Making God Happy

Sermon for North Hill Adventist Fellowship
December 4, 2010

(This is a revised version of the manuscript I published here earlier. This is closer to the actual sermon.)

The Gospel of John.

Notice how it begins. (This is a loose translation of selections from John 1:1-18.)

In the beginning was the word. And the word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and apart from him not one single thing was made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all humanity. The light shines in the darkness—untouched by the darkness. . . . This light lightens every human.

The world did not recognize him even though he came to his own. Still to those who did received him he gave the right to become the children of God—children born out of the desire and pleasure of God.

The Word—this divine wisdom who lightens every human, this divine person who seeks access to every person—the Word became human and made his home among us. And we saw the glory of God, the radiance of grace and truth.

When John looks back at the beginning of human history he sees the Word. In John's culture, this was a common term used by philosophers and thinkers as they struggled to put into words their understanding of the origin and supernatural character of reason and language and personhood and order and life itself. When you look back at pure life, the brilliant, throbbing origin of everything, you see the Word. The Word was with God. The Word was God. Nothing exists apart from the creative power of God. And that creative power demonstrated its gladness and satisfaction with humanity by itself becoming human in the person of Jesus.

Here at the beginning of his book, John makes the point that the universe is an expression of the pleasure of God. Life is not something that God is “dealing with.” Oops. Life happened. Now what are we going to do?

A few weeks ago, four boxes holding a total of twelve cats was dumped here at the church. As soon as I was told about it, I knew what was going to happen. We were not going to take them to animal control. We were going to take care of them—because that's the way it is with Karin and Bonnie (my wife and daughter respectively). We loaded them up, took them home, doctored them, fed them and found homes for them. It cost a lot of money, a lot of time and effort. It called on Karin's and Bonnie's special skills and knowledge and compassion. But there was never any question about whether we were going to do it or not. We didn't choose the cats. We didn't ask for them. But cats happened and given who they are, we took care of them.

It is also the case that we have horses at our house. Karin's favorite horse Bolero was completely intentional. She bought a pregnant mare with just exactly the blood lines she wanted. She has carefully babied this horse for two and a half years now and looks forward to decades more of caring for it. It is a LOT of work. It costs a LOT of money—more than all the cats put together. But this is not a mess that happened to Karin. She freely chose it. And even when the horse is sick and we're spending hours and dollars on vet care and multiple trips a day to the his stall to administer medicine, she never regrets bringing that horse into our world. She loves horses in general. She loves this horse in particular so every bit of work and time and money is worth.

That's how it is with you and God. You were imagined by God. Birthed with his blessing. And he delights in your care.

Humanity is not an unexpected mess that God has to deal with. God is not taken aback by your existence, not even by the messy parts of it. God looked forward to your life. Life is an expression of the desire and pleasure of God. Your life is an expression of the desire and pleasure of God.


Now notice the concluding words of this passage from the Gospel of John.

The Word—this divine wisdom who lightens every human, this divine person who seeks access to every person—the Word became human and made his home among us. And we saw the glory of God, the radiance of grace and truth.

The Word became human and made his home among us and perfumed our lives with the glory of God. Jesus came and lived among us. His very existence giving off glory like a lily or hyacinth gives off fragrance.

Jesus came and lived with us. If you asked him for his address, he would say, earth, third rock from the sun, Milky Way Galaxy. He lived here. With us. Because he likes us. He likes you. He likes your neighborhood. You matter to him.

After establishing the truth that humanity was the desired creation of God, John makes the point that God—in the person of the Word—gave even further proof of his regard for you by moving into your neighborhood. Jesus joined your tribe. Became a member of your clan.

God liked people and sent Jesus to live among us. John writes that he came to his own—meaning the Jewish people, the nation God had carefully cultivated to provide launching pad for the work of the Messiah. They turned their backs. There is a clear implication here that this was a great disappointment. Jesus came to his own. He came and knocked on their door hoping they would open and invite him in. He wasn't just knocking to see if someone would bother coming to the door. He wanted inside. He came to his own—seeking connection and communion with them. They disappointed him.

This morning you did not disappoint God. He sent you an invitation and here you are. He's pleased.

You are the people described in the second half of this verse. “He came to his own and they did not receive him. Still to those who did receive him—that's you—he gave the right to become the children of God.”

God wants kids. God likes kids. And here you are, making God happy this morning.

In the following chapters, John focuses on Jesus ministry to the people “out there,” the people in darkness. In chapter 3, Jesus meets with a Pharisee who needs to be born again.

In chapter 4, he meets a woman with a very scandalous history and gives her new hope and meaning.

In chapter 5, he finds the man lying helplessly beside the pool. He doesn't know who Jesus is. Jesus doesn't reveal his identity. He simply tells the man to get up and leave. The man obeys and in the obeying experiences the miraculous healing power of God.

