Dawn

Sermon for Green Lake Church, a Seventh-day Adventist congregation

December 1, 2012

Text: Matthew 4:12-17

Note: This will be my first sermon as the senior pastor of Green Lake Church. I will miss my North Hill Adventist Fellowship congregation immensely. On the other hand I'm excited about the prospect of ministry in the Wallingford, Freemont and University neighborhoods of Seattle.

Years ago in Akron, Ohio, a woman approached me after church. Could I baptize her daughter, Annie?

I should have been a little less enthusiastic. The question fleetingly crossed my mind: why was Mother asking me about baptism for a daughter I had never met? But I was so excited by the prospect of giving Bible studies and preparing someone for baptism, I took the bait, hook, line and sinker.

Could I baptize her daughter? “Sure. Of course. I'd be honored. Let's set up a time for Bible studies and we'll prepare Annie for baptism.”

“You don’t understand.” Mother responded, using the language of that time and place. “My daughter is retarded.”

“No problem.” I answered. “I'll make it real simple.”

“No, you don’t understand. She’s severely retarded. She can’t talk.”

This was a problem.

Mother gave me more information: Annie was twenty. She was about two speaking developmentally. She was still in diapers. The reason I had never seen her was that her mother did not bring her to church. Annie was given to spontaneous, loud vocalizing and erratic movement. Rarely she had seizures. Ruth didn't feel comfortable bringing her to church. But could I baptize her? Could Annie join the church?

Mother knew her request was against the rules. Adventists practice “believer's baptism.” We do not baptize children at the mere request of their parents. Instead baptism is our recognition that persons—whether they are little people who have grown up in the church or big people coming to church as adults—have the capacity to choose to accept grace, to choose to cooperate with God, to participate in goodness. Believer's Baptism expresses our profound commitment to freedom.

We do not baptize two-year-olds. Our doctrine precludes baptizing babies in diapers. Still, Ruth was asking me to baptize her twenty-year-old baby, Annie.

Mother tried to minimize the violation of the rules. “I tell Annie all the time that Jesus loves her. And I think she understands. Sometimes I think she says Jesus. It's not very clear, but I'm pretty sure that's what she is saying.”

What to do?

Church doctrine is unambiguous. Church policy is clear. Equally clear was the desperate longing of this Mother's heart. For her, baptism was the doorway to the kingdom of God. The idea that Annie would be excluded from the kingdom of heaven was a darkness too heavy to bear.

So, in a private ceremony, we broke all the written rules. Overriding tradition and doctrine and policy, we baptized Annie and received her officially as a member of the church.

That Sabbath afternoon was a fulfillment of our scripture reading.

"Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali, the way to the sea, along the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles, hear this: the people sitting in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the territory of the shadow of death a light has dawned. Matthew 4:15-16

We see Jesus lighting a mother's life in a fantastic story in Matthew 15. Jesus was on a private retreat with his disciples. He had actually left Galilee and gone across the border north into a non-Jewish town to escape the press of the crowds. Somehow a pagan woman finds out Jesus is there. She accosts Jesus and company, begging him to exorcise her daughter. First Jesus ignored the woman. When that didn't work to get rid of her, he told her that her request was inappropriate. In fact, Jesus said, she was asking him to go outside the limits of his divine commission. To state it as bluntly as possible, Jesus told the woman, “If I do what you are asking, I would be acting contrary to God's calling.”

Then what did Jesus do? He granted her request! He brought into her life great light. Jesus regard for actual human need was so intense, that it prompted him to step outside the ordinary limits of his divinely-given mission. (See Matthew 15:22-28.)

Certainly for that mother, Jesus arrival in her neighborhood was the dawning of a great light.

I'm intrigued by the cryptic words at the beginning of this verse—Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali, the way to the sea, along the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles. Zebulun and Naphtali were two of the twelve tribes of Israel. They are not particularly famous or infamous for anything. They were the nobodies of Israel, or maybe I should say, they were the everybodies, the ninety-nine percent (or more accurately the sixty-five percent). They had no connection with the monarchy. They were not priests. They weren't famous as warriors. They were just plain folk.

Metaphorically, Annie's mother was one of those Zebulunites. She was a nobody. The only person in her family active in the church. No connections to the important people in the congregation. No college classmates at the General Conference. A true believer living in faithful obscurity.

The darkness referred to in the prophecy was not “special darkness.” It was not extraordinary, newsworthy horror. It was the prosaic darkness characteristic of the human condition. It is the darkness that arises from our fear of alienation. Our suspicion that we are not included. The darkness that haunts a mother's heart when she wonders if there is place in God's church, in God's kingdom, for her special-needs daughter.

Let's go back to our scripture. Matthew described the beginning of Jesus' ministry using the language of Isaiah: Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, Galilee of the Gentiles, hear this: The people sitting in darkness have seen a great light. Those are the words of Isaiah and Matthew.

Jesus used entirely different language: “The kingdom of heaven is at hand. Repent.”

The “great light” of Isaiah and Matthew is the news that the kingdom of heaven is at hand. It's close. Real close. It's right here.

It is so close, so available that repentance makes sense. It's doable. It's possible.

“Repent” is fancy religious language. It would be better translated, “Turn.” or “Alter your life.” Make a good change.” Jesus says, the kingdom of heaven is at hand, so turn, enter. The door is right here.

