Category: Sermons

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A Prayer for God to Enter History

The sermon prerecorded on December 23rd

Jeff Garrison
Mayberry and Bluemont Churches
December 27, 2020
Isaiah 64

At the beginning of worship, in preparation: 

Jesus’ birth came at an interesting time. Luke provides the historical setting: Augustus ruled as emperor, Quirinius was governor, and a major census was underway. On one hand, it was a time of stability. But the peace was fragile, maintained by terror and force, as I pointed out last week.

In Simply Jesus, N. T. Wright tells Jesus’ story by delving into the background of this world. As an analogy, he draws upon the story of the fishing trawler, Andrea Gail. If you read the book or seen the movie, you’ll remember she was lost in the North Atlantic during a storm created by the confluence of three weather systems: The Perfect Storm.  

This first century perfect storm involved the confluence of the Roman world. Their infrastructure provides the means for the message to get out after Jesus’ resurrection. Second, the Jewish world longed for the Messiah and hated the Romans, which set up conflict. The sovereign wind of God was the third “storm,” challenging everyone’s assumptions.[1]

What does it mean for God to come among us?

When God comes into our midst, we need to be careful. Such presence is dangerous. Things will be shaken up. And that’s what happened when God came as a child born in Bethlehem. Today, we’ll go back into a world without Jesus as we explore Isaiah 64. The prophet cries out for God to intervene. Would we be so brave? 

After the reading of Scripture: 

Although Isaiah lived centuries before the birth of Jesus, they resided in a similar world. As a small nation, Israel served as a pawn on an international scene dominated by foreign armies. It started with the Egyptians, then the Assyrians, and the Babylonians. The march would continue with the Persians, the Greeks and finally the Romans. This world of power spins around Israel. God’s people become dizzy and feel lost and abandoned. The prophet’s cry captures their anguish.  

The need for God to enter history:

This is a cry of lament! Isaiah knows God is not locked up in the heavens. God exists! God listens. God hears. Tearing open the heavens is metaphorical language. God’s present! It’s just that God doesn’t seem to be doing anything. Israel would like to see some tangible evidence. Therefore, the prophet calls on God to reveal himself in a manner that his presence will be unmistakable. Israel wants God to show up and scare the pants off her enemies.

You know, Isaiah’s request is a familiar one. We’d all like to witness such power. I’ve been told many times by individuals that if he or she just had a sign, just a piece of tangible evidence, it’d make all the difference. But would it? After all, the Hebrew children in the wilderness witnessed God’s power and fury with the plagues and the parting of the sea. Yet they still continued to turn from God. The disciples witnessed Jesus’ miracles, and they still denied him. 

There’s just something about us wanting God to step into history and to solve our problems. We want God to be on our side. We want God to do our bidding. 

It’s as if it’s after school and we’re in a pickup basketball game. We want to choose God for our team. We forget that we don’t choose God. God chooses us! Instead of us trying to lure God over to our team, we should make sure we’re on his team.

Isaiah 64: A Prayer of Lament 

       This prayer, or lament, of Isaiah’s can be divided into four parts. If we separate them, we can better understand the prophet’s theology. 

An appeal to history

The first five verses ask God to act because God has acted in the past. Isaiah knows what God has done for the Hebrew people; therefore, he bases his request on past history. Asking God to come down is an appeal for God to act in the world—to enter human history on behalf of his people.   

You may be in the situation of Isaiah, knowing God but only in the past tense. Do you think God stopped acting with Jesus or the Apostles, or maybe with your baptism or confirmation? If so, join in Isaiah’s lament. Cry out for God to make himself known once again. God is the capable of meeting our innermost longings. We cry out to the Almighty, who already knows our needs. Our cries led us to reevaluate our lives and how we relate to God. This is what happens to Isaiah.

The need for confession: 

       Isaiah, after recalling God’s past grace, reflects on his and his people’s sinfulness. The second part of the petition involves confession. In verses five through seven, Isaiah admits the problems from which they need deliverance are result of their disobedience.[2] They have sinned; they are guilty; they need God to pull them out of the deep and troubling water.  

Here again we often find ourselves in the situation of Isaiah. At such times, we should ask ourselves what we have done to cause God to seem so far away. Do we turn our backs on our Savior? Is the problem with us? Probably, and we need to confess those sins which drive us away from God’s holiness. We need to root out our indifferences toward God that cause Him to seem so distant.

Affirmation: 

       The third part of this lament affirms a trust in God while continuing to plea for God’s help. In a fashion reminiscence of Moses, who shamed God when the Lord wanted to destroy the people after the fashioning of the golden calf, Isaiah reminds God that the Israelites are his people.[3]“God,” he says, “those destroyed cities are your cities; that ruined temple is your temple.” God has big shoulders and Isaiah brings his petition before God, dropping his concerns on the Almighty.

Waiting:

Next, Isaiah waits. There is nothing more to do but to carry on as he waits for God’s answer.

       In the fourth verse of this chapter, we are told God works for those who wait. And when we think about it, much of scripture is about God’s people waiting on God. Abraham and Sarah waiting for a child; the Hebrew slaves waiting in bondage; those exiled in Babylon waiting for release; the waiting for the Messiah. 

It’s now our turn to wait for Christ’s return. At times, at least within the measurement of human history, God seems slow to act. Yet, in the meantime, we are to wait faithfully. Our willingness to wait reflects our trust in the Almighty.

Our lack of interest in waiting:

       But our culture doesn’t value waiting. We want things immediately! Instant gratification! Fast food and faster computers, interstate highways and supersonic jets. Instead of mailing a letter, we zip ‘em off by email, or we shoot a text and expect an almost immediate response. We don’t make time, nor do we have time to wait. We need that vaccine NOW! 

This lack of interest in waiting is true in religion, too. We want immediate salvation. We want to accept Christ and all-of-a-sudden have everything better. We want to have our spiritual longings filled, instantly! But it doesn’t work that way. Anything worthwhile takes time.

       Even the church stands guilty. “We read one-minute Bibles, pray through five-minute devotions, wander from one conference to another to get five keys to Spiritual success,” we’re told. “We except Spiritual maturity in 40 days of purpose-filled studies… One of the lies of the world is that we can have instant discipleship. We think we’re tourist, after instant gratification, forgetting we’re pilgrims in for the long haul to our new heavenly home.”[4]

Advent emphasizes waiting:

       We’ve just finished four weeks of Advent, a season of waiting. During these weeks, we were reminded of the centuries God’s people waiting for the Messiah, even as we wait for his return. As we saw last week, God encourages us to be still. We might substitute the word “wait.” We are still and we wait, and then we know God.[5]  At times, waiting may be our only real option. We can barge ahead without God and screw everything up, or we can patiently wait for God’s direction.

Isaiah is far from inactive:

       You know, the ironic thing about this passage is that even while Isaiah calls upon God to come down from the heavens and make himself known, God was there. At the beginning of Chapter 65, God replies: “I was ready to be sought out by those who did not ask, to be found by those who did not seek me. I said, ‘Here I am, here I am’ to a nation that did not call my name.” God’s present, but Isaiah’s contemporaries are unwilling to seek Him out. God worked to get Israel out of exile and back to the Promised Land. God forges a new relationship with his people, one that would in time cumulates with the birth of a Savior.  

       Amidst the chaos of the world, God was present just as God is present now in our world. At times, from our point of view, we might wonder where God hides. But, when we look back on where we’ve been, we often realize God has been with us. God guides and works through us to bring about his purposes.  

Opening ourselves for God to change us:

       Let me clarify something. Don’t leave thinking that our waiting on God means no action on our part. Isaiah wasn’t inactive. He was proactive, taking his concerns to God and admitting his and his people’s shortcomings. In so doing, opening himself up for God to reveal himself as we see happening in the 65th chapter of Isaiah.  

Craig Barnes, in Sacred Thirst proposes the point of hope is not just to hold on. I suggest it’s the same for waiting. We hope so we can be free to seek holiness where we find ourselves.[6] And isn’t that what Isaiah does? 

Externally, Isaiah’s situation doesn’t change, even after God replies.[7] But he’s changed. He’s changed because having called upon God and reflected upon his sinfulness, he’s now opened to encounter God and to know God’s presence. Knowing God’s presence makes all the difference. When we know God is with us, we can undergo any obstacles and face any challenges. Amen. 

[1] N. T. Wright, Simply Jesus” A New Vision of Who He Was, What He Did, and Why He Matters (New York: Harper Collins, 2011), 13-56.

[2] It is interesting that Isaiah began by blaming God (we sinned because you away-verse 5).  But the tone changes as he takes responsibility (you have delivered us into the hands of our iniquity-verse 7).

[3] Exodus 32:11-14. See also Numbers 14:13-17.

[4] “Spiritual Shortcuts,” Christianity Today (January 2005), 27. The article is about today’s crisis of cheating, but the author ties it to our lack of interest in waiting and preparing.

[5] Psalm 46:10.

[6] M. Craig Barnes, Sacred Thirst: Meeting God in the Desert of our Longings (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2001), 175. Barnes is now the president of Princeton Theological Seminary. This was an earlier book of his while he was pastor of National Capital Presbyterian Church. 

[7] Isaiah 65,

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A Christmas Eve Story

This is a short Christmas program for those at home. I tell the following story in the program followed by “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence”

I have told this story several times including in an article published in Nevada Magazine’s online edition.

1988 was the first time I was without family on Christmas. It was also my first white Christmas. And it was a holy Christmas. I had taken a year off from seminary to serve as a student pastor in Virginia City, Nevada, the old mining town made famous by the TV show, Bonanza.

The week leading up to Christmas had been hectic. To top it off, a zephyr blew in two days before Christmas. I watched the clouds rolled angrily across the Sierras. Soon snow flew. The gale force wind made the frigid air feel even colder. I wore heavy sweaters even inside. By late morning of Christmas Eve, there was enough snow to ski on the streets of Virginia City. Having taken care of everything for the evening service, I joined a group of friends skiing down the old railroad grade to Gold Hill.

When we got back, we stopped by the church to shovel the snow off the steps. I turned up the heat inside. Snow drifted and the high winds made travel dangerous. About an hour before the service, word came that the steep roads into town from Carson City and Reno were closed. Now, my preparedness was for naught. Our “lessons and carols” service featured a number of readers, many of whom lived off the mountain and couldn’t make it in. Howard, our organist, assured me everything would work out. St. Mary’s of the Mountain, the Catholic Church in town, had already contacted him to play for their Midnight Mass as their organist wasn’t able to make it in.

