Showing posts with label G.K. Chesterton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label G.K. Chesterton. Show all posts

28 October 2014

“Three Marks of Faith” (Romans 15:1-13)

 Hardly a week goes by without one person or another offering me something to read. It may be a book or a newspaper article or a posting on the Internet. Let me say very genuinely that I greatly appreciate this input. And here is the reason why: It gets me reading things that I likely would never have been exposed to were I just left to my own devices. I find myself broadened, enriched and often challenged by this reading.
One of my best sources is my wife Karen, who reads far more widely and voluminously than I do. This past week she sent me a short piece that she found on the web entitled “10 signs you belong to a great church”. They were compiled from the Bible by a young pastor in Nashville, Tennessee. Here is what he included in his list. See if you can recognize Messiah in any of them: sound doctrine; striving for relevance; putting Jesus before religion; Christ-centered worship; a passion for discipleship; a heart for the nations; an investment in the next generation; small groups; thriving community; and lastly, transparency.
If you go to the web or search through a list of Christian books you will likely come up with dozens of such lists with very little effort, and while they may offer a smaller or a larger number, by and large most of them correspond on the majority of points. In this morning’s reading from the New Testament Paul is getting ready to wind up his long letter to the Romans. Over the course of fourteen chapters Paul has taken us through the monumental themes of the Christian gospel: from the fallenness of the human race to the glorious hope of the redemption of all creation through Christ’s death and resurrection, from the privileged position of the Jews with their possession of the Law to the inclusion of people of all races and nations in the gracious promises of God. In the latter chapters, from twelve onwards, he moves on to the practical implications of those doctrines, the difference they make to our lives today—all that is involved in presenting our bodies as a living sacrifice to God and being transformed by the renewal of our minds.
Now in chapter 15, as this great letter is about to come to its close, Paul offers not ten but just three indicators of what it means to be truly living for Christ, to be “strong” in the faith, as many of the Roman believers liked to think of themselves. We can summarize them by thinking in three directions.

Outward in service

The first of them is outward—outward in service towards others. In the opening verses of this morning’s passage Paul instructs the Romans that we are not in the church to please ourselves. Rather, he says, “Each of us must please our neighbors for good, for the purpose of building them up.” Then he goes on to cite the example of Jesus: “For Christ did not please himself.”
When we put our trust in Jesus we enlist as followers of the one who came not to be served but to serve. Many people look for a church that fills their needs. And on a certain level there is a legitimacy to that. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be in a church where the gospel is proclaimed with power and relevance. There is nothing wrong with looking for a church where the Holy Spirit is clearly present in the worship. Yet we also need to be in a church that challenges us, that occasionally takes us outside our comfort zone, that calls us into the service of others.
We can easily be tempted to think of a Christian as someone who has had a particular experience—being born again or being baptized in the Holy Spirit. I do not want to underplay the importance of those experiences. Yet they are not ends in themselves. Rather, they are beginnings, intended to lead us into the path of service.
It was Dietrich Bonhoeffer who first referred to Jesus as “the man for others”. As Jesus was the man for others, Bonhoeffer maintained, so his followers, you and I, live under the call to be men and women for others.
Our relation to God is not a “religious” relationship to the highest, most powerful, and best Being imaginable—that is not authentic transcendence—but our relation to God is a new life in “existence for others”, through participation in the being of Jesus. The transcendental is not infinite and unattainable tasks, but the neighbor who is within reach in any given situation…[1]
Paul has already stated much the same principle in chapter 12, where he calls upon us to offer ourselves as living sacrifices, and then in the verses that follow goes on to show how that works in acts of humble, practical service: prophesying, teaching, serving, encouraging, giving, leading, and acts of compassion.
As I look around here at Messiah I see so many examples of this kind of service—and so much of it goes on beneath the surface, without those who render it ever calling attention to themselves. This, our passage this morning teaches us, is a sign of authentic discipleship.

