February 28, 2010
Uncertain - Luke 13:22-35
Pastor: Luke Maybry
DownloadTwo down, ten to go. Today is the last day of February, 2010, and hopefully one of the last days of one of the coldest winters we’ve ever had. The second decade of the 21st Century has most definitely come in roaring like a lion. As we all know, this country faces a number of problems that are not being resolved and are in fact getting worse. The political climate in Washington, DC is horrible, which affects us in many ways. How can you read the paper or watch the news and not be anxious right now? Healthcare, the economy, the environment, the wars in Iraq & Afghanistan, the saber rattling of Iran, immigration, the national debt, the deficit… The list goes on and on, with no end or solution in sight. The economy is still weak, and will likely remain weak for the foreseeable future. Many of our jobs have moved to China, and they’re just not coming back.
Furthermore, 2010 has been especially hard on the saints at Central. The prayer list this past week was as long as I’ve ever seen it. Since the beginning of the year, twelve of you have been in the hospital. That’s more than we had over all of 2009. For some of you, it’s critical. In fact, for some of you, it’s terminal. It just is. Maybe the only thing worse than being that sick yourself is dearly loving someone that sick. What do you do? Nobody knows. The doctors don’t know. The nurses don’t know. I don’t know. All you can do is the best you can, and that never, ever seems good enough. What does the future hold? Will you ever get well? Will your mother or father ever get well? How can you take care of them? How can you afford the medical bills? How can you work and care for them and raise your own children? I wish I could give you an answer. Uncertainty, it seems, is in right now. In fact, on many levels, uncertainty is a good summary of 2010.
So, you come to Church, right? That’s part of why we come to church. “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms,” “How Firm a Foundation,” “On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand, All Other Ground is Sinking SandŔ We know about that sinking sand, don’t we? Surveys have shown that those who have faith heal more quickly than those who don’t. That’s a quantifiable fact. We stand on solid ground, you see, and we come to Church every Sunday to be reminded of what, and more precisely who, that solid ground is. It may be uncertain out there, but it is most definitely certain in here, and unchanging, and eternal, and true, and fundamentally good. Our sanctuary at Central has not changed all that much in the last fifty or so years. Everything else, goodness knows, has changed. We have changed. Our sanctuary, though, has not changed all that much. God hasn’t changed all that much either. “These things I have spoken to you,” Jesus reminds us in John’s Gospel, “so that you may have peace. In the world, you will have tribulation. But be of good cheer,” Jesus so beautifully said, “I have overcome the world.” That verse always gives me a lump in my throat. Certainty. It’s priceless. Not all the visas or master cards in the world can buy us that.
But Jesus also said what he said in Luke 13. “Go through the narrow door,” Jesus said. “Many will seek to enter, and will not be able. And… Once the door gets shut, it’s shut for good. You’ll stand outside and knock at the door saying, “Lord, open this door for us,’ and in reply he will say to you, ‘I don’t know where you come from. I don’t know you.’ And then you’ll say, ‘But we ate and drank with you, and you taught in our streets. You know us.’ And he will say to you, ‘I do not know where you came from. Go away from me.Ҕ That sounds anything but certain. “When the Roll is Called Up Yonder, I’ll Be There.” That’s another one of those oldies but goodies. But according to what Jesus said in Luke 13, I’m not so sure that I will be there. It’s uncertain. What is certain is that a lot of people will be there that we never expected, and a lot of people will not be there that we did expect. There will be lots of surprises, according to Luke 13, and Luke Maybry may well be one of them. It’s uncertain.
The second part of today’s Scripture reading is just as shaky. The Pharisees warn Jesus that Herod wants to kill him. “Go to Jerusalem,” the Pharisees sincerely implied to Jesus, “outside of Herod’s jurisdiction, where you’ll be safe.” That’s not going to happen, though, Jesus said. Herod won’t kill Jesus. It’s not part of God’s plan. Besides, prophets don’t die outside of Jerusalem. Jesus didn’t need Herod to kill him. Jerusalem killed its own prophets. Jerusalem killed its own saviors. That’s the irony, that Jesus escaped evil Herod, to the safety net of Jerusalem, and there he was crucified. Herod wanted to kill Jesus, but failed. Jerusalem eventually wanted to kill him, too, and succeeded. “How often have I desired,” Jesus said, “to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood.” But Jerusalem wouldn’t have it. Jerusalem demanded on having its own way. So where are we? Are we safely under God’s wings leaning securely on him, or are we providing our own security?
