Dating the Advent (or Not!)

This was published originally in the Green Lake Church Gazette, Apirl, 2013

In the summer of 1994 I spent a week preaching at a Midwestern campmeeting. Halfway through the week, a genial couple invited me to lunch. Food out of the way, we got down to the real reason for their invitation: they wanted to share with me the good news that Jesus would return before the end of the year.

A couple of years previously, they had moved out of the city and purchased an ostrich farm where they could protect their children from the chaos that would engulf America's cities as we entered the final months of earth's history. They were enjoying the quietness and serenity of country life and the extra time with their children. But the conversation did not focus on the benefits of country living. We talked about the good news that within a matter of months Jesus would be here! They showed me charts of jubilee cycles. I heard complicated mathematical calculations. But most of all I sensed their excitement that Jesus was coming . . . and soon!

My hosts were gracious and courteous. They didn't demand that I agree. But they just

had to share the good news with me. Jesus was coming. Without setting a precise day, they

were absolutely convinced by the signs and chronological charts that Jesus was coming before

the end of the year.

They won my heart. I liked them. I was drawn to their obvious sincerity and sweet Christian spirit. But there were a couple of problems with what they had to say. First, they were Adventists, and Adventists should know better. Our history teaches us the folly of focusing on even approximate schedules for the Second Coming. Second, they were ignoring the teaching of Jesus in Matthew 24 and 25.

Adventist History

Date setting is our blood as a denomination. Our most famous date for the Second Coming was 1844.  Oops. Groups of Adventists have predicted the Second Coming 1847, 1851, 1964, 1994, 1998, and 2000. Most of us are coy about our date setting now. We are like Billy Graham, who was asked by reporter in the early nineteen sixties, “When will Jesus return?” Graham's reply some forty years ago, “We can't know the exact date, but I don't see how it can be more than five years from now.”

I’ve known people who actually lived out their belief that the end of time was very soon, people who decided not to pursue advanced education because time was too short for them to be able to complete their degree, people who married precipitously because they wanted to experience conjugal bliss before the possibility was snatched away by the second coming, people who failed to plan and save for retirement. In every case these Adventists lived to regret their decisions.

Once, I asked Marvin Moore, an Adventist expert on the end times, “What decision have you made in the last five years that was guided by your knowledge of end time events?” His reply, “None.” Moore has written books about end time events, but those books offer no help for his real life. They are pure theory.

If the dates we set are always wrong, if acting on the belief that time is short leads to regrettable decisions, if the experts on end time events can offer nothing helpful for our actual lives today, maybe it's time to take another look at the passage in the Bible that is most frequently cited in support of the idea that we can know the approximate time of the Advent.

Signs of the Times, Matthew 24 and 25

Adventist preoccupation with “signs of the end” is frequently based on a few verses in Matthew 24. This chapter and chapter 25 are an integrated literary unit. At the beginning of Matthew 24, Jesus and the Twelve were leaving the temple in Jerusalem. The disciples called Jesus' attention to the exquisite artistry and massive solidity of the temple buildings. Jesus responded, "Do you see all these things? I tell you the truth, not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down." The disciples were startled. How could God's temple be destroyed? Surely the destruction of the temple could be accomplished by nothing less than the end of the world.

A little later, when they were sitting on the Mount of Olives across the valley from Jerusalem, the disciples asked about Jesus' prediction. They had one concern: when is it going to happen? They wanted a chronology. Jesus began answering their question:

Watch out that no one deceives you. For many will come in my name, claiming, I am the Christ,' and will deceive many. You will hear of wars and rumors of wars. . . . (Matthew 24:4-6).

Given the disciples' question and these opening words, I half expect the next sentence

to say something like: “These events prove my return is just around the corner. Sell your houses, cash in your stocks and bonds. Give everything you have for the work of spreading the gospel before it is too late!”

But what in fact did Jesus actually say?

. . . You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is not yet (Matthew 24:4-6).

When we see civilization in turmoil and the environment disturbed we long for the Second Coming. The worse things seem around us, the more intense our desire for Jesus to come and make everything right. Often, it's a short step from our desire for the return of Jesus to being seduced by theories purporting to predict the schedule of the end of the world. Jesus described chaos, then cautioned, the end is not yet.

In Matthew 24, after describing trouble and evil and stating that these are not proof of the end, Jesus launches into a series of seven parables. The first parables teach us how to think about time with respect to the Advent. In the final two parables a concern for end time events or schedules are shown to be essentially irrelevant in spiritual life.

Parable one. In Noah's day, people were eating, drinking and getting married. Life went on as usual right up until the very day of the flood. Then catastrophe overtook the world. In the same way, in the last days life will go on as usual. Nothing will seem to be out of the ordinary until suddenly Jesus appears in the clouds of heaven.

Parables two and three. Two men will be in the field, working . . . as usual. Two women will be grinding grain . . . their everyday routine. Nothing out of the ordinary . . . until one is taken and the other left.

We don't have to guess what these parables mean; Jesus Himself tells us.

"Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. . . You also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him" (Matthew 24:42-44).

Parable four. A servant left in charge of an estate in his master's absence imagines the master will be gone forever and begins to mistreat his fellow servants, only to be surprised by the Master's unexpectedly early return. The message: Don't imagine the day of accountability is off in the misty future. It will arrive sooner than you think.

Parable five, “The Ten Virgins.” In a 180 degree shift from the previous parable, the fools in this story are those who imagine time is short. The foolish virgins are foolish precisely in their certainty that the bridegroom will return real soon. Just like people who failed to pursue their education or to plan for retirement because they knew for sure Jesus was coming soon, so these virgins came to grief because of their utter confidence that their wait would be brief.

