Shedding unconscious delight

How do you take a picture of perfume? This morning, on my walk to the lake, I followed a mother, child on her front in a snugly, dog at her side on a leash, and loose on the thick moist air in her wake a most delicious perfume. I followed as long as it was polite, enchanted. When we bathe ourselves in heavenly sweetness through the practice of contemplation, we are perfuming ourselves, readying ourselves to shed delight.

Do Not Fall for Idols

Sermon manuscript (preliminary) for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

For Sabbath, September 3, 2016.

Texts: Deuteronomy 4:20-29, Acts 17:22-29

A few years ago I received a phone call. “John, can you lend me a thousand dollars. I need to fly to Dubai to meet someone who wants to donate to my ministry.”

Freddy needed the money. He had been a minister and lost his job. Since then he had been eking out a very meager existence. He had set up a non-profit and raised a few dollars to support his work, but he was hungry and needed money.

Now, in answer to his prayer, he had gotten connected with someone through the internet who wanted to donate to his ministry. This mystery donor was a very wealthy man whose headquarters was in Dubai. He was prepared to make a contribute of upwards of $20,000, but he wanted Freddy to meet him in Dubai to talk over the details.

So, Freddy begged, was there any way I could spot him the thousand dollars for a plane ticket?

I still laugh at myself for how long it took me to say, No. I liked Freddy so much and I so wanted good things for him that I entertained played with the idea for a while. Fortunately, my wife was more clear-minded. As soon as she heard about it, she indignantly said, “Thou shalt not bow down to any idol!” Well, she didn't say exactly those words. But it meant the same thing.

Wealthy Middle Eastern donors do not seek out poor preachers in Florida as avenues for their charity.

Freddy was participating in his own deception. He wanted it to be true, so even though it was patently bogus to anyone with a grain of sense, he was prepared to believe—and to be scammed.

It is not just poor people who are seduced by the idol of fabulous wealth. A friend who was quite comfortable financially lost everything he had chasing the promise of an income in the billions of dollars. From some distance away, the illegitimacy of the investment scheme was crystal clear. But up close, staring the promise of Bill Gates-sized wealth in the face—my friend could not resist. He bowed and in bowing lost everything.

Against this kind of allure, we need the sturdy, uncompromising, emphatic word of the command: Do not worship idols.

The value of this command is not that it brings some new information. The problem with idols is not that they are so tricky. The problem with idols is our hunger to be deceived. The command simply distills what we already know. And what our brothers and sisters know. And our friends know. And our parents know. In regard to money, Do not worship idols is an ancient way of expressing our modern proverb, If it's too good to be true, it's too good to be true. Sometimes even after doing due diligence fraud happens. People lose money. And all investing carries some measure of risk.

But when easy money is dangled in front of us, beware. Do not bow. Don't fall for an idol.

There are all kinds of other metaphorical idols, seductive promises of well-being and happiness. In working on this sermon, I made lists of idols. I imagined clever ways to illuminate our tendencies toward idolatry. Then I turned to the story of Jesus and his test against the allure of idolatry. And I deleted my list. Because we cannot cure idolatry in the long run by labeling idols.

In the Gospel, Jesus ministry begins with a three-part test. Three great temptations, three invitations to idolatry. In the first the devil invites Jesus to turn stones into bread. “Use your magic. I dare you!”

Jesus refuses.

In the second test, the devil invites Jesus to leap from a some high place on the temple down into the courtyard, counting on angels to cushion his fall, and thus proving his specialness. Jesus refused. Of course.

Then there came the straight-forward idolatry test. The devil showed Jesus all the kingdoms of the world and promised, “Bow to me and I will give you all of this.”

Jesus answered, “It is written, Worship God and God only.”

Note, Jesus did not quote the negative version of the commandment: Do not fall for idols. He quoted a positive version: Worship God and God only.

Sometimes we need the cold, hard slap of the negative commandment to wake us up, to shake us free from the seductive allure of an idol at a moment of crisis. But the command doesn't tell us which way to go. It does not provide much guidance. Don't go there . . . okay. Which direction shall I do? The command, Do not fall for idols, doesn't say.

But the version of the command Jesus quoted does give direction.

Worship God. Give your attention to God. Admire God. Adore God. Contemplate God. Meditate on God. Let the bright glory of God's goodness and generosity, God's benevolence and affection, hold your vision and shape your soul.

Through contemplation of the divine glory holiness will become natural to us. Truth and courtesy will be our normal way of speaking. Generosity and kindness will be our instinctive way of being. Forgiveness will be habitual. The more we give our attention to the glory of God, the more our own characters will be radiant with divine goodness.

And this is our ambition. We want to be a holy people, a people like God.

Worship—private, personal contemplation and our gathering here at church—turns our eyes toward God and that habitual vision shapes our souls.

Last Sunday, about 6 p.m. at the end of a long run, I stepped out of the woods onto the shoulder of Highway 410 only to find my way blocked by a six or seven bicycles sprawled on the ground between the trailhead and my car. Among the bicycles sat a woman and a guy. The woman's legs were dirt splattered. The guy's shirt was wet with sweat and grime.

We fell into easy conversation. They had gone up the Palisades Trail and then down the Ranger Creek Trail, about fifteen miles with 3500 feet of elevation gain.

Which is crazy. I've hiked the Palisades Trail dozens of times. It is no place to ride a bicycle. It has rocky places where the trail drops two or three feet over the boulders. It is criss-crossed with roots. At one point the trail climbs a hundred feet up stairway built on top a massive log. What are these people thinking, peddling bicycles up a trail like that? Even the bikers themselves agree this is a pretty crazy trail. Here is the description of the trail from the Evergreen Mountain Bike Alliance web site:

“Palisades is fairly technical singletrack with exposure. The upper section features breathtaking views off a sheer cliff face, and the middle section is somewhat similar to Tiger Mountain's Preston trail - fast, flowing descent with lots of roots. The lower section is an extreme switchback-laden, rock-garden-riddled, and steep wooden staircase hike-a-bike (some describe it as a bit of a buzz-kill). Well drained throughout, buff and smooth up top, rugged and rooty in the middle, and rocky and loose on the bottom.”

