The Remnant Church

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

Sabbath, July 27, 2013

First a story I have told before, and will probably tell again:

In the 1980s I pastored a church on New York's upper east side called Church of the Advent Hope. The neighborhood was decidedly upscale. The congregation was young and vibrant. Then there was Alex.

He was twenty-something, about six feet three. Alex struggled with schizophrenia. Sometimes you could see his brokenness on his face. Sometimes his behavior was erratic. Sometimes women working alone in the kitchen in the basement would turn to see Alex standing in the doorway watching them. That was spooky. I told him not to do that.

We did our best to include him, to make him at home among us while trying to provide adequate supervision for him.

Alex grew up in an Adventist home in the Bronx. He knew about prophecies and the end of the world and the Mark of the Beast.

When I first met him he still sometimes stayed the night at his mother and aunt's apartment. But that finally came to an end. They were afraid to let him in the door. So Alex was on the street full time. An Adventist business man, Rick Shorter, sometimes let Alex stay with him, when Rick was in town on business. Summers, Alex would sleep in the park. Winters he would ride the subway until dawn or until he was kicked off.

Social services placed him in an apartment with several other guys who struggled with mental illness. They provided various support, medication, the supervision of a social worker. But it wasn't enough. Not for Alex. Even with assistance, he couldn't manage to keep his place. He was back on the street in a couple of months.

Alex sometimes attended prayer meeting on Wednesday nights. When he learned that I often spent the night at the church, he began asking if he could sleep inside the church. I didn't mind. It was no skin off my back. I'd give him a pillow and blanket and settle him on a pew in the sanctuary. Which was far more comfortable than the subway.

Some winter mornings he'd come to the church at 4 or 5 in the morning and ring the bell, asking if he could come in out of the cold. Yes. Of course.

After this happened a few times, I explained to Alex that he was welcome to sleep in the church on nights I was there, but he needed to come by midnight. I didn't appreciate having to get up at 4 or 5 in the morning to let him in. My nights were often late. I needed my sleep. “Come before midnight or don't bother coming.” I said.

Alex promised. But he was unable to fulfill his promises. He'd ring the bell again at 4 or 5 in the morning. I would drag out of my sleeping bag in the basement, traipse upstairs and let him in. I'd give him a pillow and blanket, settle him on a pew, then go back to bed, fuming.

Finally, I decided to practice tough love. The next time Alex came at some unearthly hour in the morning, I would ignore him. He would have to learn.

A few weeks later, I was snug in my sleeping bag. It was raining and cold outside. It was fairly cold inside. The bell rang. I looked at my watch. 5 a.m. It was time to practice tough love. I pulled my sleeping bag tighter. The bell rang again. I remained steadfast. The bell again. And again.

Then I remembered that the doorbell rang not only in the basement where I slept. It also rang in the caretaker's apartment upstairs at the rear of the church. Their sleep was being assaulted by the same ringing that was tormenting me. I crawled out of my sleeping bag, dragged myself upstairs and opened the door. There was Alex with his goofy grin.

Even before he asked to come inside, before he had a chance to say anything, I started in on him. “Alex, why do you do this? I'm happy to let you sleep on a pew. But I've told you repeatedly, come in the evening. Why do you insist on waking me up?”

His goofy grin never left his face. He stood there with a look of pure innocence, like a dog trying to figure out why his master is not pleased that he has eaten the neighbor's chinchilla that came through the fence. Then he said, “I don't have anywhere else to go.”

Which reminds me of Peter's words to Jesus when crowds were offended by something Jesus said. Jesus said to his inner circle, “Will you also leave?” Peter replied, “To whom would we go?” (John 6:68)

For Alex, the Adventist Church was the one true church. It was God's remnant church, the visible, organized expression of God's community on earth. It was also home. So when he had nowhere else to go, when he was at the end of his rope, he came home. Of course.

Now some high brow theology:

We are the church of God. We—the Seventh-day Adventist Church—we are God's church. We are not just another denomination. Our church is the unique fulfillment of a prophecy in Revelation that describes God's people at the end of human history. This belief is written into our creed. The special name we have for this doctrine is “The Remnant Church,” taken from the King James translation of Revelation 12:17.

And the dragon was wroth with the woman, and went to make war with the remnant of her seed, which keep the commandments of God, and have the testimony of Jesus Christ.

This claim by the Adventist Church is highly controversial. As you would expect, other churches think they are the true church. Most famously the Roman Catholic Church makes precisely this claim.

I have said, outside of the Catholic Church there is no divine faith. Some of the Protestant friends will be shocked at this, to hear me say that outside of the Catholic Church there is no divine faith, and that without faith there is no salvation, but damnation. I will prove all I have said. (In an article titled, “The One True Church,” by by Fr. Arnold Damen, S.J. (1815 - 1890)
Imprimatur: Michael Augustine, Archbishop of New York. http://www.drbo.org/church2.htm)

Molloy and others speak of the “full,” “complete,” “total,” and “exclusive” identity between the Catholic Church and the Church of Christ. Such language can easily mislead and is understandably offensive to non-Catholic Christians. The intention, however, is to underscore that the Catholic Church is nothing less than the Church of Christ and to counter any suggestion that the Catholic Church is—albeit the most fully and rightly ordered—only one church among other churches. Again, this is not a matter of boasting or of ecclesial rivalry, which should have no place among followers of Christ. It is a matter of being as faithful as possible to what Christ intended his Church to be. (In an article, “The One True Church” by Richard John Neuhaus. First Things, April, 2009. http://www.firstthings.com/article/2009/03/the-one-true-church-35)

