The Tantalizing "Come"
Sermon
Sermons On The Second Readings
Series I, Cycle C
More than anything else, Edward wanted God to forgive Keith. More than anything else, he wanted to forgive his son for taking his own life. For several months after his son's suicide, Edward feared that Keith was lost. The father could speak to no one about his heartbrokenness.
Then, prompted by the open, sky-filled space as he drove with friends across the prairie of Nebraska, he turned to the couple in the rear seat and told them the following dream:
I noticed someone walking in the distance. The person wore my son's favorite red plaid flannel shirt. I looked more closely. It was my son. I followed Keith at a safe but curious distance. Then I looked up. There stood another man. He also wore a red plaid flannel shirt. The second man stood facing my son, and I recognized him. It was Christ. Jesus' open and welcoming arms were beckoning Keith to come to him.
The faithful Christian said he did not know if his dream were fantasy, wishful thinking, a sign of his own precarious state of mind, or what it was. All he knew for certain, he said, was that something had melted within him, some of the anger and some of the fear.
The dream was a gift. The image of his son enfolded in Christ's compassionate hug had begun to replace the picture of the closed casket. The dream comforted him. A piece of the grief had melted away to reveal a quiet reassurance. "Come, it is I, Jesus, waiting to welcome you." He knew from this curious distance that his son was now safe.
"Come ... It is I, Jesus." With arms opening and welcoming, the word is "Come," the little word, "Come."
A slather of molasses on concrete is one stratagem of obedience training at dog guide school. One morning, leashed dogs on the way to their assigned sections in the relief area encounter a big blob of molasses at one sidewalk intersection.
The idea is for the curious dog to ignore that tempting scent without so much as a sniff. Several dogs do pass by the lure. Most succumb to the call of the molasses, necessitating a swift leash correction. Were it laced with toxic matter, such yielding to this succulent bait out in the work world could mark the end of an assist dog's life.
Working within a covenant of shared responsibility is imperative for a dog guide and its user. Soon after the new team first comes home, another, equally seductive testing period begins. Now, in the absence of the commanding eye of a school instructor, the dog is tempted to reassert dominance. This is no time for the human partner to yield to the temptation to give the dog a relaxing off-leash run. Off leash, the dog might choose not to come.
It has to want to come before it will respond to the invitation of its blind partner. It must choose to ignore the tantalizing "Come" of someone calling its name from across the street, the stranger's whistling, and the friend enticing it with a morsel of food. It must concentrate on its work.
The little word, "Come," is a come-no-matter-what issue. When, for a dog guide, does "Come" move beyond a necessary request to the obedient answer of devotion?
When for us does the response become devotion? The vocal equivalent of opening and welcoming arms, the word is "Come."
"Come," not "Get over here, now," but "Come." Not, come so I can hurt you, but come so I can praise you. Come has to do with mutual respect, a head held high, a high-wagging tail, and a ready-for-whatever trust.
The voice of a dog handler moderates any sharp edge of threat. It avoids a coaxing tone that would invite teasing or demean the equity of the work relationship. The bonding, "Come," conveys a quiet, respectful authority.
This earnest yet insistent "Come" that promises the immediate reward of a verbal praise or a pat promotes the growth of mutual respect. To a dog guide, "Come" is an invitation to work. It says, "I respect the dog part of you that is easily distracted. I respect the guide part of you that thirsts to work." The dog senses that respect and the respect becomes shared.
With this attitude, "Come" becomes a tool of instant understanding. When Leader Dog Treasure allowed a barking dog to rattle her or a squirrel to distract, the command returned concentration to his work.
For Dolley, "Come" said, "Are you ready to work?" "Come" was a sweet word because she lived to work. In later years, she appreciated the steadying persistence of "Come" that aided her focus. How unlike that is the ill-treated dog that shies toward its handler with rump lowered and tail half between its legs, the tip end still wagging with the mixed anticipation of fear and wanting to please.
What is the sound of God's "Come" that disarms our reserve? The other words of come carry little weight in God's come. Hear them: Coax, urge, demand, entice, implore, insist, order, persuade. Sometimes "Come" presents no words at all but stands waiting as open and welcoming arms.
Like the first "Come" of Advent, the "Come" of Revelation is an offer. When we finally hear God's "Come" in our hearts, the invitation answers the yearning of our wanting and our needing to come. Our "Come" that calls out to God intersects with God's "Come" that calls to us.
