People of the Future

People of the Future

Luke 20:27-38[1]

We are creatures whose lives are defined to a significant extent by time. That is a fact of life. We all have a past, and we have to find a way to be able to accept the past we have, not the past we’d like to have. We also have to find a way to live in the present, because we really don’t have any other time in which to truly live. At the same time, we need some sense of hope for the future. Having hope gives us direction in life. All three—past, present, and future, define our lives, and we have to find a healthy way of relating to them.

These days, it would seem that many people try to ignore the past and the future. There is such a strong emphasis on staying in the present moment, it would seem that we want to act as if the past and the future don’t really matter. While I agree that staying in the present moment is a good way to live, that doesn’t somehow magically make our past disappear. Nor does it erase the fact that we need a positive sense of the future in order to be able to live fully in the present. Without hope for the future, perhaps the skeptics are right: in the words of Lord Macbeth, life is “a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”^[2] If this is true, death is the true reality of life, and there is no hope for any of us!

In our Gospel lesson for today, Jesus was responding to this kind of pessimism about life. In the context, he had been answering questions from various groups of Jewish leaders, each one intent on embarrassing him in front of the people. The particular question posed in this setting came from the Sadducees. They the priests and high priests. Their base of power was the Temple. They were also the ones who primarily represented the Roman empire. And they were not above bribing the Roman governor for the privilege of serving as the High Priest, the chief religious leader of the Jewish people.

As Luke tells us, the Sadducees did not believe in “resurrection.” They believed that this life was all there is. They believed only what the past had to teach them through the books of Moses. And they used the books of Moses as rules that strictly defined what they would and would not believe in. In a very real sense, they were people without any sense of a future. They operated within a closed system, in which life was of necessity defined by the past. They were the guardians of the past, and they used their power to maintain their view as the final word on life in the present.

And so they came to Jesus and posed a question to him that they believed would embarrass him. It is a question about the practice of a man marrying his brother’s widow. The idea was that the first child would be the descendant of the dead brother, and that would ensure that he would continue to live on through his offspring. This was the Sadducee’s view of the future: they continued to live on through their children. But they posed a question to Jesus: suppose seven brothers in turn married the same woman. “In the resurrection … whose wife will the woman be?” (Lk. 20:33). I don’t think they were really looking for an answer. They simply posed the question in order to make the idea of a “resurrection” look ridiculous. And Jesus with it.

But Jesus “corrected” them, and he did so by quoting Moses right back at them. He recalled the instance where Moses met God at the burning bush. There, God spoke of himself as “the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob” (Exod. 3:6). When Moses had this encounter, the patriarchs had been dead for centuries. Jesus drew the inference that this proves that the dead are raised, for he said that God is “God not of the dead, but of the living” (Lk. 20:38). In light of that fundamental truth about God, Jesus went on to explain that in the next life there would be no need for practices designed to ensure descendants for a dead man, because they would all be “children of the resurrection,” no longer subject to death (Lk. 20:35-36). In other words, their question was irrelevant.

I think one of the most important points Jesus was trying to make here is that you cannot limit God’s work to the past. If God is the God of life, he is also the God of the living. And that means that our future is not one that is defined by death, but rather by life. God does not operate within a closed system, but rather he is at work creating his Kingdom, which is “everlasting kingdom” that “endures throughout all generations” (Ps. 145:13). This kingdom where life and peace and justice and freedom reign is the future toward which God is working, and it is already here pointing us to our true future. When we align our lives with God’s truth, we become people of the future.

I think that how we choose to look at all this can makes a profound difference in our attitude toward stewardship. If we think that our best is back there somewhere in the past, I doubt that we’re going to be interesting in risking anything for God’s Kingdom. But if we can live our lives on the basis of the faith that the “God of the living” is continually at work around us and among us to make everything new, then maybe we can have the courage to stake our lives on God’s future. From that perspective, we have no idea what God can do in and through our lives, in and through this congregation, and in and through this community. When we embrace God’s future as our own, we can not only live more fully in the present moment, but we can also invest ourselves in what God will accomplish through us. Then we truly become people of the future.

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[1] ©2019 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 11/10/2019 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] William Shakespeare, “Macbeth,” Act 5, Scene 5.