It was a great service. Despite the cold and ice, people from town flocked in. We recruited readers. As the service began, the building creaked and groaned against the gale. At times, wind seeped into the building and caused the candles to flicker. Our worship service closed with candles challenging the dark as we sang “Silent Night.”

Afterwards, a group of us headed to the Mark Twain, one of the many saloons along C Street. We had good conversations while waiting for the midnight hour to head down to St Mary’s of the Mountain for Midnight Mass. We wanted to support Howard, who was playing the organ. 

When I say, “we went down,” that’s just what we did as Virginia City sits on the eastern flank of Mt. Davidson and every block you travel you gain or lose significant elevation.

Sometime during the Mass, the raging storm blew itself out. When we stepped out of the church, clear skies greeted us. Crisp cold air billowed from my mouth like a locomotive. I zipped my coat tight, bid my friends a Merry Christmas and headed home, walking up the hill toward the lighted V, high on Mount Davidson. Snow squeaked under my feet due to the cold. The scent of pinion pine burning in woodstoves filled the air. A few cars were parked by one of the saloons on C Street. Otherwise, the street was deserted. When I reached B Street, where I lived, I was nearly out of breath.  

I paused to survey the town. In a few houses, lights still burned. They stood as cheery refuges from the cold. But most were dark. Folks had settled in for a long winter’s nap. Then I looked up into the dark sky dotted with brilliant stars. Orion the hunter stood high overhead, followed to the southeast by his faithful dog. To the north, the Dipper was rising. Although alone, I felt a presence…

Things had worked out. Our worship serve was special and several of us were blessed with a second service at midnight. Even though my family were thousands of miles away, I was with good friends. And I felt God’s love, a love that had come into this world in a child. 

The hymns and carols of the evening echoed in my head. “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence” seemed appropriate I had experienced something holy and silent awe was a fitting response.

This ancient hymn has its roots in the early church and is used as the beginning of the Communion rite in the Orthodox Churches. In English, we sing the words which recall God’s mystery to Picardy, an old French folk melody. The music is haunting, as it should be when we contemplate the incarnation, God coming to us in the flesh.

This Christmas, may we spend some time in awe, pondering the mystery of what happened so long ago. And while 2020 has appeared as a storm to us, we know that after the storm passes, there are good times. As followers of Jesus, we need to have faith. 

May we also be aware that that child, born in Bethlehem, will come again and claim his throne. That’s where our ultimate hope lies. Until then, we hold on to hope and dedicate ourselves to him, our true Lord and our only Savior. Amen 

C Street, Virginia City, Winter of 1988-89

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Advent 4: Peace

JEFF GARRISON
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
December 20, 2020
Psalm 46

A recording of the sermon made at Mayberry on Saturday, December 19

Thoughts at the beginning of worship

It’s the fourth Sunday of Advent. Christmas is almost here. Over the past three weeks, we have focused on hope, joy and love. I hope you have learned that these are not just emotions we feel, but actions that we take in response to a God who loves and comes to us. 

Yet, we live in a troubled world. This isn’t anything new. There’s always trouble. Today, our focus is on peace. A Christian view of peace is counter cultural. The world thinks of peace as an absence of war. But what if we could have peace even in the midst of war? That’s what I want us to ponder today. How do we live a peaceful life in the chaos that surrounds us day in and day out? 

After the reading of scripture: 

I may be an outlier, but I have enjoyed much of 2020. Many of you, I’m sure, can’t wait for the year to be done. I hear people talking about starting anew as if there’s something special about midnight on the 31st. There’s not. It’s just another tick of the clock.

However, there’s much about 2020 I’d like to forget. My list includes the pandemic and quarantine, fires in Australia and the American West, the massive numbers of hurricanes, a shortened baseball season, and the closing down of the economy. But still, personally, the year hasn’t been bad for me. After all, I’m in the mountains, My heart sings.

 2016 verses 2020

My bad year was 2016. It started earlier, on January 9th, with a slip on the foredeck of a sailboat. My left foot was pinned by some blocks. I fell backwards with the boat’s lifeline catching my leg just above my knee, so that it couldn’t bend. The strain on my pinned leg was great. Something had to give. My quad tendon snapped. It was the most painful thing I’ve experienced. My leg instantly became worthless. After surgery, my left leg remained in a brace. I couldn’t bend it for three months. Then I could bend it 30 degrees and slowly worked up from there. I spent much of that spring learning, once again, how to walk. 

And then, in late summer, because of a high PSA reading, I had a prostrate biopsy. Those are not pleasant, but that wasn’t the end of it. A week later, I woke at 3 AM, thinking I had the worst flu ever. I had gone to bed feeling fine. I took ibuprofen and tried to get more sleep. At 7, I sent emails to cancel my meetings for the day. When the drugs ran out, I took my temperature—104. Calling my doctor, he said get to the emergency room, pronto. I called Donna. She took me to the hospital. 

I had no idea how sick I was. At the front desk of the ER, they checked my temperature, blood pressure, breathing and heart rate. They had me on a gurney with an IV in my arm before Donna was able to park the car and find her way back inside. I spent the next couple of days in the hospital fighting sepsis, which probably came from the biopsy. Thankfully, the biopsy came back negative. 

A few weeks after that, Hurricane Matthew raked the Georgia Coastline. It was estimated that Skidaway Island lost 20% of its trees. Our paradise island was a mess. A year later, they were still hauling away timber, brush, and wood chips.

But was 2016 a bad year? 

Yet, with all that happened in 2016, I still have some good memories. And these memories are not just from the morphine they gave me for my leg. I never felt alone or so loved. Nor did I feel abandoned by God  

So, while I won’t deny that 2020 has been bad, especially for the families of over 300,000 Americans and the million others around the world who died, for me personally, it doesn’t quite rise to 2016. And, looking back on things, as bad as 2016 was, it wasn’t terrible. For God remained with me, in the midst of my pain. 

The 46th Psalm

The 46th Psalm is about confidence in a God who is present in the midst of a trouble-filled world. The Psalm is divided into three strophes or sections, each assuring us of God’s comfort while reminding us of the problems we face during our walk on this planet. 

First strophe

The first section deals with natural disasters such as earthquakes and volcanoes, hurricanes and tornadoes. 

            Perhaps we’ve not experienced this personally, although there was an earthquake in this area earlier this year. However, parts of our world have experienced all these events in 2020. When faced with such calamities, we may feel abandoned and afraid. But in each situation, the Psalmist reminds us that we should not fear for God is present and in control.  

Second Strophe

The calamity in the second section is not a natural disaster, but one of a human making. Now, war threatens; the hatred of people drives them to ruthlessly attack each other. Kind of sounds like this past election. 

Despite the fact that war is on-going, God’s holy city stands unharmed. Even in the middle of the chaos, God’s city stands untouched. God is sovereign. What can we do, as humans, to challenge God’s sovereignty? God’s city stands as an example of the way it should be. 

Third strophe

And finally, in the third section, we are reminded of God’s judgment. God has the power to bring wars to an end. However, judgement brings destruction; God puts an end to our ability to wage war. God’s holiness demands judgment.  

Visions of noise and chaos and war often demonstrate God’s presence. But here, we find that although God is present, that’s not where we encounter God.

Elijah’s similar encounter

Elijah had a similar experience with God on Horeb. There was a great wind, and God wasn’t in it. There was an earthquake, but God wasn’t in it. And then a fire, but that was not where he encountered God. Instead, after these events, Elijah experiences God in sheer silence. Elijah encounters God in a way that’s a similar to the promise made in the Psalm. Be still and know God.[1]

Be still, let the turmoil of life spin around you, and know that God is there with you.

What does this mean?

            There was a point in my life where I thought this Psalm told me to go to where I could experience stillness and quietness. What a convenient interpretation. I could use it as rational for a backpacking or canoe trip. I still believe that getting away from the turmoil of life can be a spiritual experience, but I no longer believe this Psalm is telling us that we should go hide.  

Another way to interpret the Psalm

Instead, I have another idea what this Psalm means. God sits me down in a chair. All around me things spin out of control. There are things I need to do. In the similar fashion, God lets the Psalmist experience the turmoil of life before revealing himself.

With all this chaos spinning around me, my first through is, “what can I do to fix it.” Isn’t that a human response? I want to do something. But in this chair, God’s hands remain on my shoulders gently encouraging me to stay seated. Then I hear a whisper, “sit still.” The voice is soft and soothing. Such a simple message with a profound implication. 

It’s as if God says, “I’ve got this, let me take this burden from your shoulders.” Even in the midst of all kinds of troubles, we can find peace in our lives and we can know God. 

The theme that’s echoed three times in this Psalm is that God is our refuge, our place where we can find solace.[2]

Psalm 46 and the Coming of Christ

 This Psalm reassures us that even in the chaos, God’s present. God stands by us to comfort. God is in the middle of pain. God comes to us; God doesn’t wait till all is calm and peaceful. 

I wonder if we get a wrong picture of what happened in Bethlehem from our depiction of the nativity. We see the idyllic pastoral view of cows sleeping while shepherds converse around a campfire. And then, later in the night, some wise–dudes dress in fancy clothes rides in on a camel with gifts. Such a peaceful night, but was it? 

Scripture tells another story. Herod and his court burn the midnight oil in Jerusalem, worried that their rule will end. They grasp at straws to see how they can maintain control. Out of fear, they commit a terrible atrocity. And above Herod, we have Caesar and his legions. Roman soldiers keep an iron hand on far-flung parts of the empire like Palestine. 

The world into which Jesus was born

We learn in Luke’s gospel that a decree from Caesar forced Joseph and the pregnant Mary to make a trip to Bethlehem. It was no skin off Caesar’s back, but mighty inconvenient for the Holy Family. 

So, the world wasn’t necessarily peaceful on the day of Jesus’ birth. It was a world like ours, troubled. And everyday citizens like Mary and Joseph, along with the parents of young children in and around Bethlehem, were caught up in the powerplays of those with authority. 

