends to lift up, to honor, to exalt, should achieve this status by suffering? We expect just the opposite.
Isaiah is seeing clearly, not through a glass darkly, but more clearly than we see, that stark X-marks-the-spot that stares in this face on this day of all days. He was seeing the cross.
The cross is the central symbol of our faith. We can be very casual about wearing the cross around the neck or on the lapel. We sometimes forget, however, that the cross is a symbol of terror, despair, horror, degradation, agony, and humiliation. It was a form of execution reserved for the lowest of the low, for those outside the pale of humanity, whose bodies would be dumped in the garbage heaps afterward to be torn apart by wild dogs. Indeed, Paul's listeners must have cringed every time he used the word "cross." It was obscene.
So shameful was the image of the cross to our ancestors in the faith, so obscene the method of execution, that for over four centuries the church chose not to use that symbol in its art.
Well, there is one example of the cross used in a drawing from early Christian history, but it is drawn by an opponent of the faith. You can see it in Ante Pacem, by Graydon F. Snyder. It's a piece of graffiti in the slave quarters, a crude drawing that shows the crucifixion of a man with the head of a donkey. At his feet is an individual engaged in adoration. There's a single line written beneath it: "Alexamenos worships his god."
This anti-Christian drawing makes it clear how shameful the cross could be. Yet this Alexamenos was not ashamed to claim Jesus as Lord, even though it led to ridicule. It helps us realize why Christians did not wear the cross as a symbol for centuries.
More important than whether we wear the cross is whether we bear the cross. Anna Mow was a missionary, mother, writer, and teacher, an active speaker, and much loved disciple of Jesus Christ. She seemed willing to endure anything for the sake of her Savior. Perhaps that's why it seemed so ironic that one who was such a great communicator should suffer an affliction that made it nearly impossible for her to communicate.
Despite having suffered a debilitating stroke that limited her ability to write and speak, she dictated a final book to demonstrate that one may not only wear, but also bear the cross.
Published as Two or Ninety-Two by Brethren Press, Anna's book is sparkling, bright as a running brook in spring, yet filled with the same brooding depth of a pond deep from the melting snows. In a helpless condition she describes as "a world of suffering," Anna writes, "I can't even choose what kind of suffering I'll have. But I can choose what my attitude is going to be toward suffering."
Calling upon the example of Job, Anna differentiates between a God who sends suffering and one who permits it. "No matter what happens to us, we are within his loving care. Our Lord suffered. Paul's thorn in the flesh was never taken away. We may suffer. If we trust him, the suffering will never be useless."
And then there's this: "No one is ever useless to God. No one who can pray is ever useless. There are many people to perform the needed activities, but too few to take the time for prayer."
The cross as an instrument of torture also represents the intersection of two roads. It is the place where heaven and earth come together. It is the spot where we meet Jesus.
So Paul wrote about Jesus that "... though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death -- even death on a cross" (Philippians 2:5-8).
This is where we come together. At our broken points. This is where we have something in common.
How do we come to this intersection? One way is through our suffering. Much of our suffering is unsought, but it finds us anyway. There is no place in that dark valley we travel where we will not find Jesus waiting.
For others, we arrive at this spot by taking upon ourselves the name of Jesus. To do so is to invite the world to crush you as well.
Yet our lives are not spent in suffering. No one is called to intentionally seek out the experience. For those who are currently blessed with health in the midst of faithful living, there are other ways to join Jesus at the cross.
In the Roman Empire many paid with suffering and death when they were baptized as Christians. But the Celts seem to have accepted the faith without fighting it. The Celtic Christians spoke of Red Martyrdom, White Martyrdom, and Green Martyrdom. The first obviously refers to those who died for their faith, but the other two categories denoted those who gave up home and homeland to follow where God led. We who are convinced that our future is in our own hands are probably ready to stand up for Jesus with our lives -- but not our livelihoods. How many of us would really be willing to give up home and homeland for the call of the gospel?
This is the holy day which forces us to focus on the cross. The mistake would be to act as if the cross was all there was. As a symbol of suffering, of sacrifice, of pure love, it is unequalled. But that's not all there is. There's more. There's triumph.