In each of these parables, Jesus presents the same message: If you imagine that you know God's schedule you will find yourself embarrassed. Actual time will inevitably, inescapably, unavoidably, ineluctably, necessarily (have I used enough adverbs yet?) be different from your expectation. Theories about the schedule of the end always mislead. Always.

Parable six, “The Investors.” A master calls in three servants, announces he is leaving for an extended period of time and entrusts to each of them some money to manage while he is gone. You might think this is going to be another parable about time. But time plays no role in this story. The master leaves. The master returns. Nothing is mentioned about whether he returned sooner or later than expected. Instead when the servants are audited by the master, the crucial factor turns out to be what they thought of the master's character. The two servants who trusted the master, made bold and successful investments. The servant who did not trust the master, buried his money and was harshly condemned.

Parable seven, “The Sheep and Goats.” On judgment day, humanity is divided into two groups. The blessed group is commended for showing compassion to Jesus. The cursed group is condemned for neglecting Jesus. Both groups protest they never saw Jesus at all. Jesus replies: What you did for the nobodies, you did for me. Ultimately theories about the schedule of end time events will prove irrelevant. Even theology, our high-flown theories about God, recedes as the most important question. This section of Matthew begins with the disciples asking about the calendar: when is the temple going to be destroyed? When is the end of the world? Jesus answers by steering their minds to questions of character: what do you know of the character of God? What character is revealed in your response to human need? Get the answers to these questions wrong and even the most accurate end time schedule will do you no good. Get the answers to these questions about character right, and time is of no concern.

The Divine Fairy Tale

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists for Sabbath, September 5, 2015. THIS IS A REVISED VERSION OF WHAT I POSTED ON LAST FRIDAY.

Texts:  Isaiah 11:1-9 and Revelation 1:1-6

I was visiting with a woman at the Green Bean Coffee Shop on Thursday morning over on Greenwood Avenue. We were engaged in a heavy conversation about theology and spiritual life. She had gone back to school later in life and was now wrestling with the huge questions that arise when you bring together traditional Christian dogma and the complicated understanding of humanity that we learn about in the social sciences. How did she put all this together? We discussed exceptional Bible passages and non-normal humans.

At some point in our deep conversation I became aware of what was going on behind me. It was story time. A number of young parents were present with little kids and someone was reading or telling a story. A fairy tale. Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

For an instant I wanted to listen, but they were behind me and there was a real, live person right in front of me. Within seconds that entire universe of people and story behind me ceased to exist and I was back with Jean.

But even though I didn't hear the story, I know how it goes. And you know how it goes. Right?

Once upon a time there was a girl named Goldilocks.

She went exploring. She found a house. Inside the house there was a table with three bowls of porridge.

One bowl was too . . . hot

And one was too . . . cold.

And one was . . . just right.

Is this a true story?

Yes, of course it is. No, not because bears live in houses and sleep in beds and eat porridge for breakfast. But often in life there is a “just right.” Not too hot, not too cold. Not too soft, not too hard. There is a happy medium, a golden mean. And that's the best place to live.

We tell the story of Goldilocks because it's entertaining, AND because it tells the truth.

I have another favorite fairy tale: Cinderella. When I read the story—especially when the book I'm reading has just the right art work—I immediately hate the wicked mother and the evil sisters. I ache with the desperateness of Cinderella's plight. How can she ever escape? Then she goes to the ball and my hope leaps to life. This is going to work out all right after all. Goodness is alive in the world. But alas. She leaves the ball. She returns to her drudgery and torment. My heart sinks. Then I see the handsome prince searching. He has the shoe. Breathlessly, I read the words and turn the pages of the book, as eager as my kids are to have the prince bring the slipper and put it on Cinderella's foot. Finally, he's there. He's at the house. But, of course, the wicked mother makes a final effort to Cinderella from escaping. But her efforts fail.

The prince and Cinderella are married and live happily ever after.

Is this story true?

Yes, of course it is. It is true that faithfulness and diligence are supposed to produce sweet results. It's true that we dream of the triumph of right and goodness. And it is true that goodness will finally triumph. God has written that hope in our very bones and rewritten it in the promises of the Bible.

Today's sermon is the first in a series on the Book of Revelation. I call Revelation, “The Divine Fairy Tale.” Why do I call it a fairy tale?

First, it is true in the way that the best fairy tales are true. The Book is full of mayhem and heartbreak, Rampant evil and soul-stretching longing for justice. Then when you can hardly take any more, when the weight of darkness and evil has become insuperable, “happily ever after” happens. This world ends and a new world—paradise—takes its place.

Like a good fairy tale, Revelation does not teach us new information, it celebrates what we already know from reading the rest of the Bible: God wins. The Devil can rage. People can fail. But God wins. The darkness is vanquished by the light.

Let's go back to the Goldilocks story for a minute. we dream of the triumph of right and goodness. She went into the bears house and found three bowls on the table.

What is in the bowls? Porridge. What is porridge? Oatmeal? Cornmeal mush? Cream of Wheat? Rice? Hominy grits? Did it have raisins or blueberries in it? Brown sugar or honey? These questions would be fruitful only if you were the writer (or the story teller ad libbing to add color to the tale). Imagine the writer told us not only whether it was rice or corn or wheat and whether it was seasoned with sugar or honey, blueberries or raisins and how much salt was added. All that information would add color to the story. It would help us prolong the pleasurable experience of telling the story to our kids. But none of that information add even the slightest bit of insight into the meaning of the story.