As you might expect, the Lutheran Church which rose in opposition to the Catholic Church makes precisely the same claim. Here is a statement by a major Missouri Synod Lutheran theologian:

The Lutheran Church expects of you that you are moved to belong to the Church, not merely outwardly and by means of external circumstances, but from your heart. . . . Indeed, the Lutheran church expects of you that you would sooner part with life and limb than to become unfaithful to the service in the Evangelical Lutheran Church. The Lutheran Church expects you to be zealous for the Lutheran Church, . . . you will accomplish this only if you are by God's grace convinced that the Evangelical Lutheran Church, as it is presently called, is the orthodox church, or, what is the same thing, the true, visible Church of God on earth. Therefore, we will occupy ourselves in these evening hours with the proof that the orthodox, or the true, visible Church of God on earth, is the Evangelical Lutheran Church. (“Lectures on the Evangelical Lutheran Church, Lecture One: The True Visible Church of God on Earth” by Dr. F. Pieper - Translated by Bryce L. Winters. http://lutherantheology.com/uploads/works/pieper/tvcgod.html.) From Wikipedia: As a Systematic theologian, Franz Pieper's magnum opus, Christliche Dogmatik (1917-1924), translated into English as Christian Dogmatics (1950-1953), provided the modern world with a learned and extensive presentation of orthodox Lutheran theology. It continues to be the basic textbook of doctrinal theology in Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod. He was also the main author of the Missouri Synod's A Brief Statement (1932), an authoritative presentation of that church body's doctrinal stance.

Various groups that call themselves “The Church of Christ” naturally disagree with our claim to be “the one, true church.”

This from the web site of the Union Church of Christ, 919 E Jackson Rd, Union, MS 39365:

It is clear that those who are saved DO NOT BELONG TO A DENOMINATION because there is only ONE church ever mentioned in the entire New Testament and that is the church of Christ (Romans 16:16). (http://www.unionchurchofchrist.net/home)

Of course, the Union Church of Christ insists it is not a denomination like all those other groups that call themselves churches, but are, in fact, denominations. No, the Union Church of Christ, is merely the true church of Christ existing in the town of Union, Mississippi.

My favorite exemplar of the Church of Christ confidence is expressed in the name of the True Church of God in Christ, Incorporated. From their web site:

A personal message from Bishop Oprie Jeffries: We are the True Church of God in Christ and you can depend on us because we are watching out for you. We are interested in giving you the knowledge of God from the book of God so that you may become mature and perfect in the will of God.

A doctrinal statement on the same web site: We are the True Church of God in Christ, Incorporated of the Apostles' Faith and Doctrine. As such, we preach, teach, and live what the Apostles' left on record. (http://www.thetruechurch.org/index.html)

The Adventist claim to be the “one true church” is also strongly contested within the church itself. Many Adventist scholars question the traditional interpretation of the prophecy in Revelation that we have used as the foundation for our claim. Pastors have expressed concern that this doctrine often leads to arrogance. But whatever our personal opinions about the validity of this doctrine, there it sits, article 13 in our creed.

While we acknowledge that God is active among Christians outside the Adventist Church, we claim that the organized Adventist denomination is the “remnant church of Bible prophecy.” We base this on our interpretation of Revelation 12:17.

Roman Catholics base their claim to be the one true church on Matthew 16. Church of Christ denominations base their claims on verses in Acts or Romans. Lutheran claims are based on passages in Paul. We all have our favorite passages.

As a pastor I have no authority to alter the creed. I do have the responsibility to interpret the creed in ways that are helpful to our life together. The question is: how can we take the notion that our denomination, our church, is God's true church make it something beautiful and helpful?

How would this doctrine help Alex? What guidance would it give to me as a pastor in thinking about how to respond to Alex whose behavior was sometimes personally annoying and sometimes was disruptive in the congregation?

The passage in Revelation that serves as the primary reference for our doctrine of church describes the “remnant church” as those who keep the commandments of God and have the testimony of Jesus. What does this mean?

One place in the New Testament where Jesus explicitly testifies regarding regarding keeping the commandments is in Luke 10. In this chapter, a religious expert asks Jesus what is required for salvation. Jesus replies by asking the expert, “What do you think? How do you interpret Scripture?” The expert answers, “Love God and love people.” Jesus says, “Smart answer. Do that and you will live.” The expert didn't want to look like an idiot who asked a question he already knew the answer to, so he asked, what do you mean love my neighbor. Who is my neighbor? Jesus responds with the story of the Good Samaritan. A man is beat up and robbed and left for dead. A couple of good Jewish people come by without stopping to help.

"Then a despised Samaritan came along, and when he saw the man, he felt compassion for him. Going over to him, the Samaritan soothed his wounds with olive oil and wine and bandaged them. Then he put the man on his own donkey and took him to an inn, where he took care of him. Luke 10:33-34

Jewish people regarded Samaritans as having a seriously defective religion. In the gospel of John, Jesus agrees with this view. Still, here in Luke, Jesus pushes right past this man's liturgical, theological defectiveness and holds him man up as a model keeper of God's law.

The testimony of Jesus regarding keeping the commandments is this: do the obvious thing to help people in need. Include people rather than exclude. Heal rather than analyze.

