Prosecutors and Defense Attorneys

This week has featured drama involving both prosecutors and defense attorneys.

My sermon manuscript, which I wrote on Tuesday, features only a defense attorney. When I preach at church this morning I will include something about the prosecutor in the Trayvon Martin case who announced the murder charge this week.

There is an appropriate role for both prosecution and defense, for the stern upholding of justice and the protection and redemption of the accused.

I think our primary role as followers of Jesus is closer to that of a defense attorney than a prosecutor.

A request to readers.  If you think it appropriate, would you mind posting a link to this blog on facebook some time? I'd really appreciate it.

Thanks.

John

Defense Minister

Defense Minister (in contrast to a Minister for the Prosecution)

More than two thirds of the front page of the Sunday Seattle Times was devoted to a profile of a defense attorney, John Henry Browne. The occasion for the coverage was Mr. Browne's signing on as counsel for the defense for Army Staff Sgt. Robert Bales, the soldier charged with killing 17 Afghan civilians. (Seattle Times, Sunday, April 8, 2012).

I read the head line, “Dynamic Defender,” the subtitle mentioning Sgt. Bales and the caption under the large photo: “John Henry Browne, 65, has been doing criminal defense work since the 1970s.”

I didn't have the stomach to read more. How can you defend someone who has killed men, women and little children in a horrific massacre?

But that is what defense attorneys do. In our system, it is the job of prosecutors to investigate and denounce human evil, human failings and to call for punishment. It is the job of defense attorneys to counter the accusations of the prosecutors. First, if possible, the defense attorney attempts to prove the accusations are false. Bobby didn't do it. He was somewhere else. You've got the wrong person. If that doesn't work, then the defense will argue Bobby didn't do it on purpose. It was an accident, a tragic mistake. The defense might argue it was self-defense. If none of that will fly, a last resort might be to argue insanity. Bobby was on medication. Or should have been on medication. Bobby was so traumatized by childhood abuse or his brain was so damaged in an automobile accident or his mind was so warped by the strain and chaos and trauma of war that he is not fully responsible for his actions.

Of course, the prosecutor will have none of this. Bobby did it. Bobby is fully responsible. Bobby must be punished—both because he deserves punishment and as an example to other potential wrongdoers.

There is a similar division among preachers. Some specialize in prosecution. They speak forcefully of human evil, human failure. They lament human nature. They insist damnation is the default destiny of humanity. Only a few will be rescued from this natural and miserable condition.

Other preachers are defense ministers. They specialize in grace and graciousness. They look for evidence of saving faith in people who are apparently unbelievers. They celebrate human goodness because it mirrors and illuminates divine mercy and generosity. They believe salvation is the default destiny of human beings. (If God is savior, do we expect him to succeed or fail in his job?)

I am unabashedly a defense minister.

Christian prosecutors often begin by calling Paul to the witness stand. They ask him if he really wrote these words:

As the Scriptures say, "No one is righteous— not even one.

No one is truly wise; no one is seeking God.

All have turned away; all have become useless. No one does good, not a single one." Romans 3:10-12. Paul is quoting from Psalms 14:1-3; 53:1-3 (Greek version).

"They rush to commit murder. 15

Destruction and misery always follow them. Romans 3:15-16

Paul is quoting from Isaiah 59:7-8.

"They have no fear of God at all." Romans 3:18.

Paul is quoting from Psalm 36:1

Paul answers, Yes, of course, he wrote these words. And even more than that, they are not just his own words. He quoted them from the Bible, from the Old Testament.

If we stopped here and rendered a verdict, we'd be ready to convict—ourselves, our neighbors, our friends in the church, our classmates at school, everybody: No one is righteous. No one is seeking God. They are all turned away. They are all worthless!

Who can argue? This is the clear word of God.

But then the defense calls David to the stand. David is the Old Testament prophet Paul cited.

The defense reads the passage Paul quoted, Psalm 14.

The LORD looks down from heaven on the entire human race; he looks to see if anyone is truly wise, if anyone seeks God. But no, all have turned away; all have become corrupt. No one does good, not a single one! Psalm 14:2-3

Defense to David: Did you really write this passage?

David: Yes.

Defense: Did you also write this:

The LORD judges the nations. Declare me righteous, O LORD, for I am innocent, O Most High! Psalm 7:8. (Note this is not justification in the classic Pauline/Augustinian/Reformed/Lutheran sense. The psalmist is not asking to “declare” him as righteous even though he is not. Rather the psalmist is asking God to acknowledge the reality of his situation: he is innocent. The RSV puts it this way: “The LORD judges the peoples; judge me, O LORD, according to my righteousness and according to the integrity that is in me.” This is not an “alien righteousness,” it is an inner, personally-owned righteousness and integrity.)

And this:

God is my shield, saving those whose hearts are true and right. Psalm 7:10.

David: Yes, of course, I did.

Defense: So how do you reconcile these two statements: “There is none righteous, no not one” and “Declare me righteous, O Lord, because I am innocent?”

David, laughing: If you are going to understand a writer, especially a poet, you can't just go with a few selected passages. Poets say things colorfully and forcefully to seize attention and provoke thoughtfulness. They never imagine that one poem will capture the whole of reality.

Defense: For the record, did you also write Psalm 14?

David: Yes, of course.

The Defense Minister reads:

The Lord led me to a place of safety; he rescued me because he delights in me.

The LORD rewarded me for doing right; he restored me because of my innocence.

For I have kept the ways of the LORD; I have not turned from my God to follow evil.

I have followed all his regulations; I have never abandoned his decrees.

I am blameless before God; I have kept myself from sin.

The LORD rewarded me for doing right. He has seen my innocence. Psalm 18:19-24.