It’s into this kind of world that our Savior was born—a troubled world longing for peace. It’s also into such hearts that Jesus comes… If we’re not sick, Jesus suggests, we don’t need a doctor. But if we realize our human frailties, we’ll run to a physician.[3]

The Psalm in 2020

Be still and know that I am God is a message we need to hear in 2020. When we think we can overcome all our problems, we develop a false sense of pride. We feel we can take care of ourselves; a feeling in which we risk making ourselves into a little god. But when we realize that we are truly not in control, we must turn to God and only then can we discover peace. War may be all around us, but we can be at peace because we are assured that God is with us and, in the end, we’ll be with God. 

That’s why God tells us to be still. In the midst of our troubles, we need to trust the God of creation, the God of redemption, and the God of our future.  When we trust such a God, we can have peace.

In a year like 2020, listen to that voice from God telling us to slow down, to be still, and to know that God who set the stars in the sky, who divided the land and water and separated night from day, the God of the cosmos, is also our refuge and strength.   Amen.

Resources and Notes:

May, James L. Psalms: Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1994.

Weiser, Artur.  The Psalms: A Commentary, Herbert Hartwell, translator. Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1962.

[1] 1 Kings 19:11-18. Interesting in other ways and in other parts of the Old Testament, we find God revealing himself in these other experiences of Isaiah. In Genesis 1, God’s spirit is a wind over the chaos. The word for wind and breath in Hebrew is the root of the word “Spirit.” God also made himself known to Moses with the burning (but not consumed) bush. 

[2] God as refuge appears in the 1st, 7th and 11th verses. 

[3] Matthew 9:12, Mark 2:17, Luke 5:31.

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Advent 3: Love

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
Genesis 33:1-11
December 13, 2020

The sermon recored on Friday. It’s not exactly the same as the text below, but pretty close.

Thoughts at the beginning of the service:

            As we’ve done for the past few weeks, we’re looking this morning at a unique passage of Scripture for Advent. Why not, we’re coming up on a weird Christmas with the precautions we have to take to slow the spread of COVID. 

 Our scripture passage is about Jacob, one of the patriarchs of the Hebrew tradition. You know him. A cheater, who found himself cheated. He deceived Esau, his brother, out of his inheritance by offering a hungry boy a bowl of soup. And if that wasn’t enough, he took advantage of his father’s failing eyes to obtain his brother’s blessings. This creates a rift between him and his brother. He flees for his life. 

While wandering, he fell in love with Rachel and agreed to give her father seven years of work for her hand in marriage. But his father-in-law tricked him into first marrying her sister, Leah. So, Jacob worked seven more years for the woman he loved. Then he had two wives, each jealous of the other. Jacob’s is not be the first dysfunctional family in Scripture, but his is one of the more extreme.[1]

Jacob had battled with a mysterious being. Was his adversary God?[2] He shows the scars of battle as he limps along. But God blesses him. His family will carry on the promise first given to Abraham. 

Jacob returns to his homeland which means he must confront his brother, Esau. Jacob, the fair skinned momma boy, must meet his macho brother. They’ve not seen each other in two decades.

A message of love

            While Jacob is the main character in our story, I hope you will consider this passage from the eyes of Esau. Esau shows us how to be gracious. He displays love. The jilted brother quickly forgives his conniving sibling. Esau could have had Jacob’s head on a platter, but instead, he buries the ax. 

Esau’s love is similar to the love God shows the human race. Our Heavenly Father could have been done with human sinfulness and wiped us off the map. Instead, God shows amazing love by coming to us as an infant. As we prepare to once again celebrate Jesus’ birth, we need to remember we’re called to love and to let go of grudges.  

After the reading of Scripture

            I’ve heard that procrastination is a sign of creativity. I’m not sure it’s true, but I hope so. I’d want to use it as an excuse for waiting till the last possible moment to buy Christmas presents. 

            Jacob, in our story, had put off meeting his brother as long as he could. One of the things we’ll see exploring this text is that there are things we shouldn’t put off for too long. 

The danger of putting things off:

            When there’s something I don’t want to do, I put it off… I fret over it… Especially when an apologize is called for. Don’t you hate doing that? Apologizing? If you’re like me, you struggle to do it. After a while, what could have been easily corrected with a hand-written note or a phone call becomes a huge task. 

            Or maybe because I felt slighted, I didn’t want to take the first step. There’s an important lesson here. We can’t control others; we can only control ourselves.

            It seems important for Jacob to make an effort at reconciliation with his brother even though he’s not sure how it was going to turn out. He can only control what he does, not how his brother responds. 

            I wonder if the years he was away, he’d fretted over making such an effort. In doing so, he creates a monster out of the task at hand. The more Jacob thinks about it, the more he worries that his hairy masculine brother will wring his neck. 

            On the night before he encounters Esau, Jacob’s hip is pulled out of joint in a wrestling match. Now, the big day arrives. Limping, there’s no way he can outrun Esau. He’s stuck. He’ll meet his brother and face the consequences. 

We all change:

            Another thing I have notice about myself is that although I realize I’ve changed, I have a hard time imaging how other person has changed. This is especially true of someone from my past. I remember them as they were when I last saw them. If we really think about it, they, too, have changed. 

            Have you ever been to a class reunion? You look around and wonder who are all these old people? I do, not realizing they’re probably thinking a similar thing about me. 

            I also have experienced this phenomenon on Facebook. An old friend sends a friendship request. I look at their profile picture, thinking it must be from my friend’s parents. We all change. 

            Is this part of Jacob problem? Does he still see Esau as the young man he’d wrong and assumes that Esau had spent the past two decades letting his anger boil? After all, Jacob has spent time fretting over what might happen when they meet again.

The Meeting:

            Seeing Esau approach makes Jacob nervous. He lines up his family, starting with the servants their children.[3] Then he places Leah and her children next. And at the end he places his beloved Rachel and her son, Joseph.

             Although we are not told the reason, it appears Jacob hopes that if his brother is out for blood, his vengeance will be appeased on the first group of his family. 

            He’s saved his favorite for the last. Maybe he thinks Rachel and Joseph will have a chance to get away. We’re not told how the mothers of his children felt about this alignment, but I am sure such favoritism didn’t bring harmony to his dysfunctional family.

            To Jacob’s credit, he goes first. He’s in front, limping along, with his extended family in tow. If there is going to be blood, he might as well offer his own. After all, he’s facing demons of his own making. We’re told that Jacob bows seven times as his brother approaches—the type of homage worthy of a Pharaoh.[4] Besides that, Jacob had already culled his flocks and sent the best animals ahead as a gift to Esau. Now he shows his submissiveness. 

            Jacob has no idea how his brother will respond. Will Esau extract revenge? 

The graciousness of Esau:

            Instead of vengeance, Esau is joyous! Much like the father in the Prodigal Son, Esau runs out ahead and embraces his brother. The two hug and cry together.  

            Then Esau comments on his brother’s family and delights in meeting his sisters-in-law and nieces and nephews. Jacob rightly gives God the credit for his family. Esau then insists that no gifts are necessary even though when Jacob presses, he accepts the gifts graciously. As Jacob says, he has all that he needs. But it appears that so does Esau. Both men have been successful. Jacob has herds and a large family; Esau has a small army.  

Encountering God through love:

            Then, in verses 10, Jacob expresses his joy, saying that looking at Esau’s face is like looking into the face of God. Jacob knows what he’s talking about for he has encountered God a few times by this point. And remember, Jesus tells us in a parable that we too will encounter him in the face of others.[5] Maybe a part of this has to do with Esau’s willingness to let the past be gone and to make the reconciliation as easy as possible. That’s a godly act.

            After a reunion, they go separate ways, partly out of necessity. With the herds and animals, Jacob’s crowd is much slower than Esau’s. What’s important is that the two brothers have been reunited and Jacob is back in the land of his father.

Implications for our Christian life: 

            A lot of times we are like Jacob, afraid of taking steps toward reconciliation. We worry and agonize over it. Like Jacob, we may even go to great lengths to pave the way, such as offering gifts. But when we finally get around to it, many times we find that it wasn’t nearly as big of a deal as we had made it out to be. Sometimes, like with Esau, the person we worry about has moved on with their lives. Other times, they’ve softened, or erased their bitterness. 

            Jesus teaches, as his followers, we need to be the person who takes steps toward reconciliation. That’s what being a Christian is about. However, it’s not often how other people see the church. They see us as being hateful toward things we’re against. We have work to do to show the world what being a Christian is all about.

The Christmas message in the passage: 

            I mentioned how Esau acts like the father in the familiar story of the Prodigal Son.[6] Remember, the father in the parable represents God. The younger son has done terrible things. The father was justified if he treated his son as dead. 

            Like Esau with Jacob, the prodigal’s old man doesn’t wait for him to arrive. Instead, he runs down the road to meet his wayward son. 

            Think about God running after us. Isn’t this what God does in the Christmas story. By coming as an innocent child born in a stable, God takes the risk to reach out to the human race. 

            Out of love, God takes the first steps toward us. Do we, like Jacob, continue to limp toward God, or do we try to run? Hopefully, because God comes as a child, we’re not threatened. We can embrace such love. And when we do experience such love, we’re to share it. 

            In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus teaches us to pray, “forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors,” or as a more modern translation would have it, “forgive us our sins as we forgive the sins of others.[7] And Jesus tells us to make things right with our brother (or sister) before we come to make a sacrifice to God.[8] Our willingness to forgive the wrong done by others is linked to God’s forgiveness. But, as we see in our story of Jacob and Esau, it’s hard to take the first step and seek reconciliation. 

            We’re told this story from the point of view of Jacob. We don’t know what had gone on in Esau’s life. But it’s evident he’s glad to see his brother. 

What are we to do? 

            If there are those whom we’ve wronged, like Jacob, we need to take a risk on forgiveness. We need to be the ones to strive for a new relationship. And if someone comes to us seeking reconciliation, we should show the graciousness of Esau. Love is not just a feeling. It’s an act that works for the well-being of the one loved.  

            Loving one another is what Christmas is about. God came to this world as a bundle of love. When we accept the gift, our lives are changed, and we share that love with others. Amen.

©2020

[1] With Cain killing Abel, that distinction would go to the first family in Scripture. And Noah’s family actions after the flood also dysfunctional tendencies. 

[2] Genesis 32:28.

[3] Jacob has had children by both his wives and their two servants. 