Which brings me back to Alex. If my church is the church of Jesus, I am required to care for Alex. Alex will never get better. Alex is not going to “progress in sanctification.” Alex is not going to be led the Holy Spirit into an ever-closer resemblance to ideal of God embodied in Jesus Christ. Alex grew up in the church. He is part of our family. If we are Christ's church we cannot leave his care to others. We cannot send him down the road to a church that specializes in the care of the mentally ill. We must make room for him in this church.

And not just for Alex, but for all who struggle with mental illness. And for those who are developmentally impaired. Classic Adventist revivalism imagines a church composed solely of people who are perfect exemplars of balanced, wise spiritual maturity.

The doctrine of the remnant and the testimony of Jesus contradict that dream. The doctrine of the remnant—the notion that our church is not some specialized subdivision of God's church, but is God's church in its fullness—this doctrine requires us to include Alex in our vision of church. Someone who functions marginally, someone who all his life will not be able to function on his own. This man, too, is an indispensable member of God's church, the remnant church. We must serve him well.

Consider these additional examples of Jesus testimony:

In Matthew 19

One day some parents brought their children to Jesus so he could lay his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples scolded the parents for bothering him. But Jesus said, "Let the children come to me. Don't stop them! For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who are like these children." Matthew 19:13-14

In Luke 19:

Meanwhile, Zacchaeus stood before the Lord and said, "I will give half my wealth to the poor, Lord, and if I have cheated people on their taxes, I will give them back four times as much!" Jesus responded, "Salvation has come to this home today, for this man has shown himself to be a true son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and save those who are lost." Luke 19:8-10

Hungry people.

Then Jesus called his disciples and told them, "I feel sorry for these people. They have been here with me for three days, and they have nothing left to eat. I don't want to send them away hungry, or they will faint along the way." Matthew 15:32.

A woman caught in adultery.

"Neither do I condemn you; go and* sin no more." John 8:11

To a rich man:

Jesus told him, "If you want to be perfect, go and sell all your possessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me." Matthew 19:21

Regarding a poor woman:

While Jesus was in the Temple, he watched the rich people dropping their gifts in the collection box. Then a poor widow came by and dropped in two small coins. "I tell you the truth," Jesus said, "this poor widow has given more than all the rest of them. Luke 21:1-3

What is the testimony of Jesus: That his community includes children, hungry people, rich people, poor people, Samaritan people, people on the wrong side of cultural judgment of the church (Zacchaeus).

Catholics, Lutherans, Churches of Christ and Adventists all claim to be God's “one true church.” When any of us use this claim as a pretext for claiming superiority or authority over others, it is merely a religious basis for sinning. On the other hand, rightly understood, our sense that we are God's church becomes an exalted challenge to mirror the testimony of Jesus and declare God's welcome to the little ones, the condemned ones, those with defective theology, the poor and the rich.

Rightly understood this doctrine is about our obligation to welcome and serve people. Properly applied, we will forget the doctrine in our wholehearted service to people.

Our Bodies, God's Temples

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

Sabbath, July 20, 2013

Last Sabbath after church about thirty Green Lake Church people headed out to Snoqualmie Pass. We parked at a trail head off Exit 54, mounted our bicycles and headed west on the Iron Horse Trail. We rode for 22 miles to Rattlesnake Lake Park. Old people and kids, guys and gals, experienced riders and beginners.

It looked like an ordinary bike ride. People peddling, laughing, talking, swerving, crashing. Quinn riding in his trailer squealing with delight all the way through the two-mile long tunnel. The atheist, observing would have thought it was a one-off excursion, a random event. But then the preacher tells him, “Actually this is one of our secret sacraments.”

The atheist has visited Bahais and Methodists and Baptists. He is familiar with Jehovah's Witnesses and even knows a lot about Scientology. But bicycles are not sacramental vehicles in any of those religions. It's a mystery.

Then on Sunday morning, the atheist is back at Snoqualmie Pass, again with a bunch of Green Lake people. This time, not for a bike ride, but for a run. 26.2 miles, a marathon. The race was organized by Green Lake Church members. Some of the 450 runners were Green Lake people. A number of the volunteers supporting the race were Green Lake people.

You wouldn't blame the atheist if he was puzzled. What's with all this movement? Is exercise part of our religion?

This question is sharpened when you look a little more closely. On the bicycle ride who was at head of the pack? Out in front of the serious Seattle bikers? Ahead of the teenage guys? The minister's wife, peddling like the Energizer Bunny. And on Sunday morning which of the Green Lake Church people were actually running? The head elder and the senior pastor.

So, is exercise really a part of the Adventist religion?

Yes.

Why? Why would a religion that claims to trace its theological and spiritual roots to Jesus make exercise part of its culture?

This question was brought came into sharp focus for me a few weeks ago. I received an email from a pastor in Zimbabwe. He had read one of my sermons that spoke of the centrality of healing in the life of the church. (I think it was “Healing Vision,” December 29, 2012. http://liberaladventist.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-ministry-of-healing.html)

He wanted to know more about my views on healing in the life of the church. After exchanging a few emails, it became clear his primary interest was faith healing. What did I think of it?

The writer is an Adventist evangelist. He wants to do a good job converting people to the Adventist Church. More than that, he wants to be effective as a representative of Jesus. All across Africa, there are preachers drawing crowds of many thousands whose work prominently features faith healing. One church in Nigeria led by a Pentacostal faith healer seats 50,000 people.

I'm not surprised that the Adventist evangelist was fascinated by faith healing. He, too, would like to be able to gather crowds of thousands. Perhaps faith healing was a tool he could use to bring God's word to tens of thousands. What did I think?