Commentary: Wow! David says he had not turned from God to chase evil. David had followed God. David had followed all God's regulations. David claimed he was blameless. Obviously, David's statement, “there is none righteous, no not one,” needs to be balanced by his declaration that he himself was blameless and that he was part of a category of people “whose hearts are true and right.”

The defense minister calls Paul back to the stand.

Defense: “The prosecutor quoted you as saying, 'No seeks after God. . . . No one does good, not a single one.' Did you mean that literally or were you using poetic license?”

Paul: Didn't you read the end of my letter? The very people I was writing to, the church people in the city of Rome, were good people. I said so, plainly.”

I am fully convinced, my dear brothers and sisters, that you are full of goodness. You know these things so well you can teach each other all about them. Romans 15:14

I also affirmed the generosity of the church people in Greece:

For you see, the believers in Macedonia and Achaia have eagerly taken up an offering for the poor among the believers in Jerusalem. Romans 15:26.

In another of my letters I commented on the goodness of the church people in Philippi. They were so good, they deserved a reward from heaven for their generosity.

Even when I was in Thessalonica you sent help more than once. I don't say this because I want a gift from you. Rather, I want you to receive a reward for your kindness. Philippians 4:16-17

So obviously, I did not mean for my readers to take “no one seeks God” as a factual, literal statement.

Paul and David, the primary sources of the classic Pauline/Augustinian/Lutheran/Reformed prosecution of humanity, counter their own statements about human depravity with affirmations of human goodness.

But as great as Paul and David are, they are not the last word. That honor goes to Jesus.

Jesus did give strong rebukes. But this was exceptional. His normal pattern, the vast majority of his communication, was to encourage and to instruct. Condemnation was not his style. When the Pharisees accused Jesus to his disciples, Jesus shut them down. When the Pharisees accused Jesus' disciples to Jesus, Jesus shut them down. When an untouchable woman violated the law and touched Jesus, instead of rebuking her, he healed her, then publicly defended her violation. (Matthew 9).

When the Pharisees accused Jesus' disciples of breaking the Sabbath (an accusation that was rooted in the explicit words of God in the OT), Jesus defended his disciples. He based his argument in their defense on a creative and controversial interpretation of an obscure story in the OT (Matthew 12).

When the Pharisees accused the disciples of violating the ancient practice of handwashing before eating, Jesus dismissed the distinctive Jewish (religious) practice as trivial compared to the great moral principle of taking care of one's parents—a duty that Gentiles would recognize, and good Gentiles would practice (Matthew 15).

There is a pronounced pattern here: Pharisees condemn; Jesus defends. Religious zealots prosecute. Jesus defends.

I stand with Jesus. If other Christians feel they are called to stand with Jesus in those exceptional times when he did confront and condemn, who am I to argue with their calling. But my calling is to the ministry of defense.

I think most people are rather like the woman in John 8 who was surrounded by devout accusers. What she needed was a defender. Jesus explicitly rejected condemnation as a strategy in ministering to her. Before she gave any sign of repentance or even remorse, Jesus said, “I do not condemn you.”

When the woman sneaked into Simon's party and showed her affection and appreciation in a completely scandalous manner, Jesus defended her from the accusations that came from respectable, religious people—other guests at the dinner, the disciples, Judas. The “good people” scolding this woman for her failure to adhere to higher standards of decorum and life management joined Judas. Jesus joined the woman.

I stand with Jesus.

As a minister of defense.

He Is Living

Preliminary draft for a sermon at North Hill Adventist Fellowship. Sabbath, April 7, 2012.

Jesus was dead. That much was clear. He had been crucified, hung on a cross until dead. His death was certified by the supervising Roman centurion. Then, to make doubly sure, the soldiers stabbed him. He was dead all right.

So they buried him. It was a hurried burial. He died late in the day. Usually preparations for burial took some time, but they pushed and got it done before sundown.

They spent Sabbath grieving.

They – the eleven disciples.

They – women so captivated by the dignity, purity, power and gentleness of Jesus that they broke with millennia of tradition and left the households controlled by their husbands, fathers, brothers, sons or uncles and formed a sorority devoted to serving Jesus. They had traveled with Jesus up and down Palestine. They had walked with him to Jerusalem. They had been there on Friday afternoon through the torment of the crucifixion.

They – blacksmiths and carpenters, farmers and sheep herders, spinners and weavers, doctors and lawyers, teachers, rabbis, priests, widows and teenagers, life-long citizens of Jerusalem and visitors – dozens, scores, hundreds, (thousands?) of men and women who had been persuaded Jesus was the answer to two thousand years of theological dreaming and prophesying.

Some of these people saw Jesus as the distillation of the entire religion of Yahweh. What he said about God connected with their deepest convictions. The way he interacted with people was their model of the way people are supposed to interact with one another. Jesus acted like God would act if he suddenly appeared in the temple bearing his name. The hope and sweetness Jesus preached had become the light of their lives.

Now, as the scraped with infuriating slowness across the Sabbath sky, they tormented themselves with questions. How was that the man who embodied the best and brightest of religion and spirituality was now in a cave carved into the side of a limestone cliff and closed with a massive rolling rock?

It was a dark day. Made worse by the forced inactivity of the Sabbath.

Then it was Sunday morning. Mary and several other women headed out to the tomb. Because of the quick burial on Friday, they felt there was more to be done to fully prepare Jesus' body for its sojourn in the grave. And more than that, they were coming to the grave to grieve. Friday, they had been hurried. Now they would have time to just sit and grieve. Time to remember Jesus with woman-talk and with silence. Time to rehearse the dreams they had dreamed. To recount stories from their months of traveling with Jesus. They were going to grieve his death and remember his life. And there was so much to remember.