The trouble is, we know the ending. We have read the end of the book. We know that Jesus didn't stay safely dead. This is what the powers would like us to believe.
We do not need to obsess on the cross. It is the intersection between heaven and earth. It is the key that unlocks heaven's gate.
Now we must pass through heaven's gate. We must walk beyond and live in the kingdom now. God's kingdom is not fully realized in this world. It's dangerous to try to live by the rules of the kingdom right now. It got Jesus killed, and many other martyrs besides.
But there's not only a cross, there's an empty tomb, and trust me, the powers that be would love to keep Jesus on that cross. It's safer that way.
The cross was supposed to eradicate the carpenter and all he stood for. It was supposed to end the problem. Just as the death of Stephen, of John, and the other martyrs, was supposed to put an end to Christianity. Just tear it up by the roots and it will die.
It doesn't work that way. This calls to mind a scene from a book about Jesus, where the writer noted: "I watched my neighbor down the road pull up the dandelions to prevent their spread. Meanwhile, just a few yards away my son Jacob was reciting what he had learned about dandelions at school the previous day -- while blowing on the puffy heads to spread the seeds. Each one caught the wind and was lost to sight as it sailed into the sun. No problem. There were going to be plenty more dandelions next spring. That's the way it works. There's a stiff breeze blowing and you can't put the seeds back on the stem. You can't put Jesus back in the tomb"(Frank Ramirez, The Gospel of Mark [Nashville: faithQuest, 1996], p. 60.)
The powers, the governments, the principalities, want to stuff Jesus in the box. If they can keep him on the cross, your attention will be diverted from the real work. Yes, "when I survey the wondrous cross, on which the prince of glory died, my richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride."
Yes, Paul said, "For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified" (1 Corinthians 2:2). But more importantly, we know he is risen. The angels at the ascension asked the apostles why they were looking up in the air. There was work to do. Pick up your cross? You've already got it, but start walking toward your resurrection, now and in the life to come.
We began by talking about the noise that Krakatoa, that great volcano made, a noise so great it was heard nearly 3,000 miles away. But it also left a lasting mark for two years and more, on the horizons of most places in the world, creating fantastic sunsets.
On the day before Thanksgiving, 1883, the fire department of Poughkeepsie rushed out to fight a fire that was clearly only a few blocks away. It was a tremendous fire, lighting up the entire sky. They rushed up one street and down another until they came to the river, and realized the fire had to be on the other side of the river. They finally had to stop and let the fire burn.
Only later did someone explain to them that the fire they observed was 93 million miles away, and it was the sun shining through the dust still settling from the volcano three months before.
Nevertheless, the fire company was content it had answered the call. We, ourselves, can still answer the call, even if the task seems bigger than we can imagine, or farther away that we suppose. The call is out there, the call of Christ's cross, his suffering, death, and resurrection. God has a plan for your life. The question is whether we will respond or not.
It matters. It matters because nothing is more valuable to us than this cross. How valuable? Consider the following price list:
• Two wooden beams, a four-by-four post fourteen feet high and a two-by-four crossbar -- total $9.
• Three spikes -- 24 cents.
• Hemp Rope -- $5.99 for a fifty-foot coil.
• Dice to roll for castoff clothing -- 99 cents.
• Real life in Christ -- Priceless.
For most of what life offers us there is cash and credit. For everything that really matters there's the cross of Jesus.
On August 27 of 1883, James Wallis, chief of police on Rodriguez Island, not far from Zanzibar, wrote: "Several times during the night (26-27) reports were heard coming from the eastward, like the distant roar of heavy guns. These reports continued at intervals of between three and four hours, until 3 p.m. on August 27, and the last two were heard in the directions of Oyster Bay and Port Mathurie."What Wallis was hearing were the distant eruptions of the Volcano Krakatoa, 2,968 miles away. There is no recorded instance in human history of a sound being heard from further away.
Except, of course, the echoes of that hammer driving in the nails on a hill far away, on Golgotha.