It's something like that with Revelation. When people try to do conventional exegesis—that is Bible interpretation—on the book of Revelation, they often get lost in the fantastical details of the imagery. Just this past week one of my friends who is also a “friend” on Facebook was speculating about the wildfires in eastern Washington and elsewhere in the West. Maybe they are precursors of the “First Trumpet” of Revelation:

The first angel blew his trumpet, and hail and fire mixed with blood were thrown down on the earth. One-third of the earth was set on fire, one-third of the trees were burned, and all the green grass was burned. (Revelation 8:7 NLT accessed through Blue Letter Bible.com)

Over the decades that I have followed such things people have suggested all sorts of interpretations of the fantastical imagery of Revelation. It's impossible to keep up with all the various scenarios people have worked out. They come and go. No specific interpretation stands the test of time.

Trying to tie the symbols of Revelation to specific items in the news is like asking whether the porridge was oatmeal or cornmeal, whether it was seasoned with blueberries or raisins. It leads ultimately to silliness.

The important facts lie on the surface. If you get sucked into trying to figure out some specific historical correlate to the locusts with stingers in their tails or an army of 144,000 celibate Jewish men you are likely to end up neutering or distorting the spiritual message of the book.

Revelation is a Grand Fairy Tale because it, 1) tells the truth we know deep in our souls and from major themes of the Bible. 2) its truths lie on the surface.

Revelation is true because it tells the truth about the human condition—the world is full of chaos and sometimes evil appears completely ascendant. And it is true because it speaks the same truth as the rest of the Bible: God will win. Love will win. Righteousness will have the last word.

If you want to “get” Revelation, forget going verse by verse or even chapter by chapter. Instead read the whole book in a single sitting. Even better get a nicely done audio version and listen to the book, the whole thing, uninterrupted. You will come away with the vital truth the book was written to reveal and you will avoid the rabbit trails and gopher holes that most “detailed exegesis” takes you down.

A few further elements that prompted my calling Revelation, “The Divine Fairy Tale.”

Revelation is a story of royalty. Fairy tales are not usually stories of peasants and poor folk except when it turns out that the people who appeared to be commoners were really nobility or when paupers become princes or chambermaids becomes queens. So in Revelation. The nobodies, those with no earthly status or power end up on the throne. There is a beautiful maiden, a scary dragon, a knight on a white horse. You read about secret words and mysterious numbers. And comes the grand climax: And they lived happily ever after.

So let's begin.

This letter is from John to the seven churches in the province of Asia. Grace and peace to you from the one who is, who always was, and who is still to come; from the sevenfold Spirit before his throne; and from Jesus Christ. He is the faithful witness to these things, the first to rise from the dead, and the ruler of all the kings of the world. All glory to him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by shedding his blood for us. 6 He has made us a Kingdom of priests (or as the KJV puts it: He has made us Kings and Priests) for God his Father. All glory and power to him forever and ever! Amen. (Revelation 1:4-6 NLT)

Grace and peace from God. John should have put the words, “spoiler alert,” before this phrase. There will be all sorts of drama through this book. There will be agonizing suspense. But already, right here at the beginning John tells us where he is going. He tells us the controlling will which stands behind the story: Grace and peace. God's kindly regard for humanity. God's intention to finally accomplish the dream first pictured in the Garden of Eden: a blessed state of well-being and tranquility. Don't fret over much as you follow the twists of plot. This is where it is headed: Grace and peace.

Grace and peace from God the Father

Grace and peace from Jesus Christ who loved us so much he would rather die than live without us.

Grace and peace from the Holy Spirit—from the Sevenfold Spirit or (KJV) the Seven Spirits.

Another note right here at the beginning. John announces that God has made us a kingdom of priests or kings and priests. As I mentioned earlier, fairy tales feature ordinary people only when in the course of the story we discover they are actually quite extraordinary. Commoners in fairy tales become nobility or royalty. John doesn't even make us wait to find this out. The heroes in this story may appear to be ordinary commoners, but they are, in fact, royalty. Royal priests. Holy kings.

Five times in the Book of Revelation John pictures the people of God ON the throne with God. Not on their faces before the throne, not quaking in fear as the one on the throne gazes at them with piercing eyes. Five times, John describes the people of God sitting on the throne with God. They reign with God. They judge with God. God is with them and they are with God.

Hallelujah! This is the grand climax of the story. This is the shape of the “happily ever after” of this divine fairy tale.

If you find yourself arguing about the precise characteristics of the monsters in Revelation 12 and 13, remember the monsters are just porridge. If someone tries to get you to subscribe to their particular historical or endtime application of the trumpets, again, remember it's porridge. Don't get lost in arcane arguments about details of the story. Instead let your heart be lifted and strengthened by the best fairy tale ever told. The story that is so bright with hope and promise that all the other “happily ever afters” are mere candles lost in the dazzling luminance of the sun.

And best of all, this fairy tale, this happily ever, this eloquent prophecy is true.

The Charge

The Charge

For the ordination service of Ron Sidney at Kirkland Adventist Church

Sabbath, August 29, 2015

When our Master moved from the obscurity of his faithful service in the carpenter shop toward public ministry, God sent him first to the Baptizer. There at the Jordan River, Jesus the Sinless One dramatically declared his union with the people of God. By accepting baptism at the hands of John the Baptist, Jesus joined with his sinful people with reservation or qualification. He declared himself to be one of us.

Among Adventist clergy, ordination makes a similar statement. We who are ordained ask you to join the likes of us—men with checkered histories, men who are a mishmash of greatness and pedestrian weaknesses. We invite you to become one of “the brethren.”