I agreed with him that a concern for human well-being should lie at the very center of our life and mission as a church of Jesus. Jesus cared about people—about their down-to-earth, physical needs. In his day, he was more famous for healing than he was for teaching.

Which raises the question: if your goal is to improve the quality of life of your people, what is the best way to do that? If you want to reduce human suffering, if you want to improve people's health and happiness, what will strategy will make the most difference in that direction?

The answer, beyond any dispute, is changing the culture of people to include habits that are conducive to health. In many places in Africa, it would be improving the water supply infrastructure. Unfortunately, all across Africa, people are beginning to suffer from the same kinds of avoidable diseases that haunt us—diabetes, cancer, heart disease, emphysema. It is precisely those kinds of diseases that historic Adventist health rules help to prevent.

Nearly everywhere in Africa, the greatest need is for improved taxation and economic structures. These economic improvements would have a direct impact on nearly every measure of physical health. So, when an Adventist preacher talks to me about healing for Africa, I have a hard time thinking the most effective way to mimic Jesus' concern for people is to practice faith healing.

The example of Jesus' concern for human well-being ought to drive us to address the health habits and social structures which would reduce human suffering and enhance the quality of life.

It is easy to see the changes that need to be made in Africa. It is sometimes harder to see the solutions to problems that lie right under our noses. Something that receives very little attention in most of the acrimonious debate over health care here in our country is the reality that most of us can do something to improve our health, something that doesn't require going to a hospital or doctor's office, something that does not require insurance. We can embrace habits that will improve our health.

Just this week, I saw an article in the Seattle Times about longevity in the U.S. Accompanying the article was a map of longevity broken down by state. It was a haunting picture. It showed the worst conditions of life in the states with the highest percentage of Christian fundamentalists. People who think the essence of religion is merely believing in Jesus, end up living poorly.

From very early in our history, Adventists have made the advocacy of healthy practices a central part of our religion.

This concern for physical health is rooted in a several basic theological convictions.

First, we are creationists. We believe the physical world was willed into existence by God. The physical world is essentially good. Sure, it has been mucked up. It is broken. But it is broken goodness. Adventist spirituality does not dream of escaping the body, but mending the body. We don't imagine our bodies as impediments to spiritual life. Rather our bodies are the very temples of God. They are the tools of righteousness. Righteousness means using our bodies as instruments of compassion, justice, hope and love. (Texts: Genesis 1&2. Creed: Articles 3, 4, 5, 6)

Second, we see the ministry of Jesus as a model for contemporary spiritual life. Just as Jesus cared for the physical well-being of people, so should we. (Matthew 4:23-25; 28:19-20

Third, in our vision of the future, we don't imagine humans freed from their bodies to float like ghosts through eternity. Rather in the Adventist vision of the future, we see people enjoying perfect bodies. (Revelation 21-22)

These various theological convictions stand behind our radical embrace of Paul's statement that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit. We regard human bodies as sacred.

Don't you realize that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who lives in you and was given to you by God? You do not belong to yourself for God bought you with a high price. So you must honor God with your body (1 Corinthians 6:19-20)

Which brings us back to the bicycle ride and marathon I mentioned at the beginning of the sermon. People who move tend to enjoy better life than those who don't. Bicycling, hiking, swimming, lifting weights, gardening, yoga, walking the dog—being active improves our quality of life. And when we are active, we influence those around us.

I hope one or two of you may still be wondering why I referred to the bicycle ride last Sabbath as a sacrament.

What is a sacrament? It is an earthly vehicle of the presence and favor of God. Classic Christianity regards the Lord's Supper as a sacrament. When we receive the bread and wine of communion, we are receiving the presence and favor God. Whether the bread and wine are understood as symbols or as magical incarnations, the spiritual meaning is the same: In our eating and drinking God is uniquely present.

Most Christians understand baptism in the same way: In this rite God is present in an extraordinary way.

In addition to the universally recognized sacraments of the Lord's Supper and baptism, Adventists have added our own special sacrament: The Sabbath afternoon walk.

Adventists believe the natural world is God's second book. When we go out to a park on Sabbath afternoon, we are deliberately putting ourselves in a place to experience God through his second book. We expect that the direct encounter of our children with rocks and dirt, flowers and trees, ducks and Stellar's jays will nourish them spiritually.

Further, we have a deep respect for the holy value of physical activity, the cultivation of health. For many of us, going for a walk in the park on Sabbath afternoon is as integral to our Sabbath practice as is going to church or praying.

Last Sabbath, we walked on wheels. Past massive, impressive talus slides. Across burbling, crystal clear creeks. Past giant hemlocks and Doug firs. Under a magnificent sky. I don't think the kids were consciously meditating on the wonders of God the creator as they rode. Probably the adults weren't either. But our conviction as Adventists is that in a natural setting where God's creation is on display, we are touched by God's artistry even when we are not aware. God is at work shaping our souls through the beauty, order, and vitality of nature, quite apart from our recognition. And God is honored through the movement of our bodies in exercise.

For most of classic Christendom—Roman Catholicism and American Protestant Christianity—the primary goal of spirituality is escaping damnation. The big question is, “What must I do to be saved?” Or in more blunt language, “How can I avoid being condemned to hell?” In these spiritualities, damnation is such massive disaster and it is so likely to happen that all other considerations are trivialized. A heart attack is a minor inconvenience. It will merely kill you. Obesity and diabetes are similarly inconsequential. They will merely decrease your quality of life for a few decades. What is that compared to the horrific pain of burning in hell for billions of years.