Jesus does not tell people to adjust their lives in an effort to attain the kingdom of heaven. Rather he tells them, the kingdom of heaven has moved into your world. It's here. It's available. So turn. Turn now. Turn here. Turning is not a desperate, Hail Mary, long shot, aiming at some unlikely goal. It is the confident turning toward the welcoming presence of God.

The story of Annie's mother awakens our sympathies. We are all happy together that Annie was welcomed, that the rules were adjusted so Annie's mother's heart was filled with light.

Sometimes darkness haunts people whose vulnerability is much less obvious than Annie's. People like Nicodemus and Thomas. People like Bob.

When Bob and I met he was taking his first tentative steps back toward some kind of connection with church, unsure whether there was really a place for him.

We shared significant interests outside of church. We became friends. I heard his story. When he first encountered the Adventist Church it was perfect medicine for the chaos and dysfunction in his life. It made sense. It helped. He embraced it completely, zealously. A couple of decades later he was a leader in his church. A paragon of Adventist virtue. Then he found some cracks in the edifice.

Twenty years of obeying all the rules had not transformed all of his unruly impulses. It seemed to him, he was essentially the same person he had been when it all began. He was obviously had not become good enough to pass the heavenly inspection.

He was going to be lost.

The final proof of his hopelessness was his inability to believe the world was 6000 years old. When he had joined the church, he happily set aside everything he had learned in his geology classes and embraced the doctrine of the church. Twenty years later, he could no longer do it.

The church taught 6000 years. He did not believe it. Could not believe it. So, he had resigned himself to being lost. There was nothing to be done about it. He lived in darkness.

As you would expect, I argued. Certainly, the official doctrine of the church was clear. Still, just because he did not believe that particular item in the church's creed, that did not mean he was excluded from church or from the kingdom of heaven.

Bob dismissed my words. “That's just you. We're friends, so, of course, you're going to say that. You're a liberal. No offense, but the people who really count don't think like you do.”

No, I argued. On this point, it's not just me. And I told him the following story.

In the early 2000s the General Conference organized a series of conferences on Faith and Science. I attended as an observer. In the third and final conference held in Denver, a number of conservative theologians called for the church to be more activist in rooting out every faculty member who evinced the slightest doubt about 6000 years. Two of the most pugnacious leaders in this camp were Michael Hasel and Fernando Canale. On Friday afternoon both were on a panel.

A pastor stood and addressed Fernando Canale, “I held evangelistic meetings some years ago. A scientist attended the meetings and asked to be baptized. He worked at a leading research facility in the area. I found out he was already attending church. He was keeping Sabbath at some considerable cost to himself. And he was paying tithe. However, he told me he had one problem. He just could not believe in a short chronology. My question to you: Would you baptize him?”

Canale responded: “That is not the question before us. We are here to debate the official doctrine of the Church. And on that we must be crystal clear. We are talking about what is to be taught and preached in our Church. The actual decision about baptizing someone is a pastoral decision to be made in light of a full knowledge of the circumstances and spiritual life of that person.”

The pastor would not let it go. “Of course, I understand we are debating theology here. But I want to know when I go back to my Church what kind of ministry you are requiring of me. Would you baptize someone who was keeping Sabbath, paying tithe and attending church but did not believe in six days/6000 years?”

Canale clearly did not want to answer the question, but to his credit he finally did. “Based on what you have told us, yes, I would baptize him.” Michael Hasel agreed with Canale.

“So,” I said to my friend Bob. “It's not just me.”

And so, I say to you, behold the astonishing power of the light that shines from the ministry of Jesus.

Canale and Hasel have spent much of their professional lives in the church fighting to exclude slightest hint of wavering in the church's doctrine regarding the age of the world. They believe any weakness in this doctrinal point would undermine the entire system of Adventist theology. Adventist identity and mission would crumble into nothingness if we gave an inch regarding geochronology. The very survival of the church as an institution requires absolutely unbending rigidity on this point. They have written this. In the Faith and Science Conferences they delivered passionate lectures along these lines. Then when confronted not with an idea but with a person—a particular human being, a scientist who held a repugnant idea, but still a person, a human being—in the face of this single person their entire bombastic crusade crumbled. Why?

It was the light that shines from Jesus. For all their doctrinal purity and theological certainty, they could not imagine making the argument that Jesus would exclude a man because of his opinions about fossils. They knew, as every person who is acquainted with the gospels must know, that every time Jesus confronted a conflict between preserving institutional prerogatives and caring for a real, live human being, Jesus cared for the person. Jesus welcomed the person. Jesus touched the person. Jesus defended the person. Jesus shone a great welcoming light.

If Jesus could welcome the tax collector Zacchaeus as a full-fledged son of Abraham, if Jesus could pronounce a Roman centurion's faith superior to any exhibited by the proper people of God, if Jesus could turn on its head an incontrovertible accusation of adultery, it is not possible to imagine he would shut the door of heaven to someone because of their opinions about rocks.

The light of Jesus welcomes my friend Bob, and Dan and Robert and Jean and all those others who have been driven by their own studies to question some element of the Adventist creed. By the rule book Annie's lack of cognitive development excluded her from formal inclusion in the family of God. By the rule book, Bob's hyper cognitive development excluded him from formal inclusion in the family of God. The light that shines from Jesus illumines a welcome into the kingdom that exceeds the power of any rule to exclude.

Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, Galilee of the Gentiles: The people sitting in darkness have seen a great light. On those sitting in the territory of death, a light has dawned.

This Advent season, allow the light of Jesus to suffuse your mind. Then, as you are warmed and brightened, look for Annie's mother or a friend named Bob and share the light.

Farewell

Farewell sermon.

Sermon for North Hill Adventist Fellowship
Sabbath, November 17, 2012
Texts:

But in fact, it is best for you that I go away, because if I don't, the Advocate won't come. If I do go away, then I will send him to you. John 16:7 NLT

I tell you the truth, anyone who believes in me will do the same works I have done, and even greater works, because I am going to be with the Father. John 14:12

In 1984 I had been at the Babylon Church for about four years, longer than any other pastor had stayed in a very long time. The people of Babylon had truly become family. Karin was a key leader in the women's group. The kids of the church were our kids. Our daughter, Bonnie, was their child. We had remodeled the church. We had worked our way through crises together. I had begun imagining living and working together with these saints for the next three decades. Babylon was a charming town. The church was just a couple of blocks from the water. It would be a good place to spend a life.

Then I began experiencing an inner sense of call back to the city. To Manhattan. I brushed it off. Then as it became more insistent over the next few months, I actively resisted it. In my prayers I recited to God all the blessings associated with ministry in Babylon: The deep personal connections. The kids who had become teenagers. The men who were attending church because of their confidence in me. I would miss my art teacher around the corner from the church. And the geology professor at the local college where I had taken a class and hoped to take more. The enjoyment we—Karin and I and the congregation—shared as we worshiped and worked and played together. Besides all this, there were projects at the church we had talked about but had not yet accomplished. A new parking lot. A new roof on the school.

At least some of members thought I was indispensable. I almost believed them. I thought we had developed something together that was so special any change would wreck it. But I could not shake the sense of call to “the City,” i.e. Manhattan. Finally, late on a Wednesday night I told God, “Okay, you want me to move into the City, I'll go.”

The next morning the conference president's secretary called. Could I come to the office for an appointment with the president on Monday? I hung up the phone and told Karin, “The conference wants me to go to Manhattan.”

“How do you know?” she asked. “What did the president say?”

“The president didn't say anything. But I'm going to meet him on Monday. And he's going to ask me to go to the German Church. (Later this congregation changed its name to Church of the Advent Hope.)

Sure enough, on Monday Elder Kretschmar asked if I would move to the church on East 87^th Street in Manhattan. I said yes. Then I began worrying. What would happen to “my church,” to Babylon?

My worry was misplaced.

The conference placed a new pastor who was as different from me as you could get. He was a rough, almost crude, Brooklyn native. A preacher who shouted and pounded the pulpit. The congregation found itself captivated by his preaching. Under his leadership, they completed projects in months that we had been talking about for years. Within a short time, I was a fondly remembered “has been.” We and our friends in Babylon felt the pain of separation, but the church thrived.

So Karin and I went to New York. We worked with a small group of old Germans to create a new church—an English speaking church. Together we formed the only Adventist Church in New York City with a majority non-immigrant membership. It was the only young adult Adventist Church in New York City. It was distinctive enough that the Adventist Review wanted to write an article about what we were doing. (I declined. It was still far too new to be confident of what was going to happen.) Then after six years we left because of family needs. Again people in the congregation and I worried what would happen next. We thought I was indispensable. But guess what. The church thrived. Over the next few years, the attendance doubled.

Now, once again, as Karin and I leave here to go to Green Lake Church, I am causing pain to dear friends by moving. Some of you have expressed concern about the future of North Hill. What is going to happen to our church?

I don't know any way to get around the pain of parting. Some of us have been together for 14 years. This summer at the weddings of Nicolas, Kerstin and Stephanie, I felt like it was my own children who were getting married. We are friends. We are family. Friends and family were not designed to be temporary.

On the other hand, I have great confidence that North Hill will thrive. Not because of the pastor who has been here or because of the pastor who will come, but because of what God has formed in the congregation itself.

Where to start?

First, let's note a comment by Jesus to his disciples the last evening he spent with them.

But in fact, it is best for you that I go away, because if I don't, the Advocate won't come. If I do go away, then I will send him to you. John 16:7 NLT

Jesus was saying to the disciples, “It not just that you will survive my departure. You will thrive in my absence. There is good stuff coming your way that can only arrive if I get out of the way.”

If it was better for Jesus' friends that he leave them, then surely it is possible that something beneficial might result from my leaving. If Jesus was not indispensable, then it's not a stretch to imagine that I might not be indispensable.

North Hill has some very special strengths that will remain long after I'm gone.

A Gracious, Welcoming Atmosphere

The most frequent remark I hear from visitors is, “Your church feels so welcoming.”

Once I got a call from an Adventist theologian, a well-known conservative. They asked me to reach out to their son. This theologian preaches against drums in church and has publicly argued against some of the views I have published. Still this person told me, of all the churches in King and Pierce counties, I think my son would like would like your church best.

