July
2, 2006, Seating
Arrangements - Luke 14:7-14
July 9, 2006, The
Importance of the RSVP – Luke 14:15-24
July 16, 2006,
A
Family
Reunion
– Luke 15:11-32
July 23, 2006 A
Self-Invited Guest – Luke 19:1-10
Seating
Arrangements
– Luke 14:7-14
Rev.
Matt Nieman
July
2, 2006
On holidays and
other occasions when our extended family gathers, a familiar and traditional
scene occurs when it is time to eat. And
it is a scene that I know is probably not unfamiliar at your own family
gatherings as well.
There are two
tables of people at those gatherings that represent two classifications of
people. One is the kids’ table and the other is the adult table.
On my mother’s side of the family, there is my mother and her two
brothers, their spouses, and the matriarch of our family, my grandmother.
Since the time I was born, they (as well as my grandfather and
another uncle when they were still living) have comprised the adult table.
The seating arrangement at the adult table has, for the most part,
never changed. Grandma sits at
the head of the table, and her children and their spouses flank her on each
side.
My
grandparents’ nine grandchildren have made up the children’s table from
our earliest days. Over the
years, the children’s table has grown to include our own spouses and
children. The kids’ table has
now become multiple tables that spill over into the family room to
incorporate all the additional children that have come along.
Make no
mistake, no matter how old I, my brother, or my cousins get, we will always
sit at the kids’ table as long as we hold these traditional meals.
There is no breaking of the traditional seating arrangement.
I once remember the holiday after my grandparents’ oldest
grandchild got married. She
mistakenly thought that her new marriage granted her the authority to
graduate to the adult table. A
few icy stares from her parents and her grandparents quickly sent the
message that marriage does not carry with it that privilege.
A seating
hierarchy is also present at other kinds of events.
Special banquets will often find a head table for special
dignitaries. Having been seated
at a head table a couple times, I’ve found it a bit odd and uncomfortable
to be on display at a long table in the front of the room with a few other
important people while the rest of the crowd sits comfortably and relaxed
around round tables enjoying themselves.
When the gospel
writer Luke penned his gospel, there was a rather strict protocol that was
in place when it came to dinner parties and who would sit next to whom.
Meals were important social ceremonies.
Little was left to chance. In
reading other parts of Luke, we become aware that people noticed where one
ate, with whom one ate, whether one washed before eating, and where one sat
to eat. All of these matters
determined one’s social position.
As we might
expect from Jesus, however, his two parables from Luke 14 pretty much throw
out all conventional wisdom when it comes to where one should sit around the
dinner table. It was tradition
that there were certain places around the table that brought with them great
honor. And the guests would
jockey for the most prestigious place. “Don’t
take the place of honor,” Jesus says to the guests, “for you don’t
know that there isn’t a more distinguished person than yourself who should
sit where you’ve chosen. If
so, you would then be singled out by the host and told to sit at the least
important place. Instead, choose
the least important place so that, due to your humility, you might be chosen
to move up to a more important location.
For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles
himself will be exalted.”
Being humble is
assuming that somebody else deserves a more prominent place at the table
than ourselves. It means
assuming the attitude that somebody else’s position or opinion is just as
important, if not more important, than our own.
That gift of
humility is one of the most important qualities we can show as we strive to
be more faithful in our discipleship.
You know,
somebody here in the church who was intimately involved in the planning of
our recently-completed building project, made an interesting and refreshing
observation as we finished up what has overwhelmingly been seen as a
successful venture. He reflected
accurately that, throughout the course of the planning and fund-raising for
the project, no one in the church used their social or economic standing to
influence how the project would be completed.
Those with greater financial means certainly had a voice in the
planning, but their economic or social standing wasn’t used to put undue
pressure on the planning process.
That is a great
commentary on this congregation and a great demonstration of humility.
Everyone had an equal voice and nobody used their power or influence
to grab more control over what took place.
Through his
teaching on humility, Jesus rearranged the chairs at the table.
However, he did
more than just rearrange the chairs. He
challenged who should be invited to the table in the first place.
“When
throwing a dinner party,” he said, “don’t invite those you already
know and are comfortable with. Invite
those who might make you uncomfortable—the poor, the lame, the crippled,
and the blind. If you do this,
you’ll be blessed.”
Jesus and the
Pharisees ate differently. For
Jesus, meals were times of celebration and an inclusive fellowship that
foreshadowed the inclusiveness of God’s kingdom.
You shouldn’t eat only with the powerful and accomplished, he said.
