Runaway Lives
Sermon
ORDINARY PEOPLE, EXTRAORDINARY GOD
Sermons For Sundays After Pentecost
For cowboy lovers, the 1950s were golden. There were more cowboys than you can count on your fingers and toes: Hopalong Cassidy, and Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, The Lone Ranger, Lash LaRue and the list goes on. There were probably only a dozen or so basic scenarios played out in all their shows, and one of the classics was the runaway stagecoach. The driver became incapacitated, the horses went mad, the coach was full of terrified passengers, and along came Roy riding Trigger at what seemed like seventy-five miles an hour. He pulled up next to the runaway horses, leaped onto the back of a lead horse, and brought the stagecoach to a safe stop. Remember all that?
This episode from the eighteenth chapter of 2 Samuel is about runaway lives. In fact, that's true for much of 1 and 2 Samuel. Certain forces have been set into play, are gaining momentum, and might very possibly become the keepers of the people who once kept them.
Ever notice how often in life the balance subtly shifts, and what we were intended to keep now keeps us?
The Prime Movers
Look at the prime movers in this drama, a drama that actually goes back several chapters.
Absalom: We first gain a flavor for this son of David in connection with the rape of his attractive sister Tamar. Her fate so enrages him that he eventually kills her abuser. The forces of rage become his keeper. Since Tamar's abuser is a step-brother to Absalom, this leads to tension in his relationship with his father, and there ensues a period of estrangement between the two. A bit later Absalom begins to entertain political aspirations and he moves to undermine his father's rule. These aspirations lead to Absalom eventually becoming literally hung-up in a tree by his hair. (I always knew there were some advantages to being bald.)
Joab: He was one of David's most loyal and effective military commanders. He is so loyal in fact, that he becomes caught by his zeal for a military victory in David's behalf and disobeys David's wish that his son Absalom not be harmed. Not only does Joab run afoul of David's wishes, he is downright truculent in his treatment of the suspended Absalom.
David. We have already seen in other stories that David, too, could find himself kept by runaway forces. That's precisely what the story of David and Bathsheba is all about.
Consequences
Clearly runaway-ness has consequences. It has a consuming quality inasmuch as it turns upon the person who is intended to be its keeper and so twists and distorts that person that his/her life becomes miserable and warped. It costs Absalom his life, Joab (it appears) his military position, and David grief on more than one occasion.
In our day, for example, it cost Richard Nixon the Oval Office; Oliver North public censure and criminal prosecution; and as we have seen recently, the Exxon Corporation much money in controversial attempts to clean up Alaskan waters.
What's more, its scope is inclusive. When runaway-ness grips our lives and we are out of control, other lives are affected, too. Families where there is substance abuse know that all too well, as do families that must cope with a workaholic or a despot.
One of Aesop's fables is about a young mouse in search of adventure. As he is running along the bank of a pond, he is seen by a frog who swims to the bank and croaks: "Won't you pay me a visit? I can promise you a good time if you do."
The mouse doesn't need much coaxing, for it is a bright world out there, but there is a problem. The mouse can't swim and doesn't wish to venture very far out into the pond.
The frog has a plan. He ties the mouse's leg to his own with a tough reed. Then he jumps into the pond, dragging his foolish companion with him.
The mouse has soon had enough, but the deceiving frog has something else in mind. He pulls the mouse under the water and drowns him.
But before he can untie the reed that is binding him to the now dead mouse, a hawk comes sailing over the pond, swoops down, and seizes the mouse with the frog dangling from its leg. In one fell swoop, he has both meat and fish for dinner.
Runaway-ness has that quality about it. It swoops down and affects not just the one, but often the many.
A Modest Hero
But there is in this story a modest hero. I say modest because he is as realistic as he is idealistic. But I say hero because he gives evidence of resisting forces which are sweeping everyone else along.
We don't even know this man's name, but he is one of David's men and he is the one who discovers Absalom hanging in the tree, and reports it to Joab. Joab responds, "If you saw him, why didn't you kill him on the spot? I myself would have given you ten pieces of silver and a belt." (2 Samuel 18:11 TEV) The report says that twenty-thousand men were killed; David's troops were on a roll. And, Joab reasons, why wouldn't this unnamed trooper put the frosting on the cake by immediately dispatching the man who caused it all in the first place? But the man wouldn't do it, and he gives his reason:
Even if you gave me a thousand pieces of silver I wouldn't lift a finger against the king's son. We all heard the king command you and Abishai and Ittai, "For my sake don't harm the young man Absalom." But if I had disobeyed the king and killed Absalom, the king would have heard about it -- he hears about everything -- and you would not have defended me.