Upward in worship

The second direction in which we are called to look is upwards. Paul’s desire for the Romans is that they may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Then, quoting from the Old Testament Scriptures, he goes on to use five different words to express the same truth.
In verses 6 and 9 it is “glorify”, which makes us think of the divine glory that enshrouded the top of Mount Sinai with clouds and thunderings such that the whole mountain shook. In Hebrew the word is kabod, which originally had the sense of weight or heaviness. So it is that true worship often drives us to our knees, as we encounter the unspeakable presence of the Eternal One.
Paul’s second word, in verse 9, is “confess”—which really means to speak out. We often use it before the recital of the creed. “Let us confess our faith as we say…” It tells us that our Christian convictions cannot remain a private experience. It was Jeremiah in the Old Testament who said, “If I say, ‘I will not mention him, or speak any more in his name,’ then within me there is something like a burning fire shut up in my bones; I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot” (20:9). So we cannot contain the praise of God within ourselves.
The third word, in verse 10, is “rejoice”. Christian praise will always be joyful. I specifically requested that our opening hymn, “All people that on earth do dwell,” be sung this morning because it contains words that I love: “Him serve with mirth, his praise forth tell”. There is a place for mirth, for spontaneous, unrehearsed joy in our worship. We see it from time to time when the smaller children start dancing during the livelier hymns. What a shame that the rest of us are held back by our adult inhibitions!
The next word is simply “praise”. It is the Greek equivalent of the Hebrew verb hallel embedded in our English word “Hallelujah”, “Praise the Lord!” Here we recognize that in worship we join with the angels and of all those strange heavenly beings who stand around the throne of God, worshiping him day and night.
The final word our New Revised Standard Version Bible renders once again as praise, but the word means “to extol” or “to commend”. Just as a salesman commends the quality of whatever product he is trying to sell to you, so our praise expresses the excellence, the beauty, the wonder of who our God is.

Forward in hope

Thirdly we look forward. In the church as much as in almost any area of life we struggle with the temptation to hark back to “the good old days”, some ideal period in the past. It may be the time when we had a significant spiritual experience, when we first came to know Christ as a living reality or when the Holy Spirit came upon us in a fresh way. Others look back to some golden era, say the 1960s when the church was still in its ascendancy in this country, or perhaps all the way back to the early church before things began to be corrupted in the Constantinian era.
But notice Paul’s concluding words in this morning’s reading. Are they, “May the God of nostalgia fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in nostalgia by the power of the Holy Spirit”? No, Paul writes of the God of hope. As followers of Jesus we believe that the best days always lie ahead of us. That is certainly true in an ultimate sense, when we will stand transformed in the new heaven and the new earth. I believe it is also true in a more immediate sense, as we look to the nearer future. Paul himself has declared this in chapter 8, when he affirmed that “all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose”. 


In the Tate Gallery in London there hangs a most remarkable work by a man who in his time was hailed as England’s Michelangelo. George Frederic Watts has faded into obscurity, but his painting “Hope” remains a classic piece of Victorian art. Painted entirely in drab colors of brown, gray and green, it depicts a blindfolded woman hunched atop a globe. Clutching a lyre that has but one string and with her ear practically touching it so that she can hear its feeble melody, she gently plucks it with her finger. G.K. Chesterton scoffed that the painting might more appropriately have been entitled “Despair”. But Watts defended it, saying, “Hope need not mean expectancy. It suggests here rather the music which can come from the remaining chord.”
(The painting, I might say, is a favorite of President Obama and inspired the title of his second book, The Audacity of Hope.) The point is, though, that genuine hope does not depend on the surrounding circumstances. It is easy to hope when everything is going well, when all the indicators are positive, just as it’s easy to invest in the stock market when it is gaining points every day. No, the real test of hope is when the chips are down.
Paul on the other hand, speaks about “hoping against hope”. He cites the example of Abraham, who did not waver concerning the promise of God. He writes about the hope that is not dashed by disappointment and suffering, but which actually springs out of it and grows stronger in the midst of it. Why? Because we have experienced the reality of God’s unquenchable love through the power of the Holy Spirit. And so we look and move onwards.
And so today, as we leave this second-to-last chapter of Romans, may you look outwards to the needs of others, upwards to God in praise, and (in Paul’s own words) may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.


[1]     Letters and Papers from Prison, 381

09 June 2014

Sermon – “Pour Out Your Spirit” (Acts 2:17; 2:4 & John 7:37,38)


If I were to have a favorite prayer in our Book of Common Prayer, I think it would have to be the one that follows a baptism. The candidates have just been baptized. The water is still trickling down their foreheads, when we pray, “Sustain them, O Lord, in your Holy Spirit. Give them an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love you, and”—here’s the bit I especially like—“the gift of joy and wonder in all your works.”