You should also eat with those who are different from you, because in
the kingdom of heaven there will be no pay scales to examine, no medical
histories to consult, and no resumes to review.
Everybody will be welcomed at the heavenly banquet table.
One of the
great things about worshiping in a Presbyterian church is on occasions like
today, when we celebrate the Lord’s Supper.
This meal is for everyone who calls Jesus, “Lord.”
You don’t have to be a Presbyterian.
You can be a Roman Catholic, a Methodist, a Missouri Synod Lutheran,
or a Baptist. You don’t have
to be of a certain demographic. You
can be black, white, Hispanic, or Asian.
You can be rich, poor, or somewhere in between.
You can be male or female, homosexual or heterosexual, healthy or
sick. You don’t even have to
be an adult. If you’re a child
and are being instructed by your parents as to the significance of this
meal, you are welcome here. There
is not a kids’ table or an adult table.
There is one
table and all who profess their faith in Christ are welcome here.
Every seat around it is of equal value.
Nobody is more prominent than another.
When we witness people different from ourselves gathering around the
table with us, we cannot help but be bolstered in our belief that we are all
fundamentally the same—children of God, each with the same value in
God’s eyes. And in gathering
together, as friends and strangers alike, we can be assured that these gifts
of God—mercy, forgiveness, and hope—are the gifts of a great and
glorious God.
All thanks and
praise be to a God who welcomes us all and who calls us all to be humble and
inclusive around our own tables. Amen.
Return to Sermon Index
The
Importance of the RSVP
– Luke 14:15-24
Rev.
Matt Nieman
July 9, 2006
Last week, we began a series of sermons focused on some of the meals
Jesus had with those gathered around him or the parables he told involving
gatherings around the table. The
scripture text we used last week focused on our need for humility by
choosing the least important seat at the table and the fact that Jesus
invites everyone to the table and encourages us to include everyone at our
tables, even those who are poor, lame, or otherwise left out.
Today, in a continuation of the same story, Jesus continues his
discussion with those at the home of a Pharisee.
He tells them a parable about a great banquet.
Great, fancy banquets are becoming more rare in our world today.
Unless we are marking some great achievement like the presentation of
a prestigious award, there are fewer and fewer occasions for black-tie
dinners that require formal attire. It
seems as though these are the kinds of events where the term RSVP is
mentioned the most on the invitations.
RSV and P are the first letters of a French phrase (which I cannot
pronounce) that means please respond. When
we see those four letters, proper etiquette requires us to call or send a
note to the host of the banquet or party stating whether or not we will be
attending.
However, in this day and age, whether we have been invited to a
formal, black-tie dinner or to a casual cocktail party on somebody’s back
porch, the RSVP is losing its weight. People
simply do not take the time to respond like they used to.
There are no phone calls or written notes to confirm one’s
intention to attend. There is
simply nothing—no response at all.
Or, even worse, people will indicate their intentions to attend
another’s party, but then not show up.
The RSVP has become more of a “we’ll consider it” statement
then a firm commitment. “Yeah,
I think we’ll plan on going, but if a better offer comes up at the last
minute, we’ll take that instead.”
To not RSVP or to RSVP by saying you’ll attend and then not at the
last minute is to insult the host. If
somebody goes out of their way to invite us to their event, it is common
courtesy to inform them whether or not we will be attending.
And if we say we’ll be there, we should show unless an emergency
arises.
I bring up this whole idea of RSVPs because this parable of the great
banquet that Jesus tells makes me wonder if those invited to this banquet
had failed in their obligation to tell the host of their plans to attend.
The host’s servant was told to go out and tell the invited guests
that everything was ready and that they should now come.
If the food had been prepared and the table set, it would seem that
the host had received some sort of indication of people’s plans.
They must have RSVP’d initially and said, “I’m coming.”
Regardless, the guests do not attend.
They insult their host by making up excuses as to why all of a sudden
they cannot make it. One says
that he just bought a field and has to go and see it.
It’s strange that he would have purchased it without seeing it
first. Another says that he just
bought five yoke of oxen and had to go and try them out.
It’s strange that he would buy them before first trying them out.
And another says he just got married and can’t make it.
It’s funny that he didn’t know that far in advance when his
wedding day would be.
They don’t show up and the table is left with empty spaces, even
after the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame are brought in to take
their places.
No doubt, the host is left disappointed, insulted, and angry.
It makes you wonder if they’ll ever be invited back.
Jesus, of course, is talking about something much more important than
a dinner party. He’s talking
about the great heavenly banquet. He’s
talking about the invitation to experience God’s grace.