Then in chapter 9, Jesus finds a man who has been blind since birth. Jesus spits in the dust, makes a mud paste and spreads it over the guy's eyes, then tells him to go wash in the pool of Siloam. The does and is able to see!

In these stories the disciples are practically invisible. They are conversion stories, stories about people coming to faith, coming from darkness into the light. Which is only marginally helpful for many of us because we have been believers for years, for decades, for scores of years.

We know Jesus delights in rescuing sinners. In the case of the man who had been lame beside the pool for 38 years, after healing him, some days later, Jesus finds him again and warns him, “Quit sinning or something worse is going to happen to you!” This strongly suggests that the man was not a paragon of virtue. But then we tell ourselves that's just perfect. Jesus heals a scoundrel, then helps him grow in his relationship with God.

But we sometimes have a hard time seeing how this applies to us. We were not healed yesterday. We were not converted last week. We were not baptized last year. We've been followers of Jesus for most of our lives and are painfully aware of how far we are from our ideal of what a mature follower of Jesus should be like. What does Jesus think of us?

Fortunately in chapters 13 through 17, John specifically addresses just this question.

At the beginning of chapter 13, John writes, “Jesus knew it was time for him to leave this world and go to the father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love.” (John 13:1)

You like that? “He showed them the full extent of his love.” How did he do that? He washed their feet. Jesus had called his disciples to come work with him as his assistants. They were his servants, his helpers. Now, Jesus takes the role of their servant. They have served him. Now, he serves them. The relationship Jesus wants with his disciples is a partnership, a friendship.

Jesus persists in seeking this connection with us even when we blow it.

At some point that last evening before his arrest, Jesus told Peter, “You will deny me three times tonight.”

Peter, of course, was horrified. He would never do such a thing. But, of course, he did. Jesus knew ahead of time that Peter was going to let him down, horribly, painfully, publicly, egregiously. Still he was delighted that Peter was there that night to share supper with him.

Jesus was pleased to serve Peter that evening. In fact, when Peter protested that he was not good enough to have Jesus serve him, Jesus said, in effect, if you are not good enough for me to serve you, you are not good enough to be in my kingdom.

Jesus was saying that he wanted the “real Peter” in his inner circle. The crazy, inconsistent, bombastic, bold, flaky Peter.

And Jesus wants you in his inner circle as well. The real you. Without make up, without the suit. He wants you with all of your history, your failings and weaknesses and inabilities. The actual you. That's who he invited to the sacred party this morning. And you came.

Thanks.

God is just as glad you are here as Jesus was glad that Peter was there for the last supper.

Jesus said some remarkable things to his disciples that night. In chapter 14:12, he told the disciples their ministry would be even greater than his own.

He told them he no longer called them servants. Now, he was going to call them friends. And friends don't quit being friends even when one of them blows it.

Jesus was loyal to his friends even when they stumbled and made huge mistakes. He still trusted them with the life and future of his church. And Jesus is loyal to you, too. He is not ignorant about your failures, your inconsistencies. He looks beyond them to the mutual pledge of friendship. Are you his friend? He knows. It's okay. He is delighted you are his friend. He's delighted you are alive. He is delighted you came this morning to affirm that friendship.

In John's stories Jesus gave people something to do to express their faith. The lame man was told to walk. The blind man was told to go and wash his eyes. The servants at the feast were told to fill the jars with water then pour a cup for the master of the feast. The disciples were asked to bring the seven five loaves and two fish.

In the Gospel of John, faith is something people do. It is some small movement in God's direction, a movement so small it is within their grasp.

Coming to church is an expression of faith. Sure, you can fake it. But if you came seeking God, coming to church is an expression of faith.
Reading your Bible.
Smiling at customers.
Hoping with a patient.
Taking a couple of extra minutes with a customer.
These can all serve as vehicles of faith, outward signs of your commitment to your friendship with Jesus.

And he is glad.

In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. All things were made by him and apart from him not a single thing came into existence.

From there the story gets complicated. The creator is a lover. He is hoping for response. He's looking for friends. So if God prays, you are the answer to his prayers. You showed up this morning, saying by your attendance, yes, I want to be friends.

That makes God happy.

In chapter 14, Jesus tells the disciples: I'm leaving, but don't worry. The reason I'm leaving is to prepare a place where we can be together forever.

That's what God is looking forward to. Your attendance at church this morning is a promise to God, “I'll be there.” He'll work with that. Even if you blow it big time like Peter, showing up is enough. God will take your attendance here as permission to keep working in your life. He's going to hold onto your friendship, he's going to hold onto you.

He has a place set for you at the eternal table. He's really glad you're going to be there.