[4] Gerhard Von Rad, Genesis, revised edition (1961, Philadelphia: Westminster, 1972), 327.

[5] Matthew 25:37-40.

[6] Luke 15:11-24.

[7] Matthew 6:12.

[8] Matthew 5:24. 

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Advent 2: Joy

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
December 6, 2020
Acts 8:26-39

Introduction at the beginning of Worship

One of our secular songs of the season is Jolly Old Saint Nicholas. The lyrics come from a poem, “Lilly’s Secret”, published in December 1865. At that time, just after the Civil War, the United States needed a little Christmas cheer. In the poem and song, a girl teases Santa with this request:

Jolly old Saint Nicholas
lean your ear this way;
don’t you tell a single soul
what I’m going to say,
Christmas Eve is coming soon;
now you dear old man,
whisper what you’ll bring to me;
tell me if you can.

She tells St. Nick what her siblings want for Christmas. A pair of skates for Johnny, a doll for Suzy, and a storybook for Nellie (she thinks dolls are folly). 

            But her whispering in Santa’s ear displays wisdom grounded in humility, as the poem and song ends: 

As for me, my little brain
isn’t very bright;
choose for me, dear Santa Claus,
what you think is right.[1]

This song displays two pieces of wisdom. First of all, Santa is jolly. What causes this joy in the man in red? I suggest it comes from his giving. 

            Joy is our theme for today. While we should never confuse Santa with God, we know the Almighty also takes great joy in giving. Second, when it comes to God, like Lilly with Saint Nicholas, we should receive his gifts with gratitude rather than demand what we want. We’re like Lilly in that we don’t know what we need. 

Today’s theme

            Who would have thought we’d need a Savior born in a stable and crucified on a cross? That’s not the kind of gift we would have thought of, but it’s what this world needs. And we’re to joyfully accept this gift and to share it with others. In doing so, we’re not only joyful, but we help fill the world with JOY!

            Today, we’re again looking at a passage that isn’t often used during this season. In Acts 8, Philip guides an Ethiopian Eunuch to faith… Philip, in this part of Acts, is transported around like the characters from the Enterprise in the old Star Trek TV show. He’s preaching in Samaria, only to find himself in the Gaza when he meets the Ethiopian. Afterwards, he’s heading to Caesarea. The joyful gospel spreads throughout the region. 

After the reading of scripture: 

            Jesus came to save sinners.  We often hear these words of Paul from 1st Timothy echoed in our Assurance of Pardon after we confess our sins.[2] Jesus came to save sinners. Our passage this morning emphasizes this role of our Savior. In our passage, the good news is experienced by someone first century Judaism would have considered beyond redemption. For a first century Jew, you avoided foreigners. Furthermore, a eunuch, like a leper, was considered unclean. The assurance of this news fills the eunuch with such joyful excitement that he asks to be baptized the first chance available. 

            Now, we don’t know if this Ethiopian eunuch was a bad guy. To the contrary, the evidence we have within the text suggests he’s seeking God. He’d made a long trek up the Nile and across the wilderness to worship and to pursue truth. Only those who have a desire for God would have gone on such a pilgrimage. Of course, being good and bad has nothing to do with our need for God. We all need God which is why Jesus came.

            Interestingly, this Ethiopian eunuch journeyed to Jerusalem to worship. As a eunuch, he was in the service of a queen. He was a high official in the court, the Treasurer. For this reason, he may have had some official business in Jerusalem. But we don’t know. 

TV’s portrayal of this story

            A few years ago, a TV mini-series titled “AD” put a Hollywood spin on the story of the early church. In order to make the story TV-ready, they filled in a lot of details with speculation. In the episode dealing with this story, the Ethiopian was driven out of Jerusalem. The Romans were going to kill him because they feared the Ethiopians would join with the Jewish Zionists against Rome. 

            As the eunuch leaves Jerusalem, he travels through Gaza where a wheel came off his chariot. Philip happens along the way. Not only does he interpret Isaiah for the Ethiopian, Philip repairs his chariot.[3] Of course, they’re trying to make a story that plays better on the big screen by providing a few additional details and altering a few others. Who knew Philip was a mechanic! 

            According to the text, we’re just told that the Ethiopian was in Jerusalem to worship—the rest of the details came from the NBC writers. 

            It’s interesting the Ethiopian went to Jerusalem to worship. Was he a God-fearer? One who studied the Hebrew scriptures but hadn’t yet converted? He couldn’t be accepted into the Jewish faith at the time as a proselyte. Circumcised was a rite that would have been impossible for this man.[4]  

Who’s this eunuch?

            Many of the commentators on this passage play down the man as a eunuch, stressing instead his official positions. He was an important man. After all, he had a chariot (Israel wasn’t filled with ‘two-chariot homes” in those days). He also had the ability to travel far away. As an African, he was exotic. Finally, he held a responsible position, the Queen’s treasurer. Think of a Steven Mnuchin or, soon to be, Janet Yellen, of the first century. 

            Despite his position, as a eunuch, he would not have been allowed to become a proselyte to the Jewish faith at the time. His status barred him from ever entering the temple. But in this encounter with Philip, he finds acceptance. Whatever happened during his time in Jerusalem, he now understands the gospel. 

            Interestingly, he came to Jerusalem to worship, but didn’t discover God by himself. It’s on his way home that God finds him. Ultimately, our conversion into the faith is grounded not in our search for the truth, but God searching for us. And God often uses other believers to help us understand.   

            Even the Scriptures do not help this man to fully encounter God. It takes someone else, Philip the Evangelist. (He could also be called Philip the Runner as we imagine him sprinting alongside the chariot.) Philip, at the Spirit’s request, heads down the Gaza road. His preaching has been very effective in Samaria, leaves a place where good fruit is being harvested in order to go into a wilderness area with no one around. Philip, here, demonstrates God’s concern for the lone lost sheep.[5] He helps this man understand the prophecy of Isaiah.  

Philip’s role

            God’s ways seem strange in our economy. Why give up what is good, the preaching in Samaria, for what seems to provide little return? Here, from what we’re told, the good news is heard by just one man. 

            The New Revised Standard version says he was sent south to the Gaza, but a footnote suggests this can also be translated as “at noon” he goes to the Gaza…”  Who, in their right mind, would set out on a journey in a barren waterless land at noon? It would be unbearably hot. Furthermore, he has to run alongside the Ethiopian’s chariot. This isn’t Philip’s idea. God calls him to this task.[6]  

            As Philip hears the man read Isaiah, he asks him about it and is invited up into the chariot. There, an out-of-breath Philip lays out what God is doing through Jesus Christ. The next miraculous event is that they happen along a pool of water. Water isn’t common in the Gaza. But here’s a pond and the Ethiopian ask to be baptized. 

            Philip baptizes him and when the Ethiopian comes up from the water, Philip disappears just as Spock and Captain Kirk would disappear from a distant planet, leaving behind the inhabitants to wonder. But the Ethiopian isn’t worried. He’s happy. He’s joyful. The eunuch now understands. He travels on, praising God. 

            Perhaps, but don’t know for sure, he shared the gospel south of Egypt. We know that early in Christian history, the gospel thrived there. Even today, a strong Coptic Church remains in Ethiopia. 

What do we learn from the text?

            What can we take away from this text? You know, Christians are not made in a vacuum. One can’t just pick up this book we love (the Bible) and experience the fullness of a Christian life. The Ethiopian could read it, but he didn’t understand it. 

            Think about how you learned of the faith… Were there someone (or most likely “someones”) who helped you grow and understand that lead to your acceptance of Jesus? And how did you feel when you finally “got it?” Were you like the Ethiopian? Did your heart sing?  

            God uses people, believers, to help us understand, interpret and apply the Word to our lives.  

A personal story

            Let me tell you a story. Back in the early 1980s, after a painful breakup, I went through a period where I stayed away from church for a while. I was working for the Boy Scouts at the time. One day, I received a call from Bob Eplee (one of the district scout leaders). He said he and Junebug (another leader) wanted to talk to me. I assumed it was about scouting. 

            Bob, Junebug and I met a day or two later for breakfast. I had my notebook with me (this was before laptops and iPads). I was ready to work. 

            “Put your notebook away,” they said. “We’re not here for that.” Then they totally floored me when they laid it out on the table. “We think it’s time for you to come back to church.” We had all attended the same church, First Presbyterian in Whiteville, North Carolina. This meeting was their way to give me this simple but important message. Although they may not understand this themselves, I’m sure God sent them.  

            We have all had people in our lives that have shown us how to live as a follower of Jesus. For such people, we should be thankful and joyful. Furthermore, when we have a chance to share the message, we should be like “Jolly Old Saint Nicholas,” feeling grateful for a chance to make a difference in another’s life. 

Conclusion

            We’re coming up on a strange Christmas. Thanks to COVID, they’ll be many lonely people out there. As followers of Jesus, whose birth we celebrate, we need to do whatever we can to safely spread joy to the world. How might you, like Philip, put joy in the life of another person? Amen. 

©2020

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jolly_Old_Saint_Nicholas.  Accessed December 4, 2020. 

[2] 1 Timothy 1:15.

[3] For a summary of this episode, see:  http://www.nbc.com/ad-the-bible-continues/episode-guide/season-1/rise-up/111/2388571

[4] See Deuteronomy 23:1

[5] Luke 15:3-7.

[6] See Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Acts (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 141-142; and William H. Willimon, Acts (1983: Lousiville: Westminister/JKP, 2010), 71-72.

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Advent 1: Hope

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
November 29, 2020
Genesis 15:1-5, 21:1-3
©2020

Today’s sermon (taped on Saturday, November 27, 2020)
Setting the state at the beginning of worship

For Advent, this year, we’re going to look at passages in scripture to help us understand the themes of each week. This week, the theme is hope. In future weeks, it’s joy, love, and peace. 

Perhaps no one in history had the hope of Abram, who’d latter be known as Abraham. He’s the one with whom God planted a seed. That seed bore fruit nearly two millennials later, with the birth of the Christ child. 

It all started in a desert. Abram was getting up in years, a lot like most of us. He was well past social security age, yet his best years were still ahead! That’s the kind of hope for which we should strive. 

The best is always ahead because the future is in God’s hands! 