“The gift of joy and wonder in all your works…” Over a century ago G.K. Chesterton wrote about the wonder that characterizes childhood.

When we are very young children we do not need fairy tales: we only need tales. Mere life is interesting enough. A child of seven is excited by being told that Tommy opened a door and saw a dragon. But a child of three is excited by being told that Tommy opened a door. Boys like romantic tales; but babies like realistic tales—because they find them romantic. In fact, a baby is about the only person, I should think, to whom a modern realistic novel could be read without boring him.

He then went on to lament the tragedy of the loss of that sense of wonder that happens to all of us.

We have all read … the story of the man who has forgotten his name. This man walks about the streets and can see and appreciate everything; only he cannot remember who he is. Well, every man is that man in the story. Every man has forgotten who he is. One may understand the cosmos, but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star… We are all under the same mental calamity; we have all forgotten our names. We have all forgotten what we really are. All that we call common sense and rationality and practicality and positivism only means that for certain dead levels of our life we forget that we have forgotten. All that we call spirit and art and ecstasy only means that for one awful instant we remember that we forget.[1]

In his book Dangerous Wonder, Mike Yaconelli uttered a similar lament:

Most of us cannot say when it happened, we only know that it happened. When we became aware of the absence of God’s voice, there were a thousand deaths within us. Idealism and innocence died first. And across the scarred terrain of our souls, one could see the withered remains of dreams, spontaneity, poetry, passion, and ourselves—our real selves, the persons we were made to be.

What happened? What happened to our aliveness? …

The death of the soul is never quick. It is a slow dying, a succession of little deaths that continues until we wake up one day on the edge of God’s voice, on the fringe of God’s belovedness, beyond the adventure of God’s claim on our lives.[2]

Jesus’ followers lived at a time when a relationship with God had been reduced to a matter of following prescribed rules and regulations. The wonder of the Red Sea parting to allow their ancestors to cross or of the smoke and thunder atop Mount Sinai were but a shadowy memory. The same might easily have happened to Jesus’ followers as well. The feeding of the five thousand, the stilling of the storm on Lake Galilee, the healing of the demoniac at Gerasa and the hundred and one other staggering events that they had witnessed over the course of those three years—not to mention the resurrection itself—might easily have become just memories, were it not for one thing: Pentecost.

I can’t imagine that they had any idea what was happening to them at first: the roar of a violent windstorm filling the house; what seemed to be tongues of fire settling on each of them; and then, perhaps eeriest of all, speaking in languages that they had never known. I can only think that initially at least they were as mystified as the crowd that began to gather outside. “What is going on?”

Pouring


It was Peter who was the first to begin to figure it out: “This is what was spoken through the prophet Joel: ‘In the last days I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh.’ ” Joel had not been the only one to prophesy what was happening. We read it in Isaiah and Ezekiel as well.

I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground; I will pour out my Spirit upon your descendants, and my blessing on your offspring. (Isaiah 44:3)

I will restore the fortunes of Jacob, and have mercy on the whole house of Israel… Then they shall know that I am the Lord their God … and I will never again hide my face from them, when I pour out my Spirit upon the house of Israel, says the Lord God. (Ezekiel 39:25, 28, 29)

I took a moment to look up the word “pour” in a thesaurus. Here are some of the synonyms I came up with: teem, drench, gush, stream, surge, cascade, spill. So when God pours out his Holy Spirit, it is not as though he does it with an eyedropper. What we are talking about is Niagara Falls.

Ezekiel gives us an amazing picture of this in the second-last chapter of his prophecy. He has a vision of himself standing at the entrance to the Temple. He looks down and at his feet he sees a tiny trickle of water seeping out from beneath the threshold. He walks a distance of five hundred yards and the water is now ankle-deep. Another five hundred and it is knee-deep. Another and it is up to his waist. Finally it is so deep and so wide that he cannot even swim across it. This is the water that brings freshness and life, healing and vitality to the world.[3]  

That is the way of the Holy Spirit. We’d be far more comfortable if we could have him in little doses. It would make life so much simpler—especially for us Episcopalians, who prefer our religion to be genteel, restrained. But that is not how God works. Our heavenly Father is lavish. He pours out his Holy Spirit on us. “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us” (Romans 5:5). “This Spirit he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior” (Titus 3:7). It’s like drinking from a fire hose.