Adventism, on the other hand, rejects the threat of eternal hell fire. Mature Adventism rejects the notion that we live on the edge of damnation. The Bible uses metaphors for God like Father, shepherd, mother, doctor, mother hen. Without exception the paternal pictures of God used by Jesus pictured the Heavenly Father as compassionate and competent. He will save his children. The Heavenly Shepherd will find his sheep. The mother hen will safely gather her chicks. The divine physician will heal his people. The teacher will successfully instruct his pupils.

We do not live in fear of divine failure. We do not live in fear of divine condemnation.

Instead we live in confidence that God is present with us in our bicycling and running. God is with us on the days we are too tired to move.

I was coached for the marathon on Sunday by Brian Pendleton. He took me out on training runs. He gave me very strict instructions about my pacing. Especially for the first 20 miles of the race, I was to watch the clock and make sure never to exceed 12 minutes a mile.

After I had been running for ten miles or so, I was strongly tempted to ignore Brian's instructions. I was running slowly and easily. I wasn't breathing hard. I wasn't tired. Surely I could run a little faster than Brian said. But, for once, I did as I was told.

Then somewhere between mile 21 and 22 my legs began protesting. It became work. I walked about a quarter of each mile. Then it was the final mile. I caught up with a woman who was walking. She told me she was disappointed in herself. She had been hoping for a faster time, but she had run out of gas. I slowed to walk with her for a few feet, but after she told me this, I said, “Come on. Let's go.”

She picked up her feet and we pushed for the last half mile together.

It's a picture of our life together as a church. We dream together of the pursuit of holiness and health. Sometimes we get so tired we can hardly put one foot in front of the other. That's when it is most important for us to keep each other company. Sometimes we walk together. Sometimes we run together. Sometimes we keep company with a friend who has fallen and cannot run any longer. Whatever our competence and strength or lack thereof, the vital heart of our spiritual life is being together.

A Thousand Years of Answers

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

Sabbath, July 13, 2013

Texts: Revelation 20, Matthew 19:28; Luke 22:28-30

Robert Taylor grew up in South Africa in the days of apartheid. As a teenager, he got involved in anti-apartheid activism and fled the country to avoid compulsory military service under the apartheid regime. That early struggle for justice became a pattern for his life. He became a priest. From 1999 to 2008 he served as Dean of St. Marks Cathedral here is Seattle where he often made news with his bold, outspoken style.

Given Taylor's reputation as a bold, even brash, defender of the underdog and critic of established authorities who failed to meet his standards, I was keenly interested in one of his remarks in a radio interview I heard with him a few weeks ago.

Steve Scherr, the host of Weekday, was talking with Taylor about Nelson Mandella. They talked about the years Mandella spent in South African prisons—27 years, most of it in isolation from other prisoners.

At one point Sherr talked about the loss of opportunity. What might Mandella have been able to do for South Africa and the world if the evil apartheid government hadn't locked him away for almost three decades?

It was a good question. Over the last fifteen years Nelson Mandella has earned respect the world over for his wisdom, maturity, restraint. Surely his years in prison were an abject waste of human potential. Taylor himself had felt the evil wrath of the government that had incarcerated Mandella.

So what did Taylor say to Scherr's hypothetical question? What had the world lost because of those 27 years in prison.

Taylor agreed that that Mandella's imprisonment was the act of an evil, repressive regime. And yes, Mandellas accomplishments in his later years deserved all the praise and awards that he had been accorded. “But . . .” and here Taylor hesitated. These were not going to be easy words. . . “We have to keep in mind that when Mandella went to prison he was an angry revolutionary seduced into violence to overthrow the evil power of apartheid. If he had not gone to prison, who knows where his commitment to violence might have taken him. The Nelson Mandella who went to prison was not the same man who thirty years later was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Somewhere in those prison years the violent warrior became a peacemaker. Maybe incarceration was the only path to the wisdom and greatness Mandella demonstrated in his later years.” [This is a construction from my memory, not an actual verbatim.]

It was a sweet story, for my tastes the very best kind of story: Human suffering is dignified by a noble, glorious outcome. It is a model of one of the grand central claims of Christianity: God is working in all things to accomplish goodness. Ultimate, final, triumphant goodness. Even in the darkest suffering, in the greatest tragedies, in the most bizarre catastrophes there is operating a benevolent intention that will finally show itself. God is in control. God makes no mistakes.

So, of course, Nelson Mandella's 27 years in jail was the necessary preparation for his later work as a peacemaker and statesman. God didn't leave him in jail one day longer than was necessary.

Some people find this perspective comforting and reassuring. They do not fret in the face of evil because they are confident it is a mere prelude to the triumphant of goodness.

Others find this kind of thinking offensive. It disconnects from reality. It turns religion into an opiate in the worst sense—an addictive numbing against real pain, a self-induced passivity and inaction. God is going to fix things. Everything is going just as it should. There is nothing for us to do but pray.

It seems to deny the reality of injustice. It trivializes human suffering. For some people the claim that everything is going to turn out all right, that God is doing exactly the best that can be done, provokes questioning more than confidence.

Let me put the question as starkly as I can:

Classic Christian theology and devotional writing declares that the highest spiritual development is complete, unquestioning trust in God. A Bible passage that epitomizes this view is found in Romans 9:20. In response to a logical question about the justice of God, Paul writes:

Who are you, a mere human being, to argue with God?

Questioning God is seen as impudence. Logically applying principles of justice and equity to the actions or inaction of God is declared to be crass arrogance.

Who are you, a mere human being, to argue with God?