While they were on their way, but before they came within sight of the tomb, there was a terrifying earthquake. Perhaps they cowered as the ground shook. Most of us would have. Then they were walking up the path toward the tomb itself. The grave was open! The stone had been moved!

What did that mean? Who could have done such a thing? Why? Was it the earthquake?

They didn't have to play detective. At the tomb, an angel was waiting for them. "Don't be afraid!” he said. “I know you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He isn't here! He is risen from the dead, just as he said would happen. Come, see where his body was lying.” Matthew 28:5-6.

I imagine the women went and looked. They saw the bench where Jesus' body had been laid on Friday. They saw the folded grave clothes. Yes, Jesus had been there. This was the right tomb. And No, he wasn't there. The place was empty. Risen, according to the angel. Jesus was alive!

The angel did not need to add the next sentence. But he did say it. And the women remembered it and told it every time they repeated the story. The angel said, “Now, go quickly and tell his disciples that he has risen from the dead, and he is going ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there. Mark my words!” (Matthew 28:7).

The women ran quickly from the tomb. They were very frightened but also filled with great joy, and they rushed to give the disciples the angel's message. And as they went, Jesus met them and greeted them. And they ran to him, grasped his feet, and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, "Don't be afraid! Go tell my brothers to leave for Galilee, and they will see me there." Matthew 28:8-10

The first Christians—the first people to believe that Jesus was risen from the dead, the first people to believe that Jesus was not a tragic failure but a glorious success—were women.

They saw the empty tomb and were instructed by the angel, “Go tell his disciples he is risen.” They raced away with the news, “The grave is empty and an angel told us . . .” Then while they were racing away from the empty tomb, they met HIM. They met Jesus. And Jesus, too, gave them a message for his disciples. “Go tell my brothers to leave for Galilee, and they will see me there.”

(Paul ran into some problem that he thought he could solve by prohibiting women from speaking God's message to men. Silly Paul, Jesus himself chose women to be his first witnesses. Jesus spoke to his church first through women. Why would Paul think he could improve on Jesus' example?)

The women delivered the message. The book of Matthew ends with Jesus appearing to his disciples. Unlike the unanimous, joyous belief of the women, this group included skeptics, doubtful believers. Their skepticism did not stop Jesus from commissioning all of them to carry forward his work.

We, too, a mixed group of believers and skeptics, saints and sinners, sweet hearts and jerks—we are called by Jesus to live in the light of the resurrection. Jesus is alive. His teachings are relevant. He asks us to teach the world everything he commanded us.

Hundreds of years after Jesus, the Christian world developed a tradition called Lent. It was a forty day period for self-examination and self-denial. It invited us to participate deeply in the sufferings of Jesus. I'd like to propose a different forty day practice. Forty days of contemplation of the Risen Jesus.

What does it mean for us, today, that Jesus is alive?

First, the prophets of doom are wrong. When we give undue attention to the prophets of doom—whether they are religious or secular—whether they are Adventist evangelists distorting crime statistics or talk radio hosts of the left and right rubbing our faces in the mud of social and political dysfunction—when we surrender ourselves to the charisma of doomsayers we are denying the central truth of the resurrection. Jesus is alive. Truth, justice, goodness, and mercy will win. They are winning, even now. Jesus is marching toward victory.

Which brings us to a second key ingredient in the teachings of Jesus: we have a job to do. We are to bring the influence of the kingdom of heaven to our space in the world. To our own homes and families, to our neighbors, our co-workers, our classmates. When we engage in political discourse, we are to heed Jesus' counsels to avoid judging and to do to others what we would have them do to us. I'm not even hinting that Jesus' words or the words of the OT provide a formula for fixing the problems of the world. They don't.

Rather Jesus voiced grand principles that should permeate all areas of our of lives.

Jesus lives. This is the central conviction of Christianity. Saying it, especially in our world is easy. The test of our faith is our lives. Jesus invites us to live with the joy, confidence and compassion that naturally arises from our confidence that Jesus lives and is winning the great struggle against evil.

The Devil will not win. Evil will not win. Chaos will not triumph. Jesus will.

2000 years ago, Jesus turned an apparent tragedy into the greatest demonstration ever of the power of God. They killed him. They buried him in a hole carved in limestone and sealed the grave with a stone. But he rose. He lives.  Every thing we do to advance goodness, compassion, justice, mercy, generosity and benevolence is a an affirmation of that truth.

He is risen indeed.

Devotional Practice

Most mornings, I head outside, find my stool, and sit with my hands on my knees and my face to the sky. I spend half an hour sitting quietly, breathing the words of Jesus to John in Revelation 1:4, “Grace and peace.”

I practice receiving the blessing of God's grace and peace. I thank God for it. I enjoy the truth of it. I savor it. My mind wanders. I bring it back to these sweet words and the sweeter truth they voice. After that first half hour, I spend the next half hour praying for the people of my parish (very broadly imagined), for several church presidents, for my family.

I end my time by inviting God to fill me and use me. My final words are, “Make me an agent of your kingdom today.”

A few miscellaneous details: I aim to be on my stool before the last stars fade. Some weeks I'm there every day; other weeks it's three or four days. When it's cold, I wear multiple layers and warm myself by sips from my thermos. When it rains, I sit under an overhang of the barn roof.

Over the past forty-five years, I have engaged in some kind of devotions practice most mornings. I have read the Bible through. I have used various methods for slow, thoughtful reading—lectio divina, journaling, use of commentaries, concordance studies, reading EGW books, and classics of Christian devotional literature. The practice I describe above has been my habit for the last couple of years.