“Ranger Creek is a great trail to ride. Fairly technical singletrack with exposure, beautiful forests, good climbing, fun descents, technical sections and crazy switchbacks that will challenge the most advanced riders.” Evergreen Mountain Bike Alliance web site.

Why would anyone drive from Seattle all the way to out here to ride a bicycle on a crazy trial like this?A couple of reasons come to mind. These people hang out with other people who dream of riding their bicycles in crazy places. They hear stories about crazy rides. They watch YouTube videos about sick bicycle rides. They tell their own stories of crashes and triumphs. They show off their scars. And they cherish the exhilaration of that bombing down a trail and making a two foot drop without crashing.

The bikers I was talking to had done the Palisades Ranger Creek loop and it wasn't enough. So they had loaded their bikes in the truck and driven up Corral Pass Road to the trail head there. Then they rode the Dalles Ridge Trail to the top of Ranger Creek for another fast, scary ride down.

These two were guarding the bikes while others in the group were driving back up to Corral Pass to retrieve their truck.

When I expressed amazement that these people would ride these trails, I was merely pretending. I'm not really amazed. It is what I expect. If you know people in the mountain biking community you know these kinds of exploits are common. This is what they live for.

They “worship” mountain biking mastery. That is they give it attention, frequent, admiring attention. Failure, crashes, bonking—that is collapsing from complete exhaustion—are accepted as simply necessary costs for pursuing their grand ambition.

This is how it is for us.

Our ambition is holiness. We want to peddle the bicycles of our lives the way God peddles his bicycle. We aim to love our enemies the way God loves his enemies.

We aspire to forgive as God forgives.

We want to be as generous as God, as creative as God.

We tells stories of integrity and honesty, of altruism and compassion, of brilliant creativity and faithful service.

Of course, in any endeavor this bold, this exalted, there will be crashes and failures. When that happens we pick each other up and help each other to get back on our bicycles and start peddling again.

We worship. We give admiring, adoring, envious attention to the glory and goodness of God. We aim our lives at divine love. We build our resistance to the allure of idols by devoting ourselves to worship.

Perfume of Heaven: Advice to Preachers

The Perfume of Heaven

John McLarty

Published in Best Practices

The door of Church of the Advent Hope in Manhattan opens directly on the sidewalk on 87th Street. On a sunny Sabbath morning in the spring of 1987 I was standing there with a deacon greeting. I noticed a woman striding our direction from Park Avenue. She was dressed, headed somewhere to impress someone. As she got closer I could hear heels clicking on the sidewalk. Then she was past us, gone, pursuing her morning mission whatever it was. But in her wake, floating on the air, she left a dazzling, enchanting perfume. Its sweetness and magic were so powerful I almost ran after her to ask what it was.

I don't remember what she looked like. I don't remember her age. But still today thirty years later, I remember the captivating, beckoning aroma.

We preachers are like that woman. We make noise in our passing. We aim to make an impression. Then we are gone, on to the next mission, the next assignment, the next church. And what people remember most is the aroma. They recall, sometimes so viscerally they cannot put it into words, the ineffable spirit that prompts our words and shapes our lives.

One practice that I have given increasing attention to in the last two decades is taking care to always speak respectfully of the sinners I imagine are absent from my congregations. Several times, I have spoken with reckless abandon about “evil people” who were not present in my congregation. Only later to regret my words. Not because the activities I had condemned were unworthy of condemnation, but because the people I was speaking of deserved more respect as persons.

When I have visited pedophiles and serial murderers in prison, I remember that I am coming to them as Jesus in the flesh. Of course, their wickedness is repugnant. Still, I work to keep alive the promise of redemption and transformation. The challenge for us as preachers is to demonstrate in the pulpit the same hope and respect we would instinctively practice if we were meeting sinners face-to-face.

It can be tempting in our preaching to rip and tear on really evil people, people are widely scorned. We are certain no one in our congregation is a pedophile or human trafficker or drug dealer. No one in our congregation is an atheist or ruthless business executive. No one in our congregation has had an abortion. And thinking that none of these people are present we speak with a bluntness and dismissiveness we would never use face-to-face, not realizing the atheist we have just mocked is the son of our head elder. The ruthless businessman we have pilloried is the uncle of our Pathfinder leader. The pedophile is sitting on the left, third row from the back. And the woman who had an abortion is sitting fifth row from the front on the right.

In our preaching, we must speak clearly. We are called to exalt holiness and to condemn evil. We are also called to evince love and respect in every sentence. When our members hear our pastoral concern for outrageous sinners, they find space in our sermons to hope they, too, may find grace. Over time, as our sermons give evidence that everyone is held in our hearts with respect and affection, worship services will be suffused with the aroma of grace. Our members will be called back again and again to the pursuit of holiness by the sweet perfume of our words. The fragrance lingers for decades, beckoning our people to follow.

Did God Order Genocide?

After a recent sermon, I received this question: We often tune into the Greenlake church service since our family attend there. I have a question about last Sabbaths sermon, if you don't mind. I thought I picked up that you do not think the God ordained mass killings in the Old Testament were ordered by God. Did I hear that right? If so how do you come to that conclusion? I appreciate any help you can give me on that.

It is a profound question. Here is my answer.

On one hand, the Bible clearly states God ordered the genocide.