(Side note to the congregation: And I pray and am working toward the day when this clergy fellowship includes sisters as well as brothers.)

When you accept ordination, like Jesus at his baptism, you, too, are making a public declaration of your place in this people of God. You are joining people like us—people whose intentions are greater than our accomplishments, people who sometimes descend into smallness, people who sometimes confuse our desires with the will of God. You are joining us in all that makes up our identity. You are especially joining us in our hope and mission.

As an ordained minister, you will carry within you and on you the people of God. And just as God announced at Jordan, “You are my beloved son.” So God says to you today in recognition of your willingness to join with us in service, “You are my beloved son. With you I am very pleased.”

My first charge to you this afternoon is this: Keep these words with you. Your Father in heaven is very pleased with you. He is pleased you have yielded to his call. He is pleased you are his servant. God has great plans for you, but first, before plans and achievements and success is this word from the Father's heart: You are my beloved son. I am very pleased with you.

Keep these words always in your heart, so that they may keep you.

Jesus went straight from his baptism to the sternest imaginable graduate school—the desert of temptation. After graduating from there, he headed into Galilee and began his public ministry. Everywhere Jesus went people were dazzled and charmed. Here's Matthew's prose description of these early days of Jesus' ministry:

Jesus traveled throughout the region of Galilee, teaching in the synagogues and announcing the Good News about the Kingdom. And he healed every kind of disease and illness. 24 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. Matthew 4:23-25.

Matthew invoked the poetic words of the ancient prophet:

In the land of Zebulun and of Naphtali,

the land beside the sea, beyond the Jordan River,

in Galilee home of the Gentiles,

in that place live,

the people sitting darkness saw a great light.

On those huddled in the land of death's dark shadow,

the light has dawned.

Matthew 4:15-17

This was the ministry of Jesus. It is our ministry, your ministry. May your words, your work, your life always be light for the people God commits into your care.

Which brings me to my second charge: Cultivate the light. Spend time every day gazing at the glorious face of God. Become radiant through basking in God's radiance.

You will encounter darkness. It is the nature of life in this world.

There will be mornings when the night before included getting home from a late meeting at 11:00, then caring for your sick wife until midnight, then being roused from bed at 3 a.m. to clean the vomit up from the shag carpet in the hall way outside your bathroom because your five-year-old wasn't able to make it to the bathroom before the explosion happened. There will be mornings when you don't take time for prayer and contemplation of the divine loveliness.

It may happen that heaviness in your own soul will be so great that you go for days or weeks or maybe even months without communion with God. You will carry the weight of your people. The trouble of the world will haunt you, sometimes even threaten to crush you.

My charge to you is this: go back to the light. Every morning seek God's face. And when you realize it has been awhile, don't waste time scolding yourself, just return. Go back. Sit in God's presence and bask in his smile, rehearse his promise: “You are my beloved son. With you I am well pleased.”

Spend time in the smile of God. Hear his reassurance, you are his beloved son. Saturate your soul in the light of heaven, then return to your calling to an agent of light. Shine the light on those who sit darkness.

In Matthew 13, said to his inner circle, the twelve disciples:

Every scribe who has become a disciple in the kingdom of heaven is like the owner of a house who brings out of his storeroom new treasures as well as old.” Matthew 13:52

In your study and contemplation, be sure to mine the rich heritage of Christian theology stretching back across two thousand years. Devote attention to the distinctive treasures of theology and spiritual practice God has brought to light here among Seventh-day Adventists.

Teach your people the glorious vision of the character of God. Teach them, show them, that divine love is the very first word of creation theology and that when God has finished his work and evil and pain have vanished, the same word of divine love will be the last word, the greatest word. Let nothing obscure this most important—and even most distinctive treasure of Adventist theology.

Paint a vivid picture of God's law as the essential, natural principles of life throughout the universe. Give your people confidence that God requires nothing of humans that is not already integral to the divine character and expressed in divine action. Help them understand the necessity and sweetness of ordering their lives after the divine pattern.

Teach your people to keep Sabbath and enjoy it. Lead them in tasting divine grace and favor in the Lord's Supper. Teach them to pray and study and serve.

Be a good scribe. Work with the ancient treasures and make them understandable and attractive. Discover new gifts, new truths, and new ways of voicing our faith.

Preach hope. Jesus is coming again—Jesus the Savior, Jesus the Redeemer, Jesus the One who would rather die than live without us. Assure your people we have not been abandoned. Jesus will return. Goodness and love will triumph. And we with them.

One final picture I would leave with you.

When it was time for Jesus to finish his work, when he wished to make a grand, final, emphatic declaration to the people of God in Jerusalem, he sent his disciples to go and find a donkey. Jesus mounted the donkey and rode into the Holy City surrounded by hosannas and hallelujahs.

It was Jesus the crowds sang. It was the donkey who carried him.

It is still the same. The disciples today—needed another donkey to join us in carrying the Christ in triumphant procession toward the Holy City. We looked around and found you. Today, in this ordination service we are consecrating you, a mere donkey, to the weighty and glorious task of bearing Christ.

Our people accord us great honor. They trust us to hear their stories and teach their children. They invite us to pray with them in their darkest places and to rejoice with them in the happiest times. The respect and confidence of our people is one of the most precious experiences in ministry.

When things go well and you are surrounded by the appreciation and affirmation of your people, when your heart is full of your awareness of the divine call, remember the parade is about the rider and not the donkey.