If you are looking for some way to give God, goodness and sweetness greater access to the core of your being, I recommend making some regular time for devotional practice. Just as regular practice is the customary foundation for cultivating art, music, physical health, a good marriage, etc, so it is the usual foundation for healthy spiritual life.

Do Not Kill

Sermon for North Hill Adventist Fellowship

Sabbath, March 24, 2012

Ezekiel 33:13-16

On face book this week, I've watched a young friend count down the hours till she could watch The Hunger Games which is opening at theaters across the country this weekend. From my reading of plot summaries, killing is central to the movie. In fact, killing is the key to life.

Last week when Karin and I were on vacation, we watched a John Wayne movie, True Grit. It, too, glorified deadly violence. For the hero, pointing a gun is his normal way of getting things done. The hero is dismissive of his sidekick, because he's not a very good killer. Even the female in the story--a teenager--is infatuated with violence. In her case it is the violence of deadly revenge. As in The Hunger Games, so in this movie (and in many Westerns) killing is the key to success. It is the key to life.  (A young friend told me I should make it clear that I was watching the original John Wayne version of True Grit, not the more recent remake. From what several people have told me, I would be even more troubled by the remake than the original--and that was repugnant enough.)

Is that true? Is killing the key to life? Is killing an effective tool for building the kingdom of God, for creating the sweet, good world we want for ourselves and our children?

Just this week I received an an email from a friend, asking about the commandment, “Thou shalt not kill.” What is the right way to apply that commandment to real life? It wasn't a hypothetical question.

Jack came upon a couple who were having an intense argument. Just as Joe arrived, the man slugged the woman and knocked her down. When the man went to kick the woman Joe hit him. The guy landed 10-12 feet away, giving Joe room, he said, to get between them. The man got to his feet and pulled a knife and charged. The assailant managed to cut Jack on the face before Joe grabbed the man's wrist and broke it to make him drop the knife.

The man didn't give up. He grabbed his knife with his other hand. So Joe grabbed that arm and dislocated the guys shoulder.

That pretty much stopped it. Finally the police arrived. It turned out the guy had an outstanding warrant. And there was a restraining order from the woman who happened to be his girl friend. The baby was his baby.

Jack was very clear on what he had done up to this point. He did what needed to be done. There was no ambiguity, no confusion. Then Jack asked: Should I have killed him?

Here's the way Jack put it: “The guy was attacking with a knife. He was aiming at my face or neck. That qualifies as deadly force. I could tell he wasn't very skilled which was why I knew I could disarm him easily. His intentions were clear to me, but I did nothing more than hurt him badly for a little while.  I wanted to do more though.  I wanted to kill him and by the laws of man I would have not committed a crime.

“But it is not the laws of man I try to live by.  When I broke his wrist and he went to get his knife, I could have reached into my jacket, pulled out my own knife and killed him or broken his neck instead of removing the arm from the socket. 

“As it is, he will heal, spend time in prison, and then possibly come after the mother and child again.

“Here's my question: Which is a greater sin?  Passing judgment and killing him here and now, or allowing him to live and thus opening the possibility that he might kill someone next time.  If he kills someone in the future then I am guilty of his crime because I did not permanently stop him.  If I try to look on the brighter side, maybe he will stop.  Maybe he will turn out OK and possibly turn to God.  That could happen, but it is rare in my eyes.  If I go with percentages, then I should have stopped him once and for all.”

So how should we think about violence?

Since we are Christians, we know Jesus' famous counsel:

“But I say, do not resist an evil person! If someone slaps you on the right cheek, offer the other cheek also.” Matthew 5:39. NLT

Some of us may also know another text. It's in Psalm 2:7-9. It is a prophecy about the work of the Messiah:

The king proclaims the LORD's decree: "The LORD said to me, 'You are my son.* Today I have become your Father.* Only ask, and I will give you the nations as your inheritance, the whole earth as your possession. You will break* them with an iron rod and smash them like clay pots.'" (NLT)

Footnote: * Greek version reads rule. Compare Rev 2:27.

This text was understood by the Jews as a prophecy of the work of the Messiah. It was understood by Christians as a prophecy about Jesus. These are words about the divinely-appointed work of Jesus: Break them. Smash them. Get rid of evil by annihilating bad people.

In Revelation 2:7, Jesus, in vision, offers this same passage from Psalm 2 as a prophecy about the work of Christians themselves:

To him who overcomes and does my will to the end, I will give authority over the nations.

He will rule them with an iron scepter;

he will dash them to pieces like pottery

just as I have received authority from my Father.

So, on the one hand: Do not resist evil. When someone strikes you on one cheek, offer him the other. On the other: Followers of Jesus will be given authority over the nations. (Another way of saying this is, followers of Jesus will be given power over bad people.) They will smash them.

Have you ever wished you had the power to stomp bad people, to make them pay, to make them feel the weight of the evil they have done to others?

In Westerns, violence is often a straightforward, clean way to deal with bad people. The bad guys are irredeemably bad. The good guy shoots them. And everyone lives happily ever after. It's the same in the famous Bible story of David and Goliath. The good guy wins; the bad guy loses. Or to be more explicit: the good guy kills. The bad guy dies.

That's the way it's supposed to be. But real life doesn't usually work that way.

My guess is that's the way George Zimmerman saw it. He was out to find bad guys, and when he saw Trayvon Martin walking down the street, he thought he had found himself a bad guy. He was excited. He was going to be a hero, stopping a criminal from carrying out whatever nefarious plans he had. George trailed Trayvon—George in his black SUV, feeling smart and powerful—Trayvon walking, at first oblivious to his stalker. Trayvon probably did something George interpreted as confirmation of his suspicions. So George got out of his car to corral the bad guy. When the bad guy did something George wasn't expecting, George whipped out his gun and eliminated the bad guy. Only the “bad guy” wasn't a bad guy. He was simply a teenager, minding his own business, walking home from the store.

