Monday, September 10, 2018

The Spirit and Power of Elisha

Sermon for the ordination service of Andreas Beccai at the Volunteer Park Adventist Church in Seattle. September 8, 2018


The movie opens with a panoramic shot of wilderness. It’s a wide valley, a sea of yellow and brown grass stretching up to where juniper trees begin dotting the hills on either side. Down through the center of the valley runs a thread of green, a desert river lined with trees and following the river, a road, a dirt track.

We see dust kicking up. Something moving on the road. As the camera zooms in we see two men, walking. Closer still we hear them talking.

One is Elijah, the most celebrated prophet in Jewish history. Elijah was so great, so famous, that he was seen as the symbolic predecessor of the Messiah. The other was Elisha, Elijah’s servant and heir apparent.

They’re chitchatting. Conversation wandering and easy. Then the old man stops. He turns and looks at Elisha.

“We know it’s coming.” he says. “God is going to take me away. So, what can I do for you before I’m taken away? What do you want from me before I go?”

Elisha does not hesitate. He has been thinking about this for months at least, maybe years. “I want a double portion of your spirit.”

You have been mighty for God. I want to be even mightier. You announced a nation-bending drought and it happened just as you said. You brought down fire from heaven. You pronounced curses that caused kings to grovel. You have been mighty for God. I want to be mightier.

The old man smiled. It is exactly what he would want to give this young man. It’s what he would pray for the person who was going to take his place.

Andreas, this old man takes great pleasure in seeing you exceed me. I watch you do things in ministry I have touched only in my dreams. Just this morning at Green Lake Church I sat and watched someone else preach. As Hanz was preaching, I was thinking this is how I preach . . . in my dreams. And I remembered when you were at Green Lake Church. And after just a few months, people were asking when you were going to preach next. If I had been younger I might have been touched with jealousy. As an old man I was filled with delight.

Elijah looked at Elisha on that desert road, and heard his request: I want to do what you have done--only better. I want to serve God like you--only better. Elijah heard and smiled. And when I hear your passion for ministry, I take great delight.

The camera zooms back out. We watch the men continue walking and talking. Then we see dark, roiling clouds sweep in from the west. Ominous walls of swirling cumulus clouds. Then out of the blackest cloud comes two horses, their manes are whipping curtains of fire. Their bodies gleam and sparkle and flash. Their exhalations are flame. They are pulling a chariot that appears to be on fire, a diaphanous vessel of light. Instead of wheels it rides on pillows of blazing glory. The chariot swoops down to the men, pauses, Elijah steps into the fire and it swoops up and away and disappears back into the clouds.

Elisha cries out, “My father, my father!!!! The chariot and horses of Israel.”

As he stands there looking after the chariot. Elijah’s robe floats down from the sky and plops on the ground beside him.

He walks back the way the men had come, reaches the place where they had crossed the river. He shouts to the sky, “Where is the God of Elijah?” and swats the water with the old man’s robe. The water parts and Elisha walks across the empty space opened before him.

That night he replays the days events and remembers what Elijah had told him about the grand showdown on Mt. Carmel. He remembered the stories that had been told around the dinner table in his parents’ home about those days.

The prophet had marched into the royal palace and announced, “No more rain until I say so. That’s what God has sent me to say. Shame on you for doing evil. Shame on you for failing to resist evil. Shame on you. Repent!” And with that he disappeared.

The drought lasted three years. It broke the nation.

Finally, Elijah confronted the king again. “Meet me on Mt. Carmel. Be there. And summon the the entire people to be there, too, including those phony prophets your wife is so enamored with. Be there!”

And the king, instead of arresting the prophet, obeys.

And there on Mt. Carmel Elijah summoned fire from heaven--fire so hot it burned up even the rocks of the altar.

How do you double that? He had asked for a double measure of Elijah’s spirit. Elijah said he would get it. What would it look like? How do you double fire from heaven that had the entire nation on its face in dumb-struck terror?

It began in the morning. While Elisha was eating breakfast, the elders of the town arrived. They had a problem. The water from their springs and from their wells was brackish. It was nasty to drink. Bad for irrigation.

Elisha healed their water.

A preacher's widow came to Elisha and told her story. Her husband had been one of the prophets, one of the seven thousand people who had remained faithful to Yahweh while Elijah was hiding up in the village of Zarephath.

Her was dead. Her two sons were going to be slaves soon. Payment for family debts. It was hard being a single mom in that world.

Elisha asked what she had in the house. All she had was a jar of oil. “Go borrow all the jars, jugs, and pots you can from your neighbors.” She and her sons borrowed and filled their house. She went back to Elisha. “I’ve filled my house with pots and jars and jugs. Now what?”