After the reading of Scripture:

I love the view from our house in Laurel Fork. We sit up on a ridge with a small pasture dropping to the north. We have incredible morning views of the Buffalo, as some of you have seen from Facebook posts. But I’m really blown away on clear nights. 

From our ridge, we have an unobstructed view of the north sky. I can easily make out Polaris, the North Star, at the handle end of the Little Dipper. Like a clock wrapped around Polaris, there’s the Big Dipper and Cassiopeia and her husband Cepheus. Snaked between them is Draco the Dragon, whose stars weave around the pole. I can also see a tinge of the Milky Way with its millions of stars 

Because of our latitude, and with an open view to the north, I’ll be able to see these stars year around. I’ve never had such a dark view to the north. The other night, I took the dog out and gazed up on the dipper and Cassiopeia on the opposite side of Polaris. Then, about 6:30 AM, I took the trash can down to the highway. The constellations were reversed, having traveled around the Polaris. 

The role of stars in the Biblical story

The stars played a more important role when there were no mass printed calendars, like the ones they hand out at Mayberry Trading Post. Our ancient parents mostly lived outdoors. Without electric lights to spoil the view, they knew the night sky well. 

As you know, stars play a major role in the Christmas story. A star drew the Magi to Bethlehem. But long before that, God appeared to Abram in a vision. This vision instilled Abram with hope.

Exploring the text

God’s opening line is familiar. We hear it anytime a heavenly being approaches a mortal. “Do not be afraid.” Common sense demands that the appearance of God should be enough to make you shake in your boots. We should immediately, as the Christmas Carol goes, “fall on our knees.”[1]

In Abram’s case, there’s an ironic twist. He’s just done the impossible. In Chapter 14, he defeated a much larger force on the battlefield. He’s not just a wandering sheepherder; he’s a warrior.[2] Yet, God tells Abram, “Don’t be afraid.” 

Then God continues, “I’m your shield.” Maybe God doesn’t want Abram to let this commando stuff, of leading a group of men who rout a much larger army, go to his head. It’s as if God says: “Don’t depend on your military skill, don’t depend on your equipment; don’t depend on your men; depend on me.” And then God promises that his reward will be great. 

Abram shows boldness by complaining. “O, Great,” he says to God. “I’m an old man without an heir, what’s good is this reward to me?  

In those days, those without a male heir would adopt a male slave. The slave, as an adopted son, would then be in charge of seeing to it that the man and woman of the house are cared for in their old age. Upon their deaths, the slave receives freedom and his adopted father’s property.[3]

Abram may have had this in mind when he mentions Eliezer as his heir. But God isn’t finished with Abram. God invites him to step outside the tent. God directs Abram’s eyes to the night sky and promises his descendants will be more numerous than the stars.

 In the desert, at night, the sky is brilliant. The stars are even brighter than they are on Briar Hill. “Abram,” God asks, “Can you count the stars? If so, you can count your descendants!  

Of course, Abram couldn’t count the stars. Four thousand years later, we’re still discovering new stars and galaxies filled with thousands of starts.

God’s presence and promises

I like the night sky. I never feel alone when I can see the sky. God’s presence is felt, not only with me but throughout the cosmos. The God who invited Abram to look into the sky and to consider the possibilities is with me. And God can do incredible things. We need to have faith. Our hope is in what God is doing even if we don’t understand.

I skipped over six chapters of Abraham and Sarah’s story to get to where Isaac was born. Those six chapters aren’t easy.[4] There are lots of bumps in the road. And they’ll be many more for it’ll be another 20 centuries or so before Jesus. 

The hope we have in the Almighty isn’t necessarily something that happens overnight. Too often, in our culture, we are caught up in instant gratification. We’re impatient. We don’t like waiting. But Advent reminds us that while we have hope, we also have to wait. But as we wait, we need to hold on to the dreams we have.

Reality Checks

Do you know what a reality check is? It’s a two-word concept often used to kill great dreams. Some of these dreams may have been realized if only attempted. A reality-check is often akin to sticking a needle into a balloon. Just when great ideas are generated, someone comes along and tells you why it can’t be done. You lose faith. Sure enough, the naysayer is proven right. 

Abram didn’t need a reality-check. He’d done that himself, I’m sure. Anyone could have told him he was washed up. He was old, way too old for a baby. Abram didn’t need so-called friends to tell him this. He knew it. 

Instead of a “reality-check,” Abram really needed a “God-check.” We also need those kinds of checks. God directs Abram’s eyes to the skies and says, “Count ‘em, if you can.” Like Abram, we sometimes need our horizons expanded. Certainly, the God of creation, who set the stars in the universe, is more powerful than us.  

You know, we worship and serve an awesome God.  Yet, we tend to put everything on our own shoulders, thinking we must carry the burden. We have a hard time trusting God, but when we step out of our comfort zones and decide to follow a hunch, God can surprise us. 

A few years ago, before COVID, Craig Barnes wrote about the “anxiety” in the church. All over, he said, people are worried. Folks are anxious. What will will happen to the church. Are we going out of business?

But listen to what Barnes wrote:

When I was working through my way through a graduate program in the history of Christianity, I became convinced that there is no rational explanation for the church’s survival… [but] there are many compelling political, intellectual, and social reasons for it to have gone out of business… And none of those threats were ever as dangerous to the church as it was to itself. We’ve always been our own worst enemy when we fail to live out of the gospel we proclaim. But still the church perseveres. The only possible explanation for the church’s survival is that Jesus Christ chose to use it to continue his mission of bringing the kingdom of God to earth.[5]

It’s not about us; it’s about God. When we trust God and ignore the “it can’t be done” voices surrounding us, incredible things happen!

A personal story

Let me tell you a story. Ken Tracy served as executive presbytery when I first went to Utah. A compassionate man, he helped match me to that congregation. They were small and struggling but had great dreams. After I was there about two years, we came to presbytery with our proposal for a new church campus. Ken called for a reality check. “You’ll never do it,” he said. “It’s beyond the ability of that congregation.” 

Luckily (it really wasn’t luck, it was providence), we prevailed. We were able to sell the presbytery on the idea. Shortly after that, Ken moved to Alaska. But his father was in St. George, a town that shared a daily newspaper with Cedar City. His father sent Ken a frontpage clipping of our opening. Ken called me to congratulate us. He said he was happy to acknowledge he’d been wrong.  

Understand this, it wasn’t because of any great thing I did. Nor was it about anything anyone in the congregation did. Yes, everyone made a gallant effort. But God wanted that church built. God gave us hope and saw to it that we had the resources. Yes, at times we had to struggle; at times we worried about running out of money and having to put the project on hold. Our new church home wasn’t presented on a silver platter. But we held to the vision and, despite the naysayers (and Ken wasn’t the only one), built the building. And the congregation continues to flourish.  

Interestingly, Abram believed, even though his promise was off in the future. God takes time to fulfill everything. There will be periods when his descendants would be slaves. The fulfillment of the promise won’t necessarily be easy.

Lessons from this passage

We should remember a few things from this passage. First of all, we have a God in change and in control of the future. We can give up our attempts at being in control and trust God to take care of those things over which we have no control. If we are willing to trust God’s providential care, we will be happier and less anxious. 

Second, with God, our abilities do not restrain possibilities. God is not bound by human limitation. 

Third, our hope is not for an immediate answer to our problem. The answer, as it was with Christ, may take many generations. 

Finally, just because God is with us, we will not necessarily have an easy time. At times, things will be rough. We’ll have challenges. But the rewards are great.  

Let me close by asking you some questions to ponder this week. What things have gone undone because we have failed to trust God? Are there dreams we killed with our reality checks? What could we do, if we trusted God and grasped at the possibilities? Look up to the stars and dream. For our hope is grounded in an awesome God, who came to us as a child. Amen.

[1] From “O Holy Night.”

[2] Genesis 14 tells the story of Abram as a warrior, defeating the five kings and rescuing Lot and his family.

[3] Walter Brueggemann, Genesis: Interpretation, a Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1980), 143.

[4] In these chapters, Abram becomes Abraham and Sara becomes Sarah. 

[5] Craig Barnes is now the President of Princeton Theological Seminary. I think this quote came from Christianity Century.

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Thanksgiving, Joy, & Gratitude

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
November 22, 2020
Psalm 100
©2020

The sermon taped on Friday in a practice session.
Setting the stage:

         One of my favorite Georgian authors is Ferrol Sams. A physician by trade, he began writing later in his life. I’d read most of his books before moving to Georgia and highly recommend his three-volume memoir. 

In volume two, which is about his college years in the late 1930s, he writes about one of his professors. This professor asked his class how long it takes someone to go from the whining question, “Why me, Lord?” to the mature question, “Why not me, Lord? Both maintain the accent on the word me. But the one negative syllable separates two entirely different philosophies.”[1]

This is a good question. How long does it take to shift our focus from ourselves to God? The intent of the 100th Psalm, which we’ll look at today, is to encourage such a shift. 

After the Scripture Reading:

Joy is essential to the Christian life. It’s a gift from God. It’s not the pursuit of happiness we in Americans so cherish. What we consider as “happiness” is transitory and fragile. Happiness often depends on external circumstances. For me, it might be the Pirates winning the pennant. If that’s the case, I haven’t been happy in a long time. 

You see, happiness is contradictory. Hope rises on the sound of a well hit ball. The crowd holds its collective breath as the ball sails deep. The centerfielder runs and leaps high with his glove extended as he crashes into the wall. He falls to the ground. Then he stands. A grin comes across his face as he pulls the ball from his glove. The home crowd moans. The batter, who for a moment thought he was a hero, kicks the dust and heads toward the dugout. Some win, others lose. Some celebrate, others mope…

The Pirates might be a long shot for the World Series, but this might be the year the Steeler’s take it all. A virtual Superbowl party, anyone? Enough about sports.

Joy in an unshakable and unchanging God

A friend of mine commenting on this passage wrote, “This Psalm tells us that the joy we find in God is unshaken and unchanging because it is based on something lasting and unchanging.”[2]Get that? Something lasting! Yes, there will be plenty of disappointments in life to weight us down, such as homeruns stolen by a talented centerfielder, but true joy has another foundation. 

