Baby Jesus, Baby God

Sermon for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

For December 21, 2019

Baby Jesus, Baby God.

That's the way I learned it in Kindergarten in Sabbath School. And in Primary. We learned the story of Baby Jesus. I liked the shepherds first. People who were outside. With animals. That was cool. And because the angels sang, they were the very first to see the baby Jesus and kneel and worship the baby who was God.

And then the Wise Men showed up. Three Kings from Persia. Guided by the star. They brought gifts. And they, too, knelt. They bowed to the Baby who was also God, so the bowing was okay.

And then there were Simeon and Anna in the temple. Old people who recognized that this baby was no ordinary baby. Instead this peasant kid, born to peasant parents, was Savior of the World. Was Immanuel, God with us. God.

Somehow in the telling of these stories I got the idea that everyone should have recognized the specialness of this baby, this One and Only. It was scandalous that the savior of the world, the baby who was God, the infant who was born to rule the nations, was born in a stable. We told ourselves that if we had been there we would have given up our room for the Christ child. No barn for our baby Jesus!

But I, remember, even back then, when I was not that far from babyhood myself, I wondered, how would people have known? Sure, the shepherds knew because they were ambushed by angels. And anyone ambushed by angels would know something special was going on. And the Wise Men knew because they had their own private star. And if you have your own private star, that should be pretty impressive. But what if you were just a person, a regular, ordinary person? What if you have been an innkeeper? How would you know? How could you know?.

I looked around at all the kids I knew and wondered, what if one of them was Christ? Especially, what if one of them that I didn’t like, one of them who was obnoxious, what if one of them was the Christ? How could I tell?

And then what about all the millions of kids around the world, how could I figure out the one special kid? The only one to save the world?

That was ages and ages ago. Generations ago. Back then I was young and grandma was old.

But I am old now, old enough to be a Wise Man.

And I have seen the star.

I am a shepherd, too. I know the angels’ songs. We sing them every year at this season.

And because I have seen the star and heard the song, I have found the child.

It comes with being a grandpa.

Like other grandpas I know, I study kids with intense delight and fascination. Often with astonished wonder. I study the one who looks like me and calls me Bapa. And I study the ones who use different words and eat different food and have different hair . . . but have hearts and eyes just like my own.

I study them. Tuesday night I watched them in the Christmas play at Cypress Adventist School. They were dressed up in eye-catching costumes. They were backed by a beautiful, well-crafted set. But it wasn’t the costumes and set that held my attention. It wasn’t even their well-delivered lines that captivated me. It was their faces. Their eyes. There was such intensity of life in their faces. I was mesmerized.

I watched their parents watch, holding their phones over their heads to capture the dazzling performance. I watched the pride on their parents' faces. I tasted their parents’ delight and fierce love and ambition. Every parent in the gym was dreaming of their kids’ future. Their little ones would grow up to doctors and judges and builders and musicians. They would make the world better. These little ones were on their way to save the world. To be in some small way, Messiahs. That’s what I saw in those parents watching their kids on stage.

When I looked I saw messiahs all across the stage.

One and Onlys

Baby Jesuses, baby gods.

I see them every morning waiting for the school bus on the street outside my door. Every child the incarnation of the hopes and fears of their parents.

I see a Baby Jesus in the girl on the cover of Time magazine with her ambition to save the planet. And in the young people in this congregation in law school or  medical school or taking engineering or waiting for surgery to open the door of their life and their potential just a little more. We would think their ambitions preposterous except that they are our kids.

Age has fogged my eyes. I don’t see so well with my eyes any more. But the years have taught my heart to see. And I see clearly now. I have seen the star. I have heard the song. I have found the child, the special one.

As a grandpa, I see with vivid clarity the truth shining from the Christmas manger: The special one is everyone. Every child, seen clearly turns into a baby Jesus, a baby god, an incarnation of the life God, an agent of God’s salvation.

To those of us who are long past childhood, the call comes to do all we can to help them in their mission. We must push back against other old people who would mock them or belittle them.

Another story from the Bible about a baby who would become a savior:

The Hebrew people were immigrants in Egypt. As their numbers increased the Egyptians became afraid of the Hebrews and finally outlawed them. Every baby Hebrew was supposed to be killed.

If the face of this law, Amram and Jocabed still had a child, Moses. What were they thinking? The Bible reports that “his mother saw” that he was a “goodly child.” Other translations put it: He was a beautiful child, a special child, a fine child.

And I thought of the parents and grandparents I watched at the Christmas play. Monica watching Marc. Mesfin watching Nathan. Liz and Matt watching Megan and John. Flavia and Donovan watching Jacob. And each parent being astonished that their child was the most amazing, beautiful, talented child on the stage.

Moses mother saw that he was a fine child. So she decided to break the law and save his life.

She hid him, nursing him in secret for three months. But finally she could hide him no longer. At the end of her resources, she placed her child at the mercy of the richest, most powerful person she could think of--Pharaoh’s daughter. Jocabed “abandoned” her baby in a basket near the princess’ bath. When the princess spotted the basket, she ordered it brought to her. The basket was opened and the princess saw an ordinary peasant baby, an illegal child. And she faced the terrible choice: Would she obey the law and push the baby away or deliver it to soldiers for proper disposal or would she save it?