And if dark times come and you question whether there is any value, any importance, in your calling, remember that Jesus cannot ride without a donkey. He needs you. There is some piece of God's work that only you can do. March on.

Be faithful to the one who has called you.

Carry the Christ and his message.

Always.

Sufficient Evidence

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists for Sabbath, August 29, 2015

Old Testament text:

Those who oppress the poor insult their Maker, but helping the poor honors him.

Those who mock the poor insult their Maker; those who rejoice at the misfortune of others will be punished.

If you help the poor, you are lending to the LORD--and he will repay you!

Those who shut their ears to the cries of the poor will be ignored in their own time of need.

Whoever gives to the poor will lack nothing, but those who close their eyes to poverty will be cursed.

The godly care about the rights of the poor; the wicked don't care at all.

Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; ensure justice for those being crushed. 9 Yes, speak up for the poor and helpless, and see that they get justice.

Proverbs 14:31; 17:5; 19:17; 21:13; 22:2, 9, 22; 28:27; 29:7; 31:8-9

New Testament (sermon) text: Luke 16:19-31

If I were going to make a movie of the second half of Luke 16, the opening scene would be based on the classic cartoon picture of hell. You would see the devil walking around with his pitchfork. Flames would be flickering up through the black grate that formed the floor. People would be wandering around in misery or sitting on fireproof benches. If you turned the sound up, you'd hear some moans and groans. You might hear flames crackling. But mostly you'd hear grumpy voices, people complaining.

“I can't believe I got sent here. It is NOT FAIR! I'm not half as bad as Andy and unless he's lived to a hundred ninety-three, it looks like he managed to snag a ticket to the other place. The system is so rigged.”

“Oh yeah.” his buddy retorts. “You think you got it bad? My fifth wife showed up down here. I wish she was in heaven. I think she dropped out of church just so she could be sure and end up here to torment me.”

As the camera zoomed in on conversations, you'd hear more complaints, protests, and endless comparisons. “I was reasonably happy here until they moved Jack Scary Face in next to me last week. If I had realized I'd have to live in the same neighborhood of hell as that guy I might have tried a little harder to make it to heaven. What were they thinking. I was a reasonably law-abiding guy. Well, at least I was WAY BETTER than Jack.”

As the camera wandered here and there catching snippets of conversation, hints of faces and body language, the only thing that would keep the weight of misery from crushing you would be the dark humor of it. Everyone in the place knew they deserved better than they got. Everybody was better than who ever was next to them. All of them could think of people who deserved torment more than they did. I might have been cruel to cats, but you were cruel to dogs. (Sorry about that, cat lovers.)

Then camera would pull back slowly and you could see that hell was located on an immense plateau bordered on all sides by cliffs that fell away for thousands of feet into smoky, unfathomable depths. Then startlingly, you would see that perhaps a hundred yards to the west, maybe even less, another mesa rose up from the smoky depths. The top of this mesa was a dazzling vision of cascading streams tumbling over white rocks, luxurious moss lined ledges. Giant redwoods and Doug firs stepped back from the stream on the left. Toward the right was a meadow carpeted with more wildflowers than you see in Grand Park in a good year. People were happy. As the camera zoomed in you heard laughter and banjos. You saw dancing and eating. People were handing each other treats and urging, “Ooh, you've got to try this. This is amazing!”

Your eye is drawn back to the dark plateau of hell. Standing at the very western edge as close to heaven as he can get you see a small figure. The camera zooms in. It's a dignified old man, dressed in fine clothes. His hands are cupped. He's calling toward heaven.

“Father Abraham. Father Abraham!”

Astonishingly, we see a response on the other side. At the visual and social focal point of mesa, there is a grand throne and seated on it a very impressive man with a long white beard. It's Father Abraham. (Abraham fills the same role in Jewish lore that St. Peter occupies in Catholic cartoons about heaven and hell.)

Father Abraham is engaged in happy, animated conversation with someone. They break off talking and together look over toward the lone figure standing at the very edge of hell.

Father Abraham cups his ear with his hand. “What was that?”

“Could you send Lazarus over here with a bit of water. It's really hot and dry over here. I'd really appreciate it if you could just have your good man Lazarus there bring me some water.”

Abraham looks at the man he's been talking with. The man, obviously Lazarus, shugs his shoulders.

Abraham starts laughing. “What was that?” he calls back.

“Please send Lazarus over here with a spot of water. I could really use a drink.”

“Tell what,” Abraham hollers back. “It appears you and Lazarus here must be old friends. Lazarus has just been telling me how hard life was for him back on earth, how he was destitute, what with his bum feet and his scoliosis. He was constantly dependent on other people. So I'll send him over with the same amount water you used to give him when he was sitting in the sun begging.”

As Father Abraham is hollering this message across the Grand Canyon that separates the two worlds, we watch the rich man's face. At Abraham's first words, “You must be old friends,” the rich man's face brightens. Lazarus did remember him! That was a good sign. But when he heard Abraham's suggestion that he would send over the same amount of water the rich man used to share with Lazarus, the rich man's face grew quizzical. He struggled to remember how many times he had arranged for the beggars at his gate to get water. Surely, there must have been occasions, really hot days, days when he wasn't fully engaged in other pressing business, surely there were some times when he had sent one of his servants out with a water jar. But as he searched his memory his face went dark.

Yes, there had been beggars at his gate. Every person of means had beggars at their gate. That's the way society worked. The poor people sucked off the rich. He remembered how annoying they were. Slowly he recalled how angry he used to get. Why didn't they go beg somewhere else? Why didn't they buy their own farms? He was especially repulsed by the beggars with deformities. They were so ugly with their twisted feet, their misshapen legs, their arms burned off at the elbow, their eye sockets reminding him of open graves. He hated them.