Christian theologians from Augustine to Calvin and Luther endorse this perspective. It is seconded by devotional writers like Oswald Chambers and Thomas a Kempis. It is celebrated in our hymns. A real Christian doesn't question. A real Christian trusts.

But what if your spiritual life is characterized more by questioning than by confidence? What if you can't bring yourself to this kind of sweet, unruffled confidence that everything is going just as it's supposed to? Is there any place for you in the kingdom of heaven?

Curiously, the next to last item in the Adventist creed addresses just this question. This article of our creed offers hope and “a place” to questioners. It's the Adventist teaching regarding “The Millennium.” The millennium is a thousand year period mentioned in Revelation 20. Adventist interpretation of this passage goes like this:

At the end of time, Jesus will come back to earth and dramatically interrupt the normal flow of human history. This is the Second Coming. Jesus will gather all his people—those who are alive at the time and all who have died over the millennia—and take them back to heaven with him. All humans not taken to heaven at this point will be dead. Back in heaven the people Jesus has gathered will spend a thousand years judging. Please note, these people are not themselves on trial. They are not being judged. They are the judges. For a thousand years.

At the end of the thousand years Jesus and all these people will return to earth. The damned, who have been in their graves during all this time, are resurrected and launch an attack on the Holy City. The attack fails when God blasts the attackers with fire.

Then God remakes the earth as an environmental and human paradise. And everyone lives happily ever after.

Notice several implications of this story from Revelation.

First, humans are not on trial in this story. They are judges. They are asking questions and rendering verdicts. They are NOT merely paying obeisance to the King of Heaven. Their judgment matters.

Of course, the presumption running all through the Book of Revelation is that God is perfectly just. John has no questions about the goodness of God. He is confident that every disaster, every plague is completely, totally justified by the highest standards of justice. That is the sweet, settled conviction of the author. But instead of insisting that we simply accept this statement as the last word, the indisputable conclusion, John writes that in the next world, in the realm of heavenly judgment, humans will not be forever suppliants of the heavenly court. Before the human story wraps up, humans will be on the throne. In John's telling, the story cannot be finished until humans are placed in a position where their judgment matters.

As long as human are standing on the floor of the heavenly court their hosannas are qualified by their inferior position. Perhaps they are merely kissing up to the Powerful One. Perhaps their praise of God is a sycophant's strategy. Say nice things to the boss.

What happens when they are in position to make real decisions? What happens when they have the authority to make independent judgments? How will God fare then?

In five different passages in the book of Revelation, John places God's people on the throne. (Revelation 2:26-28; 3:21; 5:10; 20:4-6; 22:5). God puts people in a position of power. He gives them a platform from which to pronounce significant verdicts. In the eyes of God, human opinion, human judgment matters. The highest development of human spirituality is not a mindless submission to whatever God says. Rather it is a mindful deliberation and analysis.

I am reminded of the words of Genesis 18:25. Abraham is celebrated as the Father of the Faithful. Note his words to God:

Surely you wouldn't do such a thing, destroying the righteous along with the wicked. Why, you would be treating the righteous and the wicked exactly the same! Surely you wouldn't do that! Should not the Judge of all the earth do what is right?"

Abraham assumes God is moral, but that assumption does not keep Abraham silent. Rather it fuels his challenge to God. Since you are moral, you must act in way that is moral. Since you are moral, I cannot keep quiet when I hear you propose some action that appears immoral. And God welcomed Abraham's challenge. God did not regard it was rude. Rather it was evidence of the highest level of respect.

The Adventist doctrine of the millennium offers encouragement to all the Abrahams among us. If you find yourself restlessly asking questions about God's justice, you are in good company. There is a place for you in God's kingdom. You have company in the person of Abraham, way back at the beginning of the story of faith. And God through the Bible has described a special place for you in the grand consummation. John in Revelation and Jesus in the gospels declare that thoughtful, questioning people committed to justice will be placed on thrones in heaven as God is working to bring about the final triumph of justice.

This story emphatically honors human reasoning. It honors our capacity to render meaningful judgment. The way I interpret this, God cannot get on with his plans for eternity until all our questions have been answered. Our questions about justice are not irrelevant.

I do not mean to imply that questioning God is superior to confidence in God. Questioning that merely leaves us paralyzed with angst is not noble. It is not an elevated human state.

A long time ago when I was a young preacher back in New York City, I was attending a ministers conference. At supper one evening, I was expounding on some problem in the church. I vehemently protested some action or policy of the corporate church. I spouted my proposed solutions. I finally wound down a bit and returned to eating. The pastor sitting next to me, Israel Gonzalez, had been rather silent. So I asked him what he thought.

“Well, John.” he said. “I know there are problems in the church. There are injustices. Church leaders sometimes give Jesus a bad name. But that's God's problem. I devote myself to doing what I can to serve people close around me and trust God will take care of those people and those problems. ”

I was annoyed that this pastor would be so politically uninterested. How would the church ever improve if everyone followed his example? There would be no pressure for change. On the other hand, watching this guy's face, it was abundantly clear that he really was at peace. He was not riddled with angst. I knew he was a beloved and respected pastor. He brought peace and tranquility into every room he entered. He carried light and his light brightened every place he went.

If we were to call his confidence in God an opiate, it would have to be in the sweetest sense. His faith brought ease and relief to hurting people. People tied in knots with anxiety and fear, in his presence were set at ease. His confidence that God was working, that God would be successful, that every injustice would be righted, every loss balanced by ineffable glory, gave him almost magical power to bless others. No, he would not be your candidate to lead a revolution. He would not be fixing the church system. He would not reform the denomination's outdated policies or broken traditions. But Pastor Gonzalez did real good for real people. His faith worked. For himself and for others.