Jericho and everything in it must be completely destroyed as an offering to the LORD. Only Rahab the prostitute and the others in her house will be spared, for she protected our spies. Joshua 6:17 NLT

And the LORD said unto Joshua, Fear not, neither be thou dismayed: take all the people of war with thee, and arise, go up to Ai: see, I have given into thy hand the king of Ai, and his people, and his city, and his land: And thou shalt do to Ai and her king as thou didst unto Jericho and her king: only the spoil thereof, and the cattle thereof, shall ye take for a prey unto yourselves: lay thee an ambush for the city behind it. Joshua 8:1-2 KJV

A “plain reading” of these Bible passages leaves us with a simple answer to the question, “Did God order the genocidal acts of Israel?” Yes. But, I counter, there are a number of other passages which Adventists (and many other Christians) “explain” in ways that avoid the plain meaning.

God hardened Pharoah's heart. Exodus 9:12

And again the anger of the LORD was kindled against Israel, and he moved David against them to say, Go, number Israel and Judah. 2 Samuel 24:1

Now therefore, behold, the LORD hath put a lying spirit in the mouth of all these thy prophets, and the LORD hath spoken evil concerning thee. 1 Kings 22:23

If we take the plain reading of the Bible in the above texts, God is an active participant in evil. So Advnetists (and others) have reinterpreted these texts in various ways to avoid saying that God actually did the very thing the Bible says God did. Since these statements are in the same historical context as the passages that say God ordered the genocide, I see no reason not to employ the same methods of interpretation. Which means we acknowledge the text says “God did it” or “God said it” but actually God did not do it or say it.

Some argue that moral revulsion to genocide is a purely modern thing, that if we had been back there in history, we would have had no problem with God ordering genocide. But the Bible itself includes strong protests against the notion of divinely-ordered or divinely-caused genocide. When God announced genocide against Sodom, Abraham protested such an act would be wrong for someone who had the title “Judge of All the Earth.” God bent to Abraham's protest and agreed the presence of even ten good people will be sufficient to prevent the divine blast. When the angels could not find ten good people, they evacuated the four “good” people, thus validating Abraham's fundamental instinct of objection to the slaughter of the innocent and guilty together—which is one of the inescapable effects of genocide.

When God explicitly ordered Moses to step aside and allow God to perpetrate genocide on Israel in the aftermath of the Golden Calf incident, Mosed refuses to step aside. And God backed down. Moses was  right and God was wrong. Or God as portrayed in the plain reading of the story. Usually this story is reinterpreted this way: God did not literally intend to annihilate Israel. Instead, God's words to Moses dramatized the evil the people had done and prepared the way for Moses to act as a savior, thus prefiguring the work of Jesus. I like this interpretation, but we must acknowledge it is a departure from the plain reading of the text. According to the text, God announces genocide and Moses adamantly protests and blocks the divine plan.

When we consider the genocide against the Canaanites, we note the divine pronouncement of doom was so well known the Canaanite peoples themselves knew of the decree. One group of Canaanites, the Gibeonites, tricked the Israelites into signing a mutual non-aggression treaty because of their familiarity with the divine order of genocide. Even though the divine decree was utterly clear, Joshua faced down his entire army when they insisted on obeying God and wiping out the Gibeonites. Joshua deliberately, forcefully opposed the divine verdict of doom. Curiously, when decades later, King Saul decided to do what Joshua had refused to do, God sided not with King Saul but with the Gibeonites. (See Joshua 9 and 10 and 2 Samuel 21.)

So when we say that genocide is immoral and unworthy of God, we are standing with Abraham, Moses and Joshua. Our opposition to genocide is not a modern invention. It is rooted in the most profound human sense of justice and righteousness.

Given the examples of Abraham, Moses, and Joshua, our own rejection of the idea that God really, truly ordered the annihilation of entire populations is on solid biblical grounds. We are insisting that the entirety of the Bible be brought into the discussion.

I argue that the opposition of these men to the command of God is the ancient writers' way of challenging the deeply-embedded conviction of their people that God condoned genocide. It seems to me there are at least a couple of plausible interpretations of the texts: Either God ordered genocide, then changed his mind when confronted by people more merciful than he was or God never actually intended to the genocide in the first place.

I prefer the second interpretation. I don't think God ever commanded genocide against the Canaanites.

Some people, explaining why the Canaanites needed to be annihilated, say that it was because the Canaanites were so debauched that they had to be eradicated to prevent the moral collapse of all humanity. There are problems with this idea.

First, and most important, when we come to the writings of the prophets we find them repeatedly challenging the notion that the Jewish people were superior to their neighbors.

As surely as I live, says the Sovereign LORD, Sodom and her daughters were never as wicked as you and your daughters. Sodom's sins were pride, gluttony, and laziness, while the poor and needy suffered outside her door. She was proud and committed detestable sins, so I wiped her out, as you have seen. "Even Samaria did not commit half your sins. You have done far more detestable things than your sisters ever did. They seem righteous compared to you. Shame on you! Your sins are so terrible that you make your sisters seem righteous, even virtuous. "But someday I will restore the fortunes of Sodom and Samaria, and I will restore you, too. Then you will be truly ashamed of everything you have done, for your sins make them feel good in comparison. Yes, your sisters, Sodom and Samaria, and all their people will be restored, and at that time you also will be restored. Ezekiel 16

A second point I would make is that if the purpose of the genocide was to eradicate the risk of spiritual contamination of Israel, that purpose utterly failed. The genocide was actually rather very limited. Only a few cities were annihilated but large swaths of the land were left in the control of the Canaanites. For example, Jerusalem remained in Canaanite hands until the time of David. (See the book of Joshua for details.) And through their early years, Israel was a raunchy, violent society. (See the book of Judges.)

I take as my principle text for understanding God, the three stories in Luke 15. In this chapter there is no hint of punishment or damnation. Instead, the first two stories end with all gathered in, one hundred sheep in the fold, ten coins back on the necklace. The last story ends with the Father's declaration to the older son, the one who is most persistently alienated from the generous heart of the Father: Son, all that I have is yours. Not will be, could be, or might be. But is.

This Father never ordered or condoned genocide. He never will.