(2 Samuel 18:12-13 TEV)
This man's motives were mixed, but I still say we give him three cheers because he wouldn't allow himself to be kept by the forces that were keeping everyone else. He exercised his will and said no to them.
It was Carl Jung who offered this caveat years ago:
All mass movements, as one might expect, slip with the greatest ease down an inclined plane represented by large numbers. Where the many are, there is security; what the many believe must of course be true; what the many want must be worth striving for, and necessary, and therefore good. In the clamor of the many there lies the power to snatch wish-fulfillments by force; sweetest of all, however, is that gentle and painless slipping back into the kingdom of childhood, into the paradise of parental care, into happy-go-luckiness and irresponsibility. All the thinking and looking after are done from the top; to all questions there is an answer; and for all needs the necessary provision is made. The infantile dream state of the mass man is so unrealistic that he never thinks to ask who is paying for this paradise. The balancing of accounts is left to a higher political or social authority, which welcomes the task, for its power is thereby increased; and the more power it has, the weaker and more helpless the individual becomes.
(The Undiscovered Self, pp. 70-71)
That describes people not only politically and socially, but also religiously.
Jesus put it more succinctly: "Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 5:10)
Remember the runaway stagecoach? All of our lives become, at some point or another, runaway lives, and we become caught up in forces that appear larger than life and seem to demand our blind obedience. This happens in our families, our places of vocation, and even in the church. But I like to think of God as coming alongside these runaway forces, leaping upon them, and bringing our runaway lives to a halt and returning them to us.
I can't tell you how this happens, because it happens to everybody differently. It happened to the Gerasene demoniac in the tombs; it happened to Saint Paul on the Damascus Road; it happened to the man ill at the pool side after a grip of thirty-eight years. But it has happened, is happening and will continue to happen.
And a good place to begin is to ask God to come alongside, leap onto these runaway forces in us, and bring them under control. Hosea's picture of God encourages us:
I will heal their faithlessness;
I will love them freely ...
They shall return and dwell beneath my shadow,
they shall flourish as a garden;
they shall blossom as the vine,
their fragrance shall be like the
wine of Lebanon.
(Hosea 14:4, 7)
Trust that. Can't you see God coming alongside -- right now?
This episode from the eighteenth chapter of 2 Samuel is about runaway lives. In fact, that's true for much of 1 and 2 Samuel. Certain forces have been set into play, are gaining momentum, and might very possibly become the keepers of the people who once kept them.
Ever notice how often in life the balance subtly shifts, and what we were intended to keep now keeps us?
The Prime Movers
Look at the prime movers in this drama, a drama that actually goes back several chapters.
Absalom: We first gain a flavor for this son of David in connection with the rape of his attractive sister Tamar. Her fate so enrages him that he eventually kills her abuser. The forces of rage become his keeper. Since Tamar's abuser is a step-brother to Absalom, this leads to tension in his relationship with his father, and there ensues a period of estrangement between the two. A bit later Absalom begins to entertain political aspirations and he moves to undermine his father's rule. These aspirations lead to Absalom eventually becoming literally hung-up in a tree by his hair. (I always knew there were some advantages to being bald.)
Joab: He was one of David's most loyal and effective military commanders. He is so loyal in fact, that he becomes caught by his zeal for a military victory in David's behalf and disobeys David's wish that his son Absalom not be harmed. Not only does Joab run afoul of David's wishes, he is downright truculent in his treatment of the suspended Absalom.
David. We have already seen in other stories that David, too, could find himself kept by runaway forces. That's precisely what the story of David and Bathsheba is all about.
Consequences
Clearly runaway-ness has consequences. It has a consuming quality inasmuch as it turns upon the person who is intended to be its keeper and so twists and distorts that person that his/her life becomes miserable and warped. It costs Absalom his life, Joab (it appears) his military position, and David grief on more than one occasion.
In our day, for example, it cost Richard Nixon the Oval Office; Oliver North public censure and criminal prosecution; and as we have seen recently, the Exxon Corporation much money in controversial attempts to clean up Alaskan waters.