George Zimmerman saw the world as a place filled with bad people. He saw himself as a hero. A white knight. But his very effort to be a hero turned him into a monster. George's eagerness to rid the world of bad people led George himself into the depths of evil.

On the other hand, my friend Joe, used violence and I regard him as a hero. And I think if you had been there in the Walmart parking lot, you would have deeply admired his courage and his strength and skill in forcefully subduing that violent man.

How do we integrate all the various things the Bible tells us about violence. How do we find the godly wisdom?

Let's explore a curious story about violence that didn't happen.

When the people of Israel were getting ready to invade Palestine, God gave them emphatic, clear instructions: They were to wipe out the inhabitants. No quarter. No mercy. No exceptions.

When Israel prepared to attack Jericho, God reiterated his command for total annihilation. They were to kill every living thing--every man, woman, child and animal. It was a brutal, savage extermination. And they believed it was something God told them to do.

Next, they destroyed Ai. But this time they didn't kill the animals, just the people.

When the people of the region received news of these two slaughters, they all came together to fight the Israelites. Everybody except for one nation, the Gibeonites.

The Gibeonites sent a delegation to ask for a peace treaty with the Israelites. They were taken to Joshua, the leader of the israelites. Naturally, he interrogated them. “Who are you? Where do you come from?”

The delegation answered, “Your servants have come from a very distant country. Stories of your exploits have reached even as far as our country. We've heard about what your God did to the Egyptians. We've heard how he gave you victory over Sihon King of Heshbon and Og king of Bashan, whose capital was in Astaroth.

“Our elders, and in fact, all our people, commissioned us to come and offer ourselves as vassals. We're prepared to pay tribute. We just want to be on your side. We want to hook up with the God who is able to do what your God does.”

They can see Joshua's suspicion. He's not buying their story. “Look at our bread,” the Gibeonite ambassadors said. When we left home it was fresh out of the oven. See how dry and moldy it is now! These wine skins—when we filled them at home—they were brand new for the trip. Now see how cracked and weathered they are. Our sandals were new. Now, they're worn out. ”

Joshua and his assistants peered at the moldy bread. They ran their hands over the rough, weathered wine skins. They could see the ratty clothes the ambassadors were wearing. No self-respecting ambassador would show up to make a treaty dressed like, they could help it.

Joshua and his men conferred and agreed to make a treaty. Three days after the treaty was formally signed, the Israelites discovered they'd been fooled. The Gibeonites lived only three days travel away from the Israelite camp. They were outraged. The entire army marched the three days journey to the Gibeonite cities and set up camp.

The soldiers wanted to get right to work. They were soldiers. These people were Canaanites. It was extermination time. But Joshua would not let them. “We gave our word,” Joshua said. “And even when it comes to pagans, when we make a promise, we keep it. When we make a treaty, we honor it. When we sign a contract, it's binding.”

The soldiers grumbled against Joshua. There was a threat of mutiny. The entire army was outraged at Joshua's refusal to exterminate these worthless people. But Joshua was adamant. “Yes, they are Canaanites. Yes, they fooled us. No, we are not going to break our word. A treaty is a treaty. An oath is an oath.”

The Gibeonites watched all this nervously, to put it mildly. If Jericho hadn't been able to withstand these people, the Gibeonites didn't have a chance. Their fate was in the hands of Joshua. If he blinked, they were dead.

Joshua summoned the Gibeonite leaders. He was not happy. “Why did you deceive us, saying you lived a long way away? You agreed to tribute. You're going to pay dearly. You'll become our illegal immigrant workers. Well, actually what he said was, you will perpetually serve us as temple woodcutters and water carriers. You will be temple servants for all generations.

The Gibeonites answered, “Your servants had heard definite, detailed reports about the command your God gave you to wipe out all the inhabitants of the land. We've seen your god's power in Egypt and in the battles against Sihon King of Hesbon and Og king of Bashon, and Jericho and Ai. We are helpless against you militarily. We did the only thing we could think of to save our lives. We are in your hands. Do to us whatever seems good and right.

So Joshua saved them.

Note, God's command to wipe out the people of Canaan was so emphatic, so clear, so unmistakable, the pagan people had memorized it. There was nothing fuzzy or ambiguous or uncertain. God declared these people to be bad people, worthless people, people worthy of extermination!

The soldiers wanted to get on with their work. The Gibeonites lied their way into a peace treaty, but even that flimsy excuse was enough to set aside the explicit order of annihilation by God.

Many people in Canaan were killed as a result of God's instructions to wipe them out. But every time God is questioned, every time the killing order is questioned, mercy triumphs.

(The stories of Rahab and Ruth are dramatic examples of God-approved violations of the explicit commands to exterminate or exclude Canaanite people. In the case of Rahab, even though God had told Israel to annihilate every living thing in Jericho, Rahab was spared, and not only Rahab, but her entire clan and anybody else she could cram into her hotel. Ruth, contra Deuteronomy 23, is included in the Messianic lineage.)

The explicit condemnation of God, is set aside on the slightest pretext.

Joshua's soldiers could quote the exact words of God when they called for the annihilation of the Gibeonites. Joshua could only cite principle. (Generations later, when King Saul violated this treaty and slaughtered some Gibeonites, God sternly condemned his treachery.)

This story highlights the complications of a theology of violence. God authorized the violence--the genocide--against the Canaanites. Theologians justify this action by pointing to how utterly corrupt and debauched the Canaanites were. Their religion featured sexual immorality and the killing of children. It that's your religion, what do you do for sin?