Baby Moses.
Baby Jesus.
Baby Saviors of the world.


Will we join in mocking them?

Will we approve of excluding them and killing them?

Or will we save them and become partners with them in their mission to save the world?

More Than Enough, Thank You

Sermon for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists November 30, 2019

A slightly different version was published online by Adventist Today on November 28.

My heart is filled with joy.I burst out in songs of thanksgiving.Psalm 28:7

The day before Thanksgiving, I was on a park bench on the west side of Dorr’s Pond, a tiny lake in Manchester, New Hampshire, watching for the sun to rise behind the white pines across the pond. It was cold, just below freezing. I sipped my very dilute, very hot coffee and nibbled on two cookies I had brought. And I gave thanks. I gave thanks for our grandkids, the reason for our cross-country visit. I gave thanks for the clothing that was keeping me warm and had kept me comfortable even on mornings when I sat in the rain. I gave thanks I had a house to go to when I finished my hour of contemplation. Nibbling my store-bought cookies, I gave thanks for the apple pie Karin had made Sunday night and thanks for the pumpkin pie she was going to make this afternoon. And for the whipped cream and ice cream accompaniments to said pies. When I was younger, feast days--Thanksgiving and Christmas--were occasions of eager gluttony. The food was soo-o-o-o, so good I couldn’t help myself. I gobbled everything in sight with wild abandon until I could hold not another bite. Nowadays, I eat slowly. Every bite is a feast whether it's store-bought cookies or homemade pie. Every bite is redolent of the best days of childhood and a foretaste of heaven. Sitting in the wintery grey, I recalled the pleasure of feasts past and anticipated the pleasure of the feast tomorrow. Then I deliberately brought to mind a conversation last week. I was visiting a friend dealing with a progressive disease. He told me he no longer enjoys eating because swallowing has become perilous. For him, eating is an onerous duty, a difficult obligation that sometimes he shirks. I pondered the gulf between us--my eager anticipation of a feast and his dread of the duty of eating--and the friendship that links us. This Thanksgiving I will try to enjoy pumpkin pie with an ardor worthy of two. I had walked to the park with ease. I took extra pleasure in the mile because of an injury this summer that for awhile curtailed my walking. I’m glad to be out and about again, with ease. Sitting there watching the tardy sun, I replayed in my mind the story a friend shared on Monday. He has been coping with a hereditary, degenerative lung disease. Recently, the disease progression lurched downward requiring him to be on supplemental oxygen all the time. Like me, he loves the out-of-doors. He has spent his recreational life hiking and camping. Now, he carefully calculates the length of every trip out of the house to make sure he has sufficient oxygen to make it back home. I contrasted his challenge with my privilege. Yesterday, I climbed a mountain with the family. I did not fret about oxygen. I go places and do things, figuring sufficient air will be there, always. Sitting in the cold, I inhaled slowly, deeply. Exhaled. Inhaled again, tasting the richness of air deep in my core. I gave thanks. For my lungs. For my legs. For my heart. I had--and I have--more than enough.And I give thanks. I cannot comprehend life with the constraints my friends are managing. The limits on their physical capabilities and the constraint on life-span imposed by their diseases. But I do seek to learn from them. I, too, have a limited life span. They remind me to treasure what is available now. My walking and feasting, my breathing and swallowing, are rich gifts, occasions for frequent thanksgiving, available now but not forever. Adventists call ourselves creationists. Most of our institutional energy surrounding this word has been wasted in debates over the dating of fossils. The really useful question in this context is: why is there something instead of nothing? Believers answer the question about why there is something instead of nothing with the word, “God.” God loved, and so God created. God loved, and so God birthed light and space and neutrinos and electrons. God loved, and so God created life. God loved, and so humans exist with our capacity to love and taste and see and smell and hear and touch and create. There is something instead of nothing. And we, seeing clearly, are awakened to astonishment and wonder. And we are called beyond the theological/philosophical question to a Christian practice: gratitude. We see a late November sunrise. We taste an apple pie, hear high-honking geese, and feel the sharp bite of snow on our cheeks. And give thanks. We acknowledge that all this did not “have to be.” There was a time when all this did not exist, and now it does, to our great pleasure. And we give thanks. The foundation of gratitude is seeing, noticing. One of the most basic Christian practices is giving thanks. We notice the gifts that are ours and say thank you. We have enough. We have more than enough. Not more than we can imagine, certainly. Maybe not as much as we would like. But we have enough. Enough for now. Enough to give thanks. Did you notice that theme in our Scripture readings this morning. God sent the manna to Israel. And when they went and gathered, they had enough.