Keeping Sabbath

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists for July 23, 2016.
This is a preliminary version. Comments and criticism welcome.

Deuteronomy 30:11-16
Matthew 13:44-46


Insert Grand Park Photo

Last Sabbath, I made the mistake of stepping into the kitchen where Mark Haun and Eric Lundstrom were engaged in a Sabbath School conversation. They immediately accosted me: we're looking for some people to hike Grand Park with us this afternoon. Did I have any plans that would prevent me from going? I didn't. And I made encouraging noises about going-subject to checking with Karin, of course.

Mark and Eric took off right after church. Karin and I left much later. And to be honest, I pretty much forgot Grand Park. I was sleepy and all the way home I was dreaming of taking a nap. I could barely keep my eyes open.

We pulled in the driveway at home and saw Mark's and Eric's cars in the driveway. I groaned.

Inside, the kitchen was full of people. Mark and Eric had teamed up with my son Garrett to plan the hike. I was going, right?

I groaned. I was sleepy. The sky outside full of clouds. I got on line and checked the web cams at Crystal and Paradise. More clouds. I did not want to go hiking in gray weather. Karin tried to cheer me up by offering food. I wasn't particularly interested. I wanted a nap.

Mark and my son ganged up on me. “Quit looking at the computer.” They said. “Let's just go.” Mark assured me there would be enough flower power in the meadows it would make up any amount of clouds. My daughter chimed in, “Dad, do you ever wish you had not gone on a hike? Even if it rains, do you ever really wish you had stayed home?” She had me there.

I left Karin to go to a local park with the daughters and grandkids and I joined the three young men. They really needed me to go, because the typical way to do this hike is to have two parties that drive to opposite ends of the trail and exchange keys in the middle.

The hour drive was brutal. Sleep kept calling me. Finally, we were on the trail, starting out at Sunrise on Mt. Rainier.

Insert photo of crag and fog

As always, my grumpiness about the weather and every other problem in the world slowly dissolved in the rhythm of walking and the magic of the place. Fog swirled among rugged crags. I've hiked the trails at Sunrise so many times, that every step has the sweet familiarity of home. There are even funny memories of stumbles that almost ended badly, and days I failed underestimated the amount of needed insulation. And every step is redolent with memories of sunny days and endless miles.

In a meadow called Berkeley Park we came across a bear. I was so excited. I've never seen a bear that close in the wild. Ever! It wasn't close enough to be scary. It ignored us and continued its rooting around in the meadow.

We passed an enticing rock face that Garrett had to try his rock climbing fingers on.

Insert Fremont Peak photo

About nine o'clock as we entered Grand Park, the clouds thinned. The sun painted utterly enthralling colors on the slopes of Fremont Peak. The clouds on the western horizon appeared to billowing clouds of blazing white smoke. The meadow itself was suffused with shimmering light cut by the beckoning single line of the trail headed north.

Except for the small, clean line of the trail, everywhere we looked was glorious wildness.

Insert trail pic

Garrett remarked that in the part of the world where he lives (in the mountains in another country) a meadow like this would have a hundred trails snaking here and there across the meadow. There would be plastic bags snagged in the branches at the base of the trees. The mountains and sky would still be grand, but you would have to carefully keep your eyes away from the earth to avoid the spoilation and defilement.

I've been there. I have seen places that have not been kept. The memory of those unkept places, those spoiled treasures, makes me appreciate even more deeply the unspoiled treasure we have. I'm a keeper of the public lands on the north side of Mt. Rainier. I pick up every piece of trash I see—which fortunately is very little. The tens of thousands of people who use the trails there have embraced the ethic of land keeping. On our ten mile hike last Sabbath afternoon, I found only one piece of trash.

I gave thanks for the land keepers.

None of us who hike those trails played any role in creating the landscape. The mountains were built hundreds of millions of years ago. The National Forests and National Park were created 120 years ago. Our public lands are treasures. It is up to us to keep them.

Keeping them is work.

There is the work of protection.

Some people dump stuff. It is up to us to work to prevent dumping and when it happens, to clean it up.

Alpine meadows are quite fragile. Many high meadows were degraded by hikers and horses requiring the Park Service and Forest Service create carefully routed trails to preserve the meadows. I tasted the sweetness of the their work last Sabbath afternoon as Garrett and I hiked across Grand Park enchanted by the pristine, breathtaking beauty.

Our public lands are under constant pressure from commercial interests. Administrators face a daunting balancing act as they juggle the competing demands for “use” and “preservation.” Protecting our public lands is not simple or easy. BUT those lands are a treasure so precious they deserve every bit of effort put into them.

Have you tasted the sweetness of this treasure?

I know some of you have. Some of you have spent many happy days in the forests and on the lakes and slopes and peaks of our region. I was looking at family pictures with the Jonsens and Hasselbracks. Most of the pictures were taken on camping trips.

Even those of us who have not spent time in the wilderness—we have still savored the sweetness of our local public lands. I meet you running and walking around Green Lake across the street. I hear about picnics at Golden Gardens or Alki Beach. Public land—it's where we create family memories and nurture the links of friendship. It's where we feed our souls.

Keeping our public land means protecting that special space from encroachment. We fight to make sure these special places will be available to our children and grandchildren.

Keeping our public land also means enjoying it.

Mt. Rainier will exist whether you ever visit it or not. Because the area around the mountain has been designated a national park, Grand Park will always be there. You will always be able to get on line and find pictures of it. But if you listen closely enough to people who have walked through it, likely you will discover in your own heart a growing hunger to taste it for yourself. It will not be enough to listen to people talk about it. The pictures, instead of being satisfying, will be enticing. If you pay enough attention to the glory of Grand Park, you will start telling yourself. I must go there. I will put it on my bucket list. I can't let Mark and Eric have it all to themselves. I will go there.

Keeping the park moves beyond protecting it from encroachment and moves toward enjoyment.

It is the same with Sabbath.