True joy, of the everlasting variety, is found in God. To quote the prophet Isaiah, “the flower withers, the grass fades, but the word of God will stand forever.”[3] In other words, all we cherish and love in this life will come to an end. Flowers are beautiful only for a few days or maybe a week. Youth lasts but for a few seasons. Friends and loved ones die. If we are looking for eternal happiness in our lives here on earth, we’ll always be disappointed.

Focus on God, on that which is eternal, and we’ll be ready to join the chorus marching into heaven making a joyful noise. “Worship,” as the late Eugene Peterson once said, “is the strategy by which we interrupt our preoccupation with ourselves and attend to the presence of God.”[4]

We should want to worship God, to offer prayers of thanksgiving, to shout praises. Focus on God. True joy is knowing God and that we are loved by our Creator. We are claimed by our maker. 

Psalm 100 is about the joy in God which “is the motive power of faith.” Our joy in God will lift our hearts.[5]

A Psalm of Worship

This a Psalm of worship. It was probably originally sung by the Hebrew people as they gathered in the Jerusalem temple. The first two verses serve as a call to worship. 

Imagine the chief priest standing at the temple’s gate. He’s in his finest robe. Suddenly trumpets blast, quieting the crowd. Then, in a loud voice, the priest summons the multitude: “Make a joyful noise, worship the Lord with gladness, and come into his presence with singing.” The crowd responds, breaking into a round of “Holy, Holy, Holy.” If it’s November, they might sing “Now Thank We All Our God.”

“Know that the Lord is God, that he made us,” the third verse reads. “We are his, the sheep of his pasture.”  We’re reminded why we’ve gathered. Our one purpose is to worship the Almighty. 

God is king, but also a caring shepherd. Those gathered in front of the temple, preparing to enter, recognize they are to put away thoughts of grandeur for themselves. Furthermore, they are to put away petty differences between one another. This is not the place or time for selfishness or bickering. All who have come are to be together, in unity, in worship. 

The same is true for us. We are to leave our petty differences at the door of the sanctuary. Worship isn’t about us; it’s about our God.

The message of Psalm 100

This may be a short Psalm, but it has a wonderful message for those of us who gather Sunday after Sunday to worship. “Psalm 100 initiates worship and sets forth a theology of worship,” according to one commentator.[6] The focus of the Psalm, as we learn in the fourth verse is God. As the final verse indicates, we worship because God is good, loving and faithful.

Gratitude

 A key to being a Christian is gratitude. I don’t know how one can be a Christian and not feel it. Gratitude grows when we have our priorities right. Gratitude is not only good for our souls, it’s good for bodies. 

A few years ago, there was an article in the Wall Street Journal that spoke on what we might do to benefit from this feeling: 

“Gratitude is good for us in many ways. Studies have shown it strengthens our immune systems, helps us sleep better, reduces stress and depression and opens the door to more relationships. But to reap those rewards, we need to do more than feel grateful. ‘The word ‘thanksgiving’ means giving of thanks.’ says Dr. Emmons (a psychologist at University of California at Davis). ‘It is an action word. Gratitude requires action.’”[7]

Did you catch that? Gratitude requires action. We can’t just receive all the goodness God has given us without sharing. This is the meaning behind the secular holiday we celebrate this week. Thanksgiving is to be a time of sharing. The mythology of the holiday, whether or not it happened this way, captures a truth of gratitude. Pilgrims and Natives sharing a meal around the table in an expression of gratitude. 

True gratitude leads to generosity. It’s a personal issue, one that we each need to struggle with and decide for ourselves. Are we generous? Are our lives gracious? Do we love God, our Creator, and want to praise him in thought, word, and deed? 

The Psalm calls us to worship, but our worshipful attitude should be more than just what we do on Sunday morning. Likewise, we should be thankful more than just this Thursday. 

Our thankfulness, our worship, should flow forth from our lives, from our hearts. It’s what should be most evident when others see us. Last night I saw a meme on Facebook in which someone asked an Amish man if he was a Christian. His answer was shocking. “Ask my neighbor,” was his response. Do others see us as Christians? 

This Thanksgiving

In closing, let me say a little bit about this Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, the Center for Disease Control and many physicians are recommending that we not do much sharing around the table this year. Face it, sharing COVID would be a Thanksgiving downer. So maybe we need to revision just how we might share gratitude this year. 

Maybe, instead of stuffing ourselves on turkey and dressing and cranberry sauce, we should spend this Thanksgiving a little quieter. We could spend a few minutes alone with God, reading Psalms of Thanksgiving.[8] We could also make a phone call or two. We could write a letter to a family member we miss seeing or to a long-lost friend. We could support Thanksgiving offerings where the money goes to those in need. 

As we take these actions, remember to give thanks to God for the blessings we have. And let others see your gratitude. Amen.

[1] Ferrol Sams, The Whisper of the River (NY: Penguin Books, 1986), 498. 

[2] Laura Smit, “Come, Let Us Worship and Bow Down,” Reformed Worship, #52 (June 1999), 14.

[3] Isaiah 40:7.

[4] Eugene Peterson was the translator of The Message (a Bible translation) and author of over 30 books on ministry and faith. This quote came from a tweet. (@PetersonDaily, November 12, 2017). 

[5] Artur Weiser, The Psalms, Herbert Hartwell translator, (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1962), 645.

[6] James L. Mays, Psalms (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1994), 321

[7] Clare Ansberry, “Cultivating a Life of Gratitude, The Wall Street Journal (November 14, 2017), A15. 

[8] Some additional suggestions of “Thanksgiving Psalms” from Walter Brueggemann, The Message of the Psalms: A Theological Commentary (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1984), 125-139:  Psalms 30, 40, 138, 34,65, 66, and 124.

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Woe or Whoa?

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
November 15, 2020
Matthew 23:13-38
©2020

This is a video of a “practice run” of the sermon, recorded on Friday, November 13.
Note: The video is missing the woe/whoa joke that I added later!

At the beginning of worship:

            I warned you last week; we’re spending two weeks in the 23rd Chapter of Matthew. It’s a difficult chapter. Jesus deliverers a pulpit-pounding sermon. In the middle of this sermon are seven woes. For each, Jesus lifts up particular actions of the seemingly religious folks. He then condemns their hypocrisy.

The passage ends with a mournful lament for Jerusalem. This city stoned the prophets and will, in a few days, crucify the Messiah. Jesus’ lament demonstrates his great love for these misguided people. He longs to hug and care for them, but they won’t listen.

In this chapter, we see Jesus’ anger at prideful behavior and his heartbreak over the consequences of such actions. As the old cliché goes, God hates the sin and loves the sinner. 

After the Scripture Reading:

There are a lot of woes in this passage and Jesus isn’t riding a horse.[1] What’s he trying to say?

Let’s look at a few of his examples. He speaks of those who are seemingly religious going beyond what is required by the law.

Let me say this. Setting the bar higher or trying to do more than the letter of the law demands in and of itself isn’t bad. It can be commendable. Especially if we move from a strictly legalistic understanding of the law to one that captures the intent of the law.

Jesus himself does this in the Sermon on the Mount. It’s not enough just to refrain from murder. If you try to destroy a person’s reputation by calling them a fool, you’re guilty. The same is true with adultery. You don’t have to actually do the deed. Lustful thoughts make you guilty.[2]

Understand this, Jesus isn’t upset with folks going beyond what is required by the law. One example he refers to is offering a 10th of one’s garden herbs. The tithe was only expected on grain crops, oil, and wine.

What upsets Jesus is that these people make a deal out of these little things while ignoring what’s important.[3] They take pride in their good deeds, thinking it makes them better.

Jesus takes the double-love commandment, which we looked at a few weeks ago (to love God and to love your neighbor[4]) and applies it here. “Woe to you who tithe mint and dill and cumin and neglect the weightier matters of the law—justice and mercy and faith.”

Justice and mercy link to our call to love our neighbor. Faith reminds us that we’re to love the Lord.[5] Tithing, the giving a tenth of our income, although important, shouldn’t be the focus of our faith. If we elevate its importance, we risk forgetting that tithing is to be done with an attitude of thanksgiving for what God has done. We shouldn’t tithe to earn God’s favor. Nor should we make a big deal about it, like those who gave extra tithes (as if we’re in a game of spiritual one-upmanship). Jesus condemns attempts to bribe God or to put our piety on display.

A personal example:

Let me give you an example of this from my early teen years. My mother had said she wanted a particular kind of brush. I was with my dad in J. C. Fields one day and saw it. It wasn’t very expensive, a dollar or two (remember, this was nearly 50 years ago). Having mowed some neighbor’s lawns, I had money and I brought it for her. She was pleased. A day or two later as she was getting on me for something I’d done, I reminded her of my gift. She made it very clear that if the gift was a way to bribe her, I could take it back.

Intentions are important. We’re not to do good to show off for others, or to bribe God. We’re to live in gratitude for what God has done for us.

More Woes:

In the next woe, Jesus draws upon the analogy of a cup and the absurd concept that if the outside was clean, so must the inside be clean. Such people have their priorities reversed, as it’s more important to have the inside clean than the outside.

Now, before we go any further, I must confess that I may have descended from the Pharisees. Often, I overload the dishwasher and when I unload it, I’m guilty of grabbing a handful of cups or bowls and not looking inside. They get stacked in the cabinet and, on occasion, what looked to be clean on the outside isn’t so on the inside. When someone else gets one of those cups or bowls… Well, let’s just I hear about it.

Of course, that’s not exactly what Jesus is talking about here. Instead, this is similar to his expansion of the law in the Sermon on the Mount. There, Jesus equates lust and ill-placed passion with adultery. Here, Jesus refers to an uncontrolled appetite, a desire to have our cups “runneth over.”[6]

Jesus attacks the lack of self-control, along with our lusting and unhealthy desires for things. Things are not bad; in moderation most things can be good. But in excess, even good things can be bad for us.

Jesus further warns that while we might look good on the outside, our drive to over-indulge will create filth on the inside.

Jesus expands on this theme of appearing clean on the outside but being dirty on the inside with his next woe. Here, where Jesus speaks of whitewashed tombs, he’s probably drawing from a practice of covering graves and tombs with white chalk once a year, in a belief it would keep the priests from becoming unclean by accidental contact. Jesus equates these glistening white tombs to hypocrites who look nice on the outside, but inside are dead and rotting. These are harsh words for Jesus accuses those seen as “the great defenders of the law as being the main rebels against it.”[7]

Jesus’ final woe is directed at those who glorify their heritage and traditions and mistakenly believe that tradition is the same as truth. Those who are teachers of Scripture, who also kept the graves of the prophets and the righteous in top shape, believe that because they’re a part of this tradition, they too are righteous.