When the dew evaporated, a flaky substance as fine as frost blanketed the ground. 15 The Israelites were puzzled when they saw it. "What is it?" they asked each other. They had no idea what it was. And Moses told them, "It is the food the LORD has given you to eat. 16 These are the LORD's instructions: Each household should gather as much as it needs. Pick up two quarts for each person in your tent." 17 So the people of Israel did as they were told. Some gathered a lot, some only a little. 18 But when they measured it out, everyone had just enough. Those who gathered a lot had nothing left over, and those who gathered only a little had enough. Each family had just what it needed. Exodus 16:14-18, NLT

Jesus soon saw a huge crowd of people coming to look for him. Turning to Philip, he asked, "Where can we buy bread to feed all these people?" 6 He was testing Philip, for he already knew what he was going to do. 7 Philip replied, "Even if we worked for months, we wouldn't have enough money to feed them!" 8 Then Andrew, Simon Peter's brother, spoke up. 9 "There's a young boy here with five barley loaves and two fish. But what good is that with this huge crowd?" 10 "Tell everyone to sit down," Jesus said. So they all sat down on the grassy slopes. (The men alone numbered about 5,000.) 11 Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks to God, and distributed them to the people. Afterward he did the same with the fish. And they all ate as much as they wanted. John 6:5-11 NLT

Many of us on Thanksgiving had more than enough. Maybe even too much. But the holiday reminds us of the truth, we have enough. For now. Air to breathe. And our air here is cleaner than the air available to hundreds of millions of people in India and China. Food to eat. A bounty. A surplus. Most of us enjoy a measure of health. Our own well-being highlighted by the difficulties faced by our friends and family. We have enough. For now. For today.

And beauty. When I am at Grand Canyon I try to get to the rim to watch sunrise. Which is kind of hard when I’m with a group and sunrise is very early--during June it’s just a few minutes after 5a. There is a natural hush as people watch the spectacular vista. I thought about that on Friday morning and again this morning when I was back to my usual spot for medication in the morning--Ella Bailey Park. The has a vast, sweeping view to the east, from Mt. Baker in the north to Mt. Rainier to the south. I found myself wondering that more people don’t come and watch sunrise at Ella Bailey Park. They travel a thousand miles to Grand Canyon for the sunrise there. And the beauty is worth the trip and the effort to roust the kids out of bed at an unearthly hour and get them out to the rim in time to see the sun rise over the canyon. But the sun rises here, too. I wish more people could taste its glory. But even if you're not an early riser, there is beauty and loveliness in your world, Cultivate the habit of noticing and saying thank you. When I’m outside watching for sunrise on cold mornings, I sip the peppermint tea or dark roast coffee to help keep myself warm. I nibble the cookies. And devote myself to contemplation of the sky, if it is beautiful, or, if the sky is dark and heavy, to the contemplation of beloved people and beautiful places stored in my memory. At the end of the hour, I raise my cup and whisper to God. “I have enough, more than enough. Thank you.” Then embodying my words, I pour out on the ground the last ounce of tea or coffee--the “more than enough.” Some days that final act is a challenge. Sometimes I am keenly aware of unfilled hungers, unsatisfied desires, either my own or in people I love. Some days the “more than enough” has not stilled my restlessness. It has not ended my quest. On those days I push myself to acknowledge the truth. I do have enough, at least for now, for this day, even more than enough. I give thanks, even If not purely and with my whole heart, still genuinely. I have enough. More than enough. Thank you.

Lament

Sermon for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists
October 19, 2019

I went to bed early last Friday night. Because I had a bad cold and a cough I slept in the spare bedroom. About 1:30a Sabbath I was awakened by a bright light shining through the blinds. I jumped out of bed and peered through the blinds to see what was going on.

I heard a voice, “Seattle police.” I went to the front door and opened it a crack. “Are you really the police?” I asked. Not thinking clearly, since if someone was pretending to be the police they would probably not admit it just because I asked. 

Yes, they were really the police. They came up on the porch and told me the name of the person they were looking for. 

I recognized the last name as the same as the people who lived in the house before we did.

We talked for a few minutes. I told them everything I knew, which was almost nothing, and they left.

I went back to bed and went back to sleep.

What I didn’t know was within an hour of my encounter with police acting in an appropriate professional manner, Atatiana Jackson also looked out her window at police in her yard and she was shot to death. 

The more I learned of Ms. Jackson’s story, the greater the horror I felt. She was a recent college graduate planning on going to medical school. She was a favorite aunt, a favorite sister, a favorite daughter. 

I cannot get my head around the monstrosity of her family’s loss. Shot dead because she did just what I did. She went to her window to see what was going on in the middle of the night.

I wrestled with how to handle my horror, my outrage. I wondered how to honor her life and respect her death.

I was drawn to the words of our OT reading.

O LORD, the God of vengeance, 

O God of vengeance, 

let your glorious justice shine forth! 

Arise, O judge of the earth. 

Give the proud what they deserve. 

How long, O LORD? 

How long will the wicked be allowed to gloat? 

How long will they speak with arrogance? 

How long will these evil people boast? 

They crush your people, LORD, 

hurting those you claim as your own. 

They kill widows and foreigners and murder orphans.

"The LORD isn't looking," they say, 

"and besides, the God of Israel doesn't care."  Psalm 94:1-7 NLT

How long, O Lord?

These words give voice to 

It’s not right!

I’m waiting for things to get better. I’m expecting things to get better. But right now, now in the face of this injustice and trauma and grief, I’m crying. I’m weeping. God, do something.

I cannot change what happened when Ms. Jackson heard noise and went to her window to check it out. I cannot give her back to her family. I cannot change police practice in her town. But I can take some time to feel the awful weight of loss her family and her friends are carrying. I can grieve with them. I can lament.

