Transfiguring Money into Spirit

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

for Sabbath, January 30, 2016

Texts:  Leviticus 27:30-34 and Matthew 25:14-30

I think it would be difficult to find a more “unspiritual” thing than a Frito bag. The very sound the bag makes when you handle it—the sharp, crinkly sound—is a bit annoying and speaks of trash, cheap, unhealthy. I once preached a sermon on the evils of food that comes in crinkly bags. The bag is not recyclable or compostable. I don't even think it burns. It's just a cheap container for corn chips.

But over the past thirty-five years, Frito bags have been transfigured. They are the containers of a sacramental food. Now, just as a communion cup suggests the Lord's Supper, so a Frito bag suggests a sacred meal. Frito bags have been transfigured from trash into spiritual treasure.

I'm doing a series of sermons on spiritual disciplines—religiously-inspired habits that help nourish our souls, help be more aware of the presence and favor of God, habits that help shape our lives, habits that help us embed holiness in the core of our being.

The impulse to goodness is a gift. God has created within us a desire to do good, to make beauty, to heal and help, to create and build. All of these gifts call for nurture. If we have a gift of music, we nurture that gift through taking lessons and spending hours practicing. If we have a gift of movement, we nourish that gift by working out in a gym or running or spending hours shooting hoops. Every gift invites investment in habits that will bring that gift to its richest flowering.

It's the same with spirituality. We can engage in habits that will strengthen our impulses toward compassion, self-control, integrity and kindness. One reason we come to church is that the social connections and worship encourage us in the right path.

Typical lists of spiritual disciplines or holy habits include things like meditation and prayer, Bible reading and listening to and a singing inspirational music. Even fasting. But Frito bags? I've never seen Frito bags on one of those lists. But for me, Frito bags have been transformed into a sacrament. (A sacrament is an earthly vehicle of God's presence and favor.)

How did Frito bags get transfigured in sacramental treasures?

For thirty years, it has been a tradition on Friday nights at our house to have “Haystacks.” As many of you know, “Haystacks” is a traditional Adventist version of a taco salad. Beans, chips, salad greens and tomatoes. Now that the kids are out of the house there is more variation in our Friday night menu because Karin is not as crazy about haystacks as I am. Still, the default menu for Friday night is haystacks. When we have haystacks, I can easily recall visions from earlier days when the kids were little. In my minds eye, I see my youngest daughter when she was two or three years old, white blond curls around her big eyes. I see my son, making too much noise, too much mess. I see my oldest daughter getting out the china and the fancy silver ware. Because on Friday night, the menu might seem inelegant, but dinner was special. Now, I have other faces to add to these Friday night memories. For a couple of months at the end of this past year, my son and his wife and their two children were with us. So now when I play the Friday night memory video, I see the face of my granddaughter, a mischievous grin on her face as she delightedly shovels beans into her mouth with her hand. Then asks for more chips! Always more chips.

And chips come in crinkly bags.

Over the decades I have experimented with the haystack recipe. Black beans instead of pinto beans. Cauliflower in addition to the typical salad greens. Rice in addition to beans. I've tried various kinds of salsa. But one item has remained constant, chips. Always chips. And the premier Haystack chip is Fritos.

The tradition of chips is so deeply rooted that if I open a bag of chips on Tuesday, I'm likely to think about the family gathered around the table on Friday night.

Our family tradition—our discipline, our habit—has transformed a crinkly bag of chips into a constant reminder of precious people and wonderful occasions around our table.

Another unlikely sacrament—a hundred dollar bill.

It's common for people to talk about money as a bad thing. We can even misquote the Bible: Money is the root of all evil. Or quote what it actually says, “The love of money is the root of all evil.” Or in other translations, “all kinds of evils.” 1 Timothy 6:10

I suppose an inordinate obsession with money can lead to all kinds of evil. However, I think of money as the life-blood of goodness. Money provides us with warm, dry kitchens to cook in. Money puts shoes on our kids. Money allows us to send presents to our friends who live a continent away. Allows us to fly to Australia. Enables us to respond to emergencies thousands of miles away. Money flows in all kinds of goodness.

We can engage in disciplines that will give us a deep sense of the holiness, the goodness of money. The practice of these disciplines gives us a sense of partnership with God in doing good in the world. They heighten our enjoyment of our wealth—however meager it might be from an accounting perspective.

In the Hebrew culture there were a number or practices designed to turn ordinary commerce into an agency of spiritual life. One was a practice called “first fruits.” At the time of harvest, before beginning work, a farmer would take a sample of the first of the harvest and present it as an offering to God.

In this act of offering, the farmers were celebrating God as the ultimate source of their bounty. Of course, the farmers had worked hard. The entire family—men, women and children—all put muscle and sweat and maybe tedium into producing the harvest. Grape vines needed pruning. Vegetable gardens needed planting and watering and weeding. Grain fields required plowing and cutting and gathering and threshing. Farming, especially in the days before machinery, was labor intensive . . . to say the least.

The harvest bounty did not fall into their laps. They worked for it. Still, they offered first fruits as their recognition of the divine gifts of soil and rain and sun. The magic of life itself. The life mysteriously hiding in seeds and pouring up through the roots of the vines and trees. Even their knowledge what and how and when, times of planting methods of cultivation—this, too, was gift. And in their first fruit offering they reminded themselves of the gifts. And it made them glad.