I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling uneasy about all of this. I, like the rest of Jerusalem, have come to Church and have heard God’s voice all my life. If Holy Communion is what we say it is, I’ve even eaten with God a few times in my life. And yet, if I was on trial for being a Christian, I probably wouldn’t need Perry Mason to get me off. As far as where we all are in this passage, uncertain is about the best word I can muster. So on top of all the other uncertainty of 2010, we come to Church at least today and seemingly get even more.
During my last year in the Army, I was strongly considering law school. I think I applied to six different law schools. One of those law schools was the University of Alabama. Leah had a cousin who went there and he had a number of different connections throughout Alabama and especially the law school. I called him thinking that he could pull a few strings and get me in. I never even talked to him (I’ve never even met him actually), but I did talk to his sister. She told me that if my grades and LSAT were good enough, then his recommendation would probably push me over the edge. “Listen, sister,” I wanted to say to her but never had the courage, “you’re missing the whole point. The point is that my grades and LSAT are not good enough, which is why I need your brother to pull a few strings for me and get me in down there. I married your first cousin’s daughter. That ought to count for something. That is the whole point.” Or maybe, it was not the point. Grade point averages and LSAT scores are the primary factors that law schools consider in admission. If they aren’t goo enough – and mine weren’t – then I don’t get in. Association can only get you so far.
There has been an ongoing debate throughout the Church’s history as to who saves us. Does God save us, or do we save ourselves? If you have been to any of our inquirer’s classes, you’ve gotten fully involved in that discussion. Presbyterians have always come down firmly on the side of God. God alone is sovereign, and therefore God alone saves us. We do not save ourselves. But, and there is a but, we do have a role to play in what God does. Our role is very important. How we live our lives matters very much. God has taken the initiative to gather us under his wings, but sometimes, we’d rather not be there. Sometimes, we’d rather get God off our backs. I believe that Jesus is warning us here not to get too cocky about our salvation, as if we have it all figured out. At the very least, if we believe that God in Christ has saved us, if we believe what we say that we believe, we have to start living like it.
Leah and I saw that movie, “Blindside,” last week about a football player who was adopted by a wealthy family. The football player actually didn’t know that he was a football player. He had all the potential in the world, and, even though he had even practiced with the team for several months, he just wasn’t getting it. The first five or six plays of the first game were horrible for the boy. Finally, one of the referees threw a penalty flag on him that was clearly unfair. Well, the coach just went ballistic against the referee. The coach stood up for his player, and from that point on, the boy was the best football player on the team.
Now we believe that God has stood up for us. We’re getting our rear-ends kicked down here. If you don’t think you are, you are deceiving yourself. But God has come down here in Jesus Christ and has stood up for us. We believe that. We say it every Sunday. We sing it in our hymns. We read it in our Bibles. We celebrate it at Christmas and at Easter, and every Sunday in between. God has stood up for us. When nobody else would or could, God showed up in the flesh and stood up for us. Now if we believe that, then that ought to make us the best players on the field. “See from his head, his hands, his feet sorrow and love flow mingled down? Love so amazing, so divine demands my soul, my life, my all.” Isn’t that right?
Yet, so much of the time our witness says that that’s all wrong. And that’s what has to change about us. Life is uncertain. It always has been and always will be. We have no clue what tomorrow holds for any of us. So we are right to come to Church to lean on the everlasting arms. We are right to come here and get some certainty in a world that’s otherwise devoid of certainty. What God has done for us, God himself is indeed certain. So we come to Church and we acknowledge that and take solace from it. But while we’re at it, we also have to acknowledge that our lives don’t always give a witness to that certainty. In short, we are the ones who are uncertain, and that’s a real problem. So, by all means, take solace in the fact that God has given us that which the world cannot give and which it therefore, even in all its uncertainty, cannot take away. Take solace in the fact that God has given us some certainty. And go out there and accept the charge to live like it.
In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.