I did not create the warm, welcoming atmosphere of North Hill. It was built into this church from the very beginning. It was here before I arrived. It will still be here after I go.

Room for Everyone

Not long after we arrived here at North Hill, one Sabbath during prayer time, the head elder requested prayer for his son who had run away from home and was wanted by the police. At the time I was astonished. Nobody talks about that kind of thing in public. We whisper it. Brian modeled the openness and vulnerability that is the greatest gift of North Hill.

We don't have to pretend. We can be real. We will celebrate together. We also cry together. We don't have to hide failures. We don't have to down play our pride at our kids' successes. We are family. That is something you have created. It existed before I arrived. It will continue.

Bob and Karolyn brought their disabled son, Orin, to church. His vocalizations were sometimes distracting, even annoying. Still, you embraced Orin. You made him a part of our church. He is one of “us.” Receiving Orin, who could not talk, who sometimes made disruptive noises, who was the son of one of our mothers—that is something you did. It is an attitude that you still carry.

More than once someone has stood in our worship service to ask for prayer in connection with their going into detox or into rehab. And instead of standing with the Pharisees in scorn for such miserable human failure, you have stood with Jesus, refusing to condemn and offering your prayers and affirmation.

That will be here when I'm gone.

Working Together

One of the special treasures of our church is our building.

I didn't build it. I didn't design it. You did. It was a painful process. But out of that clumsy, difficult struggle came a building that offers a palpable invitation. There is something magical about the shape of the lobby that puts people at ease. The sanctuary feels inviting, welcoming. It puts people at ease. The only aspect of the building that I can lay even the slightest claim to is the windows. I asked for windows and the building committee put them in. Thank you.

The building cost 1.2 million dollars. I didn't pay for it. You did. You made the down payment. You are paying the mortgage. Your generosity has already cut two years off the mortgage. You have saved us tens of thousands of dollars in interest payments. You did that.

Your generosity has gone way beyond the building. In the years we've been here, we have not just made the payments on our mortgage. Your generosity has allowed us several times to come to the rescue of people facing crisis in their personal mortgages. You have kept people in their homes. That is something you have done. It is something you will continue to do. It is something that can be done because you work together.

When we were building the church we saved tens of thousands of dollars by doing a lot of the work ourselves under the direction of Warren Ford. Warren took several months off work to serve as our project manager. He directed us as we put on the roof and siding and built the stage, among other things. We could not have done it without Warren.

We could not have done it without you.

Once construction got started, we had a problem with people stealing materials from the site. Bob and Karolyn provided an RV, and four of their friends stayed in the RV and guarded our property—Doc Bob, Gary Noble, Mike, and Jack. Bob Kasprzak called them Thugs-R-Us. Once they arrived we never lost another thing.

They were a wild looking bunch. I was proud of you for including “Thugs” in the life of our church. They rendered valuable service and you as a congregation honored them for their service and welcomed them when they participated in our worship services.

Welcoming Old Men

All church growth books I have ever read and all the seminars on church growth I have ever attended have focused on what needs to be done to attract young families with children. Given Jesus' affection for kids this appropriate. Jesus did give special attention to kids. And to women.

Jesus also paid attention to old men with life long histories in the church. The most famous, of course, being Nicodemus. Jesus included Nicodemus without threatening him with damnation or condemnation.

You have followed Jesus in giving a welcome to Old Men with long histories in the church. Many of you may not even be aware that North Hill was the incubator that allowed the formation of the Pacific Northwest Adventist Forum—an organization that provides a sense of belonging for people, mostly over sixty, whose spiritual life is characterized by questioning and doubt. The organization is not based in our church, but it would never have gotten off the ground without the support and permission of this congregation.

Some years ago Wayne Sladek challenged me to do something that would serve old men. And Friends of St Thomas was born. It's a niche ministry. For a few old people, both North Hill people and others from outside the congregation, it has offered a vital fellowship. For some of those involved, it has been the key to their continued participation in the life of the church.

The ministry of Friends of St Thomas would not have been welcomed in every Adventist congregation. Your embrace of these old men is part of the magic of our community.

Children in Church

One of the funnest (is this really a word?) elements of our worship services is the little kids collecting the offering. We've watched little kids outgrow it. I remember when Lindsay, instead of leading our worship team, was padding around the sanctuary collecting dollars. Ania is the current star of the show—having the longest and most consistent run. We treasure her. You bless her dancing and the rowdiness of the boys. They are all your children. Would to God every kid could experience the sweetness of blessing and favor you give to our kids.

As they have gotten older, not all of our kids have remained actively involved in church, but nearly all of them speak very affectionately of “their church.” They remember the blessing of your favor and affirmation. You as a congregation have blessed a whole generation of kids. And you will continue doing so. This church offers a magic affirmation of kids.

Your generosity has supported kids at Buena Vista Adventist School and at Auburn Adventist Academy and at Sunset Lake Camp.

The kids in the Sylvan Chorale, the traveling choral group from the academy, report that North Hill has the best potlucks in the conference. They know you value them. You will still know how to cook after I leave.

Women at North Hill

The fellowship of women here at North Hill has been a strong community. Obviously, its life has been independent from me. It continues.

North Hill Music

North Hill was started, in part, to provide a place where people could worship using contemporary music. We believe that God did not stop inspiring music when Bach died or Isaac Watts or Fanny Crosby. Some of you are here just because of the music.