What's more, its scope is inclusive. When runaway-ness grips our lives and we are out of control, other lives are affected, too. Families where there is substance abuse know that all too well, as do families that must cope with a workaholic or a despot.
One of Aesop's fables is about a young mouse in search of adventure. As he is running along the bank of a pond, he is seen by a frog who swims to the bank and croaks: "Won't you pay me a visit? I can promise you a good time if you do."
The mouse doesn't need much coaxing, for it is a bright world out there, but there is a problem. The mouse can't swim and doesn't wish to venture very far out into the pond.
The frog has a plan. He ties the mouse's leg to his own with a tough reed. Then he jumps into the pond, dragging his foolish companion with him.
The mouse has soon had enough, but the deceiving frog has something else in mind. He pulls the mouse under the water and drowns him.
But before he can untie the reed that is binding him to the now dead mouse, a hawk comes sailing over the pond, swoops down, and seizes the mouse with the frog dangling from its leg. In one fell swoop, he has both meat and fish for dinner.
Runaway-ness has that quality about it. It swoops down and affects not just the one, but often the many.
A Modest Hero
But there is in this story a modest hero. I say modest because he is as realistic as he is idealistic. But I say hero because he gives evidence of resisting forces which are sweeping everyone else along.
We don't even know this man's name, but he is one of David's men and he is the one who discovers Absalom hanging in the tree, and reports it to Joab. Joab responds, "If you saw him, why didn't you kill him on the spot? I myself would have given you ten pieces of silver and a belt." (2 Samuel 18:11 TEV) The report says that twenty-thousand men were killed; David's troops were on a roll. And, Joab reasons, why wouldn't this unnamed trooper put the frosting on the cake by immediately dispatching the man who caused it all in the first place? But the man wouldn't do it, and he gives his reason:
Even if you gave me a thousand pieces of silver I wouldn't lift a finger against the king's son. We all heard the king command you and Abishai and Ittai, "For my sake don't harm the young man Absalom." But if I had disobeyed the king and killed Absalom, the king would have heard about it -- he hears about everything -- and you would not have defended me.
(2 Samuel 18:12-13 TEV)
This man's motives were mixed, but I still say we give him three cheers because he wouldn't allow himself to be kept by the forces that were keeping everyone else. He exercised his will and said no to them.
It was Carl Jung who offered this caveat years ago:
All mass movements, as one might expect, slip with the greatest ease down an inclined plane represented by large numbers. Where the many are, there is security; what the many believe must of course be true; what the many want must be worth striving for, and necessary, and therefore good. In the clamor of the many there lies the power to snatch wish-fulfillments by force; sweetest of all, however, is that gentle and painless slipping back into the kingdom of childhood, into the paradise of parental care, into happy-go-luckiness and irresponsibility. All the thinking and looking after are done from the top; to all questions there is an answer; and for all needs the necessary provision is made. The infantile dream state of the mass man is so unrealistic that he never thinks to ask who is paying for this paradise. The balancing of accounts is left to a higher political or social authority, which welcomes the task, for its power is thereby increased; and the more power it has, the weaker and more helpless the individual becomes.
(The Undiscovered Self, pp. 70-71)
That describes people not only politically and socially, but also religiously.
Jesus put it more succinctly: "Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 5:10)
Remember the runaway stagecoach? All of our lives become, at some point or another, runaway lives, and we become caught up in forces that appear larger than life and seem to demand our blind obedience. This happens in our families, our places of vocation, and even in the church. But I like to think of God as coming alongside these runaway forces, leaping upon them, and bringing our runaway lives to a halt and returning them to us.
I can't tell you how this happens, because it happens to everybody differently. It happened to the Gerasene demoniac in the tombs; it happened to Saint Paul on the Damascus Road; it happened to the man ill at the pool side after a grip of thirty-eight years. But it has happened, is happening and will continue to happen.
And a good place to begin is to ask God to come alongside, leap onto these runaway forces in us, and bring them under control. Hosea's picture of God encourages us:
I will heal their faithlessness;
I will love them freely ...
They shall return and dwell beneath my shadow,
they shall flourish as a garden;
they shall blossom as the vine,
their fragrance shall be like the
wine of Lebanon.
(Hosea 14:4, 7)
Trust that. Can't you see God coming alongside -- right now?