Another practice of the Hebrews was something called tithing. Tithe” is an old English word that simply means one tenth. Faithful farmers devoted one tenth of their crops to the support of the temple and the priesthood.

We see the seriousness of this practice in the words of our Old Testament reading today.

And all the tithe of the land, whether of the seed, or the fruit of the tree, is the LORD'S. It is holy unto the LORD. If a man wishes to redeem any of his tithes, he shall add to it twenty percent. Concerning the tithe of the herd or flock—any kind of animal that is passed under a rod for counting—the tenth shall be holy unto the LORD. The farmer is not to check to see whether the animal is good or bad. He is not to exchange one animal for another. Leviticus 27:30-32

Ten percent belonged to God. This was simply a given. It was to become a habitual part of their lives.

This idea has been picked by Christians and applied to income. The Adventist Church officially encourages its members to devote ten percent of their income to God. When we do this, over time we come to think of ourselves as financial partners with God. Our money is God's money. God's money is our money.

When I have talked with church people over the decades about this idea of tithing, about devoting ten percent of our income to God, I hear most two kinds of comments.

Some people explain that they cannot afford to tithe. Usually, the reason they cannot afford to tithe is because they don't have enough money. They need every last dollar they manage to scrape together just to pay rent, the VISA bill and buy shoes for their kids.

A very understandable situation.

The other set of comments I hear goes something like this: “I can't afford not to. I give ten percent or fifteen or twenty percent, and the blessing I get from my giving is irreplaceable. I couldn't manage without giving.”

People who regularly, habitually, systematically give money as part of their religious practice acquire a special relationship with money. Money becomes a vehicle of partnership with God. Money itself is felt to be holy. It's not just the money these folks give to church or to charities or to needy people directly. Money itself, the paper stuff in our wallets, the plastic, all of it is holy.

So paying the VISA bill becomes a spiritual exercise. When we are paying our bills, we are directing some of earth's bounty, some of God's gift, to cover the expenditures we made last month for food and gasoline and flowers and birthday gifts.

This is the fruit of regular, habitual tithing. We learn to see money as an abstract form of hard work and ingenuity. Money is a visual expression of the cooperation between the gift of God and our own hardwork and even good luck. Money is transfigured into spirit.

A penny, a hundred dollar bill, a check for 50,000 dollars – as we manage money, we have a sense that we are touching a stream of divine blessing. Money becomes the life of God flowing through our hands.

Our financial capacities are vastly different. Here in this beautiful house, some of us have a great abundance of money. Some of us don't know how we're going to pay next month's tuition or rent. We don't where we will find the money for a medical bill or legal bill.

To those of you with meager incomes and limited opportunities to change that, I wish to impose no obligation or burden.

But if you are a typical American with a decent job that gives you enough income to acquire credit cards and debt, I invite you to experiment with the discipline of tithing. Consider ten percent of your income as holy. Give that ten percent to God. If you have never done anything like this before, start with one percent or two percent. And some of you I know give twenty percent or thirty percent.

Wherever you are financially, I invite you to consider tasting the exquisite pleasure of transforming dollar bills into sacraments, ATM cards into vehicles of partnership and communion with God.

Revisioning Prophecy

This is a repost of something I've published here and elsewhere before.

Revisioning Prophecy

By John McLarty

For October, 2015, Gazette

The recent visit of Pope Francis to the United States occasioned a flurry of Adventist commentary. Some saw the visit as evidence of the looming end of time. A representative example of this thinking was published on the web site, Advendicate. This article gave particular attention to the pope's statement about climate change. Since President Obama and other world leaders also think climate change is a serious issue this is supposed to prove the pope is now wielding increased global power. The article also quoted a number of statements by the pope advocating Sunday-keeping. These were cited as evidence that the United States is moving toward the enactment of a National Sunday Law. The article can be readily summarized in these sentences:

Prophecy is being fulfilled. Pope Francis represents the first beast of Revelation 13:1, whereas President Obama represents the second beast (13:11). Revelation 13:11-17 informs us that in the closing moments of time, the second beast (USA) will promote the first beast (the Papacy), and finally enforce its “mark.”

(http://advindicate.com/articles/2015/9/27/pope-francis-sunday-and-seventh-day-adventists)

Other Adventist commentary has discussed the mass mailing of 170,000 copies of The Great Controversy by Ellen White to addresses in the Philadelphia area. Some argued Adventists should similarly blanket every city in the United States with the book. Others express embarrassment because the book is very blunt in its telling of the documented abuses by the Catholic Church in the past and its assertion that the Catholic Church will again act as a persecuting power. Many of these Adventists who are embarrassed by the book nevertheless believe Last Day Events will play out just as the book describes—a union of Protestants and the papacy will foist a National Sunday Law on America that will ultimately impose the death penalty on anyone who opposes this Sunday law. But they think we should keep this belief secret.

I largely ignored the hubbub until a student asked me about a sermon preached at Andrews University detailing “The Pope's Agenda for America.” The sermon talked about the “leopard beast” of Revelation. What did I think? Here is my response to all the commotion:

Adventist concern about the pope flows from the End Time Scenario found in chapters 35-39 of The Great Controversy. The scenario outlined in The Great Controversy is in turn rooted in the interpretation of Revelation 12-13 worked out by the Reformers, especially Martin Luther. Most Adventists believe that questioning any detail of the prophecy in The Great Controversy is tantamount to rejecting the prophetic gift of Ellen White.