But if the violence against the Canaanites was God's way of promoting goodness and righteousness, it didn't work. The books of Joshua and Judges show that once they finished practicing their violence, Israel sank into profound, deep darkness. The divinely-sanctioned violence apparently was completely ineffective, if the goal was the creation of a peaceful, harmonious society. 

Goliath posed an immediate problem. David eliminated the problem. He killed Goliath. Neither David personally, nor the nation lived happily ever. The killing of Goliath was one incident in a protracted, miserable, generations-long conflict. The elimination of Goliath was necessary. It was an emergency. It did not create the sweet, good world.

So how do we know God's will?

For starters, God's first choice is never death. Ezekiel 33:13-16. God is not looking for bad people to annihilate. He's looking for lost people to save. So should we.

God is willing to use violence. He does so repeatedly in the Bible. But with only a couple of exceptions, whenever condemnation is challenged, it is reversed or at least modified. This world is not a Hunger Games Stage where we thrive only by killing others. Rather, it is the opposite. We thrive as we move away from violence, away from condemnation, away from hatred.

God has articulated his highest will both negatively and positively.

Negatively: don't kill.

Positively: Love.

Sometimes violent action is necessary to protect others. My friend Jack did what he had to do. The special forces President Obama sent to rescue Captain Philip from pirates and the aid workers held hostage in Somalia had to use violence. I believe that violence is justified. But the need to use deadly force is a tragedy. It is the last resort. It is a declaration that the world has moved far from God's ideal.

A much better exhibition of the will of God are Jesus miracles of healing and his declarations of forgiveness and hope.

The work of healers—nurses, dentists, doctors, X-ray techs—these show us more of God.

The work of mothers. And teachers. And fathers. And uncles. And auto mechanics. And artists.

Those who enrich life and create beauty. These are the children of God he takes the greatest delight in.

Don't kill.

Enrich life.

That's really what God wants.

Lord of the Mess, Part 2

First draft of a sermon for North Hill Adventist Fellowship
Sabbath, March 10, 2012



Had a couple of interesting conversations recently.

First: a friend told me she had made a radical change in the way she managed money. For decades she had followed the typical American pattern of using credit cards and other forms of credit.Her finances were a mess, but she was able to make the minimum payments, so she didn't worry too much about it.

Then she began following the rules of wise money management. Now she's on track to be debt-free in a year or so. She'll be free. No longer will major chunks of her income every month be owned by credit card companies even before she makes a single purchase, before she has made a single decision. The rules of wise management have been a ladder enabling her to climb out of the pit of debt and bondage. A ladder she could climb into light of freedom.

In the past, the real manager of her money has been Bank of America or Visa or MasterCard. Now, she's enjoying the sweet taste of freedom. She is eagerly anticipating the day—not that far away now—when she will genuinely be in charge of her money. She will be the manager of her money instead of the slave of Bank of America.



Another story.
On Sunday I was headed from my house to Kent to visit a friend. I noticed a guy standing at the bus stop near my house. That's a problem because the bus does not run in our neighborhood on Sundays. I pulled over and asked where he was headed. Turned out he was headed to the same town I was, so he settled in for the ride. He was talkative. His daughter had just been admitted to the hospital for some complicated problems that involved self-destructive behavior. He was desperate to reach her.
He had walked about ten miles already. A woman in a Mercedes had given him a ride for a few miles earlier in the afternoon. He would have driven, but because of a DUI, his car's ignition was controlled by a breathalyzer. Before he got the phone call about his daughter, he had had a few beers while watching NASCAR. There was no way he was going to be able to get past that and get his car started.

He was angry at his daughter. How could she have done that stuff and been doing it and hide it so well? And he was worried and concerned. What was going to happen to her? What had he done wrong?

His life was a mess. I got to be part of God's stepping into the mess of his life and offering a little bit of help.

Last week we looked at the story of Jacob. Jacob's life was a heartbreaking picture of dysfunction and domestic misery. Still God was with him at every step. God did not abandon him. More than that, God actively reached into Jacob's life. God protected Jacob, reassured Jacob, gave him rich promises about the future of his descendants. As Christians, as the representatives of God here in this world, we are called to act like God. We are called to bring God's presence and aid close to people whose lives are a mess.

And God invites us as a congregation to help people acquire and use the tools that can help them climb out of the messes they are in and experience for themselves the freedom and joy of holiness.
On Sunday, I was able to provide a little aid to a worried, distraught father. The longer I listened to him as we drove together, the more obvious it was that he needed more than a little help. He needed freedom from the addiction that put him in a situation where his perfectly good car was perfectly worthless. I suspected that his own addiction and troubles may have played at least some role in the problems his daughter was battling.

My stopping and giving him a ride on Sunday afternoon was a ladder bringing emergency help into his life. Long term, God's desire was for him to make use of other ladders that are available and begin climbing out of the pit of addiction and into the joy and light of freedom.


Last week, I called God, “The Lord of the Mess,” because of God's gracious love for Jacob, a love that never wavered no matter what mess Jacob got himself into, no matter what mess others brought into his life.

Today, we'll consider a different picture of God as “The Lord of the Mess.” God is present with us in the mess of life. God also offers wisdom and power for climbing out of the mess.

One dramatic picture of this double picture of God is in the book of Exodus. Jacob's descendants ended up slaves in Egypt. God finally acts to rescue them from their desperate situation. In this first part of their story, they are pictured as helpless victims. God is the powerful rescuer.

After the dramatic rescue, God has his man Moses lead them through the Red Sea to a rendezvous at Mt. Sinai. There God orders them to quit thinking of themselves as victims, as slaves. They are to begin acting as free people who are fully responsible for their lives. God gives them the Ten Commandments (and other laws) and tells them, do this and life will go well. Disobey and life will suck.