"Come" requires the readiness to hear that "Come" is a welcoming word. It is a welcome. It is an inclusive invitation.
What are the prerequisites of our readiness?
Hear again what "Come" tells us in today's short segments from the closing chapter of Revelation. Each message is simple, "Come." Each successive verse tells us more about "Come."
First, from verses 12-14, "See, I am coming soon; my reward is with me, to repay according to everyone's work." He counsels us to pay attention, to do our part, and to "wash [our] robes" first so we will be ready. That is, we need to make our own preparations. Clean the dirt from our lives. Make ourselves presentable. Clean up the inner pollution of the soul.
The second segment, from verse 16, reads, "It is I, Jesus...." This "I am" returns us to the record in Exodus of God's telling a reluctant Moses, "I am who I am" (Exodus 3:14). "It is I, Jesus" reminds us to pay attention to who is bidding us to come. Christ, God, is the grounding root of the church. "It is I" returns us to the empowerment of our own, "I am."
In the third passage, from verse 17, the Spirit and the bride say, "Come." A bride, a woman who is about to be married or is newly married, makes preparations for her new life. Earlier, in the third of five references to "bride" (Revelation 21:2), John defined bride as the new Jerusalem. Let us view this come as a starting point, the readiness of a bride about to enter a new relationship. To come is to accept and to begin a covenantal relationship of mutual promises.
What an open, welcoming anticipation enters as John expands the meaning of come: "And let everyone who hears say, 'Come' " (v. 17). This universal invitation would welcome diversity of physical ability, professional and economic status, sexual orientation, and national heritage, as well as the sticking points of human relationship in the early days of the church.
John continues in verse 17, "And let everyone who is thirsty come." Welcome, come as well, whether we thirst to see, to hear, to walk unassisted, to think clearly, or whatever else causes us to yearn. Come as well, regardless of our addictions, our emotional upheavals, our illnesses of brain and body, and whatever else threatens to paralyze the human spirit. Everyone is welcome at this table of wholeness. This state of being is a welcoming place.
John packs still more invitation into verse 17: "Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift." "Come" carries neither burden nor charge. It is gift.
Finally, verse 20 hopes, "Surely I am coming soon." Rather than a put off, a sometime, or a when, "soon" is a promise that invites patience. Ready, we respond to this promise with open and welcoming hearts, "Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!"
Then, prompted by the open, sky-filled space as he drove with friends across the prairie of Nebraska, he turned to the couple in the rear seat and told them the following dream:
I noticed someone walking in the distance. The person wore my son's favorite red plaid flannel shirt. I looked more closely. It was my son. I followed Keith at a safe but curious distance. Then I looked up. There stood another man. He also wore a red plaid flannel shirt. The second man stood facing my son, and I recognized him. It was Christ. Jesus' open and welcoming arms were beckoning Keith to come to him.
The faithful Christian said he did not know if his dream were fantasy, wishful thinking, a sign of his own precarious state of mind, or what it was. All he knew for certain, he said, was that something had melted within him, some of the anger and some of the fear.
The dream was a gift. The image of his son enfolded in Christ's compassionate hug had begun to replace the picture of the closed casket. The dream comforted him. A piece of the grief had melted away to reveal a quiet reassurance. "Come, it is I, Jesus, waiting to welcome you." He knew from this curious distance that his son was now safe.
"Come ... It is I, Jesus." With arms opening and welcoming, the word is "Come," the little word, "Come."
A slather of molasses on concrete is one stratagem of obedience training at dog guide school. One morning, leashed dogs on the way to their assigned sections in the relief area encounter a big blob of molasses at one sidewalk intersection.
The idea is for the curious dog to ignore that tempting scent without so much as a sniff. Several dogs do pass by the lure. Most succumb to the call of the molasses, necessitating a swift leash correction. Were it laced with toxic matter, such yielding to this succulent bait out in the work world could mark the end of an assist dog's life.
Working within a covenant of shared responsibility is imperative for a dog guide and its user. Soon after the new team first comes home, another, equally seductive testing period begins. Now, in the absence of the commanding eye of a school instructor, the dog is tempted to reassert dominance. This is no time for the human partner to yield to the temptation to give the dog a relaxing off-leash run. Off leash, the dog might choose not to come.