They believed that if they had been living in the past, they’d been the brave ones who would have stood up for what is right. They’d keep Jeremiah from being dropped in a well or stop the stoning of other prophets.

“Be careful,” Jesus warns, “what makes you think you’re so good?”

Do we think we’re better than the Pharisees?

You know, today, almost everyone in America honors Martin Luther King, but that wasn’t the case when he was alive. The establishment, our government, even the FBI, tried to find every reason they could to attack him. Admittedly, he wasn’t a perfect man (no one is), but he did a lot of good for his people.

Consider the Jews in Nazi Germany. We might think we would have stood up to such an atrocity, but would we?

How about in our own country? Would we stand up against injustices? Against slavery? Against the atrocities at Sand Creek or Wounded Knee? Against the lynching of African Americans?

To think we’d act differently than those in the past is often to give ourselves too much credit. We should instead realize we’re a part of a fallen world. We often do what is easiest and expedient and not what is right and just.

Jesus brings his sermon to a close, following his last woe, with an indictment of Israel. The religious leaders say they’d treat the prophets of old better, and they’re going to get a chance to do just that. In a few days, more righteous blood will be spilled.[8]

Jesus’ love and grief

After these harsh words, Jesus tenderly looks over the holy city and grieves. “Jerusalem, Jerusalem. How I long to gather your children together like a mother hen gathers her chicks under her wing, but you didn’t want me.” Jesus wants things to turn out differently and his heart is heavy as his ministry wraps up.

Good News:

I remember being told in seminary to always have good news somewhere in your sermon. It’s a challenge on a text like this. But, believe it or not, there’s good news here.

First of all, there is a bright side to the woes. If we listen and clean up our act, we’ll not have to keep up a facade. We can be freed to live.

Sharon Fawcett, in a book titled Hope for Wholeness: The Spiritual Path to Freedom from Depression, writes about this struggle. She tells about keeping up appearances (which is what hypocrisy is all about). “I considered it my responsibility to look like a winner, maintain the image, and try to make my life appear problem-free.” She wanted to be “a walking billboard advertising a perfect, painless life” that came from her relationship with Christ.”[9]

For Fawcett, judgment came through a bout of depression which kept her from keeping up this façade. After lots of treatment, having worked through it, she found freedom from such burdens. God is good and can work through the bad to bring about good for us.

A second source of good news here is the love we experience from Jesus. Our Savior loves us and wants us to love him and one another. He wants us to be ourselves, not to pretend to be something that we are not. He doesn’t want to burden us or make our lives harder. He wants us to be free to accept his grace and forgiveness.

Because he loves us, as well as those around us, there are times he needs to correct and redirect our focus. Jesus doesn’t want his followers to be a veneer, to be a façade. He wants to cleanse and liberate us so we can live free from the bondage of sin. That’s good news!

This week look back over these seven woes and re-examine your life considering what Jesus says. Is he speaking to us? Amen  

[1] A silly joke using the homophone woe verses whoa.

[2] Matthew 5:21-28

[3] For agricultural tithes see Leviticus 27:30 and Deuteronomy 14:22-23. Frederick Dale Bruner, The Churchbook: Mathew 13-28 (Grand Rapids, Eerdmans, 2004), 447.

[4] Matthew 22:36-40

[5] Bruner, 449.

[6] Bruner, 451, examines the Greek word akrasia, which literally means lack of self-control.

[7] Bruner, 452.

[8] This sermon was in Jesus’ final week in Jerusalem, just before his crucifixion.

[9] Sharon Fawcett, Hope for Wholeness: The Spiritual Path to Freedom from Depression (Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress, 2008), 45.

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Matthew 23:1-12

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
November 8, 2020
Matthew 23:1-12

A practice run of the sermon shot on Friday. There may be variations from the text below.
At the beginning of the service:

            Today we’re moving into the 23rd chapter of Matthew. Some commentators think this is one of the more difficult chapters in Scripture. I’m don’t think that’s true. This text is not that hard for us to understand, but it makes us quite uncomfortable. 

Mark Twain claimed it wasn’t the parts of Scripture he didn’t understand that bothered him. It was the parts he understood. This might be one of those chapters. 

Jesus attacks hypocrisy. Much of this teaching is directed at leaders within the religious community, but there are other parts of it applicable to all of us. Hypocrisy is often a problem and the reason many people shy away from church. If our words and actions go together, the church would be much more effective at offering hope to a hurting world.[1]

This is the last chapter in Matthew where Jesus publicly speaks to a multitude. Jesus is probably speaking at the temple, for he leaves there with the disciples shortly afterwards.[2]

I’m splitting this chapter into two parts. Today, we’ll look at what Jesus teaches about humility and service. Jesus teaches us what’s important in God’s economy, a place where the last becomes first, and the first last. 

After the Scripture Reading:

 

Saturday, a week ago, was Halloween. It was also Reformation Day! On October 31, 1517, Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the door of the church in Wittenburg, Germany. This is seen as the beginning of what we know as the Protestant Reformation. 

The Protestant experience has led to widespread changes in the world. This includes fostering in democratic ideals.[3]

One of the key concepts of Protestantism is the “Priesthood of All Believers.” This means all of us have the ability to take our sins to God, through Jesus Christ, for forgiveness. We have access to God and can interpret God’s word for ourselves. 

The impact of this doctrine is greater than the notion of us not having to confess through a priest. It levels the playing field, emphasizing equality. The concept impacts more than the church. It helped promote the view that all citizens are equal. It encouraged the idea of one person/one vote. We could even credit it with bringing us the election we had this week. 

Of course, many of you, like me, became sick of the campaigning and then the counting. It seemed to go on forever. Now, maybe, it’s over and our prayer need to be for the transition to new leadership. 

But before we get too far away from the election, I have a modest proposal for the next one. All politicians should have to read this chapter of Matthew’s gospel and be asked about it. These words should give them, and us, something to ponder. 

Our Savior addresses pride and humility. He condemns how we tend to say one thing and do another. He reminds us not to be concerned with what looks good, but to do what is right and just. 

A good leader is humble and a servant, realizing that they are accountable not only to their constituents, but ultimately to God. A good leader needs to know that there are worse things that can happen than being voted out of office. A leader is always responsible to God!  

But this passage isn’t just directed toward those in authority; it’s also directed toward the rest of us. Sooner or later, we’re all in a leadership position. Whether it is as a parent, on a job, or just as a witness letting our light shine.[4]But a leader isn’t a dictator. 

Jesus says that we should not set people up over us when it comes to our relationship to God. Ultimately, our citizenship isn’t here on earth or in America. We’re called to be citizens of that new kingdom, the one in which Jesus rules supreme.   

Of course, while this text applies, Jesus wasn’t speaking of to the political arena when he gave this talk. He’d made his “give to Caesar what is Caesar’s” speech earlier, as we looked at two weeks ago.[5] But his teachings still apply to those of us who claim to be followers of Jesus. At the time Jesus gave these teachings, he was preparing his followers for the covenant life of the church.

And, as a pastor, this is a hard passage to swallow. “Practice what you teach,” Jesus says. I know, if I am to be honest, there are times I fail to live up to the standard Jesus sets. This is true for all of us, but it’s especially dangerous situation for those of us in leadership roles. In a way, Jesus addresses the Elmer Gantry’s of the Pharisees. He criticizes the one who can incite a crowd against sin while doing what was condemned and walking away with a pocket full of money. 

Applying the Text:

The key to Jesus’ teachings is humility. Pride leads to a fall, we read in Proverbs.[6] While we will all fail to uphold God’s expectations for us,[7] humility will cover a lot of our sins.[8] Jesus doesn’t condemn the Pharisees’ teachings. Jesus’ condemns how they are so rigid in their treatment of others while they exempt themselves from such behavior. 

Some of you may remember Sam Ervin. He was a senator from North Carolina in my youth and became best known for chairing the Watergate Hearings. He came from a family of Presbyterians, serving the church as an Elder. After retiring from the Senate, Sam collected his favorite stories into a book. One of the stories he tells is about a leading Southern Presbyterian theologian of the 19th Century, Robert Lewis Dabney.  

In the Civil War, Dabney, signed on as chaplain for Stonewall Jackson. He was given the rank of Major. Dabney often preached about predestination. This doctrine teaches that God is in control and has things worked out. He told the men this meant if they were predestined to be killed, there was nothing they could do to stop that Yankee bullet. Consequently, if they were predestined to live, there was no way a Yankee could harm them. 

In a way, Dabney used this doctrine, which is supposed to be about our hope in Jesus Christ, to encourage bravery on the battlefield. I’m pretty sure Augustine or Calvin, the Church’s two great teachers on this doctrine, would not have agreed with Dabney’s application. 

One day, according to Ervin’s story, Dabney was out visiting the men along the line. Suddenly, they were under attack. Yankee bullets buzzed through the air. Dabney ran hard. He dove behind the largest tree around, landing on top of a private who’d already claimed that safe spot. The private, seeing the chaplain on top of him, said, “Major Dabney, you don’t practice what you preach!”

“What do you mean, son?” Dabney asked.

“You’re always telling us that everything is going to happen as it has been planned and predestined by the Almighty and we can’t escape our fate,” the young soldier said. “For that reason, you say we should be calm in battle. I noticed, however, that when those Yankee bullets began to fly and kick up dust, you forgot about predestination.”

“Son,” Dabney responded, “you overlooked two important facts. This tree was predestined to be here, and I was predestined to jump behind it.”[9]

You know, what we do is often more important than what we say. That private understood. 

As I said, Jesus points out in this passage that much of the Pharisees say is right. After all, they teach what Moses taught and you can’t go wrong with that. But they don’t do what they teach. In fact, they often made the law more difficult that it has to be. Then, after raising the bar, they don’t follow it themselves. Such teachers use the law to burden down others. 

If we’re going to be in a leadership position in the church, we have to remember our purpose. We’re here to serve and not to make life more difficult for others. We are not to give others burdens that we’re not willing to accept. This has often been a critique of American missionary efforts. Especially in the 19th and early 20th Century, we tried to make converts be more like us instead of having them focus on Christ. 