The sound is not only heard among Christians 2,000 years later, but it was heard hundreds of years earlier, by the prophet Isaiah, who was looking at a people who had lost sight of their salvation, who mistook prices for real values.
Isaiah was one who knew suffering firsthand. He had endured ridicule, persecution, physical punishment, and if we are to believe tradition, he would eventually be murdered for his faith. His task -- to proclaim God's news for his time and for all time -- was not a task he took lightly. Certainly, if we read his commissioning correctly, it was in the presence of God himself and the heavenly throne room that he took upon himself the task of being God's messenger.
In the present passage, Isaiah can only express surprise -- a surprise he expects we will share. Who would believe what he has to report -- that someone would be willing to innocently endure not just physical pain, but abuse, misunderstanding, shame? How could it be that the servant God intends to lift up, to honor, to exalt, should achieve this status by suffering? We expect just the opposite.
Isaiah is seeing clearly, not through a glass darkly, but more clearly than we see, that stark X-marks-the-spot that stares in this face on this day of all days. He was seeing the cross.
The cross is the central symbol of our faith. We can be very casual about wearing the cross around the neck or on the lapel. We sometimes forget, however, that the cross is a symbol of terror, despair, horror, degradation, agony, and humiliation. It was a form of execution reserved for the lowest of the low, for those outside the pale of humanity, whose bodies would be dumped in the garbage heaps afterward to be torn apart by wild dogs. Indeed, Paul's listeners must have cringed every time he used the word "cross." It was obscene.
So shameful was the image of the cross to our ancestors in the faith, so obscene the method of execution, that for over four centuries the church chose not to use that symbol in its art.
Well, there is one example of the cross used in a drawing from early Christian history, but it is drawn by an opponent of the faith. You can see it in Ante Pacem, by Graydon F. Snyder. It's a piece of graffiti in the slave quarters, a crude drawing that shows the crucifixion of a man with the head of a donkey. At his feet is an individual engaged in adoration. There's a single line written beneath it: "Alexamenos worships his god."
This anti-Christian drawing makes it clear how shameful the cross could be. Yet this Alexamenos was not ashamed to claim Jesus as Lord, even though it led to ridicule. It helps us realize why Christians did not wear the cross as a symbol for centuries.
More important than whether we wear the cross is whether we bear the cross. Anna Mow was a missionary, mother, writer, and teacher, an active speaker, and much loved disciple of Jesus Christ. She seemed willing to endure anything for the sake of her Savior. Perhaps that's why it seemed so ironic that one who was such a great communicator should suffer an affliction that made it nearly impossible for her to communicate.
Despite having suffered a debilitating stroke that limited her ability to write and speak, she dictated a final book to demonstrate that one may not only wear, but also bear the cross.
Published as Two or Ninety-Two by Brethren Press, Anna's book is sparkling, bright as a running brook in spring, yet filled with the same brooding depth of a pond deep from the melting snows. In a helpless condition she describes as "a world of suffering," Anna writes, "I can't even choose what kind of suffering I'll have. But I can choose what my attitude is going to be toward suffering."
Calling upon the example of Job, Anna differentiates between a God who sends suffering and one who permits it. "No matter what happens to us, we are within his loving care. Our Lord suffered. Paul's thorn in the flesh was never taken away. We may suffer. If we trust him, the suffering will never be useless."
And then there's this: "No one is ever useless to God. No one who can pray is ever useless. There are many people to perform the needed activities, but too few to take the time for prayer."
The cross as an instrument of torture also represents the intersection of two roads. It is the place where heaven and earth come together. It is the spot where we meet Jesus.
So Paul wrote about Jesus that "... though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death -- even death on a cross" (Philippians 2:5-8).
This is where we come together. At our broken points. This is where we have something in common.
How do we come to this intersection? One way is through our suffering. Much of our suffering is unsought, but it finds us anyway. There is no place in that dark valley we travel where we will not find Jesus waiting.
For others, we arrive at this spot by taking upon ourselves the name of Jesus. To do so is to invite the world to crush you as well.
Yet our lives are not spent in suffering. No one is called to intentionally seek out the experience. For those who are currently blessed with health in the midst of faithful living, there are other ways to join Jesus at the cross.