In the New Testament, we find the same combination of wonderful graciousness and tough-minded legalism. In Matthew 4, Jesus ministry is summed up: He was a whirlwind of gracious healing. People did not earn his favor. They did not have to fight for it or beg for it. Jesus loved people and poured his power and affection into their lives.

Then in the next three chapters Matthew lays out Jesus' teachings. They are challenging and stimulating. And Jesus is blunt: the key to good life is DOING what he teaches.

Have you ended up in a mess—a mess you created or that others shoved into your life—take heart, Jesus is with you. He does not condemn you. He does not scorn you. You are the object of his tender affection and high regard. He sits close.

Then he offers wisdom.

Through the Bible, the church, helping professionals, AA, Alanon, and all sorts of other sources and agencies, he offers wisdom for life, wisdom for managing relationships, for managing money, for managing health, for managing time. He invites us to experience the fullness of life that is nourished by using all the tools of wisdom he has made available.

God plants a ladder in the middle of our messes and sends blessings down that ladder into our lives. He also places ladders in our messes that are intended as climbing routes. Through obedience, through taking wise action, we climb into joy, and light and freedom.

Lord of the Mess

Sermon for Sabbath, March 3, 2012, at North Hill Adventist Fellowship

Text:  Genesis 28ff.

About 3000 years ago, a woman named Rebecca was pregnant. She gave birth to twins, Jacob and Esau. They were not identical twins. They were visibly different from the day they were born. As they matured their differences became even more pronounced.

Jacob was a homebody. He liked to hang around the house. He liked to cook. He was his mother's friend, her companion.

Esau was pure testosterone. He liked to play cave man and dinosaurs. He made a bow and began hunting rabbits when he was scarcely larger than a rabbit himself. As he got older, he was as at home in the wilderness as Jacob was in the kitchen. Esau was his dad's favorite. It appears that in temperament, Dad (Isaac) was actually more like Jacob than Esau. Maybe Esau was the man Isaac dreamed of being.

As you might imagine, there was fairly intense competition between the brothers. Once when they were, perhaps, in their early twenties Esau returned from a hunting trip. It had been a miserable expedition. He was famished and exhausted. He walked in, and the place was full of the aroma of a lentil stew Jacob was cooking. To Esau at that moment, it smelled like heaven. He did what any self-respecting brother would do, he asked for some.

Jacob says, “Sure, you can have all you want, but it'll cost you. Sell me your birthright. You're fainting from low blood sugar. I'll take good care of you, just sign over your birthright to me.”

Esau was angry and flippant. “Sure, whatever. Just give me some food.”

Jacob: “Swear.”

Esau: “All right. All right. Okay. You can have the birthright. Just hand over some stew.”

Jacob ladles up stew and Esau settles down to eat. Satisfied.

Esau wasn't worried. The birthright—the special role of leadership in the family and an extra measure of the inheritance—was not something kids chose. It was something Dad gave. Esau knew there was no way his father, Isaac, was going to give the birthright to Jacob. Jacob didn't have the leadership ability, the drive and guts, a man needed to take on the management of his father's estate.

Fast forward another twenty years or so. By now, Isaac is getting seriously old. His cataracts have nearly completely obscured his vision. He summons Esau. “Listen son,” he says. “I'm getting old. I don't know how much longer I have. Take your bow and hunt some venison for me. Fix me a feast as only you know how to do. Then bring it so that I may eat and bless you.”

Esau was thrilled. Dad was finally passing the torch of family leadership. That little deal Esau had made with Jacob decades earlier was out of the picture. Just as Esau had known, his dad was too smart to make the mistake of putting Jacob in charge of the family.

Esau took his bow and headed out to find a deer.

As soon as he was out of the house, Rebecca summoned Jacob. “Listen, son, I just overheard your father send Esau out to get a deer. He told Esau to prepare a feast so he could eat and then bless Esau. Now, listen to me. Fetch me a couple of baby goats from the flock. I'll fix meat the way your dad really likes it. (He can hardly taste anything these days anyway.) You take the food in, have your dad eat and bless you.”

Jacob was appalled. This was a straight up lie. This was not what he had in mind when he made Esau sign over the birthright. Jacob protested.

Rebecca brushed aside his concerns. “Just do what I tell you. It'll be okay.”

“But,” Jacob said, “What if Dad touches me? Esau is hairy as a gorilla. I'm smooth as a china doll. There's no way Dad can miss that if he touches me.”

“Don't worry,” Rebecca says. “I've got it all figured out. Just do what I say.”

So Jacob fetched the goats. His mother fixed them. While they were cooking Rebecca outfitted Jacob in some some of Esau's clothes she had in the house. As a finishing touch, she glued the skins from the baby goats to the back of Jacob's hands and to his neck.

Dinner ready, Jacob took it into his father. His father was immediately suspicious. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“Why, I'm your son Esau. I'm bringing the food you asked me to prepare.”

“How did you find it so fast?”

“God blessed me.”

Isaac smelled a rat.

“Come here, my son. Let me feel you.”

Jacob came over. Isaac runs his hand over the back of Jacob's hand. Sure enough it is as hairy as a goat.

Isaac says, “It is the voice of Jacob. But it is the hands of Esau. Tell me, are you really Esau?”

“Yes, Father.”

Isaac lets it go.

He Isaac ate the food Jacob had brought, then pronounced a blessing. “May you be blessed in every way. May your fields yield rich harvests. May you rule over your brother and over the nations around you. May those who bless you be blessed and those who curse you be cursed.”