It would be silly to attempt to argue that intellectual was in any sense superior to this kind of rich, active faith.

Still questioning intellectuals have an important role to play in the kingdom of heaven. They are an important feature of the story of Revelation. They are vital to our present performance of the work God has assigned his church.

The fact that Revelation gives judging, questioning, analyzing people 1000 years on the stage of heaven, clearly implies that our questions are not trivial. Even in the light of heaven, in the light of the immediate presence of God, figuring out our deepest questions about justice and forgiveness, vengeance and pardon will not be a routine, matter-of-fact process. Even in that glorious setting, our deepest questions will still be deep. Complexities will still be complex. Our minds will still be challenged.

It is our claim as Christians that it will turn out right. We are anticipating a good answer. But we do not trivialize the quest for understanding.

There is a practical application of this vision of God's people on thrones in heaven: It is those who have asked questions of justice who have been most effective in changing the world. It was people—Christians and non-Christians—who overturned apartheid because it was unjust. In both South Africa and the United States, the Christian church has often been on the wrong side of the struggle for racial justice. Individuals have had to stand with Abraham's courage and say to the church powers: Will not the church of God do right?

Usually the church has been much slower than God to acknowledge the merit of the question. So we must keep asking, keep pushing. Understanding that God has destined us for the throne should give us courage and determination in our present day pursuit of higher, nobler ideals.

I challenge you young people: What are you doing to prepare yourself for sitting on thrones? Are you working for justice in your schools and among your friends? Those of you immersed in the corporate world: What are you doing in light of your destiny as judges on the thrones of heaven? You who are in academia?

Parents, do you remember that your children are going to take the throne? That future ought to shape the reading and entertainment we supply to our children. It should affect our discipline. (Do we really think that spanking future judges is going to heighten their moral sensibility? The answer is no, it won't.)

A thousand years. That's how much respect God shows to the questions of justice. We will get our chance to ask. Let's remember, too, that we are part of the story that will be investigated. Let's make our lives count for justice and goodness.

After the Revolution

After the Revolution

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

Sabbath, July 6, 2013

Text: Matthew 26

Revolution, blowing things up, pulling down systems and despots is the easy part. Building something new and beautiful, shaping a just, compassionate community . . . that's hard. It is just that dream we keep alive every time we share the Lord's Supper.

It was just two days before the Jewish 4^th of July, their celebration of independence—the Passover. Passover remembered their escape from slavery, from bondage in Egypt. After 400 years of living as outsiders and then as slaves, God worked in a miraculous, fantastical way to grant them independence. That's what Passover remembered.

Passover was when Jewish people were most proud of their heritage. God had chosen them. God had been on their side. Because God had been on their side, they had been invincible. They became free people. The freedom had not lasted. In the days of Jesus, they were under the thumb of the Roman empire, dreaming of recovering their historic freedom. Some Jewish people imagined recovering their freedom in the usual way—war. Others, the more religious, dreamed of a another, grand intervention by God.

Passover fired these dreams. Passover celebrated the power of God to bend history to his will. And his will, as expressed through the prophets was for the eventual triumph of righteousness and the triumph of the Jewish nation. As the representatives of God, the Jewish people would become the aristocracy of the world. Jerusalem would become the capital of the world. The temple would become the destination of all spiritual pilgrimages. The Jewish king would be king of all nations, the king of kings. It was going to happen sometime soon. That was for sure.

For the followers of Jesus, these dreams centered on Jesus. He was the true king. His work of healing proved his goodness. His teaching and preaching proved his wisdom. Stories from his birth proved his pedigree and divine calling. It was just a matter of time before Jesus was established on the throne.

Passover was a big deal in Jerusalem. Tens of thousands of pilgrims from all around the Mediterranean world poured into the city. Jesus' followers were not immune to this excitement. They couldn't help wondering, would this Passover be the time? Would Jesus finally unveil his true identity?

In this atmosphere of excitement, Jesus sat his disciples down for an astounding announcement:

"As you know, Passover begins in two days, and the Son of Man will be handed over to be crucified." Matthew 26:2

This sounds like defeat, not victory. Matthew makes no comment on how the disciples responded to this announcement. It appears to have gone in one ear and out the other. It was simply unbelievable. After all the miracles Jesus had worked, they could not imagine any ordinary human force being able to trip him up. Other times when the authorities had tried to go after Jesus, it hadn't worked out for them. It would be the same this time. Jesus was too good, too wise, too powerful to fail.

Meanwhile, according to Matthew,

The leading priests and elders were meeting at the residence of Caiaphas, the high priest, plotting how to capture Jesus secretly and kill him. Matthew 26:3-4

Then curiously, Matthew adds this:

"But not during the Passover celebration," they agreed, "or the people may riot." Matthew 26:5

Jesus said, “Passover is coming and I will be handed over to be crucified.” The clerics who controlled the country said to one another, “Let's not do it during Passover. With the massive crowds in town, who knows what might happen.”

These contradictory perspectives echo a grand central theme of Matthew's gospel: Jesus' life and ministry moved according to a divine plan. The bad guys in the story become unwitting tools of heaven.

* * *

Jesus was invited to dinner.

While they were eating, a woman sneaked in the back door, came into the dining room and poured outrageously expensive perfume on Jesus' head.