Filling


Luke tells us in verse 4 of this morning’s reading from Acts that the disciples were filled with the Holy Spirit. What does it mean to be filled with the Spirit? The first thing that comes to my mind is that the Holy Spirit wants all of us. We are so accustomed to compartmentalizing our lives. It could be into work and family and leisure activities—or the physical versus the intellectual versus the spiritual. Perhaps we have some other way of dividing things up. However we do it, the end result is more often than not the same. There is a spiritual component, or a God component, that frequently ends up occupying the tiniest portion of who we are.

But that is not how God sees us. God sees us as whole beings. He has created us in such a way that body, mind and spirit are inseparably and indivisibly intertwined. This is something that modern science is increasingly recognizing. We are indeed “fearfully and wonderfully made”. So it is that the Bible calls upon us to present our bodies as a living sacrifice to God. Why? Because this is our spiritual worship. What’s more, it calls us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds. The Holy Spirit yearns to fill all of us: body, mind and spirit.

Thus Paul prays for his fellow believers in Ephesus, that they “may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:18,19). Later in the same letter he tells them to “be filled with the Spirit, as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts, giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:18-20).

Robert Boyd Munger wrote very helpfully about this in his little booklet, My Heart—Christ’s Home. It is about what it means to invite Jesus into our lives—not just to leave him in the entryway, but to invite him into the library: the books I read, the magazines I browse and perhaps nowadays the internet sites I visit. He then moves into the dining room, the place of my appetites and desires, and then the living room, the workroom, the rec room—and by now you get the picture. So it is with the Holy Spirit. He desires to fill every area of our lives with his life-giving, renewing presence. And in my experience, that is a life-long project.

Flowing


We have thought about God’s pouring out of the Holy Spirit into our lives and of our being filled with the Spirit. However, if you look at our Gospel reading, you will notice that Jesus speaks not about filling up but about flowing out. “Let any who are thirsty come to me,” Jesus said, “and let any who believe in me drink. As the Scripture has said, ‘Out of their hearts shall flow rivers of living water.’ ”

What Jesus is expressing here is a principle that is embedded deep within the Scriptures. That is that we are blessed in order that we may be a blessing to others. It was true of Abraham and his descendants in the Old Testament. Paul enunciates it in the New Testament when he writes about the gifts of the Holy Spirit. “To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good” (1 Corinthians 12:7). Jesus told his disciples that the Holy Spirit would come upon them so that they could be his witnesses to the ends of the earth.

God does not give us his Spirit so that we can enjoy some esoteric experience. He fills us with his Spirit in order that we may serve others. The Spirit flows into us in order that he may flow out from us. We are not meant to be bottles, but channels. Perhaps you are familiar with the parable of the Dead Sea:

Israel has two lakes. The one in the north is Lake Kinneret—the Sea of Galilee. Most of the water in Israel comes from this lake. As they did in New Testament times, people still catch fish there for a living, and its redbelly tilapia are considered a delicacy.

The second of Israel’s lakes is the Dead Sea and it is an area of desolation. Even though the fresh waters of the Jordan wind their way over 156 miles and down 700 feet into it from the Sea of Galilee, no plants grow along its banks and no fish swim in its salt-laden waters. The mineral content is so great that it burns the eyes and any open wound. After being in the water, bathers must wash to cleanse themselves from its residue.

Lake Galilee remains fresh and life-supporting because water flows both into and out of it. When water reaches the Dead Sea there is no way out except to evaporate. So too, God graciously fills us with his Holy Spirit in order that his blessings may flow through us and out to others, bringing life and peace, kindness and joy. There is no limit to the Holy Spirit’s supply. He will keep filling us and filling us and filling us.

May we know that filling today—and as we do may we see the blessings of the Holy Spirit spilling out into the lives of others as well as he moves us to love and to serve them in Jesus’ name.




[1]     Orthodoxy, Ch. 4, “The Ethics of Elfland”, 52,53
[2]     Dangerous Wonder, 14,15
[3]     Ezekiel 47:1-12