Use your little oil jar and fill all of the containers with oil. Then sell the oil and pay your debts.

The doubled spirit of Elijah did not produce a bigger bang, more spectacular drama. Instead it flowed it in sweeter service and wider healing. Elisha brought no fire from heaven but sweet water from a spring. Not a national drought, but a single mom’s oil jar turned into an oil well.

Andreas, there will be days when you will crave the power of Elijah. You will hunger to do something dramatic for God, to shut up evil doers and evil sayers. You will hunger for a display of God’s power. But it may be that God will call you instead to bring sweet water out of a brackish spring. God will call you to help a single mom turn her oil jar into an oil well.

There will be no fire. No hordes of thousands on their faces in terror at the mighty power of God. Instead, the ilttle of people of God will comfort and aid in your ministry. Instead of being whisked away by a fiery chariot into the clouds you will be called to ride among your people in a creaking oxcart. And God will ride with you. Be there.

Another Elisha story.

The kingdom of Damascus was constantly threatened Israel’s northern border. At one point the king of Damascus began sending raiding parties across the border to ambush caravans and carry off goods and people to sell in the markets of Damascus. It was a successful project for awhile, then suddenly his raiding parties started coming back empty.

Repeatedly, they’d set up on a road they knew was a popular route only to find themselves sitting there for several days staring at an empty road. Finally, the king in exasperation summoned his cabinet together.

“Someone here is a traitor,” he said. “One of you is giving the king of Israel our secrets. Who was it?”

Finally, with great trepidation, one of his courtiers spoke up. “It’s not us. It’s the great prophet, Elisha. He tells the king of Israel your pillow talk with your wife.”

“Go get him.” The king barked.

I imagine the army commanders groaning. They are not oblivious to the lunacy of the king’s order. They are supposed to organize a raiding party to go kidnap the guy who is telling the king of Israel the secrets of the raiding parties. But they were soldiers. They had their orders.

They heard the prophet was in the town of Dothan. So thinking, here goes nothing, they put together a special forces raid on the the town. And surprise, surprise, when they arrive, the prophet is still there. Apparently God had not bothered to tell Elishah about this raid.

In the morning, Elisha’s servant, Gehazi, went up on the roof and saw the surrounding army. He raced back down in a panic. “Elisha! Elisha! We’re surrounded!

The prophet seemed curiously calm. “Come on, Gehazi, let’s go back upstairs.”

Sure enough, from the roof, they could see the raiding party surrounding the city. Chariots and horses covering every possible exit. “Count them.” Elisha orders. So Gehazi begins. One, two, three, . . .

Elisha interrupts him. “Not to worry, Gehazi. We have more on our side than they have on theirs.”

Gehazi stared at Elisha. Had he gone completely nuts?

Elisha prayed. God open his eyes. Suddenly Gehazi saw out beyond the invaders another army, chariots and horses riding in the sky, ten times the number of the invaders.

Andreas, it is one of our most constant duties to help our people see the invisible chariots of God. The chariots of evil are readily visible. It is easy for them to occupy our entire field of vision. Pray and preach that they may see the heavenly chariots.

It may happen in your own life that enemies will come for you, people who are annoyed by the work God has called you to do. Part of you will be terrified. Naturally. After the initial panic, call to mind the chariots of Dothan. There are more with you than there are with them. Take your time. Let God work.

Let’s follow this story. Elisha prays for God to smite the invaders blind. God does so. Elisha goes out and offers to lead them where they want to go--not exactly true. He leads them to the capital city of Israel and into the central square of the city. There surrounded by armed and ready Israelite soldiers Elisha prays for God to open their eyes.

The king asks the prophet, “What shall I do with the these soldiers? Shall I kill them?”

Andreas, it will happen that your enemies or the enemies of your people will fall into your hands. Your word will decide their fate. Remember the story of Elisha.

Elisha said to the king, “If you had captured these soldiers yourself, you would be obliged to treat them as prisoners of war. You would be obliged to feed them. So feed them and send them home to their master.”

The king of Israel did so and the Bible reports. War stopped.

For awhile.

Andreas. In dealing with enemies, remember your highest calling: To make peace.

Another story: Elisha and the ax head. 

A group of students planned a trip to the woods along the Jordan River to get wood to build an extension on their school. At some point in the day, one of the young men is chopping away at a tree when the head of his ax comes off and sails out into the river. Oh no!!!! It was a borrowed ax and ax heads in that time were pricey items easily worth several years of disposable income for a poor student.