The blessing done, Jacob scooted out. And no sooner was he gone than Esau walked in to his father's room, bearing a platter of venison, suspecting nothing. When he greeted his father, Isaac instantly realizes something has gone terribly wrong. Isaac has been “had.”

“Who are you?” he demands. “I am Esau, your son. I am bringing you the venison you requested.”

“Then who was that who was just here? I blessed him. And the blessing is irrevocable. He is truly blessed.”

“Didn't you reserve any blessing for me?”

“No son. I made him your ruler. I blessed his fields and his herds. What has been spoken can't be undone. What's done is done.”

Esau wailed.

He hated Jacob and began telling people that once his dad was gone and the time of mourning was completed, he, Esau, was going to take care of Jacob. (And that was not a good thing!) News of Esau's threats reached Rebecca. She knew Esau was quite capable of doing what he was saying.

She told Jacob what Esau was saying and urged him to go to his uncle's place back in Haran. “Go see your Uncle Laban. Stay there a little while until your brother's anger has cooled, then you can come back home.”

Rebecca talked to Isaac. “Listen, these Canaanite women Esau has married are driving me crazy. If Jacob marries one of these local girls, it'll be the death of me. Let's send him back to Haran so he can find a wife among my people.”

It sounded reasonable to Isaac. So, he summoned Jacob and ordered him to go to Haran, to his mother's family and take a wife there. He elaborated on the blessing he had pronounced the day of the birthright ritual.

May God Almighty* bless you and give you many children. And may your descendants multiply and become many nations! May God pass on to you and your descendants* the blessings he promised to Abraham. May you own this land where you are now living as a foreigner, for God gave this land to Abraham." Genesis 28:3-4

Days later—about 70 miles from home, so four days to a week later—Jacob stopped for the night in a desolate place. This was not common practice in those days. Travelers usually hiked from village to village. But this evening Jacob was on his own, in the wilderness. As it got dark, found a place among some stones to sleep. It was so confined, he had to use one of the rocks for a pillow. (I hope he put some moss or leaves or something soft over it, but all the Bible says is that he used a rock for his pillow.)

He fell asleep and had the most wonderful dream. A ladder stretched down from heaven to the place where he was sleeping. Angels traveled up and down the ladder.

At the top of the stairway stood the LORD, and he said, "I am the LORD, the God of your grandfather Abraham, and the God of your father, Isaac. The ground you are lying on belongs to you. I am giving it to you and your descendants. Your descendants will be as numerous as the dust of the earth! They will spread out in all directions—to the west and the east, to the north and the south. And all the families of the earth will be blessed through you and your descendants.

What's more, I am with you, and I will protect you wherever you go. One day I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have finished giving you everything I have promised you."

Wow! That's a rich promise.

Now, let me emphasize where we are in the story.

Jacob lived in a dysfunctional family. He is his mother's favorite. Esau is his daddy's favorite. It seems that Mom and Dad were conducting a proxy war through their kids. Esau was so ticked off by Jacob's snatching the birthright, he's planning to murder Jacob. The aggrieved brother is so furious he plotting to kill Jacob. So Mom persuades Dad to send Jacob packing on the pretext of finding a better wife than is available locally.

This is a mess!

And then God shows up. While Jacob is hiking to his uncle's house to avoid getting murdered by his brother for defrauding him, God shows up and reassures Jacob: I am with you.

Where is God? In the middle of human messes.

In this story, God is not just present in the mess offering consolation, it's clear that God actively working in the mess, using the dysfunction and mistakes and chaos as tool to help bring about God's own long-term plans for a good and blessed future.

Have you screwed up? Is your life a mess. I've got good news. God is with you. God has a plan. It starts from your lonely spot in the wilderness while you are running for your life.

Jacob's life does not suddenly become smooth sailing after this vision. Jacob makes it to his uncle's house where he is warmly welcomed. After a month, Uncle Laban offers to hire Jacob and asks him what he wants for wages.

This is an answer to prayer. It is the sweetest thing that has ever happened to Jacob. When he first arrived at Laban's town, he came to the well outside of town. Just after he arrives he sees a shepherd girl coming with her sheep. She is a stunning beauty. It turns out she is Rachel, the daughter of his uncle Laban. He has been dreaming of her constantly ever since.

So when Uncle Laben says name your wages, Jacob is ready. “I will work for you for seven years in exchange for the hand of your daughter Rachel in marriage.” The Bible reports the seven years Jacob worked seemed to Jacob but a few days, he was so enthralled with Rachel.

On the wedding night, Laban pulls a switch and sends his oldest daughter Leah into Jacob. In the morning when Jacob realizes what has happened, he is devastated. He does eventually get to marry Rachel, but as a second wife. His uncle cheats other times. It is an abusive relationship.

It's a mess. Still the Bible claims that in all this mess, God is present. Jacob is a conniver. His uncle is a scheming, shifty character. Their dance is not something beautiful to watch. Still God is present. God is present in the mess of this dysfunctional family. And God is working to move their family story forward toward the grand climax more than a thousand years later—the birth and ministry of the Messiah.

And God is present in our messes, too. God has plans to do us good. God works with who we are. He works with the situation we are in. He works with our actual lives and actual bosses and employees, our actual spouses and kids. God is deeply inside the messes that our lives sometimes are.

He is with us.

Because God is with us, we are capable of touching other lives with hope and help and healing. God calls us to give the love we can. To share the money we can. To pass along wisdom when we can.

God is with us. God is in us. And through us, he wants to be present in our families, in our schools, in our jobs.

Actually, I should say, because God is with us and in us, he IS present in our families, in our schools, in our jobs, in our neighborhoods. Just as our messes do not intimidate God, so don't allow the messes of those around you intimidate you. Be there. Radiating the wisdom and grace of God. Sharing with others the grace you have received.