The specific predictions in the book assume that Protestant churches will have irresistible influence in American political life and that those churches will partner with the Roman Catholic Church in persuading the American government to enact a National Sunday Law. Ellen White believed all these events would happen within her life time. (She died in 1915.) Given the steady decline in church attendance and church influence in American life and the passage of a hundred years of American history that Ellen White did not envision, some Adventist theologians are questioning whether the scenario mapped out in The Great Controversy will ever happen. Perhaps, the enduring relevance of the prophecies in these chapters will come from the principles of spiritual life and theology elucidated through the narrative. These principles are relevant in every historical setting, in every political environment, in every religious conflict. These principles continue to offer godly wisdom even as the world described by Ellen White morphs beyond recognition.

Curiously, one of the Bible prophets, Ezekiel, also wrote a detailed End Time Scenario. Just like Ellen White in The Great Controversy, Ezekiel names the enemies of God's people, talks about the work of the Holy Spirit to purify God's people, and outlines the stratagems of the wicked. The grand climax of his prophecy is an overwhelming, supernatural intervention by God. God blasts the armies of the wicked and establishes his people in safety and righteousness forever. The final chapters of Ezekiel provide dizzying detail of the architecture of the new temple—storage rooms and worship areas. The prophet details the clothing and scheduling of the priests. He writes about the specific liturgical practices. There is even a description of land distribution for the priests and the tribes.

But none of it ever happened.

What are we to do with this? The New Testament, especially the book of Revelation, reinterprets the vision of Ezekiel. In the book of Revelation, Ezekiel's earthly Jerusalem constructed of stone in Palestine becomes the New Jerusalem which will descend from heaven. The chief enemy of God's people in Ezekiel—a local figure, “Gog, of the land of Magog, the prince of Rosh, Meshech, and Tubal”--becomes in Revelation “Gog and Magog, the nations in the four corners of the earth.” Ezekiel writes about a river that flows from the stone temple in the earthly Jerusalem. In Revelation, the river flows from the throne of God and of the Lamb. Ezekiel writes about a fusion of the Nation of Judah and the Ten Lost Tribes which had become extinct as distinct people groups two hundred years before Ezekiel's day. In Revelation this fusion is echoed in the vision of the 144,000–12,000 from every tribe (including the Lost Tribes)--which then morphs into the international multitude so immense it cannot be counted. Every detail of Ezekiel's vision is reinterpreted. No detail is fulfilled in a literal, historical sense. It turns out that it is the spiritual heart of the vision that matters.

The truth in Ezekiel that the New Testament reaffirms is the rich promise that God will finally turn the world. He will supernaturally give us new hearts that are reliably pure and holy. He will vanquish the enemies of God's people. He will save all his people—including the lost Ten Tribes, that is the people who are utterly invisible to any human system of accounting. God will visit the Valley of Dry Bones and recreate a living people. The “take away” message of Ezekiel is God wins. Righteousness wins. God carries his people to victory. The details of Gog, the architecture of the temple, the assignments of the priests and the liturgical practices of the temple prove to be unnecessary for the accomplishment of God's purposes. And so, we let them go.

Similarly with The Great Controversy. There are eternal principles in chapters 35-39. Note these quotations:

God never forces the will or the conscience; but Satan's constant resort--to gain control of those whom he cannot otherwise seduce--is compulsion by cruelty. Through fear or force he endeavors to rule the conscience and to secure homage to himself. GC 591

A religion of externals is attractive to the unrenewed heart. The pomp and ceremony of the Catholic worship has a seductive, bewitching power, by which many are deceived; and they come to look upon the Roman Church as the very gate of heaven. GC 567 (To state the obvious: “pomp and ceremony” are not copyrighted by the Roman Catholic Church. They are not even copyrighted by religion.)

It is Satan's constant effort to misrepresent the character of God, the nature of sin, and the real issues at stake in the great controversy. His sophistry lessens the obligation of the divine law and gives men license to sin. At the same time he causes them to cherish false conceptions of God so that they regard Him with fear and hate rather than with love. The cruelty inherent in his own character is attributed to the Creator; it is embodied in systems of religion and expressed in modes of worship. GC 569

These quotations articulate principles that are relevant in every era and in every political situation. To evaluate the continued applicability of Ellen White's prophecy, it's helpful to understand her historical setting. The doctrine of papal infallibility was voted at the First Vatican Council while she was at work on the book. America was in turmoil over the mass immigration to the U. S. of people from Ireland and Italy and other Catholic countries. Protestants were afraid that through these immigrants the Catholic Church would acquire in America the kind of political clout it had exercised for centuries in Europe. Given the power of Protestant churches in America and the potential power of the Catholic Church, Ellen White's caution about the dangers of a union of churches was entirely reasonable. If the Protestant churches had united with the papacy in support of an agenda for the nation, the agenda would have passed. At the time she was writing, there was legislation being pushed in Congress for a National Sunday Law. If the end had come at that time, Ellen White's scenario would have played out.

But the end did not come. The nation changed. Churches changed. Atheism has become a far greater challenge to our faith than any conceivable challenge from other Christian groups. In today's America, if the leaders of Protestant churches issued a proclamation, would it make any difference? If the pope issued an encyclical, would Americans obey?