When you listen to people talk about their experience of Sabbath keeping, a few of them might sound like I did when Mark and Eric were trying to get me to enjoy Grand Park last Sabbath. I complained I was tired. I groused about the clouds. (Part of the reason I complained about the clouds is that the last time Mark dragged me along for a hike through Grand Park, for nearly the entire hike the sky was depressingly heavy. It wasn't just cloudy. It was gloomy. The sky itself was morose and gloomy.)

You can probably find a few people who have tried Sabbath keeping who report it was a gloomy, morose experience. But the vast majority of people who have tried Sabbath keeping have discovered the magic treasure of special time.

Most of us live crazy busy lives. Occasionally, we wonder if we're too busy. We wonder if there is some way to order our lives so there is more space to enjoy the treasure of relationships, the treasure of shared meals. We who are old urge parents with young children: take time with your kids now. They will be gone before you know it.

Sabbath keeping is one way to experience the sweetness we know should be part of our lives.

One of the values of regular Sabbath keeping is the way it begins pulling into our lives deep, almost bodily memory of rich time. Because I have hiked and run the trails at Sunrise so many times, every step now is not just today's step, every step now evokes the multiple-level memories of steps last year and last decade.

When we keep Sabbath regularly, every particular Sabbath meal evokes memories of hundreds of previous Sabbath meals. Every Sabbath worship service connects with our life history of participating in church. Every Sabbath afternoon hike or nap or picnic, takes us into a stream of joy that connects all our Sabbath memories together.

Regular Sabbath keeping brings together our earthly friendships, our worship, our meals, our experience in the out-of-doors. And because it is Sabbath, all of this connects with God. Our meals and worship, our hikes and naps and picnics are holy, enriched by the blessing of Sabbath.

Some of us, hearing these words, will start to scold ourselves. We start thinking, “I should be more diligent in my Sabbath keeping. And because we “should” be more diligent, thinking about Sabbath increasing our discomfort. It increases our stress. We start scolding ourselves. Please don't.

Scolding other people does not usually produce useful change in their lives. And scolding ourselves probably won't increase the quality of our lives either. When you think about Sabbath keeping, let it serve as an invitation. Pay attention to the benefit Sabbath keepers report. Let their words entice you, beckon you.

If we pay attention to something beautiful and desirable long enough and intensely enough, we are likely begin moving that direction. And when we move that direction the tastes we get will call us deeper.

When you're considering Sabbath keeping, the difficulty of pulling it off might seem daunting. You might be like me in the kitchen last Sabbath afternoon, grousing about the difficulty, feeling the challenge, feeling the effort. I felt the weight of the clouds. I felt my own tiredness. Those problems completely obscured the sweetness of the treasure waiting for me in Grand Park.

Then my daughter challenged me: “Dad, have you ever wished you didn't go hiking? Have you ever gotten out on the trail and wished you had stayed home?”

I couldn't answer. I could have stayed home. I could have gone to bed and taken a nap. And it would have been wonderful. The nap would have been heavenly. But she was right that there has never been a time when I went for a hike or run in the mountains and then later wished I had stayed home, wished I had taken a nap instead. That has never happened.

I invite you to taste the same kind of truth in Sabbath keeping. I have never met anyone who kept Sabbath and regretted doing it. Sabbath is a treasure so rich that every bit of effort we put into keeping it comes back to us in joy.

Blessed are the pure in heart

A sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists
June 25, 2016

Texts: Psalm 24, Matthew 5:8, 2 Chronicles 28, Matthew 15:1-20, John 1:18; 1 John 4:12


I was working on today's sermon at Starbucks in Enumclaw. Sitting on a bench outside. I heard people asking and giving directions. I noticed the license plate of the car was from out of state. I listened more closely. They were asking for directions to Mt. Rainier. I heard references to Highway 410 and Crystal Mountain. I joined the conversation.

“You're wanting to see Mt. Rainier, right?”

 “Yes.”

“Listen, follow the directions these people gave you BUT ADD THIS BIT:  A few miles after you enter the park you will see a big sign for a place called Sunrise. It won't say anything about Mt. Rainier, but take that road. You have to go to Sunrise to see the mountain.”

They thanked me and headed off.

Often when Karin and I have been up at Chinook Pass at the northeast corner of the park or near Stevens Canyon Road which is the turn off for Paradise on the east side of the park, people have stopped and asked us, “Where is Mt. Rainier?”

They have driven out from Seattle. They have a map and figure if you go to the place on the map called Mt. Rainier National Park, the mountain will be kind of obvious. Except that it isn't. Highway 410 crosses the north side of the park. You cross the entire park and go another couple of hours to Yakima and in that entire distance there are only a couple of turn outs where you can pull off the road and get a glimpse of the mountain in the distance. People who have driven out from Seattle rightly expect better views of the mountain than that. And better views are available. But you have to turn off at Sunrise. It is your only option on the north side of the park. If you don't take that road, you won't get satisfying views. That's just the way it is.

If you do take the Sunrise turnoff and drive ten miles up the road, you reach the Sunrise parking lot and stunning, breathtaking views of Mt. Rainier. From there you can head up on the Burroughs Mountain Trail and get so close to the north face of the mountain you can hear rocks and avalanches falling. You can feel the mountain's immensity.

It's quite curious to me. From downtown Seattle, the mountain dominates the sky. You drive south on I-5 and the mountain looms. You head east on Highway 164 toward Enumclaw, the mountain fills your vision. You leave Enumclaw on Highway 410 and the mountain disappears. In the 40 miles from Enumclaw to Chinook Pass, there are only occasional glimpses, tantalizing glimpses. The mountain, all 14,000 feet of it, seems to hide.

Unless you turn off Highway 410 onto the Sunrise Road.

Blessed are those who turn, they will see the mountain.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

Most people who drive two hours from Seattle to Mt. Rainier National Park want to see the mountain. And most people who come to church want to see God.