For many of us, the ministry of our musicians is central to our experience in worship. The music lifts us, feeds us. Several years ago, it was some of you who came up with the idea of hiring a minister of music. And you hired Bonnie. You did that.

And while I might be a bit biased, I regard it as one of the smartest decisions we have made in recent years. Bonnie has brought her piano skills and much more. She has helped you to create groups that include many people in leading worship here.

Bonnie has included people old enough to be her parents and young enough to be her kids in a vital ministry of music. Bonnie is not going to Seattle. She will still be here. She will still be constantly expanding the reach of your music ministry.

What can I say about North Hill Cafe? I didn't start it. I don't run it. Jeff does. I charge you to do all you can to support Jeff's ministry in this area. Ask him what is needed. Volunteer. Make yourself available. This is an amazing ministry.

The Secret People

Who sees the volunteers who clean our bathrooms?

Who sees the volunteers who take care of our landscape? (We will need more volunteers for this with my leaving.)

When Karin was diagnosed with breast cancer six years ago, a number of you came and cleaned our house and fixed us food while she was going through the horrific misery of chemo. More recently a number of you have been involved in providing care to Bernie and Pat as she has battled cancer. That kind of care is largely invisible. It is what makes a church real.

Who notices the people running the camera and the computer and sound system. These functions are indispensable to our life together as a church. You do them faithfully week after week. You make church happen.

And snacks. Snacks feed our souls as well as our stomachs. You do that.

We hold our communion services on Friday nights. We have nearly as many people for our Friday night communions as we have for morning church services. Often you bring friends who arenot church members. These are rich services. They are entirely planned by people other than me. Our communion services will still be here after I leave.

And what can I say about Kitty in the church office. She has been running the church for years. She will continue to do so.

So what is the future of North Hill?

I quoted earlier Jesus' words to his disciples: It is better for you that I leave. Because there is a blessing waiting that cannot come until I leave. Earlier that evening Jesus said,

"I tell you the truth, anyone who believes in me will do the same works I have done, and even greater works, because I am going to be with the Father. John 14:12

I don't know exactly what God is going to do here at North Hill, but I am confident that North Hill's best days are ahead. If I have built well, if we have built well, the future of the church will be more glorious than its past.

In the last year or so, our population of young families with kids has increased. You who have little kids are the next chapter of North Hill As you make friends with one another, as your kids play together and grow together, you will create a new center of vitality and life in the church. The older folks will encourage you. They will invite you to take on leadership and responsibility. Don't be hesitant to step forward. With God's help you are fully qualified to shape the church in its continuing ministry.

North Hill began as a dream in Alan Altman's living room. It continues as a dream—a dream in the heart of God, a dream in the heart of many of you. You are living a dream. Keep dreaming. Keep working. Keep extending grace.

God will bless you. A year from now you will be wishing I was here, not because you need me but because you will know how excited I would be to see what you are doing. You will know how pleased I would be to meet all the new people, to see the young people who have moved into leadership. I know I would be proud of what “my church” is doing.

So I say farewell. I regret the pain of parting. I rejoice in the not-yet-visible, bright future God has in mind for my church, for your church, for our church, for his church.

God and Politics

Thinking Politically from a Biblical Perspective

North Hill Adventist Fellowship

Sabbath, November 10, 2012

Scripture Reading: Daniel 2:19b-22.

Sometimes the bad guys win. Sometimes the good guys win. About fifty percent of American voters think the bad guy won on Tuesday. About fifty percent think the good guy won. In thinking about last Tuesday we might find some guidance in something that happened in 597 b.c.

King Nebuchadnezzar took all of Jerusalem captive, including all the commanders and the best of the soldiers, craftsmen, and artisans—10,000 in all. Only the poorest people were left in the land. Nebuchadnezzar led King Jehoiachin away as a captive to Babylon, along with the queen mother, his wives and officials, and all Jerusalem's elite. . . . The king of Babylon installed Mattaniah, Jehoiachin's uncle, as the next king, and he changed Mattaniah's name to Zedekiah. 2 Kings 24:14-17.

Obviously, if you were Jewish, this is bad news. Your army has lost. Your city's defenses have proved inadequate. The Babylonians have installed their choice on the throne of David. The Babylonians have won. And they're the bad guys.

That's not just your personal opinion. You can quote the Bible to support your opinion. The prophet Isaiah predicted Nebuchadnezzar's rise to power years before he was born. In Isaiah's prophecy, the king of Babylon is not a nice guy. After some time in power God was going to severely punish the king of Babylon. Note this in Isaiah 14:

The LORD has crushed your wicked power and broken your evil rule. You struck the people with endless blows of rage and held the nations in your angry grip with unrelenting tyranny. But finally the earth is at rest and quiet. Now it can sing again!

The collapse of the Babylonian kingdom is such good news that nature itself joins in the celebration.

Even the trees of the forest— the cypress trees and the cedars of Lebanon— sing out this joyous song: 'Since you have been cut down, no one will come now to cut us down!' Isiah 14:8

A few verses later the prophet writes this about the king of Babylon:

You said in your heart, "I will ascend to heaven; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of the sacred mountain. I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High." Isaiah 14:13-14

Christian writers for 2000 years have used this passage about the king of Babylon as a description of the Devil himself.