And I do.

This week the news offered us pictures of Kurdish families fleeing the Turkish invasion. It looked like pictures that are familiar from the Middle East. Families--moms and dads and children--in cars or pickups or on foot with the smoke of war rising in the background.

These pictures of terrified families always kicks me in the gut.

In the Spring of 1972 I was a student at Middle East College in Beirut. War broke out between the Lebanese Army and forces located in a refugee camp. The school was between an army artilIery position. As shells were passing overhead I was in my dorm room packing a knapsack with a few things so I’d be ready if we had to run for it.

I wasn’t sure where we’d run. I was a white-blond American in a sea of Lebanese and Arab peoples. I spoke almost no Arabic and did not have a local map. But the great difference between me and the families in those pictures is this: I would be running trying to get home. I was not running from home to nowhere, anywhere. If I could get to the coast there would Aermican ships offshore.

What must it be like to be a mother and father running with their children--where? Away from bombs, but maybe there will be bombs in the new place. Away from exploding shells and machine gun fire, but who knows if there will be more shells and machine gun fire in the place we run to.

I see these families in my mind.

I feel helpless. 

I lament.

How long, O Lord?

When we lament. When we carry the weight of longing for justice and righteousness and peace, we are entering the heart of God. We are keeping company with God.

During the fourth year that Jehoiakim son of Josiah was king in Judah, the LORD gave this message to Jeremiah: 2 "Get a scroll, and write down all my messages against Israel, Judah, and the other nations. Begin with the first message back in the days of Josiah, and write down every message, right up to the present time. 3 Perhaps the people of Judah will repent when they hear again all the terrible things I have planned for them. Then I will be able to forgive their sins and wrongdoings." Jeremiah 36:1-3 NLT

God desperately wanted the best for his people. But he could see doom gathering. But he could not get his people to repent and avoid the disaster.

The end of the story of Jeremiah is a heartbreaking tragedy. There had been disaster after disaster. Finally only a handful of survivors were left in the land. They were trying to figure out whether to stay in Judea or emigrate to Egypt. They came to Jeremiah and said, “Ask God what we should do. And whatever God says through you, we will do. 

Jeremiah asked for time to consult with God. Ten days later the prophet called the people together. God said, “Stay.” If you stay your fortunes will turn around. Life is going to get better. But if you go to Egypt, only misery awaits you.”

Then Jeremiah said this: "Listen, you remnant of Judah. The LORD has told you: 'Do not go to Egypt!' Don't forget this warning I have given you today. 20 For you were not being honest when you sent me to pray to the LORD your God for you. You said, 'Just tell us what the LORD our God says, and we will do it!' 21 And today I have told you exactly what he said, but you will not obey the LORD your God any better now than you have in the past. 22 So you can be sure that you will die from war, famine, and disease in Egypt, where you insist on going." [Jeremiah 42:19-22 NLT

Jeremiah went on to write the little book titled, “Lamentations.”

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.

Then the prophet adds his own tears:

 16 "For all these things I weep; tears flow down my cheeks. 

No one is here to comfort me; 

any who might encourage me are far away. 

My children have no future, for the enemy has conquered us."  [Lam 1:1-2, 16 NLT]

It’s important to keep in mind that Jeremiah had written beautiful prophecies about an eventual restoration of Israel. The people would return from exile. Jerusalem and the temple would be rebuilt. Jeremiah is not weeping because he is hopeless. He is weeping because his heart is broken--in the here and now.

And Jeremiah was mirroring the heart of God. God, too, was weeping.

And when we enter into the suffering of others we are keeping company with God.

We find this same theme of the prophetic and divine grief in Isaiah 16.

The farms of Heshbon are abandoned; the vineyards at Sibmah are deserted. The rulers of the nations have broken down Moab--that beautiful grapevine. Its tendrils spread north as far as the town of Jazer and trailed eastward into the wilderness. Its shoots reached so far west that they crossed over the Dead Sea. 9 So now I weep for Jazer and the vineyards of Sibmah; my tears will flow for Heshbon and Elealeh. There are no more shouts of joy over your summer fruits and harvest. 10 Gone now is the gladness, gone the joy of harvest. There will be no singing in the vineyards, no more happy shouts, no treading of grapes in the winepresses. I have ended all their harvest joys. 11 My heart's cry for Moab is like a lament on a harp. I am filled with anguish for Kir-hareseth.  [Isaiah 16:8-11 NLT] 

Trouble in this world is not evenly distributed. If we are some of the lucky ones. If we live in a place where there is employment opportunity, remember there are countries where the unemployment rate is 60 percent. 

If we are healthy, remember some people were destined from conception for an uphill struggle against disability.

If we have never heard the sound of bombs exploding in our neighborhood, remember there are places where war has been almost nonstop for decades.

If we have looked out our bedroom windows at some curious noise and then gone back to sleep, remember the Atatianna Jackon’s who were shot for doing the very same thing.

Remember and lament.

And then when Monday comes, when we step back into the regular world of work and life, let us do everything we can to make it better, to extend the blessings we enjoy to an ever wider circle of humanity.