If you want to see the mountain, you have to make the turn and the drive. If you want to see God you have to practice purity. This is not some arbitrary rule. It's just the way the universe works.

Blessed are the pure in heart. They will see God. Cursed are the impure in heart. Their vision of God will be hindered, obscured, distorted. People with impure hearts can go all the way to church and discover God is curiously invisible.

I was visiting with an old man. He was really old--approaching one hundred years old. We talked church. He lamented the way the church has departed from its original vision. I asked what that original vision was. When he told me, I laughed a bit. His version of “original” was a bit idiosyncratic. He lamented cultural changes that were contrary to his tastes. And he confused those cultural tastes with original, essential Adventism. As a point of historical fact, the church he was describing was the church of the 1950s and 1960s, not the 1800s. Then he became quite explicit. The people who were participating in these changes were going to be lost. God was going to kill them.

I protested that God is a father and a father who kills most of his kids would not be a very good father. Yes, he acknowledged, God is a loving, generous father. But, he insisted, we need to remember God has two natures. There is the kind God and then there is the God who kills people. Think of all the people he killed in the Flood, my friend said. Remember Jericho. And God is going to kill a bunch more, too, at the end. Remember the Adventist prophet, Ellen White, said not one in twenty church members had a saving relationship with God. That's a 95 percent failure rate. And that was back in her day before things got bad. God is going to have to kill all those messed up church people. I said I disagreed. The old man acknowledged our disagreement. He wished he could share my optimism, but he was pretty sure God was going to kill a whole lot of people. That was God's job. That's what God is like. My question: is it really?

Did my friend have a clear vision of God? Did he have an accurate vision of God?

Does God have two natures—kind and generous father one day, merciless executioner the next?

Most people reject the notion of two natures. One person said to me, this idea of two natures makes it sound like God is schizo. But if God does not have multiple personalities, we are left with the live question: what is God really like? There are a lot of different versions of God espoused by people. Which is more accurate? Which description comes closer to the real thing?

If we get a clear vision of God, what will we see? Answering this question can get quite complicated, even if we ask the Bible prophets. Consider this story from 2 Chronicles 28.

Ahaz was twenty years old when he became king, and he reigned in Jerusalem sixteen years. He did not do what was pleasing in the sight of the LORD, as his ancestor David had done.
Instead, he followed the example of the kings of Israel. He cast metal images for the worship of Baal. He offered sacrifices in the valley of Ben-Hinnom, even sacrificing his own sons in the fire. In this way, he followed the detestable practices of the pagan nations the LORD had driven from the land ahead of the Israelites. He offered sacrifices and burned incense at the pagan shrines and on the hills and under every green tree.
Because of all this, the LORD his God allowed the king of Aram to defeat Ahaz and to exile large numbers of his people to Damascus. The armies of the king of Israel also defeated Ahaz and inflicted many casualties on his army.
In a single day Pekah son of Remaliah, Israel's king, killed 120,000 of Judah's troops, all of them experienced warriors, because they had abandoned the LORD, the God of their ancestors.
Then Zicri, a warrior from Ephraim, killed Maaseiah, the king's son; Azrikam, the king's palace commander; and Elkanah, the king's second-in-command. The armies of Israel captured 200,000 women and children from Judah and seized tremendous amounts of plunder, which they took back to Samaria.

If you were going to explain to someone what God is like based on this story, what would you say? This sounds like the version of God preached by people like Pat Robertson or Doug Bachelor. God punishes people by causing really bad stuff to happen. God causes people to be slaughtered in war as punishment for their sins.

This is an especially attractive idea when other people are losers. They were bad people any way. We don't have to worry about them. In fact, we can be happy for their loss and suffering. We are insulated against empathy because we know we would never be evil like those people. But this story has a curious twist in it.

When the army of Israel arrived back home full of exultation over their victory and proud of the huge amount of loot and captives (who would become slaves) a prophet shows up.

A prophet of the LORD named Oded was there in Samaria when the army of Israel returned home. He went out to meet them and said, "The LORD, the God of your ancestors, was angry with Judah and let you defeat them. But you have gone too far, killing them without mercy, and all heaven is disturbed. And now you are planning to make slaves of these people from Judah and Jerusalem. What about your own sins against the LORD your God? Listen to me and return these prisoners you have taken, for they are your own relatives. Watch out, because now the LORD's fierce anger has been turned against you!"
Then some of the leaders of Israel--Azariah son of Jehohanan, Berekiah son of Meshillemoth, Jehizkiah son of Shallum, and Amasa son of Hadlai--agreed with this and confronted the men returning from battle. "You must not bring the prisoners here!" they declared. "We cannot afford to add to our sins and guilt. Our guilt is already great, and the LORD's fierce anger is already turned against Israel." So the warriors released the prisoners and handed over the plunder in the sight of the leaders and all the people. Then the four men just mentioned by name came forward and distributed clothes from the plunder to the prisoners who were naked. They provided clothing and sandals to wear, gave them enough food and drink, and dressed their wounds with olive oil. They put those who were weak on donkeys and took all the prisoners back to their own people in Jericho, the city of palms. Then they returned to Samaria. 

Mercy triumphs over vengeance. Justice is not punishment but healing. The Bible has lots of stories that make God appear vindictive, severe, murderous, even. Then there is this other theme—mercy. Frequently, mercy is presented as a contradiction of God—a contradiction that God himself approves.

When something bad happens and people cheer the misfortune of the cursed, a prophet, a righteous hero, will stand and shout, No. Mercy! And God bends to the cry for mercy. Over and over again.

What is God really like? When we get a clear, unobstructed view of God what do we see? Mercy.

This appears most vividly when we come to the Gospel, the story of Jesus. We believe God has engaged with humanity throughout history and that the Bible is a record God's dealings with humanity. God was revealed through the ancient temple services and through the words of the prophets, but as Christians we regard the teachings of Jesus as the highest, clearest revelation of God.