So no question about it, in 597 B.C. the bad guy won. And the Bible has a lot to say about that event. So if you're part of the fifty percent who think the bad guy won on Tuesday, you might find some helpful guidance in the passages we're going to explore.

What did the prophets tell the Jews in the years after 597 B.C. when the “bad guy” was on the throne in Babylon and was controlling who was on the throne in Jerusalem?

First, the prophets predicted this would happen. Isaiah told Hezekiah in about 700 B.C.:

'The time is coming when everything in your palace—all the treasures stored up by your ancestors until now—will be carried off to Babylon. Nothing will be left,' says the LORD. Isaiah 39:6.

Second, the Bible writers said Nebuchadnezzar's victory was God's will. The Book of Kings says this about the destruction of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar:

These things happened because of the LORD's anger against the people of Jerusalem and Judah, until God finally banished them from his presence and sent them into exile. 2 Kings 24:19

Nebuchadnezzar's victory was not just allowed by God. Nebuchadnezzar was carrying out God's plan. At least that's what this verse says.

Note this from the book of Daniel:

During the third year of King Jehoiakim's reign in Judah, King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon came to Jerusalem and besieged it. And the Lord delivered Jehoiakim king of Judah into his hand, along with some of the articles from the temple of God. These he carried off to the temple of his god in Babylonia* and put in the treasure house of his god. Daniel 1:1-2

Nebuchanezzar's victory was God's doing! The bad guy won. And that was God's plan.

If you are part of the fifty percent who think the bad guy won on Tuesday, the story of Nebuchadnezzar should prompt you to at least consider the possibility that this was God's plan. Be glad that God's “bad guy” in this case is an American, not a Babylonian. After four years in office, President Obama has not imposed sharia law or the communist manifesto or the UN charter. We even got a chance to vote against him, and in four years we'll get to vote again. When Nebuchadnezzar won, he chose the Jewish king. There was no vote. Ever. He exiled most of the leadership of the Jewish people to Babylon. A decade later he came back and completely destroyed the city of Jerusalem. No, we have it a lot better than the Jews did.

What did the prophets tell the Jews to do in the light of the triumph of the King of Babylon?

First, being red blooded Americans, we might consider “The Donald's” approach to dealing with inconvenient election results. As the numbers came in on Tuesday night, Donald Trump tweeted that the revolution was the best approach.

The Jews tried that. The prophets did not approve.

But Zedekiah did what was evil in the LORD's sight, just as Jehoiakim had done. These things happened because of the LORD's anger against the people of Jerusalem and Judah, until he finally banished them from his presence and sent them into exile. Zedekiah rebelled against the king of Babylon. 2 Kings 24:19-20

The implied rejection of Zedekiah's opposition to the King of Babylon is made explicit in Chronicles:

Zedekiah was twenty-one years old when he became king, and he reigned in Jerusalem eleven years. He did what was evil in the sight of the LORD his God, and he refused to humble himself when the prophet Jeremiah spoke to him directly from the LORD. He also rebelled against King Nebuchadnezzar, even though he had taken an oath of loyalty in God's name. Zedekiah was a hard and stubborn man, refusing to turn to the LORD, the God of Israel. 2 Chronicles 36:11-13.

Part of Jeremiah's counsel to Zedekiah was to submit to Nebuchadnezzar. (See Jeremiah 21.)

Rebellion is seldom an effective way to improve a nation. The Arab spring is the most recent example of that. Across the Arab world they managed to get rid of despotic rulers. Getting rid of the despots has not, however, led to the creation of functioning democratic governments. The rebellion was relatively easy. Building a new society is extremely difficult.

The prophets explicitly warned the Jews against rebelling against Nebuchadnezzar. God wanted him to win. He won. The people were supposed to accept that and get on with life. The prophets did not want the people to waste their lives and their kids lives rebelling against a power that God had put in place.

The prophets preached this to the people left in Jerusalem. And to the people who were hauled off to Babylon.

Jeremiah wrote to the exiles in Babylon:

This is what the LORD of Heaven's Armies, the God of Israel, says to all the captives he has exiled to Babylon from Jerusalem: "Build homes, and plan to stay. Plant gardens, and eat the food they produce. Marry and have children. Then find spouses for them so that you may have many grandchildren. Multiply! Do not dwindle away! And work for the peace and prosperity of the city where I sent you into exile. Pray to the LORD for it, for its welfare will determine your welfare." Jeremiah 29:4-7

In light of the triumph of the King of Babylon, the prophets said,

1. Don't despair. God is in this.
2. Focus on your families. Pass the faith.
3. Work for the well-being of the communities where you live.

Is this the kind of counsel you're hearing and reading? Or are you paying attention to commentators fomenting discontent, anger and outrage. The prophets gave very clear guidance. Don't feed your soul with input that builds despair and fails to enlist you in active service in your community.

(Has talk radio given you hope or fed your despair? Has it encouraged you to adopt any family traditions that build the character of your children and increase their sense of belonging and happiness in your home? Have the commentators you pay attention to prompted you to do anything to improve the quality of life in your neighborhood?)