Father Abraham was talking again. “Actually, old man, I know that when Lazarus here was lying at your gate he got no water from you and no food. I know that back when the two of you were in close proximity, when it was possible for the two of you to share life, it didn't happen. The most Lazarus got from you was the friendly licks of some of the dogs that scrounged crumbs under your table. So really, it wouldn't be appropriate for me to send Lazarus to help you out. And besides, you can see the chasm between us is far to deep for anyone to cross. I'm sorry. But people don't go back and forth from your place to here. That's just the way it is. You understand.”

The rich man was quiet for a few minutes. Everything Abraham said was true.

Finally, he rallied himself. “Okay, I get it. I blew it. I own that. And I can see that Lazarus can't cross the canyon between us, but would you at least do me this favor? I have five brothers back home. They still have time. They are still in the land of the living. Would you be able to send Lazarus back to warn them? Let them know how things are so they won't end up here?”

Now, put yourself in Abraham's shoes, or rather in his seat. Imagine you are receiving this request. What would you say? Would you send Lazarus to warn the brothers?

Up to this point in the story, Jesus is following a classic theme in Jewish theology—the grand reversal. This is prominent in the words of several of the prophets and in the famous songs of Hannah and Mary. When God acts decisively at the end of the time, the high and mighty are going to be brought low. The lowly are going to be raised up. The entire pecking order of humanity is going to be upended.

Hannah's song.

4 The bow of the mighty is now broken, and those who stumbled are now strong. 5 Those who were well fed are now starving, and those who were starving are now full. The childless woman now has seven children, and the woman with many children wastes away. 6 The LORD gives both death and life; he brings some down to the grave but raises others up. 7 The LORD makes some poor and others rich; he brings some down and lifts others up. 8 He lifts the poor from the dust and the needy from the garbage dump. He sets them among princes, placing them in seats of honor. For all the earth is the LORD's, and he has set the world in order. (1Samuel 2:4-8, New Living Translation. Accessed through Blue Letter Bible.org)

Mary's song.

For the Mighty One is holy, and he has done great things for me. 50 He shows mercy from generation to generation to all who fear him. 51 His mighty arm has done tremendous things! He has scattered the proud and haughty ones. 52 He has brought down princes from their thrones and exalted the humble. 53 He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away with empty hands. (Luke 1:49-53, New Living Bible, accessed through Blue Letter Bible.org)

Mr. Rich Man had lived in luxury, and Lazarus lived in misery. Now their status has been reversed. Lazarus has exchanged his miserable life for bliss in paradise. Mr. Rich Man exchanged his luxury for misery in hell. Jesus' listeners would have expected this.

But now the Rich Man shows a bit of concern for someone other than himself. Surely this counts for something, right?

Well, maybe. But notice what happens even in these conversations from hell. The Rich Man continues to regard himself as privileged and the poor man as his natural servant. “Hey, Abraham, send Lazarus over here. Well, if he can't come here, send him to my brothers.” The rich man, in the very core of his being still sees Lazarus as the natural servant and himself as naturally deserving of whatever service Lazarus can provide.

Even in hell when everything has been stripped away, the rich man is still able to see beyond himself only with great difficulty and then only as far as other people in his own very limited circle. Even after the grand reversal he is completely unable to recognize the dignity, the nobility, the preciousness of the people who all this time have been invisible to him. He still cannot see them, even looking across the chasm into the exalted light of heaven.

So, should Abraham pay any attention to the rich man's request? Should Abraham send Lazarus back to warn the rich man's brothers?

Notice what happens next. Abraham does not address the worthiness of the man's request at all. Abraham doesn't discuss whether or not it would be fair to impose yet again on Lazarus.

Instead Abraham refuses to send Lazarus because it wouldn't do any good. Even if Lazarus rose from the dead, he would still be just Lazarus. Nobody. The brothers would not be able to hear a message from a nobody—even if that nobody had just risen from the dead.

“They have the voices of the prophets, the words of Scripture.” Abraham assured the rich man. “They have the instruction and wisdom they need.”

“No, no, no.” The rich man protested. “They won't read the Bible. They won't pay attention to that. But if someone rose from the dead . . . now, that would get their attention.”

Abraham shook his head. “It's no good. If they won't hear it from Moses, they won't hear from Lazarus.”

It's a sobering story.

Are there people in our lives that we just don't see? Are there human needs we could attend to . . . if we will just do it?

Don't wait. Don't develop a leather-hard heart.

All of us are rich in some way. We have something we can share. There are people whose lives can be touched with soothing water if we will pay attention. So pay attention.

There are people who will find new hope and maybe new life, if we share a bit of what we have—brains, money, social connections, the status of good looks, the power of influential friends. Let's ask God to help us see the Lazaruses in our lives, the people we can touch now with hope and help and healing.

This is what our holy book teaches. It is what Jesus modeled. It is God's plan for our lives and the lives of those around us.

Beautiful Rene

My head was thick and my eyes bleary with the effects of a bad cold. Urgent chores at home had kept me from breakfast. So when I walked into Aurora Commons* I was moderately miserable. Rene took one look and demanded with beguiling authority, “Did you have breakfast? Do you want me to make you some pancakes?”

“Sure, I'll have some pancakes. Thanks.”