The room full of men was scandalized. What a waste! The money spent on this perfume could have helped hundreds of poor people. Jesus interrupted the chatter.

“Why are you troubling this woman? She has done a beautiful thing to me. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me. She has poured this perfume on me to prepare my body for burial. I tell you the truth, wherever this gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will also be told in memory of her.” Matthew 26:10-13

Notice what Jesus does here. First he defends the woman. She is the outsider, the person with the least status in the room. She is doing her best to express affection, admiration, devotion. Objectively, her actions are not prudent, judicious, careful. They are extravagant, emotional, reckless. Still they come from a good heart and Jesus defends her. More than that he praises her.

She is the only person besides Jesus whose actions are explicitly declared to be part of the gospel.

How many times does Jesus have to defend people from the “good judgment” of his followers! This story invites us to hold lightly our wise, careful analysis of what is right and proper. Jesus does not need our help correcting people. He probably does not need our help keeping the riffraff out of the feast.

Secondly, Jesus connects this woman's act of warm affection with the reality of his death. There is no way for Jesus to finish his work without going through the horror of the crucifixion. But instead of magnifying the horror of the cross, Jesus surrounds it with astonishing warmth. Here just before he descends into the darkness of the black weekend, he claims her extravagant act of affection as a special preparation for his death.

In the very next verse we read about Judas. Judas sold out Jesus for thirty pieces of silver. But the horror of his betrayal is almost trivialized by the grandeur of this woman's affection. Jesus is wounded by Judas. He is healed by this woman.

The day after this dinner, Jesus sent two of his disciples into Jerusalem to prepare for the groups' celebration of Passover.

"As you go into the city," he told them, "you will see a certain man. Tell him, 'The Teacher says: My time has come, and I will eat the Passover meal with my disciples at your house.'" So the disciples did as Jesus told them and prepared the Passover meal there Matthew 26:;18-19

When it was evening, Jesus sat down at the table with the twelve disciples. While they were eating, he said, "I tell you the truth, one of you will betray me. Greatly distressed, each one asked in turn, "Am I the one, Lord?" He replied, "One of you who has just eaten from this bowl with me will betray me. For the Son of Man must die, as the Scriptures declared long ago. But how terrible it will be for the one who betrays him. It would be far better for that man if he had never been born!" Judas, the one who would betray him, also asked, "Rabbi, am I the one?" And Jesus told him, "You have said it." Matthew 26:20-25

The preparation for this Passover celebration was done at the explicit direction of Jesus. In his instructions, Jesus said nothing about checking the credentials of those who were going to participate. Going further, the way Matthew tells the story, Jesus clearly knew of Judas' treachery and still specifically welcomed him to the table.

What guidance does the Last Supper give us for dealing with the reality that among us are people who are imperfectly committed to the cause? Or maybe even sold out to the enemies of our cause? It is natural for us to want the church to perfectly reflect the character of Jesus. We want the church to be seen as noble, generous, wise, compassionate, principled, disciplined. It's a short step from this desire for the church to live up to our ideals to wishing some people would just go away.

Going all the way back to the Apostle Paul church leaders have occasionally imagined that the church would be better off without people who disagreed with those leaders. Not infrequently, zealous preachers within the Adventist Church have called for strenuous efforts to purge the church of riffraff. These dreams of a purged, pure church do not come from Jesus.

Jesus invited Judas to the table. Matthew makes it clear that this was not naivete on Jesus' part. Jesus knew the lethal potential in Judas. Jesus invited him anyway. Jesus included Judas in his invitation: “Take. Eat. This is my body broken for you. Take. Drink. This is my blood spilled for you.” Jesus included Judas at his table, in his community. Not because of who Judas was, but because that's who Jesus was.

Jesus did not stop with Judas. If Jesus had addressed only Judas' deficiencies, we might be tempted to imagine we could distinguish between the good people and the bad people. Good people like us should pray for bad people like Judas. Judas would be our project. We should love him. We could organize acts of compassion for people in the Judas category. We could structure our worship services to try to win them over. But we would be very clear that we were different from Judas. Unlike Judas, we have no plans to fail Jesus.

But Jesus did not stop with Judas. After supper, the group headed out together. As they were walking along, Jesus said,

"Tonight all of you will desert me. For the Scriptures say, 'God will strike the Shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.' But after I have been raised from the dead, I will go ahead of you to Galilee and meet you there." Matthew 26:31-32.

It wasn't just Judas who was going to experience major fail. Sure, he was the only one with a deliberate plan to fail. But when push came to shove, the entire group was going to surprise themselves by abandoning Jesus.

This was simply not believable. Peter protested,

"Even if everyone else deserts you, I will never desert you."

Poor Peter. He didn't know himself. But it was okay. The failure would hurt. Yes. Peter would deeply regret it. Jesus would hate it. But Jesus explicitly announced his intention to reconnect with his disciples after their failure.

“After I have been raised from the dead, I will go ahead of you to Galilee and meet you there.”

They were with Jesus at his table before they failed. Jesus had already reserved their place at his table after their failure. And every time they gathered to share bread and wine, that is every meal, was to be a celebration of Jesus inclusion of us all.

Central to our worship as Christians is the celebration of the Lord's Supper. When we eat the bread and drink the wine, we are remembering our Lord's death until he comes. We are remembering that his death was not tragic in the deepest sense. It was not a failure. Surrounded by the failure of his friends and enemies, Jesus' death turned out to be a triumph. It created an eternal, universal welcome that we reaffirm and remember every time we eat his body and drink his blood.