Just yesterday, I read a wonderful column by conservative David Brooks. “The Heart Grows Smarter” is a wonderful challenge and encouragement. In this country, for most of us, the greatest difference in our quality of life will not come from the political realm but from choices that are available to us no matter who is governor or congressman or senator or president.

Brooks' column reminds me of the words of Jeremiah to the exiles in Jerusalem. Take care of the people lose to you. Some people are worried about what is going to happen next. Jeremiah and David Brooks remind us that most of our energy should go into taking care of here and now, not fretting about tomorrow.

While George Bush was president we had a prophet visit our church who said God had told him that Mr. Bush was going to freedom of conscience to an end. He was going bring on the Mark of the Beast. It didn't happen. When Mr. Obama was elected the first time, friends predicted his presidency would see the end of all our freedoms and the institution of sharia law or communism. Neither of those things has happened. Now people are freaking out over more mythical and diabolical dooms that Mr. Obama's re-election will bring about. Quit freaking out.

If God could include the triumph of King Nebuchadnezzar in his plans for the triumph of goodness, God can probably handle another term by President Obama.

Now let's look at this from the opposite side. Let's say you were in favor of President Obama. When you heard he won, you felt, “We won!” If you're feeling a bit cocky now because your candidate won, beware. The Bible addresses that side of the equation as well.

In Daniel 4, King Nebuchadnezzar recounts an astonishing story. It's the story of his conversion.

He begins his story:

I was high and mighty. I had won. I was at the top. Then I had a disturbing dream. The prophet Daniel told me the dream was a warning from God. Daniel said, “Seven years will pass while you live as an animal, until you learn that the Most High rules over the kingdoms of the world and gives them to anyone he chooses.” That's what the prophet said, but I blew it off. A year later I lost my mind. I spent seven years totally insane.

Somehow, toward the end of that time through the fog of my insanity, I came to the realization that God is in control ultimately. We aren't. Once I made that admission, God miraculously restored me to the throne.

Near the end of his story Nebuchadnezzar writes:

"After this time had passed, I, Nebuchadnezzar, looked up to heaven. My sanity returned, and I praised and worshiped the Most High and honored the one who lives forever. His rule is everlasting, and his kingdom is eternal. All the people of the earth are nothing compared to him. He does as he pleases among the angels of heaven and among the people of the earth. No one can stop him or say to him, 'What do you mean by doing these things? Daniel 4:34-35.

Winning an election or a war does not give license for arrogance. God sets up people and can take them down. If your candidate loses don't despair. God is in control. If your candidate wins, don't gloat. God is in control.

Of course, saying “God is in control.” has its own problems. How can God be connected with evil people, evil politicians?

Consider the alternative. If God is not in control, if there is no grand plan, then we are adrift. Often, an unbiased view of things supports that idea. The world is a crazy place. But as believers we are biased. We are biased in favor of evidence that God rules, that goodness will win, that justice will triumph, that mercy will flood the earth.

Sometimes this is easy to believe. Sometimes it's hard. But celebrating God's competence and his character is the foundation of our life together. That was true before the election. It is still true after the election. It will still be true four years and one month from now when another presidential election will be finished.

God reigns. As believers we are privileged to deny the notion that the drama of politics is ultimate. Elections matter. Yes. But they are only part of God's story. And God is the editor with the final stay.

The important thing for us is not whether Democrats or Republicans or Libertarians run the Whtie House or Congress. The most important thing for us is how we conduct ourselves while living in exile here in Babylon.

Let's make sure we allow the ethical, moral teachings of the prophets have more sway in our lives than the rantings of our favorite political commentators.

God reigns. Still.

All Will Be Well

Sermon for North Hill Adventist Fellowship, November 3, 2012

About 600 years ago, an English woman had a vision. In her vision, she heard God say to her, “All will be well. All will be well. And all manner of thing will be well.”

At the time of her vision, Julian herself was deathly ill and her world was ravaged by the plague.

It was not the best of times, to say the least.

Words that are more familiar to most of us were written by an American business man, Horatio Spafford, in 1873.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

He wrote this after losing his business in the Chicago fire, then losing his four daughters in a shipwreck.

All will be well. Everything's going to be all right. This conviction lies at the heart of our religion. It is declared in many classic passages in the Bible:

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to [his] purpose. Romans 8:28. KJV

And we know that God causes everything to work together* for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.

Footnote: * Some manuscripts read And we know that everything works together. NLT

Don't be afraid little flock. It is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Luke 12:32

Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world." John 16:33

The Sovereign LORD will wipe away the tears from all faces Isaiah 25:8

Everything's going to be all right. It will be so good all our tears will dry. Our sorrows will evaporate in the warmth and light of God's blessing. That's the promise. Right now we need to hear that. We need to sing that.

This week we watched as a swirling 1.8-million-square- mile spiral plowed into the Atlantic coast. The storm surge flooded houses and subway tunnels. Fires raged. People died.

Is it really possible that all will be well? How can it possibly be true that EVERYTHING is going to work for good?

This storm will prompt changes. The Mayor Bloomberg and Governor Cuomo are talking out loud about climate change and some of the steps that must be taken to prepare the city for the reality of sea level rise and increased storm frequency and severity. Maybe thirty years from now when another hurricane pushes a storm surge into New York harbor and levees or flood gates prevent the wrecking of electrical vaults and subway tunnels . . . maybe then people will be able to see Hurricane Sandy as something good, as the catalyst that moved the city to take action. But what about now? What about people who lost loved ones in this storm?