We must be inclusive around our own tables of worship because Jesus
himself is very inclusive. There
are spots at the table for everyone. But,
just as a host invites his guests over and over and anticipates their
presence when the table has been set, so does God expect our acceptance of
his invitation and then our follow-through in showing up when the banquet is
ready.
The meal prepared is full of God’s grace and the least we can do
when it is offered to us is to accept it by living joyfully and thankfully
in the reality of it.
None of us can escape being no-shows at the heavenly banquet table
from time to time. The errors of
our ways lead us to telling God we’ll be there and then finding other
things to occupy our time—other things that might be more entertaining or
exciting we think.
I find myself starting most days with a half hour of scanning
newspapers online for information that I think I can’t be without from day
to day. A good preacher, I was
once told, is one who carries a Bible in one hand and a newspaper in the
other, meshing the historic Biblical principles with the relevant cultural
issues of our day.
And so I begin my day by scanning the headlines of the World-Herald
and a few of the national news outlets for things that might be useful in my
preaching or teaching or my own faith journey.
But, in doing so, I often find myself getting side-tracked.
I’ll be reading a story about the relationship between poverty and
illegal drug use nation-wide and I’ll see this story right next to it
about pop idol Brittney Spears having another baby and how she might give
birth in
Namibia
. And I think, “Well, yeah,
that’s sort of interesting. Gotta
stay in touch with what the teen idols are doing.”
So I click on that story and read a couple paragraphs.
Then, I get to wondering about how my Atlanta Braves did the night
before. I hadn’t heard a
score, so I better go to the Atlanta Journal website and see if their
bullpen gave another game away in the 9th inning last night.
And then, after doing that, I get to thinking about my investment
portfolio and wondering if the stock market was up or down yesterday.
So I click on another site that takes me there and gives me that
information.
And before I know it, that half-hour is up and I’ve done little to
achieve my original goal. A lot
of stuff has gotten my attention, but little of it has to do with God and
how I’m responding to God’s invitation to the table where God’s grace
is served.
Most of the time, we have good intentions, but they don’t get us
very far. There’s a lack of
action—action that comes with living thankfully for the grace that has
been given to us.
I have to say a word about Doris Larson, who died this week at the
age of 94.
Doris
lived a grace-filled life. She
gladly came to the table every day of her life, it seemed.
She was quick to respond enthusiastically to the invitation she had
been given. And today, she sits
with God forever at the heavenly banquet table.
Doris used to live at the
Gaslight
Village
apartments right next to the church. And
as the years went by that she lived there, the residential make-up of the
complex changed, to the point where it was becoming a residence for younger
singles, couples, and families.
That did not stop
Doris
, however, from engaging and embracing those people there as her neighbors.
It also didn’t stop her from caring for them and encouraging them
to know God and the church. In
fact, there was one family that she had persuaded to come to the church for
worship and Sunday School. The
children in the family loved coming here and one of them actually served as
an acolyte for some time.
The problem for
Doris
was that these families would often leave the apartment complex, moving out
of town on many occasions. This
was hard on Doris, who came to know these people as her friends and as
fellow occupants of the table. And
it hurt these families, too. One
of them, that had moved to
California
, actually went to visit Doris when Doris was visiting her daughter, Jane,
who lived in
California
.
Doris
was not somebody who didn’t honor the RSVP she had given, who didn’t
show up to the table when she had been invited by the host.
She was there faithfully everyday.
She accepted the invitation to God’s grace and lived that out by
being joyful and thankful for it at the same time.
We are all issued the same invitation—come to the table and be fed,
fed with the mercy and grace of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Will we RSVP? Will we
accept the invitation and then show up by living with the proper response to
such a bountiful banquet? Our
gracious host is eager for a reply. Amen.
Return to Sermon Index
A
Family
Reunion
– Luke 15:11-32
Rev.
Matt Nieman
July
16, 2006
In our series on some of the meals that Jesus had with his disciples
or the lessons he taught around the theme of crowds gathering to eat
together, we focus on one of the most familiar parables that Jesus tells.
In this story about a father’s love for his son, we find him so
joyful and loving that he feels compelled to throw a party—a feast to mark
this great family reunion. It is
a party that is so special, in fact, that he calls for the best robe—a
robe of distinction—to be put on him, a ring of authority to be placed on
his finger, sandals to be placed on his feet (whereas slaves usually went
barefoot), and a fatted calf reserved for special occasions to be killed for
the feast.