“You want some eggs, too?”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

She added my order to her backlog and went back to the griddle. I greeted others. Chatted with Andy, the director for the day. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Rene at work. She filled a plate with pancakes, buttered them, added eggs and handed the plate to another hungry soul. I saw plates of pancakes here and there around the room. Rene greeted everyone that came within her circle. I laughed inwardly as I saw her patting the pancakes with her hand after flipping them on the griddle. I couldn't tell if she was showing affection to the pancakes or was checking their cooking progress.

She dished several other plates. Finally, she tapped me on the shoulder and handed me my plate. I poured Aunt Jemima, then walked across the room and sat with another of her customers, a hard- looking man that I thought I recognized. I tried to start a conversation. He refused to talk. Instead he simply shoved a container of syrup toward me. At least I guessed it was syrup. The container was a glass jar. The liquid was brown with mysterious specks in it. He handled it with a dry dish rag like it was hot. After some minutes of silence, he said, “It's seasoned with nutmeg.” And lapsed back into silence. I added some of the mystery juice to my pancakes and kept eating.

A little later Rene came back to check on me. She touched my shoulder. “Is it good?” I nodded and made happy noises. She, in turn, was obviously pleased with my pleasure in her cooking. She headed back to the griddle. Andy said she had been cooking pancakes for all comers all morning.

I had not met Rene before, but I'm at the Commons only an hour or two per week. She was obviously a regular and knew many of the folk that came in and out. She added sparkle and warmth to the place. For the time I was there last Tuesday, she was the matron, the mother of us all. The world of Aurora Commons was better because she was in it.

I thought of the stark contrast between Rene's identity inside Aurora Commons and outside on the sidewalks along the Avenue. There she is a street walker. A figure in Seattle's criminal underbelly, a visible testament to human brokenness. Here she is beautiful, admirable, noble.

So which is she? Matron or street walker? Care giver or parasite? Scrappy survivor or temptress? I don't know enough about the world of Aurora sidewalks to offer meaningful commentary on that . world. I don't understand prostitution, drug addiction, unemployment, human trafficking. But I do know that inside, within the walls of Aurora Commons, Rene is beautiful and nurturing. She is admirable and admired.

Maybe this is a model for church. Some of us have details in our lives that are sketchy at best, maybe even base and despicable. Our current lives are not our ideal lives. Still we come to the House of Prayer. For an hour or two inside these walls we bask in a different identity. In worship we know ourselves as beloved daughters and son. In community with one another we experience admiration and appreciation from our sisters and brothers. We kindle again our hope that God's promise of transformation and redemption reaches even to us. In the physical space, the rituals, and the humanity of church we taste, we know by direct experience, the Gospel.

*Aurora Commons is a drop-in center sponsored by the Awake Church. It offers sanctuary to the street walkers, homeless, addicts, mentally ill and everyone else in the vicinity of Aurora Avenue and 90^th Steet.

A Woman and her Money--a perfect picture of God

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church for Sabbath, August 1, 2015

So Thursday morning about 7:30, I'm sitting on a dock across the street at Green Lake. I'm there for prayer and meditation. The sky was blue. The temperature was in the upper sixties. The lake was still except for ripples raised by the white shells of the rowers. It was glorious, tranquil, charming. Contemplation was easy.

At the opposite end of the dock a couple of boys were setting up to fish. The older looked like he was maybe eleven or twelve. The younger eight or nine. It took a while, but finally they managed to get a hook in the water. A few minutes later, I heard the older brother say, “You watch the pole. I need to run home and get something.”

I returned to my contemplation. Five or ten minutes later a woman came onto the dock. She was dressed in running clothes, had a German wire-haired pointer on a leash. She greeted the boy.

“Hi Ean, where's Nate?”

“He went to get something.”

“Did he go home?” she asked incredulously.

Something about the interaction piqued my interest. Who was this woman? It seemed obvious she and the boys had not started their day together. They had not yet seen each other. Still, her interaction with the boy was warm and comfortable.

Here's how the conversation went:

“How long has Nate been gone?” She asked.

“I don't know.”

“He left you here all by yourself?”

“Yes.”

“When is he coming back?”

“I don't know.”

“I see your bike. Where's your helmet?”

“I forgot it.”

“What? You rode here without your helmet?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“What did you have?”

“Cereal.”

“How long are you going to be here?”

“I don't know.”

“You're sure Nate is coming back?”

“He said he was.”

“You're okay here by yourself?”

“Yes.”

“You warm enough?”

“Yes.”

“Tell Nate to call me, okay?”

“Okay.”

She started to walk away. “Oh, by the way, good morning.”

Ean gave her a little wave.

I laughed. She had to be Mom.

I'm guessing the boys' parents are divorced. The boys spent the night at Dad's house. Maybe they're spending the week or the summer at Dad's house. The conversation gave no hint that the boys were headed back into Mom's world later that day. Still, Mom did what moms do. She interrogated Ean in the interest of making sure her boy was okay.

Where's your helmet? Are you warm enough? Are you okay here by yourself? Did you have breakfast? All those questions were mom-speak for I love you. I care about you. You are precious to me. That last bit, “Oh, by the way, good morning.” came from some book she had read. You're supposed to say good morning. So she said it. But the questions—they came straight from her heart.

Maybe she wasn't mom. Maybe she was Aunt Julie. In the world I grew up in the difference between Aunt and Mom was slight. Aunt Velma and Aunt Louise were as likely to interrogate me about my well-being as Mom was.

If Mom didn't see you eating, when she does see you, even if it's on the dock at Green Lake, she's going to ask, did you have breakfast? When she sees your bike lying there and no helmet, she's going to ask, where's your helmet? That's what moms do? At least most of them. Certain behaviors go with the territory. They are automatic.