It has to want to come before it will respond to the invitation of its blind partner. It must choose to ignore the tantalizing "Come" of someone calling its name from across the street, the stranger's whistling, and the friend enticing it with a morsel of food. It must concentrate on its work.
The little word, "Come," is a come-no-matter-what issue. When, for a dog guide, does "Come" move beyond a necessary request to the obedient answer of devotion?
When for us does the response become devotion? The vocal equivalent of opening and welcoming arms, the word is "Come."
"Come," not "Get over here, now," but "Come." Not, come so I can hurt you, but come so I can praise you. Come has to do with mutual respect, a head held high, a high-wagging tail, and a ready-for-whatever trust.
The voice of a dog handler moderates any sharp edge of threat. It avoids a coaxing tone that would invite teasing or demean the equity of the work relationship. The bonding, "Come," conveys a quiet, respectful authority.
This earnest yet insistent "Come" that promises the immediate reward of a verbal praise or a pat promotes the growth of mutual respect. To a dog guide, "Come" is an invitation to work. It says, "I respect the dog part of you that is easily distracted. I respect the guide part of you that thirsts to work." The dog senses that respect and the respect becomes shared.
With this attitude, "Come" becomes a tool of instant understanding. When Leader Dog Treasure allowed a barking dog to rattle her or a squirrel to distract, the command returned concentration to his work.
For Dolley, "Come" said, "Are you ready to work?" "Come" was a sweet word because she lived to work. In later years, she appreciated the steadying persistence of "Come" that aided her focus. How unlike that is the ill-treated dog that shies toward its handler with rump lowered and tail half between its legs, the tip end still wagging with the mixed anticipation of fear and wanting to please.
What is the sound of God's "Come" that disarms our reserve? The other words of come carry little weight in God's come. Hear them: Coax, urge, demand, entice, implore, insist, order, persuade. Sometimes "Come" presents no words at all but stands waiting as open and welcoming arms.
Like the first "Come" of Advent, the "Come" of Revelation is an offer. When we finally hear God's "Come" in our hearts, the invitation answers the yearning of our wanting and our needing to come. Our "Come" that calls out to God intersects with God's "Come" that calls to us.
"Come" requires the readiness to hear that "Come" is a welcoming word. It is a welcome. It is an inclusive invitation.
What are the prerequisites of our readiness?
Hear again what "Come" tells us in today's short segments from the closing chapter of Revelation. Each message is simple, "Come." Each successive verse tells us more about "Come."
First, from verses 12-14, "See, I am coming soon; my reward is with me, to repay according to everyone's work." He counsels us to pay attention, to do our part, and to "wash [our] robes" first so we will be ready. That is, we need to make our own preparations. Clean the dirt from our lives. Make ourselves presentable. Clean up the inner pollution of the soul.
The second segment, from verse 16, reads, "It is I, Jesus...." This "I am" returns us to the record in Exodus of God's telling a reluctant Moses, "I am who I am" (Exodus 3:14). "It is I, Jesus" reminds us to pay attention to who is bidding us to come. Christ, God, is the grounding root of the church. "It is I" returns us to the empowerment of our own, "I am."
In the third passage, from verse 17, the Spirit and the bride say, "Come." A bride, a woman who is about to be married or is newly married, makes preparations for her new life. Earlier, in the third of five references to "bride" (Revelation 21:2), John defined bride as the new Jerusalem. Let us view this come as a starting point, the readiness of a bride about to enter a new relationship. To come is to accept and to begin a covenantal relationship of mutual promises.
What an open, welcoming anticipation enters as John expands the meaning of come: "And let everyone who hears say, 'Come' " (v. 17). This universal invitation would welcome diversity of physical ability, professional and economic status, sexual orientation, and national heritage, as well as the sticking points of human relationship in the early days of the church.
John continues in verse 17, "And let everyone who is thirsty come." Welcome, come as well, whether we thirst to see, to hear, to walk unassisted, to think clearly, or whatever else causes us to yearn. Come as well, regardless of our addictions, our emotional upheavals, our illnesses of brain and body, and whatever else threatens to paralyze the human spirit. Everyone is welcome at this table of wholeness. This state of being is a welcoming place.
John packs still more invitation into verse 17: "Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift." "Come" carries neither burden nor charge. It is gift.
Finally, verse 20 hopes, "Surely I am coming soon." Rather than a put off, a sometime, or a when, "soon" is a promise that invites patience. Ready, we respond to this promise with open and welcoming hearts, "Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!"