There are contemporary threats to the integrity and authenticity of Christianity. But the pope and the errors of Catholic theology are hardly leading candidates for the greatest threats to faith. It's time for us to let go of the details of Ellen White's prophecy and give attention instead to the principles—a true understanding of the character of God, a radical commitment to religious liberty, a deep recognition of the seductive potential of pomp and ceremony, status and stardom. These principles are relevant always.

The final sentence of Ezekiel is this: “And the name of the city from then on will be: The Lord is there.” The final sentence of The Great Controversy is, “From the minutest atom to the greatest world, all things, animate and inanimate, in their unshadowed beauty and perfect joy, declare that God is love.”

In both cases, the grand final vision transcends every imaginable outcome that could be reached through natural historical process. You can't get there from here—except by a magnificent singularity, a grand divine interruption. The ultimate fulfillment of the prophecy is possible only through the direct, miraculous creative work of God. And he will do it. It is this conviction that turns up in every vision and in every reinterpretation of the vision. What the American Congress votes or the pope says is not ultimately determinative of the course of history or the fulfillment of God's dream.

Peace making instead of thundering the threats of hell

Yesterday I spent a couple hours visiting with a visionary, someone who imagines building peace as a replacement for making war, someone working to turn those ethereal dreams into palpable reality. He had enough Christianity in him to know about hell and enough humanity to reject it. What kind of dad, he wondered, would plan a conflagration as the final solution to his children's brokenness? Some of my Christian friends will be more offended by his rejection of fire than they are inspired by his embrace of peace making. But not me. And, I think, not Jesus either.

The older I get, the harder it becomes to imagine damnation. People do horrible, terrible things. People commit evil so monstrous, even the barest, vaguest telling of it turns my stomach and makes me turn away. I am not minimizing the pain, injustice, horror. It's just that I find it harder and harder to avoid asking the question: what could have possibly pushed or seduced people to do such things? How did the universe arrange itself to give these sons and daughters the DNA, life history and cultural preparation that would allow them to commit such horrors? What mother or father will be able to let their children go as irredeemable monsters for whom extermination is the best solution. 1 Corinthians asserts that every person welcomed into paradise will be changed. Every one will be changed. So who cannot be changed? Who cannot be fixed? Who is so broken that God himself cannot bend the warped bits back into shape?

With all these questions, it's easy for me to find far more admiration for those who practice peacemaking than outrage at those who deny hell.

A Clear Picture of God and his Boy

Ilijah was abused by his father, brutalized would be a more apt word. His mother kicked him out when she needed his lunch money to pay for drugs. Even his body failed him--he suffered seizures. Those are true and real facts. When I saw him walking on Aurora Avenue, I could see those facts written in the tightness and awkwardness of his movement. Even up close, his real face seldom showed past the mask of necessary wariness. Life was mostly hard and unbeautiful. And his death was dark tragedy. There were moments of goodness. At his memorial service I heard stories of people who gave food on occasion, provided a couch to sleep on, a hot shower. A woman stood and told us this story: "I met Ilijah when I was coming out of prostitution. We became friends, hung out together, went to movies, drank together. Once I was siting on the couch. He was lying with his head in my lap and I was stroking his hair. He murmured, 'No one has ever touched me like that.'" She wiped tears as she remembered. And I was sure that in a service that included remarks by a couple of preachers, stories of generosity by a bunch idealistic professionals, it was the woman who "was coming out of prostitution" who gave us the most vivid picture of God and his boy, Ilijah. (Thanks to Aurora Commons for caring for Ilijah and his kin.)

This story stands at the center of my sermon this past Sabbath at Green Lake Church.

Video here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YtpO5KHxTLU

Feeding Angels or Dragons

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church. Sabbath, January 9, 2016

Sunday morning I pulled on my snowshoes and headed up the Palisades Trail. There was about a foot and a half of snow, but for the first couple of miles the trail was nicely trampled so I didn't sink much. But there were obstacles. There was blow down on the trail, large trees, too big to step over. In places the weight of snow had bent brush and vine maples into and across the trail. Navigating these obstacles was tricky with snow shoes on my feet. It was cold.

I tramped up and up. It was slow going—a lot slower than I had planned on. I usually do this trail in shorts and running shoes. Carrying a pack and wearing boots and snow shoes made for a very different experience. After a couple of miles, I came to the end of the trampled track. I could still make out the trail beneath the blanket of snow but my pace was even slower in the soft snow. Another mile or so and suddenly I could no longer see the course of the trail. I thought I knew the way, but I could not see even the slightest hint of the trail. The area around me was forest, with not a single landmark visible. As I had climbed the air had become even colder. I had not bothered to bring a map or compass since I know the trail so well. I hesitated. I wanted to make it to the next overlook which was probably about a mile away, if I was where I thought I was, but without at least a hint of trail, I worried about getting lost. Snow was falling and potentially covering my tracks I decided it was time to turn around.

That was a smart decision.

Then I made another smart decision. I found a log, knocked the snow off, spread my pad and sat down for the sweetest part of the trip. Lunch! I pulled out my stove and heated water for hot chocolate. I pulled out a sandwich—Havarti cheese on Bonnie's homemade bread. Yum. Even with wind howling and snow swirling, the hot chocolate and my sandwich were heaven.