Let’s do what we can to answer the cry of How Long? That arises from our own hearts and all those who suffer.

Let us partner with God in hastening the day of peace.

Rich People and Jesus

Sermon for Green Lake Church, Sabbath, June 15, 2019


The Gospel of Matthew, chapter 4: 

Jesus left Judea and returned to Galilee. 
This fulfilled the word of the prophet Isaiah: 
In Galilee where so many Gentiles live, 
the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light. 
And on those who lived in the land of the shadow of death 
a light has dawned. 
From then on Jesus began to preach, 
"Repent and turn to God, 
for the Kingdom of Heaven is near." 

One day as Jesus was walking along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers--Peter and Andrew--throwing a net into the water, for they were fishermen. 
Jesus called out to them, 
"Come, follow me, 
and I will show you how to fish for people!" 
At once, they left their nets and followed him. 
A little farther up the shore he saw two other brothers, James and John, sitting in a boat with their father, Zebedee, repairing their nets. Jesus called them to come, too. 
Immediately, leaving the boat and their father behind, they followed him.

Jesus traveled throughout the region of Galilee, 
teaching in the synagogues 
and announcing the Good News about the Kingdom. 
He healed every kind of disease and illness. 
News about him spread as far as Syria, 
and people soon began bringing to him all who were sick. 
And whatever their sickness or disease, or if they were demon possessed or epileptic or paralyzed--he healed them all. 
Large crowds followed him wherever he went--people from Galilee, the Ten Towns, Jerusalem, from all over Judea, and from east of the Jordan River.  
(Matthew 4:12-25 paraphrased and elided.) 

On the people sitting in darkness, a light dawned.
Morning came.

Jesus visited towns throughout the region of Galilee and everywhere he went joy sprouted up like flowers in a Seattle spring after the gloom of winter. You could trace his route by the noise of jubilation and happiness and excitement.

If we were to set this story in our world, Jesus would travel around Washington. Leaving Seattle he would travel to Aberdeen and Forks and Morton and Darrington. In every town he would heal people of cancer and heroin addiction. He would fix genetic disorders and cure schizophrenia and bi-polar disorder. Can you imagine the joy?

Now, imagine that you were a young person, two years into your career at Amazon or Paccar, and Jesus invited you to leave your job and come assist him in healing cancer and heroin addiction and genetic disorders and schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. Would you do it?

I think so.

If  you could not bring yourself to step off the career path and join the Jesus Movement, you would say no with deep regret. You would have wished you had the guts, the courage, the daring, to be part of something so grand, so epic.

A couple of months ago I was sitting with a group of strangers. The conversation turned to Alex Honnold and the movie Free Solo about his climb of El Capitan. I had said something about my own climbing back when I was young, before I had children and had to think about the responsibilities of being a parent. Somebody, a young person, asked if I had been a dirt bagger. I laughed with embarrassed regret. Clearly I had exaggerated my youthful adventures.

“No,” I said, “I was never a dirt bagger. Not even close.”

You know what a dirt bagger is, right? According to the Urban Dictionary, a dirt bagger is someone “who casts off the restraints of a conventional life to pursue their passion (usually something dangerous and off the wall like base jumping, rock climbing, surfing etc.) Often you will find them living in vans, buses, caves or tents. Usually broke but always smiling.

Peter and Andrew, James and John, were holy dirt baggers. They left their conventional lives, their careers, and joined Jesus living out of his van--spreading jubilation, excitement, happiness--healing, restoration, recovery.

If you were young again, and you were invited to be a dirt bagger with Jesus, how could you resist such an invitation? And if you did resist. If you decided to stay on at Google or Bank of America or the University, every time you remembered saying no, you would feel a twinge of regret. What would it have been like to be part of the joy train led by Jesus?

Peter and Andrew, James and John, were young people. So we might think, being a dirt bagger with Jesus was just for young people. But there is a fascinating passage in the Gospel of Luke.

Jesus began a tour, preaching and announcing the Good News about the Kingdom of God. He took his twelve disciples with him, along with some women who had been cured of evil spirits and diseases. Among them were Mary Magdalene, from whom he had cast out seven demons;  Joanna, the wife of Chuza, Herod's business manager; Susanna; and many others who were contributing from their own resources to support Jesus and his disciples. Luke 8:1-3, paraphrased and elided.

Tradition imagines Jesus male disciples, The Twelve, as mostly young. But these women, are generally regarded as older, middle-aged women who had husbands and families and still became temporary dirt baggers with Jesus--with this important difference. Dirt baggers are usually dirt poor. These women were not poor. In fact, the text specifically says they were wealthy. They had money to fund the Jesus campaign.

Which brings us to one obvious application of the Gospel to us--to us who have careers and houses and investments and the obligations of being parents and grandparents and caregivers:

The jubilation train that was the ministry of Jesus was built squarely on the foundation of people like you and me who did not leave their nets and their boats and follow Jesus. People who were at least relatively rich and had the resources needed to support Jesus' ministry.

Jesus declared he owned nothing, not even a place to lay his head. But he did sleep and eat--which means he counted on rich friends.