The student went and found Elisha. Elisha asked the student to show him where the ax head had fallen. The student pointed. Elisha tossed a stick into the water. The stick sank and the ax head floated. What a fantastic miracle!

But there is another lesson in this story. What was Elisha doing there in the woods with a bunch of young men who were cutting trees?

At the beginning of the story we read that when the students decided to go to the woods, they invited Elisha to go with them. Why? They were not expecting him to swing an ax. It was just that life was better when Elisha was around. Elisha was like God’s chariot. Not his war chariot, his everyday, go to market chariot. Elisha bore in himself the presence and favor of God. No matter what they were doing, the people wanted Elisha around.

A reflection of the ministry of Jesus.

Elijah was seen as the symbolic precursor of the Messiah. John the Baptist preparing the way for Jesus, was seen by the New Testament believers as a metaphorical Elijah. And we Adventists imagine ourselves as a last day Elijah preparing people for the future coming of Jesus.

It would be better to be Elisha, to incarnate here and now the life of Jesus.

But there is a flip side to the glory of identification with God. One of the worst stories in the Old Testament occurred during Elisha’s time. There was a famine. Not a judgment from heaven. Nothing supernatural about it. It was one of those random things, something bad happening to good people. People were starving. In the capital city the people were reduced to cannibalism.

One day, a woman accosted the the king when he was out on his daily rounds. She begged him to help her. Her story?

She and a neighbor woman had agreed that the only way any of their family were going to survive was by eating their littlest children--kids who were going to die anyway because of the famine. So they killed her son and ate him. Then when it was time to eat her neighbor’s son, she hid him.

The king recoiled in horror. He decided to kill Elisha. The king couldn’t get his hands on God, so he would deal with God’s ambassador. God had allowed or sent this famine. God was responsible for mothers eating children. Something had to be done to express his horror at what God was doing (or not doing).

Andreas, Sometimes, if we do our job well, if we represent God faithfully, people will take out on us their anger at God. They would attack God if they could, but since God is not available, they take out their outrage, their desperate impatience with evil and heartbreak on God’s ambassador--and that’s what the church makes of us.

There are times when we must hold the reasonable anger of people toward the God we represent. Do not let it destroy you. But neither give in to resentment or self-pity. God does not manage the universe in ways that make sense to us sometimes. He does not explain to his ambassadors what he is doing.

Elisha lived long. During his ministry, he worked every miracle Jesus worked. He gave sight to the blind. He multiplied loaves of bread to feed a crowd. He raised the dead. He healed leprosy. Like Jesus after him, Elisha won the hearts of his people.

Elijah was the harbinger of the Messiah. Elisha was the Messiah.

Let’s replace our aspirations to be like Elijah, pulling fire from heaven and intimidating evil doers with a holy ambition to relive the ministry of Elisha. Let’s replace our arguments about the future return of Jesus with a demonstration of the living, present Jesus. Let us so live that when people go to cut trees they want us with them. When they get into debt they come crying to us. When the water in their lives turns brackish they imagine we might be able to help.

Elisha got old and feeble. It happens even to good people. (smiles) Other people had to feed him. He needed help to get up to the bathroom. The king came to see him. When the king saw Elisha lying there in bed, weak, breathing with difficulty, he wept. He exclaimed, “My father. My father. The chariot and horses of Israel.”  The same words Elisha shouted when he saw Elijah disappear into heaven.

When the king saw the little old man lying in that bed, and contemplated life without him, he was filled with dread. Elisha’s departure felt like the departure of God.

Andreas, as you engage in the ministry God has called you to, I pray two things for you: First, I pray that you will be kept safe and holy by the heavenly chariots. May the heavenly armies attend you and keep you.

And two, I pray you will be filled with the spirit of Elisha--that you yourself will be transformed into the oxcart of God, prosaic, pedestrian, vessel conveying the presence and favor of God.

Saturday, September 1, 2018

Shepherds, Not Sheep

Sermon for Green Lake of Seventh-day Adventists for September 1, 2018

Texts: Ezekiel 34:1-6 and Matthew 9:35-38 

Hymns: 001 – Praise to the Lord.  358 – Far and Near the Fields Are Teeming


[Eze 34:1-6 NLT] 1 Then this message came to me from the LORD: 2 "Son of man, prophesy against the shepherds, the leaders of Israel. Give them this message from the Sovereign LORD: What sorrow awaits you shepherds who feed yourselves instead of your flocks. Shouldn't shepherds feed their sheep? 3 You drink the milk, wear the wool, and butcher the best animals, but you let your flocks starve. 4 You have not taken care of the weak. You have not tended the sick or bound up the injured. You have not gone looking for those who have wandered away and are lost. Instead, you have ruled them with harshness and cruelty. 5 So my sheep have been scattered without a shepherd, and they are easy prey for any wild animal. 6 They have wandered through all the mountains and all the hills, across the face of the earth, yet no one has gone to search for them.