One of the various obvious facts about food is that it is good to eat it with some regularity, especially when you're engaged in strenuous activity. On ordinary days, when I'm riding around in my car, working on the computer, talking on the phone, visiting with people, food can seem optional. I skip meals and scarcely notice. I can go all day without eating. No problem. Eventually, it will catch up with me, of course. Sooner or later I'll get around to eating, but it's not critical. I can keep functioning on the memory of eating.

But when I'm engaged in strenuous activity, when I'm plowing up a mountain trail on snow shoes, when I'm burning miles running, eating regularly is absolutely essential. If I don't I will experience the embarrassment of collapse. Or slowness.

I remember one time hiking with a friend in the desert. It was getting late. The sun had already set, but there was still some light and we were pushing along a dry wash with a very sandy bottom. The soft sand made progress difficult. My pack felt like it weighed a hundred pounds and getting heavier. My friend, Kevin, got farther and farther ahead. I couldn't understand it. Usually I'm faster than he is. But this evening no matter how hard I tried, I just went slower and slower and slower. Then suddenly the light bulb came on. It was six hours since lunch. Back in those days I had not learned to eat on the trail. So it had been six hours since I had anything to eat. Lunch had been lentils. It had tasted good at the time. But it was long gone. My body was informing me that without food it was not going to keep hiking.

I finally shouted to Kevin. He came back. I apologized and explained I had to eat. We dropped our packs.

That's the way it is with food. Sometimes you just have to do it.

And if you're attempting some major physical activity, you're REALLY going to have to do it. And if you do, it will be a very lovely experience. After eating lunch sitting in the snow on Sunday, I headed back down the mountain. With food in my belly and gravity on my side, I jogged when the trail was smooth and clear enough. I felt almost like a bird.

That's the joy of eating regularly.

Which brings us to spiritual life. If you have any spiritual ambitions, part of your strategy must be spiritual nutrition.

Do you ever find yourself wishing you had more patience? More compassion? More self-control? Are you working to forgive someone who has wounded you deeply? Do you wish you had a greater sense of the presence and reality of God?

One answer to all these desires is “miracle.” Ask God to make you more compassionate, self-controlled, and forgiving. You can't do it. So just ask God.

The problem with this advice is that usually the person receiving this advice has already prayed at least once for the desired blessing. And the miracle didn't happen.

So the question naturally arises, what next?

The best answer is a daily habit. Develop a daily habit that feeds your, a daily habit that will fuel your spiritual success. Every day engage in a habit that feeds your desire for compassion, self-control and forgiveness. Every day engage in a habit that feeds patience and generosity, holiness and kindness. Every day do something that enhances your awareness of the goodness and nobility of God.

Pursuing holiness, goodness, nobility, a forgiving spirit is strenuous. Success requires regular spiritual nutrition to sustain the effort. So do it.

Let me be very specific. Every day, devote some time to giving intense attention to words or pictures or ideas or people that inspire you and encourage goodness.

Those who are my age or older will remember a famous Adventist preacher named Morris Venden. Every sermon had essentially the same punch line. Read your Bible every day. And pray.

I first heard him preach when I was a college student. I remember thinking it was a good idea, but I didn't have time. Then I heard other students talking about their habits of spending a half hour or even an hour every day reading their Bibles or other devotional literature, and I thought, hey, if they can do it I can. So I started. In the forty five years since then, most of the time, I've had a habit of spending daily time cultivating spiritual life. The content of that time has varied. I've followed Bible reading plans that took me through the Bible in a year. I've tried journaling my way through the New Testament. I've tried paraphrasing. I've read books other than the Bible. I have practiced meditation and contemplation.

There is no one specific approach that works for every person. And many people will find that no one approach works for them all the time. Just as you might not want to eat oatmeal every breakfast of your life, so you may find it helpful to vary the content of your devotional time. But if you aim for spiritual excellence, you cannot ignore spiritual nutrition.

Allow me to take a few minutes to draw a sharp contrast. I titled my sermon, “Feeding Angels or Dragons.” The title is a mash up of the Book of Revelation and the story I've heard told in several different versions about fighting dogs. The way the story goes, a man owns two dogs. Periodically he stages dog fights and his two dogs fight each other. Sometimes he bets on one dog, other times he bets on the other. But always, the dog he bets on wins. When a friend finally persuades the old man to explain how he can always know which dog is going to win, the old man laughs and says, “Well, the dog I feed that week always wins.

If we picture the forces of good and evil as angels and dragons and ask the question, in our lives who is going to win, the angel or the dragon, the answer is which one are we feeding? Are we feasting on angel food or dragon kibble? If you want the angel to win, it makes sense to eat angel food.

Thursday morning I sat down in Peets Coffee a couple of blocks from here to work on my sermon. I logged onto Peet's wireless internet service at access the internet Bible site that I use. When I accepted the terms of service, the next screen was a news site. My screen was filled with headlines:

10 Outrageous Police Chases

Occupiers under siege from PETA and tribe

Trump to pull $1B from UK

George Soros predicts the 2008 crisis all over again.

Father outraged by TSA pat down of his ten-year-old daughter

The diseases doctors most often misdiagnose.