There is no way to calculate the relative value of some theoretical benefit out in the future compared to the horrific loss that is obvious here and now. The loss of human life cannot be measured with mere numbers. How do you recover when the house you've lived in for 50 years and everything in it is reduced to charcoal?

As believers we don't even try to offer some rational, calculated defense of our faith that good will come even from the worst of times. Such calculations are always rude and insensitive. They trivialize the pain of those who have experienced loss. Instead we simply declare our hope: God is at work. Goodness will win. Beauty and justice and happiness will triumph.

This declaration forms the heart of our worship. God is good. God is mighty. God guarantees the ultimate primacy of justice and mercy, beauty and peace. It is a declaration that is better sung than argued. This is why music is so central to our worship. We don't come to church to calculate the difference between our losses and blessings. No, in our music deliberately give full attention to the happiness that is ours in Christ. We sing the promises of blessings that are so rich, so grand, so immense that they incalculably outweigh every loss.

Through music we join the heavenly beings in their eternal rapture.

Let me say again: we don't participate in this symphony through argumentation and rationality. The reality of loss is too keen, too huge to be explained or argued away. We taste the promised symphony of joy through worship and faith, through music and meditation. We deliberately give our attention to the promises. For a brief while in worship we let go of our awareness of loss and pain and open ourselves to the sweetness of affirmation and hope.

We sing, all will be well and all will be well and all manner of thing will be well.

(Allow me a digression. The focus of my sermon is on our hope as believers, the central Christian conviction that God and love will win. There is, however, one “calculation” that it is appropriate to make in the light of Hurricane Sandy: Do what you can to be prepared for likely disasters. We don't have hurricanes here. We are likely to experience an earthquake. Now that we're past summer, make sure you have blankets and some emergency food in your car. Be as ready as practical at home.)

But what if your mind won't let you get there? What if you find yourself sputtering, “But . . . but . . .?” What if you find the words of Julian or Horatio offensive because of the way they seem to gloss over real human suffering. What if Paul's words about everything working for good see out of touch with reality? What then? Is there still any place for you in the church? Is there room in our religion for your mind, for your regard for the real time suffering and pain that pervades the world?

Consider Jeremiah. The Prophet Jeremiah did everything he could to help his people avoid disaster. He put his life on the line with his preaching. If it were not for the protection of one family in the Jewish nobility, he would have been killed early in his ministry. But his preaching failed. He was unable to persuade his people to take the actions required to avoid devastation. At the end of his life, after his city has been demolished and his nation destroyed, he wrote a little book called Lamentations. He begins with a picture of the devastation of Jerusalem, his home town:

Jerusalem, once so full of people, is now deserted. She who was once great among the nations now sits alone like a widow. Once the queen of all the earth, she is now a slave. She sobs through the night; tears stream down her cheeks. Among all her lovers, there is no one left to comfort her. All her friends have betrayed her and become her enemies. . . . The roads to Jerusalem [fn] are in mourning, for crowds no longer come to celebrate the festivals. The city gates are silent, her priests groan, her young women are crying— how bitter is her fate! Lamentations 1:1-4.

The book continues for 5 chapters. It never rises to joy. It does not paint a picture of recovery, restoration and renewal. The books ends:

Why do you continue to forget us? Why have you abandoned us for so long? Restore us, O LORD, and bring us back to you again! Give us back the joys we once had! Or have you utterly rejected us? Are you angry with us still? Lamentations 5:20-22

In his longer book, Jeremiah had written promises from God about a bright future. Desolation was not to be the final end of the story. He had written the promises, but in his life time, desolation was the final story. And Jeremiah's final words in Scripture are the plaintive lament: “Have you utterly rejected us? Are you angry with us still?”

Early in his ministry Jeremiah had a vision of God's own grief over the coming devastation of Jerusalem. Through the prophet God says,

If only my head were a pool of water and my eyes a fountain of tears, I would weep day and night for all my people who have been slaughtered. Oh, that I could go away and forget my people and live in a travelers' shack in the desert. For they are all adulterers— a pack of treacherous liars. . . . I will weep for the mountains and wail for the wilderness pastures. For they are desolate and empty of life. Jeremiah 9:1-10.

God was not blind then to the tragedy of the world. He is not blind now. And neither are we. We weep for our own losses and for the losses of others. Then we come to church and celebrate a different truth: All will be well and all will be well and all manner of thing will be well.

We celebrate the triumph of beauty and goodness, justice and mercy.

The promise of the ultimate triumph of goodness forms the heart of our worship together. A deep awareness of and regard for human suffering sits at the core of our theology. Both are part of our faith. If you find yourself dismissive of the suffering in the world. If other's pain does not move you to compassion and action to ease suffering, then spend some time with Jeremiah. Learn to weep with the prophet and with God.

On the other hand, if the weight of the pain and trouble of the world is crushing your soul, let it go for awhile. Come and worship. Come sing songs that declare all will be well. As our hearts are brightened and made light through worship we will be better equipped to serve as agents of the kingdom of God in our homes, our neighborhoods, at school and work and beyond.