In the words of the Gospel of John,

No one has ever seen God. But the unique One, who is himself God, who is near to the Father’s heart: He has revealed God to us. John 1:18

What is God like in the teachings of Jesus. Jesus uses various metaphors to picture God: judge, employer, master, king, shepherd. His favorite picture of God is as a provident, attentive father. In Matthew 6, Jesus repeatedly assures us the heavenly father is watching and will provide for us. In Matthew 7, Jesus says God is more generous than our highest idealization of the perfect earthly parent.

In the Old Testament, the vision of God is frequently terrifying, intimidating. When people see God it is like finding yourself on top Mt. Rainier when the wind is blowing fifty or sixty miles an hour with ten feet of visibility. You know you're going to die.

In the teachings of Jesus, the vision of God is beckoning, inspiring. Like finding yourself on top of Third Burroughs on a perfect day in August, thrilled with the immensity of the mountain, the ruggedness of the rock, the dazzling glorious white of the snow.

Which vision is more authoritative? We unabashedly stand with Jesus.

How does this beautiful vision of God come to fill our vision? How does this glory displace the notions of doom and threat?

According to Jesus: Blessed are the pure in heart. They will see God. The path to this exalted vision of God is through the practice of purity of heart.

First, let's consider what Jesus meant by a pure heart. This is a no easy path.

Being pure in heart is more than being religious. In fact, Jesus specifically challenges the notion of  religious purity. While the forms of religion can be helpful. They can also be used to obscure the vision of God. Jesus was quite pointed about this.

Once, the religious rulers scolded Jesus for failing to follow a traditional washing practice before eating. Jesus pushed back hard. According to the Gospel Jesus turned from the religious leaders and spoke directly to the crowd:

Listen. It is not what goes into a person's mouth that makes them “unclean.” It's what comes out! What you eat passes through the body and out. But what comes out of the mouth is actually coming from the heart. Evil thoughts, murder, adultery, all sexual immorality, theft, lying, and slander. These are the things that make a person unclean or impure. Matthew 15

When we practice impurity, we obscure our vision of God. We diminish our capacity to see God. Sometimes religion itself can make our spiritual glasses opaque. Our religion can blind us to God. In my life time, devotion to the King James Bible has played that role. The King James translation is a wonderful translation. But some people turned it into an idol and worshiped the book instead of God. Some translation reformers have worshiped the notion of “the newest and latest translation.” In both cases advocates have imagined that God was contained exclusively in their particular box. People have done the same thing with music. We have imagined that “our music,” the music that is most helpful our own hearts and souls, is the only musical language acceptable to God. And we have turned our critical ear against those who speak a different musical language. And in the process we have hidden God behind a cloud bank.

We prepare ourselves to see God by pursuing purity of heart. By pursuing moral, spiritual vitality. I suppose we could define this purity as the virtues that contrast with the vices Jesus listed. Instead of evil thoughts, we practice good thoughts. Instead of murder, we practice nourishing and protecting life—the unborn, the foreign born, the poor born, those of different races. Instead of adultery, we practice faithfulness. Instead of thieving, we practice generosity. Instead of lying and slander, we practice honesty and kind words. Practicing these habits enhances our capacity to see God.

In the First Epistle of John, we read these words.

No one has ever seen God. But if we love each other, God lives in us, and his love is brought to full expression in us. 1 John 4:12

Remember the passage from the Gospel of John we read earlier? “No one has seen God, but Jesus has made him known.” Now, here we read no one has seen God, BUT God's love is brought to full expression--is made visible—when we love one another. When we practice purity of heart, not only do we find ourselves in the light of God's presence, we bring God to light for those around us.


Let's go back to my old friend. His vision of God—the idea that God will kill a lot of people—is rooted in the religious culture of the church he grew up in. It is the same vision I grew up with. As did many of you.

It is a vision of God that is very much alive in the world. I had posted a note about my conversation with the old man on Facebook. I received this response from a young friend, someone about thirty years old:

As much as I hate to admit it, this centenarian fellow is probably right to some degree. The Bible is rife with examples of a violent God. . . . I wish God was like you describe. Let's hope Centenarian is missing something.

I believe the Centenarian is missing something: Actually, he is missing two things.

He is missing the minority report found all through the Bible that mercy is the last, best, final word of God. He has not noticed that God regards mercy as the highest form of justice. Retribution and punishment can be successfully challenged.

There is one other reason my old friend cannot see clearly the triumph of mercy. He needs God to remain his partner in despising people who are wrong.

My old friend was quite emphatic. He disdained all these people who don't practice religion just the way he prefers. He wanted me to explain why so many people—even in church—refused to do things the way “we have always done them.” Those people—the ones who had tinkered with his religion, the ones who had failed to keep all the traditions just the way my old friend remembered—those people needed to be punished. Part of my friend's insistence on the deadliness of God is his own severe judgment on people he disagrees with. His heart is dirtied with religious animosity and that hostility obscures his vision of God.

The news is constantly reminding us that evil is afoot in the world. We are daily confronted with stories about people that awaken our sense of outrage and horror. We naturally want to smash the evil. We want to bomb, shoot, kill the bad people who cause such horror. These reactions are natural.

Jesus calls us higher. Jesus calls us to practice purity, to deliberately fill our hearts with goodness, faithfulness, generosity. Let us practice the bold mercy of the prophet Obed: Let's push back against the natural hunger for vengeance and murderous victories. Let's join Jesus in pursuing mercy. Let's join Jesus in practicing divine purity.

Blessed are the pure in heart. They will see God.

After the Revolution

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

For July 9, 2016

Rescue those who are unjustly sentenced to die;

save them as they stagger to their death.

Don’t excuse yourself by saying, “Look, we didn’t know.”

For God understands all hearts, and he sees you.

He who guards your soul knows you knew.

He will repay all people as their actions deserve.