Somebody famous “rips American Idol in brutal tirade”

I didn't click on any these headlines. I read nothing except the headlines themselves. Even without reading I knew where the articles would take me me if I had clicked. The more I read the angrier and more worried I would have become.

If I had read through those articles, then moved into my day, I would have been primed to see evil everywhere. When someone cut me off on the freeway, it would natural to react with outrage and anger. What a jerk! If my kid was slow getting ready for school or if he spilled his cereal, I would be ready to explode. In short, reading these news articles would have fed the dragon inside.

If you listen to Rush Limbaugh regularly you will be primed to be outraged and angry. While you may think of this as merely politics, it's not. His scorn and ridicule will shape the totality of your life. It will not feed your angels. The same is probably true for all sorts of other people who are famous now as champions of various political views—Rachel Maddow, Glenn Beck. If your goal is wisdom and compassion, you must eat more angel food. And you must limit your intake of dragon food. Fill your mind with words and images that inspire and encourage.

Our OT reading was Psalm 1. This Psalm pictures a good person as a tree planted by a river. The tree takes constant nourishment from the rich, moist soil. Let's plant our souls in places that are consistently nourishing.

I was visiting with the manager at the Starbucks near my house. She's a runner and sometimes we compare notes. I told her I was reading a book on running and it had given me a new inspiration. The author talked about running every day. He described his practice and he talked about why he thought it was indispensable if he was going to run as well as he wanted.

Kara confessed she struggled with consistency. I laughed and acknowledged I did, too. Often I would run only once a week. After reading the book I was aiming at five days a week. She said that sounded pretty good. That was her goal too, for the new year. But life—kids, work, parents—made it hard. Consistency was really hard.

I laughed and said inconsistent running was better than consistently not running. We laughed together.

I think this is a good picture for us in thinking about daily devotions. Many of us have tried to spend time daily nourishing our souls. Then life happens. Kids get sick. Emergencies interrupt. There is a crisis at work. Or we just get tired and we go days or weeks or months without any regular time with God.

It's not the end of the world. Just begin again. An inconsistent devotional life is way better than a consistent non-devotional life.

Plant yourself in a nourishing place. Feed your soul. Take time daily to feast on angel food—words of faith, hope, and love. The world will become a better place.

Babylon Is Fallen. Be Merciful to the Poor

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

First Sabbath of Advent, November 28, 2015

Hannah was an unlikely prophet.

She still held the affection of her husband. But she was now a second wife. Having been displaced in her husband's family by another woman who had six kids. She endured the social stigma of her position. But the ache of her empty arms was beyond endurance.

On their annual trip to the temple, she was by herself praying. Her praying was so intense, so emotional, the high priest thought she was drunk. When she told him the truth of her situation, he blessed her and said, “May your prayer be granted.”

A year being Hanah give birth to a son. A few years later she brought he son Samuel to the temple and dedicated him to the Lord. He became the old priest's foster son and grew up in the temple, eventually becoming the religious and political leader of the nation.

Hanah was a musician and when she brought Samuel to the temple for his dedication, she sang this song:

"My heart rejoices in the LORD!

The LORD has made me strong. . . .

"Stop acting so proud and haughty! Don't speak with such arrogance!

For the LORD is a God who knows what you have done; he will judge your actions.

The bow of the mighty is now broken, and those who stumbled are now strong.

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. . . .

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.

1 Samuel 2:1-8

This is a song of judgment. The ideas of this song are repeated over and over by the prophets. The high and mighty will be brought low. The lowly will be lifted to a place of plenty and privilege. The rich will become poor. The poor will be made rich.

There will be a grand reversal.

Today is the first day of Advent—the season when Christians traditionally give special attention to celebrating the birth and early life of Jesus the Messiah.

Central to our celebration is the Song of Mary. In contrast to Hanah, who was an old woman, long married, desperately hungry for gift of motherhood, Mary was barely of childbearing age, unmarried, just beginning to dream of domestic life. An angel announced to her that she was going to have a baby. A few months later she went to visit her cousin. There she wrote the song which the church rehearses every Advent season:

Oh, how my soul praises the Lord.

How my spirit rejoices in God my Savior!

For he took notice of his lowly servant girl,

and from now on all generations will call me blessed.

For the Mighty One is holy, and he has done great things for me.

He shows mercy from generation to generation to all who fear him.

His mighty arm has done tremendous things!

He has scattered the proud and haughty ones.

He has brought down princes from their thrones and exalted the humble.

He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away with empty hands. . . .

Luke 1:41-55

Can you hear the theme of the Grand Reversal?

He has scattered the proud and haughty ones.

He has brought down princes from their thrones and exalted the humble.

He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away with empty hands. . . .

Skip ahead almost 2000 years to the beginnings of the Adventist denomination. Again, a woman's voice captures the essence of the spiritual vision of the community. And curiously, at the very center of that vision is a song about the great reversal.

Those early Adventists took as their theme song, the vision right in the heart of the Book of Revelation, the vision of the three flying angels in chapter 14. The first angel rockets across the sky announcing:

Fear God, and give glory to him; for the hour of his judgment is come: and worship him that made heaven, and earth, and the sea, and the fountains of waters.

Then second angel flies across the heavens, shouting:

Babylon is fallen!

The third angel delivers the scary message:

If anyone worships the beast and his image or receives the mark of loyalty they will be punished with fire and brimstone.