One time he borrowed a boat as a platform for preaching to a crowd gathered at the beach.
Someone had to have the boat so he could borrow it.
Jesus had friends near Jerusalem, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, who owned a house and gave him a welcome place to stay away from the stress of the conflict with the ruling elites. Jesus counted on Martha’s hospitality and Mary’s sweet attentiveness and Lazarus friendship.
In Jericho, Jesus invited himself and his disciples to the home of Zacchaeus, a wealthy man who had a large enough place to entertain the entire crew.
For his grand entry into Jerusalem just a few days before he died, Jesus borrowed a donkey from a stranger.
And finally, when he was executed, it was two rich men, Nicodmus and Joseph, who provided a decent burial.

The ministry of Jesus was entirely dependent on the generosity of rich people--rich people who did not become holy dirt baggers, rich people who did not leave their homes and careers and responsibilities, people who used their wealth to enable the glorious ministry that could best be described as the glorious light of dawn on a dark world.

All of us can be part of the shining, glorious ministry of Jesus.

Last Sabbath Karin and I visited someone in the hospital. The patient had made a lot of money and had given away a lot of money and then had experienced serious financial reverses. He was battling a serious illness and had traveled to Seattle for treatment. While here his family stayed in a place provided by the Green Lake Church Housing Ministry. In his former life, free housing would have been unneeded. But now, a free place to stay made a big difference, offering some measure of ease in this very difficult time. 

Your generosity housed that family. Your generosity was the ministry of Jesus, the ministry of healing.

On the fourth Sunday of the month, you serve a meal to about 70 people whose lives are so hard, they show up in a church basement, hungry.

When you put money in the blue buckets you are easing the weight of life for orphans in Thailand.

I cannot recount all the ways you participate in the ministry of Jesus. But I can say this: Keep it up. Jesus needs you. Just like he needed Martha and Zacchaeus and Nicodmus and Joseph and the strangers who owned the donkey and the fisherman who lent him a boat and the kid who gave up his lunch.

Two thousand years ago, Jesus counted on his rich friends. They enabled his spectacular ministry.

Jesus still needs rich friends.

And that is who we are.

Secrets of the Kingdom of Heaven

Green Lake Church, June 8

Texts:
Proverbs 3:13-17
Matthew 13:10-17


[Pro 3:13-17 NLT] 13 Joyful is the person who finds wisdom, the one who gains understanding. 14 For wisdom is more profitable than silver, and her wages are better than gold. 15 Wisdom is more precious than rubies; nothing you desire can compare with her. 16 She offers you long life in her right hand, and riches and honor in her left. 17 She will guide you down delightful paths; all her ways are satisfying.

[Mat 13:10-16 NLT] 10 His disciples came and asked him, "Why do you use parables when you talk to the people?" 11 He replied, "You are permitted to understand the secrets of the Kingdom of Heaven, but others are not. 12 To those who listen to my teaching, more understanding will be given, and they will have an abundance of knowledge. But for those who are not listening, even what little understanding they have will be taken away from them. 13 That is why I use these parables, For they look, but they don't really see. They hear, but they don't really listen or understand. 14 This fulfills the prophecy of Isaiah that says, 'When you hear what I say, you will not understand. When you see what I do, you will not comprehend. 15 For the hearts of these people are hardened, and their ears cannot hear, and they have closed their eyes--so their eyes cannot see, and their ears cannot hear, and their hearts cannot understand, and they cannot turn to me and let me heal them.' 16 "But blessed are your eyes, because they see; and your ears, because they hear.



“To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given.

These are words spoken by Jesus to his disciples.

You have been given access to a secret. They have not. You know because it was told to you. You did not discover this secret. You did not figure it out. It is not a code that you deciphered. The knowledge was given to you. The secret was revealed to you.

So count yourself blessed. Privileged.

What is this secret that belongs to the disciples of Jesus? What is the secret of the Kingdom of Heaven.

Many of Jesus’ teachings are not unique.

“Tell the truth.” This is not an especially “Christian” idea. Buddhists, Muslims, many atheists, Hindus--people from all kinds of religious and philosophical backgrounds agree that we ought to tell the truth.

Jesus gave truth telling special prominence. He said we will be judged by every word that we speak. Words matter. Telling the truth matters. But even if Jesus hadn’t told us, we would still know that.

“Honor your parents.” Jesus highlighted the fact that this obligation takes precedence over religious acts. He pointedly challenged the hyper-religious people of his day: Don’t give money to the church if that money is needed to provide proper care for your parents. Still, it’s obvious that we don’t have to be Christian to know that we ought to care for our parents. Many cultures teach this. Many practice this.

What is the special Secret of the Kingdom? What is the insider knowledge that is available to the citizens of the kingdom of heaven? It’s important to note that this knowledge is not attained. It’s not acquired. Jesus told his disciples the Secret was given to them. It was a gift, not an accomplishment.

The secret is not a formula. It is not a theological treatise. Jesus told us the secret by telling stories.

The phrase the secrets of the Kingdom of heaven is found in Matthew chapter 13. but the collection of stories that I think best illustrates what the secret is is found in the Gospel of Luke chapter 15.
A collection of three stories.