[Mat 9:35-38 NLT] 35 Jesus traveled through all the towns and villages of that area, teaching in the synagogues and announcing the Good News about the Kingdom. And he healed every kind of disease and illness. 36 When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them because they were confused and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. 37 He said to his disciples, "The harvest is great, but the workers are few. 38 So pray to the Lord who is in charge of the harvest; ask him to send more workers into his fields."




The other day Karin told me she had seen Don Mehrer wandering the adjacent property with a five-gallon bucket in his hand. She couldn’t figure out what he was doing. It seemed kind of odd. A day or two later she saw Don again and asked about the bucket thing.

Don grimaced and complained. “It’s hard to be an owner.”

He was picking up trash that had been dropped, especially cigarette butts. Why do people just drop cigarette butts? Do they think they’ll just evaporate or something?

People drop cigarette butts. That’s kind of a mystery.

Don picks them up. That could be an even greater mystery. Why is Don wandering around next door picking up cigarette butts?

Because he’s the owner. It’s what you do when the place belongs to you.

I have my own cigarette butt story, proof of my ownership. As I’ve mentioned a number of times, every morning when I’m home I walk a few blocks up the hill from our house to Ella Bailey Park which has a grand view of downtown Seattle.

Like lots of other people I enjoy the park. I sit there in the mornings on my stool and wait for sunrise or put up with the rain. Then I do something else. Before I leave the overlook, I pick all the trash, which usually means picking up cigarette butts. I do it for two reasons. I want my meditation space to be clean. And I figure I own that park.

True, I share ownership with a million other Seattleites. But it’s my park. I own it. So I don’t hope someone else will pick up the litter. I do it.

Jesus saw his disciples as co-owners of the kingdom of heaven. We are not merely helpers.

To pick up the metaphor from today’s scripture readings: We are not sheep. We are shepherds, participants with Jesus in his mission of seeking lost sheep and feeding lambs.
There is no shame in being sheep. There is a special glory in being shepherds.

Last spring, on our annual geology tour, our caravan of four vehicles was driving toward Grand Canyon. I was in the last car. We came on the scene of an accident. The first car, the one with Dr. Grellman in it, was pulled off on the shoulder. Of course. Dr. Grellman is an ER doc.

Two of the cars continued on so we could buy groceries for the weekend, leaving Dr. Grellman and the other two cars to meet up with us later.

Why did Dr. Grellman’s car stop? Because we were in the middle of nowhere. No ambulance had arrived. And he was an ER doc.

I would not have stopped. Other people were already there. I have no expertise in treating trauma. I have a hard time finding a pulse.

Another time, one of our tour members got something in her eye. It was becoming a serious problem. Others had tried to help her, but could not find and fix the problem. Dr. Grellman fixed it. Because he was a doctor. That’s what he does.

At times like that, I’m jealous of my physician friends. I wish I knew what they know. I wish I had the skills they have. It must be a pain sometimes. There’s an emergency and suddenly everyone is looking at you.

In our house, my wife is the medical expert--for people and for animals. When I get splinters in my feet, I ask Karin for help. When I notice something wrong with a horse, I don’t try to figure out what’s going on. I simply call Karin.

On the other hand, when there is a plumbing problem, I get the call. Karin and the kids count on me to fix everything from faucets to septic systems. Their life is better because Dad is a plumber. A couple of weeks ago, one of my daughters called me. Something was wrong with her kitchen faucet. She wanted to fix it. Could I walk her through the process on the phone?

When there’s a car question in our family, we all know who to call. We call Karin’s brother Carl. That’s Eric Lundstrom’s dad. What kind of tires do we need on the car? Don’t bother thinking. Just call Carl. He’ll tell you exactly what you need.

When I have trouble with my phone, I call my son.

When I need help understanding some piece of contemporary culture, I call my oldest daughter.

There is no shame in needing a doctor.
There is glory in being a doctor.

There is no shame in having a plugged up toilet.
There is glory in unplugging it.

There is no shame in being a sheep.
There is glory in serving as a shepherd.

In today’s New Testament passage we heard reference to a classic metaphor, God as shepherd, people as sheep.

Jesus traveled through all the towns and villages of that area, teaching in the synagogues and announcing the Good News about the Kingdom. And he healed every kind of disease and illness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them because they were confused and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. 