When we distill the essence of these three angels, we find the same theme that inspired Hannah's Song and Mary's Song. It is the Grand Reversal. Babylon is the symbol of earthly wealth and power. It is the symbol of successful empire.

In the Old Testament days of the prophets Isaiah, Jeremiah, Daniel and Ezekiel, Babylon was the literal kingdom that dominated their world. In the days of Jesus and the disciples, Babylon was the iron empire of Rome. Apparently invincible and eternal.

In the days of the Protestant Reformers, Babylon was the medieval papacy, the invincible and eternal power that could make kings bow and burned at the stake anyone who dared challenge her.

In our day, the invincible center of wealth and power is unquestionably the United States. And the message of Revelation reminds us, that our power and our wealth, like the power and wealth of ancient Babylon and ancient Rome is temporary. God will judge us. We who are mighty will be abased. We who are invincible will be brought low. And the poor will be lifted up. The powerless will will triumph.

Given this prophecy, what shall we do? --we who are citizens of the richest, most powerful, most invincible nation ever in the history of humanity?

2500 years ago the Prophet Daniel warned the king of Babylon, that he was facing the grand reversal. God was going to act in judgment and it wasn't going to be pretty. Then Daniel gave the king this advice:

King Nebuchadnezzar, please accept my advice. Stop sinning and do what is right. Break from your wicked past and be merciful to the poor. Perhaps then you will continue to prosper.

This is not bad advice for us. Especially here in the season of Advent, the Christmas season. Let us remember that at the heart of our religion is the prophetic reminder of the Grand Reversal. God has special regard for those who are disadvantaged. People who are poor, people fleeing war, people whose families are haunted by disabilities, by addiction or mental illness, or even by just plain bad luck. God's plan includes a grand reversal.

We find our happiest work in cooperating with God. Let us use our wealth and strength, our brains and beauty, our American passports and Green Cards, our education and family background to cooperate with God.

Let's show mercy to the poor and know that as we do, God himself is made glad and we will find our richest happiness.

The Impotence of Thunderous Power

Sermon manuscript for the November 7, 2015, sermon at Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

Based on Revelation 12, 13, 14.

Revelation 12 begins with a vision of a glorious woman, clothed with the sun, standing on the moon, wearing a golden crown with twelve stars. She is pregnant—great with child. She is the epitome of goodness, sweetness, and promise.

After lingering on this scene for a few moments, the visionary camera pans right into the shadows, and there we see a great red dragon. The dragon is watching the woman, waiting for the birth of the baby.

For the dragon, the essence of life, the hunger that give meaning to his life, is headship, authority. The dragon dreams day and night of arranging the universe so that everything bows his direction.

The baby in the woman's womb is the prophesied king who will rule with a rod of iron. This boy will grow into a man who will whack the dragon on the head with an iron rod. The dragon figures it's now or never. If he doesn't eliminate this child at birth, the dragon's doom is sure. 

We who are watching the vision figure the same thing. Our eyes go back and forth nervously from the glorious woman to the slavering beast crouched in the shadows. Will the dragon get the son or will the son survive to wield the iron rod?

The woman gives birth. The dragon lunges. The child is snatched away. And the next minute we are breathing easy. The baby has been evacuated to heaven. Whew. That was a close call. But we know how this story will play out. The baby will grow to manhood. He is going to master the art of cracking dragon skulls with an iron rod. The next time these two meet, it will be doom for the dragon. Hallelujah.

I like the picture of the knight with the magic iron rod vanquishing this terrible dragon. 

A personal aside:  Right now, my wife and I are taking care of our daughter's cows. Once a week, we go open a new 1200 pound bale of silage for them. These cows have horns. The adult cows have a spread of about four feet. While I'm opening the bale—which takes a few minutes--the cows will crowd in on me and on each other. They fling those horns around, and if you happen to be in the way, too bad. I have to drive them back. My daughter has taught me that cows respect horns. So you have to convince the cows you have bigger horns than they have. So I carry a four foot tool handle with a sharp point on it. When the cows try to crowd in, I spread my arms wide like horns and bellow. At that point, my "horns" are bigger than theirs and they will usually, reluctantly back off. But it that's not enough, I take my "iron rod" to them. I jab them with my pointed handle. Cow hide is really thick. Sometimes I have to jab really hard. But by waving my "horns," making a lot of noise and vigorously wielding my "iron rod," I can manage. I can make even the young bull back off. It's actually kind of fun. They are like bulldozers or tanks and it gives me a real sense of power and manliness to boss them around. 

So, when I read about this child with his iron rod, I smile. I imagine the pleasure he will get bossing and ultimately destroying that ugly dragon.

The text in Revelation seems to confirm this perspective. After describing the Glorious Woman, the Slavering Dragon, and the child who has been evacuated to heaven, the child who is going to rule with an iron rod, the text tells us: There was war in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon and his angels. Michael wins. The dragon is driven out. The text further explains the dragon is the devil, Satan, the Great Deceiver, the Accuser of the Brethren. The child is Michael, the mighty prince.

This sounds promising. The child is taken to heaven. There is a war there and the child wins. The dragon loses and is expelled. It's good news that the devil lost the war in heaven, but bad news that he wasn't killed. We thought that when the Son and the Dragon met in battle, the Dragon would die. But not only is the dragon still alive, he is banished to earth. On no! This is seriously bad news.