For some of us these stories are deeply familiar. we imagine everyone knows the stories like we do. but I know that some among us here today are not so familiar with those stories. So I'd like to tell them again. If you know the stories well join me in your hearts and let's rehearse them again. If you are not familiar with these stories please hear them is the very heart of the secrets of the Kingdom of heaven as the special Jewel the lies at the heart of the teachings of Jesus.

There was a shepherd who had a hundred sheep. At evening when he penned them up for the night, one was missing. He secured the 99 in the pen then headed back out into the dark to hunt for the lost sheep. He refused to come home until he found his sheep. And when he found his sheep he did not throw a temper tantrum about the stupid sheep that kept him up half the night. No. He woke up his neighbors so they could celebrate with him. "I found my sheep!" he said.

God is that kind of shepherd.

Some of Jesus’ critics complained that he hung out with unsavory people. Jesus did not pretend the people he was hanging out with were “all right.” Of course, they were messed up. They were sick. Sick in their souls. Sick in their minds. Sick in their social habits. But then, Jesus said, I’m a doctor. And where do you expect to find the doctor . . . with sick people, obviously.

God is that kind of doctor.

Jesus saw his city, his people, headed toward ruin. He could see that the Jewish people were going to self-destruct. He did not whip up anger. He did not encourage disgust or resentment. Instead, he offered this lament:

O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often I have called. I long to gather you to myself like a mother hen summoning her chicks.

God is a mother hen.

The sun shines on good people and bad people.

That is God smiling on all God’s children.

Birds find their dinners and that is God feeding them. Flowers are exquisitely perfumed and extravagantly dressed and that is evidence of the generosity and care of God.
This is the secret of the kingdom of heaven. God is generous.

The kingdom of heaven is like a woman who had ten coins--her entire wealth, her security. She lost one. When she didn't immediately find it she emptied her house and swept it until she found it. God is the woman and we are the coin. When we are lost God searches and God finds. He does not quit searching until he finds.

Note that the woman's well being was bound up with that coin. The queen was not dispensable. Her searching innocence was not voluntary. She had to have that coin. She could not let it go. So God is with us. We matter to God. God would be diminished to lose us. And to lose our neighbors. And to lose our enemies.

Refugees on our southern border are precious coins to God.

Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh fleeing ethnic cleansing in Burma are coins to God.

The homeless people here in our midst who create such a mess and are such a problem, they, too, are coins. They are precious to God. And thus, because we are part of the family of God, they are precious to us . . . even if we scratch our heads wondering how to manage them.

This week we have seen pictures of the American president and the English queen. Lots of glitter. Lots of evident wealth and power. This is how the world works. Comfort and money flows to the top.

We imagine God is like that. But the secret of the kingdom of heaven is that God is like a mother whose heart is owned by her child--whether that child is an accomplished scientist or brilliant musician or is in and out of jail with the problems associated with mental illness. Every human is a precious coin. Our distress distresses God. Our needs haunt the heart of God. The important story is not the state dinner with its important personages and silver and china. The story that holds the attention of God is the plight of his lost coins.

The last story is the story of two sons and a father. The title of the story is The Prodigal Son. A man's younger son asked for his share of the father's inheritance, a shocking, disgraceful request. Astonishingly, the father says yes. He gives the younger son his inheritance in cash. The soon takes off for a far country to where he wastes his money on wine, women, and song. Of course, his money runs out. There is a recession and the son hires himself out to a farmer as a swineherd--a pig feeder. He is so hungry he's envious of the pigs for their food.
Eventually, in his desperation, it occurs to him that the servants in his Father's house are much better off than he is. I will go home and apply for a job as a servant. As he approaches home his father races out the door to greet him, wraps him in a rich embrace, calls for a servant to bring a robe and a ring for his finger. He orders the preparation of feast to celebrate his son's return.

Meanwhile, his older brother has been out working on the farm. When he comes back to the house and finds party preparations underway he is outraged. This scoundrel who wasted your money and insulted you! You are throwing a party for him?

The father goes out to persuade the older son to come into the party.

He reassures his older son. Look the entire estate is yours. But my son was dead and now he is alive. How could I not throw a party?

What is God like? God loves even warring brothers. God loves the scoundrels. And God loves those who are annoyed by the scoundrels. God loves all his sons and all his daughters and the way a model parent does.

This is the secret of the Kingdom of heaven. You are precious. I am precious. And they are precious. Because we all are children of God.

This is the secret we have been given. Let's pass it on.

Wrench Ministers

Sermon for Green Lake Church, June 1, 2019.

Texts

Exodus 23:1-9

Matthew 6:1-8

On the second day of our trip to the desert the air conditioning quit working. Karin said, “We cannot do this trip without air conditioning!”

It was Friday. We were in northern Utah driving south toward St.George where our tour started on Sunday. What to do?

While I drove, Karin called Gerry Bryant, Elyse Lambeth’s dad. He has lived in St. George for a long time. Could he recommend a mechanic that might be able to fix our air conditioning. Gerry gave us the number for Redlands Auto Repair.

Karin called the mechanic and explained our problem. I could manage the tour on Monday without the truck, was there a chance they could they could work us in?

When I dropped the truck off on Monday morning, and talked with the owner, Dan, I realized he was the same mechanic who had rescued me on a previous trip, in a different vehicle.