All of this to celebrate the return of a family member, a family
reunion where past actions and feelings were put aside in order to celebrate
the return of a son who had been lost.
If we describe someone as “lost,” we can be referring to many
things. Certainly in the case of
this young man, lost meant that the father did not know physically where the
son was. But, it also refers to
the waywardness of the son. He
“lost” his way, followed a different path filled with self-indulgence,
and lost everything that his father had given him.
And yet, despite the error of his ways, the father welcomes him back
with open arms.
But, being lost in the world could mean other things as well.
James H. Rucker, Jr., pastor of First Presbyterian Church,
Monticello
,
Indiana
, tells the story of a woman struggling to find a new way in this life.
Rucker and his wife Pamela were driving through a decayed and
down-on-its-luck
Indianapolis
neighborhood when they noticed a taxicab pulled up in front of a small,
shut-up church. As they watched, an extremely elderly woman struggled her
way out of the cab and began to negotiate the steps up to the church. She
was dressed in her "Sunday best" -- a pastel purple dress that had
seen considerable wear. Concerned, the Ruckers stopped to lend assistance --
helping the woman slowly make her way to the door--only to find the church
was indeed locked up tight. It became apparent the woman in the purple dress
had gotten confused and come to church on Saturday instead of Sunday.
The Ruckers offered her a ride home -- and found themselves in a
neighborhood even more decrepit than the one where the church stood. On the
way, the woman shared with them that she was 92 years old and had no family.
Her only son had died years ago. Although she was extremely poor and
frighteningly fragile, this woman had taken her dwindling precious resources
of money and strength and used them to get dressed in her Sunday dress and
to pay for a cab ride to church.
What impressed the Ruckers most was the woman's calm acceptance, her
unshakable trust that "everything would be all right." She
believed with all her heart that God would provide for her. The woman in her
best purple dress didn't know what would happen to her. But she did know
that Jesus Christ would walk with her.
There’s also the story about a little girl with pink
Velcro-fastening sneakers who scuffed her well-worn shoes back and forth
while she waited. Her mommy was late again. She knew that sometimes Mommy
got busy, but she also knew that sometimes Mommy just forgot -- she forgot
about time passing, she forgot whom she had dropped off her daughter with
that day, she even forgot she was a parent with a 4-year-old child depending
on her, counting on her. Even at her young age, the little girl with the
pink sneakers already knew that it was the drugs and the drink that made
Mommy forget.
They moved often. Mommy would spend the rent money on more drugs, and
they would have to sneak out in the middle of the night. The little girl
reached down to try to re-stick the Velcro strap on her left sneaker -- half
the fuzzy little grippers didn't work anymore, making the strap flap open
and her shoe fall off. That was probably why they were in the garbage where
she'd found them in the first place -- but at least they were a pretty
color. The little girl sat quietly on her most recent neighbor's porch and
wished her mommy would remember where she was, and that she needed her
mother to take her home.
Every one of us has known what it feels like to be lost -- that
scary, confusing, out-of-control feeling that takes hold of your heart and
squeezes it hard. For some of us, it's a feeling that we encounter only
occasionally -- when we are negotiating the streets of an unknown city, or
trying to remember on what level of the parking building we left the car.
But for many people, feeling "lost" is a much more permanent
condition, and trying not to "look lost" has become the whole
focus of their existence.
There is lostness in the life of the woman in the purple dress and
the girl in the pink sneakers -- a lostness that is sometimes
well-camouflaged and kept under tight control.
But not all people can wander out of their lostness without help and
support. The woman in the purple dress has not lost her faith -- it is her
strongest support, her center of gravity, and it holds her secure. She has,
however, been lost by the community of faith she calls her own. Why was that
small church shut up tight against her? Where are the friends who will keep
her on track so she knows what day it is? Who stops by to take her to
church, to the store, to visit old friends?
The little girl in the pink sneakers is the most obviously lost of
these two-- but she is not alone in her lostness. Her father, who had long
ago abandoned both her and her mother in a prodigal search for the pleasures
of the world, was lost without a moral compass. Now, the addictions that
grip her mother's body and soul have plunged both mother and daughter into a
directionless void. The little girl has lost her innocent belief that
"Mommy will always be there; Mommy will always take care of me."
She knows that neither of those statements is true. Her mother has lost
control of her life, lost any vision of herself, and lost the chance to
offer her child a better way and a better hope. Even when they are together,
this mother and daughter are still lost -- for each knows that the other is
vulnerable and alone and fragile, and beyond the healing abilities of the
other. No father, and a mother who can't cope -- this little girl is lost.