In the Roman Empire many paid with suffering and death when they were baptized as Christians. But the Celts seem to have accepted the faith without fighting it. The Celtic Christians spoke of Red Martyrdom, White Martyrdom, and Green Martyrdom. The first obviously refers to those who died for their faith, but the other two categories denoted those who gave up home and homeland to follow where God led. We who are convinced that our future is in our own hands are probably ready to stand up for Jesus with our lives -- but not our livelihoods. How many of us would really be willing to give up home and homeland for the call of the gospel?
This is the holy day which forces us to focus on the cross. The mistake would be to act as if the cross was all there was. As a symbol of suffering, of sacrifice, of pure love, it is unequalled. But that's not all there is. There's more. There's triumph.
The trouble is, we know the ending. We have read the end of the book. We know that Jesus didn't stay safely dead. This is what the powers would like us to believe.
We do not need to obsess on the cross. It is the intersection between heaven and earth. It is the key that unlocks heaven's gate.
Now we must pass through heaven's gate. We must walk beyond and live in the kingdom now. God's kingdom is not fully realized in this world. It's dangerous to try to live by the rules of the kingdom right now. It got Jesus killed, and many other martyrs besides.
But there's not only a cross, there's an empty tomb, and trust me, the powers that be would love to keep Jesus on that cross. It's safer that way.
The cross was supposed to eradicate the carpenter and all he stood for. It was supposed to end the problem. Just as the death of Stephen, of John, and the other martyrs, was supposed to put an end to Christianity. Just tear it up by the roots and it will die.
It doesn't work that way. This calls to mind a scene from a book about Jesus, where the writer noted: "I watched my neighbor down the road pull up the dandelions to prevent their spread. Meanwhile, just a few yards away my son Jacob was reciting what he had learned about dandelions at school the previous day -- while blowing on the puffy heads to spread the seeds. Each one caught the wind and was lost to sight as it sailed into the sun. No problem. There were going to be plenty more dandelions next spring. That's the way it works. There's a stiff breeze blowing and you can't put the seeds back on the stem. You can't put Jesus back in the tomb"(Frank Ramirez, The Gospel of Mark [Nashville: faithQuest, 1996], p. 60.)
The powers, the governments, the principalities, want to stuff Jesus in the box. If they can keep him on the cross, your attention will be diverted from the real work. Yes, "when I survey the wondrous cross, on which the prince of glory died, my richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride."
Yes, Paul said, "For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified" (1 Corinthians 2:2). But more importantly, we know he is risen. The angels at the ascension asked the apostles why they were looking up in the air. There was work to do. Pick up your cross? You've already got it, but start walking toward your resurrection, now and in the life to come.
We began by talking about the noise that Krakatoa, that great volcano made, a noise so great it was heard nearly 3,000 miles away. But it also left a lasting mark for two years and more, on the horizons of most places in the world, creating fantastic sunsets.
On the day before Thanksgiving, 1883, the fire department of Poughkeepsie rushed out to fight a fire that was clearly only a few blocks away. It was a tremendous fire, lighting up the entire sky. They rushed up one street and down another until they came to the river, and realized the fire had to be on the other side of the river. They finally had to stop and let the fire burn.
Only later did someone explain to them that the fire they observed was 93 million miles away, and it was the sun shining through the dust still settling from the volcano three months before.
Nevertheless, the fire company was content it had answered the call. We, ourselves, can still answer the call, even if the task seems bigger than we can imagine, or farther away that we suppose. The call is out there, the call of Christ's cross, his suffering, death, and resurrection. God has a plan for your life. The question is whether we will respond or not.
It matters. It matters because nothing is more valuable to us than this cross. How valuable? Consider the following price list:
• Two wooden beams, a four-by-four post fourteen feet high and a two-by-four crossbar -- total $9.
• Three spikes -- 24 cents.
• Hemp Rope -- $5.99 for a fifty-foot coil.
• Dice to roll for castoff clothing -- 99 cents.
• Real life in Christ -- Priceless.
For most of what life offers us there is cash and credit. For everything that really matters there's the cross of Jesus.