It's the same in the story we heard in our Gospel reading today. Jesus began telling a story about a woman. She had ten coins. She lost one. What is going to happen next?

Maybe we need a little background to understand the story. The coins were not dimes or quarters. Each coin was worth a day's pay. How much do you make in a day? At $15 an hour, that's $120. Now, if you make a hundred or two hundred dollars an hour, that's not much. But for the person making $15 an hour, $120 dollars is a lot of money.

In the culture of first century Palestine, most peasants did not handle cash. They grew their own food, made their own clothes and bartered for what they couldn't make or grow. So, ten drachmas, ten silver coins was a significant amount of money. Losing one of those coins was a huge loss. This was disaster.

How did she lose it? When did she lose it? How long has it been missing?

Panic!

Let's call her Maria. Her husband was poor. Her dad had been poor. Her relatives were poor. The neighbors were poor. There are no closets in Maria's house. Maria had nothing to put in a closet. Her only clothes were on her back. Her only pot was on the stove. The entire family slept in a pile in the one room that comprised her house. We would probably call it a hut.

Maria had one treasure, these ten coins. Maybe they had been her wedding dowry. Maybe they were her life's savings? Whatever, they were irreplaceable. She can't just go work an extra day and replace it.

She was startled when she noticed it was missing. She immediately began searching, confident she would find it. She looked beside the stove. She looked under the bed. She looked outside next the log where she sat when she shelled peas yesterday. Panic began to build.

She managed to calm herself. Then started over.

She hauled the bed outside. And the cook pot. She carried out the stack of kindling she had beside the stove. She lit a lamp and then began sweeping, carefully studying the floor as she went. Finally she found it. She fixed the gold coin back to the necklace she wore. Hauled the bed back inside. Set the cook pot back on the stove. Replaced the kindling beside the stove.

Then she ran next door to tell Elizabeth and across the street to tell Naomi. Within minutes the yard was full of women chattering, recounting their own stories of losing and finding, of urgent searching. Of finding. They were happy together.

In the same way, Jesus said, there is joy in heaven over one sinner who turns toward righteousness, one rascal who begins to ask how his actions affect others, self-absorbed parent who begins paying close attention to her children, one self-important clergy or science professor who begins to regard persons as more valuable than ideas.

When a person repents God is delighted.

Jesus makes this same point three times in three stories in Luke 15. The common titles of the stories are “The Lost Sheep,” “The Lost Coin” and “The Lost Son.” But stories really about the Shepherd, The Woman and the Father. In this story of the Lost Coin, Jesus is telling us if you want to understand God, study this woman. We don't need the story to know that sometimes coins get lost. The story is not about the coin, but about the woman's search for the coin, her finding the coin, her happiness at finding the coin. Jesus point is that God is like that woman.

At the core of our faith is this conviction: human character matters to God. When a person turns toward goodness, the ripple of happiness created by that turning runs to the very heart of the universe. The happiness of God in response to a person's turning toward the light is as certain, as assured as the happiness of a woman who has found her lost treasure.

This is the essential core of the theology of Jesus. Jesus makes this point repeatedly. Shepherds respond to lost sheep by searching and finding them. Women respond to lost coins by searching for them anid finding them. Neighbors respond to emergencies by helping their neighbors. Dads take delight in providing good gifts for their children. Doctors do not scold their patients for getting sick. Auto mechanics do not act outraged when I bring them my car—AGAIN!

In worship we celebrate this conviction. God delights in our turning toward goodness. This truth is more important than outrage at the latest ideas of our political opponents. This truth is more important than balancing the scales of justice.

God delights in restoration and correction, not vengeance and punishment. We are invited to contemplate God's character and to cooperate with God in delighting goodness, especially the fragile, tentative goodness of someone who is just turning toward the light after having spent time in darkness.

Two Different Religions in a Single Denomination

Divergent religious views:

GOD IS THE GREAT AUTHORITY
(God Alone)
Headship Theology

Many theologians have taught that the great goal of God is obedient subjects (1 Cor. 15:28). In this view, religion is a hierarchical system for transmitting divine authority. The higher up the pyramid, the greater your authority (i. e., your right and obligation to order the lives of others). The further down the pyramid, the greater your obligation to practice unquestioning obedience. When authority is the great value in a religious system, inevitably inferiors will be sucked into cooperation with evil directives issued by their superiors. (Think priests cooperating in the Inquisition, Christian Americans cooperating with their government in the internment of Japanese Americans or obeying the Fugitive Slave Act. Think of Adventist parents who have exiled their gay children because a minister told them it was obligatory to do so.)

In this view, in paradise every human is finally, immovably settled into placed in the pyramid (or annihilated).



GOD IS LOVE
(God with us)
Immanuel Theology

In this view, God's goal is virtuous partners (Rev. 3:21). Religion is a community created by God to nourish and savor goodness. Members of the community earn respect and honor by incarnating goodness. When goodness is the great value, everyone has standing to challenge any order that appears at variance with moral law. The core of goodness is love, not just "agape love" which is the principled regard for the well-being of others, but also "eros love" which includes affection and desire. God longs for communion with people. God enjoys sharing life and labor with people.

In God's ultimate dream humans are elevated. They are not on their faces before the throne. Rather God welcomes all the saints (men and women, people of every tribe and nation) to participate with him in the divine reign. (Rev. 22:5).


Adventism and classic Christianity have been dominated by excessive attention to God as The Authority and the church as a hierarchy. It is time for us to affirm GOD IS LOVE, and learn to live now in the light that comes from the shared throne.