Not lost like the prodigal son of our story, but lost as the lamb in the
story which precedes this text.
The parables of Jesus offer the church a chance to act as a worldwide
host for a family reunion. It is the mission of the church to open its doors
to all the lost souls in this life. In fact, we must be willing to race out
to the sidewalk, into the neighborhoods, and up to closed doors, proclaiming
the promise of forgiveness and extending embraces of welcome and acceptance
to a feast that welcomes them home. Like the waiting father in this week's
parable, the church filled with Christ's love and Christ's joy just can't
sit still and wait for the slow, hesitant approach of lost ones. Like that
prodigal son's father, we also need to be "jumping with joy" at
the sight of lost stragglers journeying slowly in our direction.
The church's lot in a lost world is not to act like the elder brother
and demand of people right actions or a proper realization of their lostness.
The church's job is to put rings, robes and sandals on all those lost in
their purple dresses and pink sneakers. The mission of the church is to say
to each lost traveler --whether that traveler is lost in making a living,
lost in a community's abandonment, lost in addiction, lost in loneliness, or
lost in self-absorption -- "come home, come home, come home to
Jesus" and the family of God.
All of us would put ourselves in the category of being lost at
different points in our lives—lost in sin, lost in loneliness, lost in
purpose. And so we can attest to
how God and the church can serve as the occasion for our own reunion with
him and those whom God sends to nurture and comfort us.
Then, we can be the ones who reach out with open arms on God’s
behalf to welcome others who are lost so that they may be reunited with
others who interested in loving them.
Starting tomorrow, 60-70 children will walk through our doors to be
received into the open arms of adults who love them and who will nurture
them during the week of our
Vacation
Bible
School
. Many of these children we will
know; however, there will be some we do not know.
Nor will we know their backgrounds and whether or not they are
feeling lost in the world. We
will do our best to show unmerited love toward them and communicate the same
unmerited love that comes from a very loving God—a God who is eager to
hold a feast in their honor.
Keep the church in your prayers and all of us in your prayers, that
we might be faithful in unconditionally welcoming home those who have been
away and who search for a happy reunion.
Amen.
Return to Sermon Index
A
Self-Invited Guest
– Luke 19:1-10
Rev.
Matt Nieman
July
23, 2006
If we haven’t all found ourselves in this spot, we can certainly
sympathize with those who have been graced with the unexpected and uninvited
houseguest. Consider the
conundrum faced by one family, as told by writer Kathryn Matthews in the
July 29, 2005 edition of the New York Times.
“In retrospect, Kusum Gaind, a jewelry designer and retired banking
executive, can see the comedy in the scene that greeted her in the kitchen
of her country house in
Austerlitz
,
N.Y.
, one morning several summers ago. But at the time, she wasn't laughing.
Lower cupboards where she kept spices on a Lazy Susan were smudged
with sticky fingerprints and stripped bare, the contents flung around the
room. Pieces of half-eaten fruit lay strewn across the granite counters.
Orange juice and milk streaked her center island and cherry-wood floor. And
her favorite lavender French linen tablecloth was marinating in plum juice,
apricot remnants and baby food.
The culprits? A houseguest and his two young children, who had all
been up at 4 a.m. The father and his wife had been unable to secure lodging
for (the night) and invited themselves and their children for an overnight
stay. Ms. Gaind and her husband had graciously obliged, figuring, ''How bad
could one night be?''
''It was a nightmare,'' Ms. Gaind recalled. The children tore through
the house all morning. Meanwhile, their mother, nursing a hangover in bed,
issued a decree: her husband and hosts would have to deal with the children
until her headache subsided.
That was at 9:45 a.m., and this family was in no hurry to leave --
despite the fact that (the Gainds) were expecting guests from out of the
country later that afternoon.
''Their attitude smacked of entitlement,'' Ms. Gaind said. ''In other
words, 'This isn't my house, so I can do as I please.'''
What a nightmare! And
what audacity on the part of this family!
Perhaps they were in a jam and sought out their only option for
overnight accommodations. However,
to create such a mess as self-invited guests of another’s home speaks of
insensitivity and rudeness.
When Jesus looked up into that sycamore tree and said to the
tree-climbing tax collector, Zacchaeus, “Come down immediately.
I must stay at your house today,” he was putting himself into the
same category of “self-invited guest.”
Perhaps he deserved to be labeled as audacious, too, just like
friends who barge into our homes without an invitation.