One way to read this passage is to feel our own confusion and helplessness. We wish we had a shepherd. But that is not message the Gospel writer wants us to get. The writer wants us to stand with Jesus and look through Jesus’ eyes and see the helplessness and confusion of others and join Jesus in the work of being a shepherd.

To make his point Jesus messes with the metaphor. In fact, he completely switches the metaphor (which was common in the literature of that time.)

 "Jesus said to his disciples, "The harvest is great, but the workers are few. So pray to the Lord who is in charge of the harvest; ask him to send more workers into his fields." [Matthew 9:35-38 NLT]

Jesus does not say, “All of you are sheep. I am the shepherd.” Jesus says, in effect, “I am a shepherd and I want you to be shepherds, too.” Or even more strongly, “I am a shepherd, and the work is too much for me. I need your help. There is more work than one person can do--even a miracle-working, God-man like Jesus Christ. There is more work than we--here Jesus would have motioned, indicating the twelve disciples--more work than we can do. So pray. Pray for more workers. Pray for more shepherds.”

Jesus--the Risen Christ, the Lord of Glory, the King of Kings and Lord of lords--Jesus cannot fix breakfast for a two-year-old. But we can. Jesus cannot run to the drugstore for a neighbor. But we can. Jesus cannot find the bug in the software, but some of you engineers can. And we need you.

In First Peter, we read that church people are to act as shepherds modeling their service on the service of Jesus, the “Chief Shepherd.” We do what Jesus did. We serve as Jesus served. That’s our calling. (1 Peter 5:1-4).

Being a shepherd is hard work. It will mess with our convenience. This spring, when I saw the car Dr. Grellman was riding in pulled over I immediately knew what was happening. And I knew we didn’t have a choice. We were in a bit of hurry to get to our campsite before it got too late. But we had a doctor among us. And a doctor was desperately, urgently needed. So we stopped so the shepherd could take care of the wounded sheep.

Sometimes being a shepherd is exhausting, draining work. Sometimes it takes us to the very edge of endurance. It is important that we not romanticize shepherding. We honor the work of shepherding. We cultivate an appreciation of its glory. But we are not blind to its cost.

Tuesday morning I was sitting in meditation in the park a few blocks up the hill from our house. I was writing a poem about a man whose life is made very difficult by mental illness. I noticed a message. I checked it. It was from a mother who was worried about her son whose life is shaped--or perhaps I should say is misshaped--by mental illness. There was a crisis. Would I please pray?

Of course, I prayed. That was the easy part. Then I spent some time contemplating the decades of shepherding practiced by this mother. She has intervened over and over and over again. Spending scarce money, consuming hours and days of her life in a never-ending struggle to keep her son alive.

He is a perennially lost sheep. Sheep is an always-on-duty shepherd. It is exhausting.

Just yesterday, I received a message from someone else I’m close to. Her husband spirals in and out of crisis. She wrote of the great weariness of coping with his mental illness, the exhaustion that comes from going to the rescue the umpteenth time. She is the shepherd. Her husband is the sheep. Being a shepherd is hard work.

On Tuesday’s I volunteer at Aurora Commons, a center that serves street people along Aurora Avenue. This last week the place was unusually crowded. People milling about. People slumped on couches, in a drug-induced haze. One of the regulars was on a manic phase. Spouting long lines of eloquent laments memorized from movies, restlessly pacing the place.

There were some tense moments when verbal altercations threatened to escalate. Only the skilled, practiced intervention by the chief shepherd of the place calmed things down.

I’m haunted by the people I see on Tuesdays. They are a drain on society. They take more than they give. For many of them, this will be true all of their lives. Providing even the barest minimum for their survival is draining. Still, they are sheep. They need shepherding. And we who are sane, we who are not addicted, we are called to be shepherds. We are called to tend the lost sheep.

Let’s be clear. It is more work to be a shepherd than to be a sheep. It’s easier to be a sheep. But I have never met someone who having tasted the glory of shepherding wished to become again, a sheep.

Taking care of a mentally ill person is exhausting and bewildering and perplexing. It is miserable, at times. But I have never met someone who would prefer to be the mentally ill person instead of being the caregiver.

There is deep satisfaction. There is very difficult and exhausting work. And there is glory.

Here among us there are some who carry a staggering weight of shepherding, of caregiving of various kinds. Let’s honor them. Let’s figure out what we can to help them, to ease a bit of the load they carry.

Jesus said to pray the Lord of the Harvest to send workers into the field. Let’s pray that prayer. Then let’s open our hearts to the call of God and do what we can to be part of God’s answer to that prayer.

As Don said, “It’s hard to be an owner.”

That’s true.

And it’s hard to be a shepherd.

That’s true.

And there is glory, too.