Jesus seems to flip
those feelings on their head this morning. Forget about settling in; forget
about being content with the familiar and comforting. No, Jesus quickly moves
us away from feeling grounded in the familiar and comforting. His story
creates, quite honestly, a new level of discomfort in our familiar and settled
place when we admit to what Jesus is promising. No matter where our life finds
us, our familiar comfort has a very short future.
During Jesus’ time,
the center of religious life in Jerusalem was around the temple. It was vast,
it was beautiful, and it was a familiar and comforting space for all who came
there. Quoting from Isaiah, Jesus reminded everyone the temple is first and
foremost to be their house of worship. The temple was to be that bedrock place
where his followers should never worry about what it was for and its place in
their familiar and comforting life.
As our reading shows,
those with Jesus understood this teaching. Indeed, the Temple was their place
to worship. They revered it as they admired its physical nature, its stature.
They were impressed by how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts
dedicated to God.
These first century
folk understood about life and death, about how quickly the familiar can be taken
away. Life for them was harsh. So, they did not argue with Jesus when he
claimed that the world as they knew it would end. They accepted his teaching
and asked the obvious question. When will it happen? How much longer do we
have?
Jesus’ answer was not
so direct. He knew how vulnerable we can be to earthly influences and
end-of-time predictions. Even in our time, we hear the prognosticators say
“This is it, this is the end.” Thankfully, I suppose, we have always woken to
worry another day. The truth is, the crisis in our lives have created a sense
of doom about the future. All too often we have good reason to worry like we
do.
But, Jesus warns us
about short cuts. We are to beware, to not be lead astray by those who come
into our lives and say, “I am the one.” I am the one with the truth about your
life and future. I promise, I am the one, “The time is near.” So, come and
follow me, for your time is running out.
How often have we
nodded in agreement when the futurists or political pundits predict a sure
fired economic, or political, or personal end to life as we know it? Can we not
count on the elections of the future to be like those of the past predicting
doom and gloom if we do not vote a certain way?
To be truthful, we are
almost always disappointed with any attempts to correct the present or the
future, aren’t we? Whether through our own efforts or those of others, we are
left with some things that worked better and some things that were a bust. I
suspect it is the unpredictable that catches us unaware. The time is near and
our time is running out. We must surely do something or all heck will break
loose.
The theologian John
Howard Yoder said the church needs to help people take a “minority perspective”
about life. A majority perspective assumes that by power, wealth, organizing,
or hard work we can get things to turn out the way we want. A minority
perspective, on the other hand, never makes those assumptions.
A minority perspective
church seeks to embody and be witness to the way of Jesus, without embracing
worldly powers, or wealth, or influence. A minority perspective church uses
imagination and learns to survive over the long haul.
Yoder says, “In
Christendom, both optimism and despair are correlated with the direct reading
of how it is going for us in the rising and falling of power structures.” But
the minority perspective community learns to hope even when things seem to be
going badly – “not only because we have heard promises from beyond the system,
but also because we have learned that sometime our pessimistic reading for the
present are shadowed too much by taking some setback too seriously.”
There is a story
about a visit a pastor had with a man as they sat on his patio looking out on a
small lake surrounded by new and attractive town homes. The pastor commented
about the beauty of the setting and asked the man how he had decided to move to
this new place.
But then he and his
wife moved by the lake. As he thought about it, he said, “Frankly, it was the
best thing that ever happened to us. He and his wife loved it there.
As he though a moment
more, he said, “It is kind of sad that you have to be forced by the State
Highway Department to do what you did not have the courage to do on your own. I
thought they had just killed me. As it turns out, they gave me a whole new
life.”
In Luke’s truth, Jesus
comforts us, “Do not be terrified, even though we will be thrust into this
world where our worries may overwhelm us.” Not a hair on our head will perish.
By our endurance we will gain our souls.
A few years back I
attended a symposium on the German theologian Karl Barth. One of the speakers
reminded us that the word of God automatically places us in a state of crisis
when we accept it. When we submit to God’s holy command, all heck breaks loose.
It began when Jesus
asked us repeatedly, “Do you love me?” Do you love me? Is it not the case that
once we say yes our life is never the same, and there is no turning back. Do we
love Jesus and are we prepared for the crisis that will come in our lives when
we do?
Jesus says, “As for
these things that you see, the day will come when not one stone will be left
upon another; all will be thrown down.”
The depth of our
experience of God’s grace will mirror the depth of the experience of our sin,
our pain, our suffering, even our cries to God for help. God responds to the
depth of our despair with the power of God’s grace.
Do you love me, Jesus
asks? If so, create a crisis in your life, come and follow me.
Jesus tells us, “You
will be betrayed even by relatives and friends…you will be hated by all because
of my name. But, not a hair on your head will perish.” Our God, as it turns
out, will lead us to a new life.
Do you love me, Jesus
asks? With our answer, our halting, and trembling, yes, God calls us to be a
servant to his son, Jesus Christ, our Messiah. A full time servant, living the
full cost of receiving God’s grace as we join God’s prophetic work in the
world. Bringing hope and health and calm in the midst of chaos and crisis. Bringing
grace through Christ’s peace and our life as God’s servant. This, dear ones, is
a new and frightening life!
Each of us has been
assured, temples will fall; there will be suffering and death. Yet, God will
not fall. God will bring new beginnings, a new age to come. So, we let go of
our familiar comfort and give a great sigh of relief. The State Highway
department does not force the end of anything.
But, loving Jesus
does. Loving Jesus forces the end of everything. Yet, loving Jesus also brings
about our final move and our new life. The beginning of everything that really
matters to our life and to the world. The beginning of our prophetic hope, hope
in our present and eternal life in the Kingdom of God, filled with God’s grace
and God’s love.
Do you love him? I
don’t know. But I do know he loves you terribly and with everything he has ever
lived for, he prays you love him in return.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy
Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen
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