But, unlike those who leave a mess in their wake and a bad taste in
our mouths, this self-invited guest barges right on in and leaves a positive
impression on the homes he graces—homes that are often far from the homes
we think he would want to visit.
Zacchaeus, as we all know, was not a man that brought with him the
respect of his fellow citizens. It
seems that, as the chief tax collector, he had lined his own pockets with
the hard-earned money of those he was commissioned to collect from.
And yet Jesus, for some reason, chooses to make himself at home at
this despised man’s house. He
wants to be in the midst of this man’s life, a man who seemed to be
suffering from the ill effects of so many prior mistakes.
It was at Zacchaeus’ house, perhaps over dinner, that Jesus, upon
hearing of Zacchaeus’ regrets, grants him forgiveness and salvation.
To a sinner with so much baggage, a man who probably was deemed as
unreachable or unchangeable, newness of life had been found.
All because this uninvited guest was tenacious in getting inside
Zacchaeus’ house.
The constant news of violence and death in the
Middle East
over many months now has led many to wonder if there is any possibility for
peace and harmony to be found among parties who have disagreed over matters
for decades and even centuries.
And within the last couple of weeks, fighting on the Lebanese border
between Hezbollah and
Israel
has compounded the hopelessness that so many feel about prospects for peace
in that region. In fact, some
have even said that this might be the beginning of another world war.
Is there a reason to be hopeful that something good will come from
this? Is there reason to believe
that peace between all of the neighbors of that region is still a
possibility? After so many
attempts at reconciliation and harmony, all of which have seemed to fail,
why should we think the future will be anything different than the past and
the present?
The story of Jesus barging into Zacchaeus’ house and demonstrating
a tenacity and eagerness to be in the middle of seemingly hopeless
situations gives me a reason today to believe that we should not count out
the possibility that better days are still ahead for the people of that
region who thirst for justice and prosperity.
Jesus is not one to shy away from the tough situations, the tough
customers, the tough places where so many are hurting and where the rest of
society says we should simply throw up our hands and walk away.
Jesus is in the midst of that area and is working to make something
new.
Christ, it seems, does not shy away from the tough situations.
He makes himself at home in the most unexpected places.
Within the homes of men and women—husbands and wives—there is
more stress than ever before on relationships.
The prevalence of technology designed to make easier the ways in
which we communicate and travel has given us many advantages.
But, however, it has also provided greater challenges to loving
relationships. The temptation
for husbands and wives to either neglect each other or to be unfaithful to
each other is greater than it has ever been.
And because of that temptation, many relationships are in trouble.
The distractions of the internet or television have isolated spouses
from each other. And with that
isolation has come more secrecy, more loneliness, and a greater propensity
to cheat.
When the temptation to be unfaithful is acted upon, partners are hurt
and marriages become susceptible to failure.
Lie after lie, cheating act after cheating act, and day after day
spent in tears and despair make for situations that appear without a good
remedy.
The attorneys are hired and the divorce proceeds.
Certainly, there are situations in which separation is the only
answer. However, in the midst of
a hurting spouse’s pain and longing to salvage a relationship that is
broken, can there be hope?
Again, Jesus’ entrance into Zacchaeus’ house and his diligence in
saving this man by forgiving him of his sins leads us to conclude that
newness of life for husbands and wives in dire straits is also possible.
It might take something short of a miracle, but Christ is in the
midst of angry, cheating, malicious, and hurting people as much as he is the
midst of anyone else.
Too often, we tend to view the Triune God as one who is off in the
distance somewhere, watching from afar as we slug our way through the trials
of life. But, in Jesus Christ,
we must know that “distant” is not something we should label the God who
walked the earth, ate with sinners, and suffered a tragic death.
No, while omnipotent and powerful are certainly worthy descriptions,
“intimate” is far more accurate than remote.
Near is far more fitting than withdrawn.
Jesus is in the forefront, not in the background of the most
difficult situations where success seems most unlikely.
Whether it be the complex and tenuous relationships between countries
and religions in the
Middle East
or within the walls of houses where men and women struggle to survive the
unfaithfulness or abuse of their spouses, Jesus is eager to step into the
fray and bring restoration and healing.
Several years ago, my parents gave me a painting for my house that
now hangs in the dining room of our home.
It is a beautiful portrait of a lovely bouquet of tulips.
And next to the tulips is a copy of the Bible.
The caption underneath says, “Christ is the head of this household,
the unseen guest in every room.”
Jesus Christ—unseen and uninvited.
Amen.
Return to Sermon Index