Sure enough, before lunch, he called and said the truck was ready go.

Saved!

That’s what mechanics do. They save vacations. When you take very old vehicles on very long road trips, it is not uncommon to need some assistance. And over the years I’ve developed a profound appreciation for the skill and willingness of auto mechanics. I think of them as ministers and imagine wrenches as the symbol of their craft (though, in today’s world, a computer might be an even more relevant symbol).

Wrench ministers.

In the Adventist Church we have long honored the work of teachers and health professionals as authentic ministry. The work of healing and teaching is no less “Christian,” no less an expression of the mission of Jesus and his church than is the ministry of preaching and praying.

One of our prophet’s books is titled, Ministry of Healing. I’d like to write a new book titled Ministry of Auto Repair or more simply Ministry of Wrenches.  

On our Talking Rocks tour, we spent time considering the grand questions of theology--God, nature, prayer, spiritual life, cosmology, philosophy of science. It was church in the wilderness. But we needed our cars to get there. And people like Dan make cars work so we can venture out into the wild places and hold our deep conversations.

Over the years I've broken down on the road a number of times. I've been touched by the willingness of mechanics to set aside more routine work and deal with my emergency and get me back on the road. It's what they do. I honor them for it.

The ministry of wrenches.

Ordinary goodness. And a beautiful model of godliness.

Our Old Testament reading today gave us a list of rules for righteous living. Notice how earthy they are. The heart of our religion is not complicated, abstract theories about the nature of the universe and the hidden activity of God. The core of our faith is devotion to simple, concrete goodness.

You must not pass along false rumors. Facebook? Political accusations? Theological accusations? Just this week, a friend from a church far away from here emailed me about a problem in their church. The pastor had chosen a book for their small group discussion. Someone in the church “had heard” that the author of the book had some unacceptable ideas. On their face, the accusations were highly unlikely. When I asked about their source, it turns out the person spreading the accusations was a collector of heresy rumors. They did not bother to verify them. It was so satisfying to whisper the rumor. Do do that.

You must not cooperate with evil people by lying on the witness stand.

You must not follow the crowd in doing wrong.

When you are called to testify in a dispute, do not be swayed by the crowd to twist justice.

Do not slant your testimony in favor of a person just because that person is poor.

Even if your motive is “good” don’t bend the truth. Facts matter.

If you come upon your enemy's ox or donkey that has strayed away, take it back to its owner.

If you see that the donkey of someone who hates you has collapsed under its load, do not walk by. Instead, stop and help.

Do the right thing because it’s the right thing.

In a lawsuit, you must not deny justice to the poor.

Earlier, we were reminded to tell the truth. Don’t bend the facts out of “compassion.” On the other hand, beware of the power of wealth to skew public justice. Legal outcomes should be based on justice not how much money one has to employ legal counsel.

Be sure never to charge anyone falsely with evil. Never sentence an innocent or blameless person to death, for I never declare a guilty person to be innocent.

"You must not oppress foreigners. You know what it's like to be a foreigner, for you yourselves were once foreigners in the land of Egypt.

Nearly all of us have been in trouble sometime and needed help. Remember that when confronted with human need. We cannot meet every human need. But we can remember that neediness is part of the human condition--part of OUR human condition when we are responding to needy people. Like Seattle, Salt Lake City has a large population of street people. In the part of town where my daughter lives addicts are plainly visible. Desperate people are on the sidewalks. My first reaction was disgust. Come on, people, get your life together! Then I remembered my highway emergencies. The only way I could get my life together was with the very substantial help of skilled professionals. Maybe some of these street people fit in that same category.

Exodus 23:1ff

Now I want to turn our attention to our New Testament text.

When you give to someone in need, don't let your left hand know what your right hand is doing. Give your gifts in private, and your Father, who sees everything, will reward you.

When you pray, go away by yourself, shut the door behind you, and pray to your Father in private. Then your Father, who sees everything, will reward you. When you pray, don't babble on and on as people of other religions do. They think their prayers are answered merely by repeating their words again and again. Don't be like them, for your Father knows exactly what you need even before you ask him!

Matthew 6:ff NLT

After our tour we drove east to Kansas for our oldest daughter’s graduation. We had a grand time. Then we helped her with her house. She had just a couple of weeks earlier gotten some water in her basement for the first time in all the time she had lived there. So, I got busy addressing drainage issues on the property. Her kitchen cabinets badly needed attention, so Karin worked on restoring them. We spent several days working on the house--why? Because that’s what parents do.

We see needs in our kids lives and we take action.

Jesus used this kind of instinctive parental action as a picture of God. When we pray, we expect God to hear because that what a good father does. When we are in trouble we expect help from God because we’ve always counted on Mom.

What is God like? God is like a responsive, capable mother or father.

That is the consistent, explicit teaching of Jesus.

What does it mean to live godly lives? What does holiness and righteousness look like? Performing ordinary acts of goodness. Like the goodness described in our Old Testament passage. Like the goodness practice by auto mechanics who respond to travelers in trouble.

All of us have skills we can use to ease another person’s emergency.

Let’s be like God. Let’s  do it.