Jesus goes on to note that as a Christian leader, we don’t need to have the best seat in the house or the finest and fanciest clothes. We don’t need to bask in honors and shouldn’t be accepting fancy titles. We should be content to be who we are. We should know our salvation isn’t in what we have done. Salvation is found in what Jesus has done for us. For this reason, we respond to him in joy and are his willing servants. 

The late Doug Hare was one of my New Testament professors when I was in seminary. Unlike other professors who insisted that they be called Dr. or Professor, Doug insisted we use his first name. On our first day in his classroom, citing this passage, he said we were all equal. He saw himself as just another Christian, no different from the rest of us. Of course, that wasn’t quite true. Differences did show after grades were issued. Although fair, he was a tough professor. 

You know, being an effective leader requires work. If you are a leader, more is asked of you. You’re often the first to arrive and the last to leave. You’re the one that gets to pick up the slack when others don’t fulfill their obligations. It’s hard work—whether you’re a pastor, an elder, or a leader of a Bible Study. And for our lives outside the church, we might serve on as a county commissioner, a mayor, or a volunteer fire chief. If you’re younger, you might find yourself as a captain of a ball team, a member of the student counsel, or, if in Scouting, a patrol leader. 

Conclusion:

As a Christian, we should hold our leaders accountable. Furthermore, whenever we find ourselves in a leadership position, we must remember that we aren’t there for glory and honor. Instead, we’re to serve others honestly and fairly. We’re to always remember that our ultimate allegiance belongs to our one true teacher, our true leader, Jesus Christ.  Amen.  

c2020

[1] I would argue that hypocrisy is a problem in all human endeavors (due to our sinful nature). But the church should strive to limit it and should also confess to the world that it’s a problem with which we struggle. 

[2] See Matthew 24:1.

[3] Dee Steven Ozment, Protestants: The Birth of a Revolution (New York: Doubleday, 1993).

[4] See Matthew 5:16

[5] Matthew 22:21

[6] Proverbs 16:18.

[7] Romans 3:23.

[8] Jesus provides an example of this at another point in his life. See Luke 18:13-14. 

[9] Sam J. Ervin, Jr. Humor of a Country Lawyer, (Chapel Hill: University of North Caroline Press, 1983), 82-83.

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Who is our Savior?

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
November 1, 2020
Psalm 110, Matthew 22:41-46

The video above was recorded on Friday, October 30, 2020 and may be a little different from the text below.

At the Beginning of Worship

We’re going to complete the 22nd Chapter of Matthew’s gospel this morning. Two weeks ago, we began the chapter with Jesus’ parable of the wedding guest. His story didn’t sit well with the religious leaders of the day, which set up the events we dug into last week. 

There we saw Jesus tag-teamed by a group of religious and secular scholars. They kept coming at Jesus with questions and Jesus stunned them with his answers. They were so speechless that Matthew tells us they were “muzzled.” 

Now it’s Jesus’ turn to ask a question. On the surface, it appears to be a simple and not very interesting one. But it’s the most important question.[1] Jesus asks about their understanding of the Messiah. Those who challenge Jesus have trouble understanding who could save them. Do we? In whom do we place our trust? That’s a question for us to ponder this week.  

After the Reading of Scripture

Do you remember the movie Pale Rider? I always liked the movie. It takes me back to a familiar place. The filming took place just outside a church camp I ran in the Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho in the late 1980s. 

The movie stars Clint Eastwood. He’s a mysterious outsider, who’s only called “Preacher.” He comes into a mining town of LaHood, California. The townsfolk are being run off their claims by bad men hired by Coy LaHood, a mining tycoon longing to control the valley. Even Preacher is abused. He’s encouraged to move on by the corporation’s henchmen. He accepts the abuse, not fighting back, but he encourages the townsfolk to resist. 

We get a sense that this preacher has a past. Thing comes to a head when an innocent man is killed. Fighting breaks out. Eastwood did not defend or take revenge for the wrong done to him. However, when an innocent man is dead, he claims his guns from a safe deposit vault. 

The move ends predictable. Vengeance is metered out and the town saved by this former gunslinging preacher. In the closing scene, with the town secure, the mysterious preacher rides off into the sunset.[2]

The Preacher was the town’s savior. Pale Rider is a classical western, with a twist or two. An outsider comes in and saves the town who are made up of good people incapable of defending themselves. You quickly know, in such movies, who are the good and bad guys. Once the oppressed have been saved, and the bad buried, the outsider moves on. There is no need for a savior anymore. All is right in the world. 

When things are down, wouldn’t it would be nice to have a savior come in and set things right. It could be an answer to our dreams, or our deepest desire. Of course, so would living in a world where the bad guys are always someone else and we’re always innocent. It makes a good movie, but the world is not that simple. 

Into the Text

Yes, we need to be saved. Sometimes from others. Sometimes from ourselves. And that’s what the gospel of Jesus Christ is all about. We need a savior. We need a Messiah. The problem is, who is our savior? Too often, we want the savior on our own terms. But then, we risk idolatry, worshipping something less than God. Our morning text goes to the heart of this. 

Last week we looked at the three questions the Jewish leadership asked Jesus. Each question was designed to trick or trip him up. They wanted to expose Jesus as a fraud or heretic. In doing so, they could maintain their control over everyone within the faith. Now, after being bombarded by questions, it’s Jesus’ turn. He asks just one question, which he modifies with a couple more clarifying ones. 


Jesus asks his question to the Pharisees, even though there were other leaders present.[3] Remember, the Pharisees are most like Jesus with their belief in a resurrection. Jesus asks what they think about the Messiah. It’s a simple question. Then he pushes the question further, asking whose son he is. The last question is a tricky one. 

The Pharisee respond that the Messiah is the “son of David.” This is not a bad answer. All we have to do is to go to the very first verse of Matthew’s gospel: “An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David…” 

The Davidic sonship of Jesus is taken for granted throughout the New Testament. You see it not only in Matthew Gospel, but in the Gospels of Mark and Luke.[4] Paul speaks of Jesus as the Son of David.[5] We even find such a title in the Book of Revelation.[6] While the title Son of David is important, Jesus drives at something deeper. 

Jesus then asks, how can David call the Messiah, Lord? For you see, a “son” implies a hierarchical relationship. A son always shows deference to the father. Such an attitude goes back to the Ten Commandments, “honor thy father and mother.”[7] Jesus backs up his question with a quote from Psalm 110, a Psalm of David, which we heard earlier. 

The Pharisee’s hope is in a Messiah who would be a conquering king like David. They are looking for someone who will be willing to defeat their enemies and to restore the honor of the nation. They’re like the residents of LaHood in the movie Pale Rider. 

At the very least, the Pharisees want a Messiah who will do those things outlined in the last verses of Psalm 110. They want him to bring vengeance on their enemies. They want to see their persecutors turned into corpses, stacked like cordwood. 

Yes, Jesus desires justice. Yes, some of those things may happen at the final judgment. But there’s more to Jesus. As one commentator wrote: “If Jesus is seen only from David’s side, glorious but only human, he is mis-seen.” Jesus has to be seen from “God’s side—the very Son of God”[8]

Another way of thinking about this is as Son of David, Jesus is a Messiah for the Jewish people. But he’s more than that. In Matthew, the title “Son of David,” is always subordinate to the title “Son of God.”[9]

Twice in Matthew’s Gospel, God claims Jesus as his Son. At his baptism, the skies open and a voice cries out: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I’m well pleased.”[10] Again, at the Transfiguration, we hear the same voice.[11]

As Psalm 110 reminds us, the Messiah sits at God’s right hand. Jesus as the Son of God is the Messiah for the world. “For God so loved the world,” John’s gospel tells us.[12] Jesus’ mission is to set up the foundation of the church so that it can continue his work in the world until he comes again and calls his people home.  

Applying the Text

So now, we need to ask ourselves the question Jesus asked. What do we think of the Messiah? 

Often, we look for salvation in the wrong places. We think that if we can just have this or that, we’d be satisfied. But the Messiah isn’t an object or a thing. Nor can our true savior be just another person. Sometimes we think, if we just marry the right spouse or if we just had the perfect job, but again those things by themselves can’t fulfill us. 


Perhaps even more dangerous is the belief of a political savior. We’re faced with a choice this week, during the elections. I will never tell you who to vote for. I firmly believe in two foundational principles of the Presbyterian Church. First, God alone is Lord of our conscience. Second, good people see things differently.[13] So, I won’t say who to vote for. 

However, let me state this clearly: If you think you can vote for a Savior, you’re mistaken. If we believe that any of the candidates can fulfill all our needs and desires, and do everything in a godly manner, we are delusional. 

Yes, political leaders can be a force for good, but they are still mere humans. They are still sinful. Scripture is clear. Even David sinned. Certainly, for Uriah, David was no savior.[14] Mortals, whether family members, spouses, friends, bosses, or politicians cannot fulfill our deepest needs. 

This is why the Son of David was a short-sighted answer. Mortals are always limited in what they can do. But as one who came from God, the one who is God, Jesus has the power to save. He is the only Savior we need. Anyone and anything else will eventually disappoint and led us into idolatry.  Amen.  

c2020

[1] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 421,

[2] Pale Rider, 1985. Directed and produced by Clint Eastwood. I simplified the story line here. The name comes from the Revelation 6:8, where death is seen as riding a pale horse. The movie begins when a young girl’s dog is shot by the Coy LaHood’s men. She prays for a miracle. Of course, Eastwood’s character is not “pure.” He has a past as shown by bullet wounds in his back and by his flirting and suggestive “shacking up” with one of the towns eligible women. 

[3] In the previous passage, Herodians and Sadducees joined the Pharisees in questioning Jesus. 

[4] Mark 10:4-48, Luke 3:31. 

[5] Romans 1:3.

[6] Revelation 3:7, 5:5, 22:16.

[7] Exodus 20 :12 and Deuteronomy 5:16.

[8] Bruner, 426. 

[9] Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation, a Commentary for Preaching and Teaching, (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993), 262-263.

[10] Matthew 3:17.

[11] Matthew 17:5.

[12] John 3:16.

[13] Presbyterian Church (USA), Book of Order, 

[14] 2 Samuel 11.