Proverbs 24;11-12

The week began innocently enough. On Sunday I flew to Lawrence, Kansas, to spend the week helping my daughter work on the old house she has just bought. We worked until one or two in the morning most nights. It wasn't all work. Between the two of us we managed to eat a gallon of ice cream. On Tuesday morning I went running. Out through the neighborhood of old houses, down to the river where a levee runs for miles.

It was a perfect Kansas summer day. Temperature in the 80s. Blue sky with puffy white clouds. Cottonwood leaves dancing in the sunlight.

We worked through Wednesday and Thursday and all of Thursday night. Got on a plane early Friday morning and arrived home. There on the kitchen table was the Seattle Times with the headline about the shootings in Dallas. And I caught up with the news from the week.

A bombing in Baghdad killed 200 people.
Twice police shot Black men in acts of apparent gross police misconduct.
Another bombing in Baghdad killed 35 people.
A shooter in Dallas shot police who were providing service at a protest against police violence.

I wanted to go back to Kansas. And sanding and painting my daughter's house.

But here we are, in this house of prayer for all nations, confronting the twin realities of a glorious world and heart-crushing evil.

This past Monday was Fourth of July, the celebration of the American Revolution.

American history celebrates our founding rebellion. There was a wicked king in England who imposed onerous taxes on his far-off subjects in America. The king also interfered with the administration of true justice and the righteous application of law. The taxes and other grievances became so unbearable the Americans went to war to get rid of the evil king. With the help of the French, the Americans won the war. They got rid of the wicked king and his rapacious army. Everyone in America was now free and goodness and justice spread across the land.

That's the way the story was supposed to go.

The point of rebellion is to replace evil power with a good power. But it seldom works. The rebellion is the easy part. Identify the bad guys and eliminate them. Kill them. Then goodness will blossom everywhere.

It didn't work in the American Revolution. Slavery was expanded after the revolution. Women were still owned by their husbands. Children were worked to death in factories. Poor men were crushed by rich men. Life was about the same as it was before the Revolution. Getting rid of the King of England simply changed the name of the oppressor.

Creating a good society by killing bad people was attempted in Bible times. The Hebrew people entered Canaan. This was the promised land. It was the land where God's people were going to live happily ever after. No more enemies. No more false gods. No more false religion. The first step toward this earthly paradise was the eradication of the bad people. The Israelites obliterated whole cities, every man, woman, and child. In places they even killed all the animals, the donkeys and cows, and I suppose the dogs and cats.

We have a name for this horror: genocide.

Unfortunately, it didn't work. The Israelites discovered that every evil that was out there was also “in here.” As they tried to deal with evil by crusades against whole cities, they ended up attacking Israelite cities where evil had been perpetrated.

Injustice, idolatry, greed, tyranny lived not only out there, but in here. This is still true.

This week's events highlight the need for a better, higher vision. We cannot build a better world with weapons. Yes, sometimes when egregious evil arises we must use violence to fight it off. But need for that kind of defensive violence is rare. And the act of violence—even defensive, justifiable violence—never builds goodness. We cannot grow tomatoes by pulling weeds. We cannot feed hungry children by killing mosquitoes. We cannot build a happy, prosperous community by killing bad people.

There is a higher path.

In the Bible, the prophets struggle to give voice to this higher, more noble way of life.

In the book of Deuteronomy we find these words:

"Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against a fellow Israelite, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the LORD.

"Do not take advantage of foreigners who live among you in your land.

Treat them like native-born Israelites, and love them as you love yourself. Remember that you were once foreigners living in the land of Egypt. I am the LORD your God.

Leviticus 19:18; 33-34

The Bible is full of stories and ideas that emphasize the difference between Israel and everyone else. There are commands to be separate, to be different. Israel was not like “other people.” Instead they were the special people of God.

But there is another line of thinking, another vision. When you look at foreigners, remember you were a foreigner.

When you think of Jerusalem as God's city, instead of thinking, God is here not there. God is with us and not with them, think this city belongs to the world and the whole world has citizenship here.

A song. A psalm of the descendants of Korah. On the holy mountain stands the city founded by the LORD.

He loves the city of Jerusalem more than any other city in Israel.

O city of God, what glorious things are said of you! Interlude

I will count Egypt and Babylon among those who know me--also Philistia and Tyre, and even distant Ethiopia. They have all become citizens of Jerusalem!

Regarding Jerusalem it will be said, "Everyone enjoys the rights of citizenship there." And the Most High will personally bless this city.

When the LORD registers the nations, he will say, "They have all become citizens of Jerusalem." Interlude

The people will play flutes and sing, "The source of my life springs from Jerusalem!"

This vision—the vision of a single citizenship for all humanity—will change how we interact with each other. Iraqis and Americans are parts of a single whole.

We appropriately lament the death of 4500 American service personnel in the Iraq War. Let's enlarge our vision and feel the weight of the Iraqi people killed as a direct consequence of that war—100,000 people.

We who are white must remember that Black people and Hispanic people and Asian people are people. All of us together are the family of God.

As Christians, as people who claim kinship with God, we are not allowed to look away from the injustices suffered by those who are a different color or who have less capable legal representation.

Rescue those who are unjustly sentenced to die;

save them as they stagger to their death.

Don’t excuse yourself by saying, “Look, we didn’t know.”

For God understands all hearts, and he sees you.

He who guards your soul knows you knew.

He will repay all people as their actions deserve.

Proverbs 24;11-12

We are Sabbath-keepers. Traditionally, we have reassured ourselves this is our proof that we are indeed law-abiding people. But it is not enough.

The law of God reaches its ultimate test in this challenge: Let us love our neighbors as ourselves. And who is my neighbor? More than anyone else, my neighbor is the one who is suffering, the one who could use some help.

We who find ourselves at home at the Master's Table demonstrate our true citizenship, our true identity as children of this home, by extending the welcome. We eat the truest bread of heaven when hand it to others.