Now what?

Chapter 13, picks up the earth story, but when we look to see what the dragon up to we don't see the dragon, we a weird, amalgamated beast. It is a hybrid of a leopard, a lion and a bear. It has seven heads and ten horns.

This creature is an evocation of imagery from the Old Testament. The prophet Daniel pictured the great empires of antiquity using animals—a lion, a leopard and a bear, and then a dreadful monster with ten horns. Revelation is telling us the dragon operates through ordinary human agencies, and more specifically through the legal, formal social structures of government. 

As we follow the vision, the amalgamated beast is followed by a two-horned monster who has the same character, the same hunger and drive, as the amalgamated beast. Their single objective is headship. They crave homage, respect, obeisance, obedience, deference. They demand that every human either kiss up or die. Bow or die. Honor our headship or we will eliminate you.

The great red dragon, the amalgamated beast, the two-horned monster all have one ambition: headship.

As you read through chapter 13, you get a sinking feeling. It appears that the drive for headship, for unchallenged authority is triumphant. It appears that every bit of opposition is eliminated. The two-horned beast wins. The amalgamated beast wins. The dragon wins. The woman loses. Her first born son was evacuated to heaven. Her earth-bound children are eradicated. Righteousness dies in the earth.

That's what it sounds like as you read through chapter 13. Then you turn the page and chapter 14 tells us that, in fact, gadzillion people resisted the threats of the dragon, the beast, and the monster. Gadzillion saints have never even thought of bowing, of paying obeisance.

Literally, chapter 14 says 144,000 refused to bow. But as we learned in last week's sermon, in Revelation, 144,000 means a crowd so vast it cannot be counted. This crowd includes a full complement of people from every people group on earth, even apparently-extinct groups are included.

The dragon does not win. The amalgamated beast does not win. The two-horned monster does not win. The Son wins. God wins. Their people win.

But there is a serious twist in this story. It is one of the deepest spiritual truths in Revelation.

It turns out that the Son does not win by whacking the dragon with his iron rod. The Son does not win by wagging bigger horns than the amalgamated beast or the two-horned monster.

Back in Chapter 5, when the joy of heaven was silenced and the prophet dissolved into tears because no one was able, no one was powerful enough, to open the mysterious scroll, the prophet was consoled when one of the elders told him, “The Lion of the Tribe of Judah is able to open the scroll. He is mighty enough to solve the problem and restore music to heaven.”

But when John turns to see this “Lion,” astonishingly he sees a Lamb. And the lamb looked like it had been slaughtered.

Similarly here in Chapter 12. We first read that it is the Son wielding the messianic Iron Rod who will vanquish the dragon. We read that Michael, the Great and Mighty Prince, vanquished the dragon in heaven. But then when we listen to the song of the saints celebrating this victory, we learn that the victory came not from the Son's prowess with the iron rod, but through his self-sacrifice--through the blood of the Lamb.

The dragon, beast and monster are not defeated by an opposite will to power. They do not lose their claim to “headship” because someone stronger crushes them with irresistible power. They do not fall in the face of a "greater headship." The dragon, beast, and monster collapse because the Lamb successfully woos humanity. The Lamb wins our hearts and draws us into the light. The dragon, beast, and monster are left roaring futilely in the darkness. The Lamb wins by giving away authority. And the people of the Lamb demonstrate their participation in his kingdom by similarly giving away whatever authority flows through their hands.

In contrast to the repeated declarations by the dragon, beast and monster—bow or die—the Lamb says I will die that your might live. In contrast to the threats of the evil trinity, the holy trinity promises shared place on the throne. In perhaps the most astonishing picture in the book, God removes himself from the supreme place of headship in deference to the Lamb. Chapter Five pictures the Lamb at the center of the throne, the center of the beasts, the ring of elders, and the countless residents of heaven. At the end of the book, in chapter 22, God gives full authority to the saints. They are not merely pages and ministers in the heavenly court. They are themselves rulers. There is no headship pyramid. The lust for coercive authority and the need for coercive authority have disappeared. This is the fruit of the love and sacrifice of the Lamb.

The Lamb wins. Because God's greatest desire is for the Lamb to win, God wins. Because we are beloved by God and the Lamb and have been enthralled and wooed by their love and goodness, we win.

Father is the metaphor for God used most frequently in the Bible. Christian theology has appropriately elaborated and celebrated this metaphor. We have also been seduced by it. We who are fathers imagined God would solve the problem of evil with the hammers of authority and punishment. But according to Revelation 12-14, this is false.

In these chapters, the essence of sin is portrayed as the the lust for headship. Heaven's response is not a sterner, tougher version of authority and headship, but a renunciation of the headship principle. The Lamb triumphs by dying. It is the blood of the Lamb, not the Rod of the Son that ultimately vanquishes the dragon and his allies. 

Real life application

The Protestant reformers in the 1400s were correct to apply the imagery of the beast to the medieval papacy. It had an insatiable hunger for headship. It demanded that everyone bow.

Adventists are unwise to continue to focus on that historical moment as the only relevant application of this vision. We ourselves, now that we are an 18-million-member corporation, experience our own temptations to lust after headship. We want to be able to command. We want to demand obedience. We are at grave risk of creating an image to the beast.

We cannot save the church by wielding a rod of iron. We can only save the church by “the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimony.”