Notorious

Notorious

Luke 19:1-10[1]

I’m fascinated by the way we use language. Specifically, the way the same word can mean something completely different in different times or different settings. For example, I’m sure some of the women would find it rather funny if I were to say that back in the day I used to wear thongs. Of course, those “thongs” were for your feet. We call them “flip-flops” now. And, back in the day, one’s “cell” number referred to the part of a prison where you served your jail time. In those days, if you asked someone for their “cell” number, they might take great offense, as if you were assuming they were a criminal! Of course, now it is just a common part of life to ask for a “cell” number.

The word notorious is one of those flexible words. For many people, “notorious” has meant the worst of the worst law-breakers. These days, it can mean that someone is famous. This was true even back in the day. Some of the worst law-breakers were not only notorious because they committed monstrous crimes. They were also notorious in that they were folk heroes, celebrated and even idolized by many. Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker carried out one of the most vicious crime sprees of the 1930’s. Yet thousands of people attended their funerals to mourn them! In their case, the fact that they were “notorious” meant that they were “worshipped” as heroes.

Our Scripture lesson for today involves some bending of words. This story, of course, is not about the Zacchaeus of the children’s song, a lovable “wee little man” who loves Jesus. Rather, it’s about a man who had become obscenely wealthy by cheating his own people. Zacchaeus was not just a tax collector; he was a “chief tax collector.” He would have been one of those who bid for the contract to collect taxes in Jericho. Obviously, he expected to make a lot of money off of it. And the way he was going to make that money was by forcing his own people to pay every last cent he could get from them. Zacchaeus was not lovable; he was a “notorious sinner.”

That’s what the people who witnessed this interaction between Jesus and Zacchaeus said: they “grumbled” that Jesus had gone to be the guest of a “notorious sinner” (Lk. 19:7, NLT). Now, we’ve seen before in Luke’s Gospel that the Jewish leaders grumbled about Jesus being the friend of tax collectors and sinners. And we’ve seen that Jesus told parables to make it clear that the proper response to the “lost” who find their lives restored is to celebrate, not grumble. But here, it’s not just the Jewish leaders who grumble about Jesus. It’s the crowd! Apparently associating with one so “notorious” as Zacchaeus was going too far even for the people who were drawn to Jesus! Even they were beginning to view Jesus as “notorious” for breaking their sacred taboos!

 There are other twists in this passage as well. We just talked about the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector going to the Temple to pray. In that passage, Jesus says, “all who humble themselves will be exalted” (Lk. 18:14). In our lesson for today, we have perhaps one of the richest men in Judea climbing up a tree to get a look at Jesus. That was something a rich man didn’t do! I’m sure a fair number of the crowd got a laugh out of that. But Zacchaeus was intent on seeing Jesus—perhaps more so than anyone there. And he was willing to humble himself to do so! Once again, an outcast shows the religious people how to respond to Jesus!

The previous chapter of Luke’s Gospel also contains the story of Jesus’ encounter with the rich ruler who would not give his fortune to the poor. On that occasion, Jesus said, “how hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” (Lk. 18:24). In fact, he compared it to a camel going through the eye of a needle—in other words, something impossible. The “ruler” in that story was very likely a religious leader for the Jewish people. But here we have the story of a “notorious” tax collector who probably had a greater fortune eagerly giving half of it away to the poor! While it may be difficult for those with wealth to find their salvation in God (and not their riches), Zacchaeus shows that “what is impossible for mortals is possible for God” (Lk. 18:26).

In a very real sense, this passage summarizes all that Luke wants to convey to us about Jesus and the way he embraced outcasts.^[2] That was where Luke’s story of Jesus began: with his announcement at the synagogue in Nazareth that the promise of Isaiah had been fulfilled: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free” (Lk. 4:18). The poor, the blind, and the captives were all included in God’s salvation. The despised as well—Samaritans, tax collectors, and all who were considered “unclean” for any reason. Jesus as the “Son of Man” came “to seek out and to save” every one of them (Lk. 19:10).

In order to carry out God’s purpose “to seek out and to save the lost,” Jesus embraced with God’s love those who had been written off as beyond help. In the process, Jesus crossed lines and violated traditions that offended not only the Jewish religious leaders, but also the crowds who followed him! In the end, they came to view Jesus as “notorious.” I think at least part of the message for us is that if we follow Jesus in trying to fulfill God’s purpose “to seek out and to save the lost,” crossing lines and violating traditions, we too will be viewed as “notorious.”

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[1] ©2019 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 11/3/2019 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] R. Alan Culpepper, “The Gospel of Luke,” New Interpreters Bible IX:357, 359.

We Trust in Whom?

We Trust in Whom?

Luke 18:9-14[1]

There is a slogan that’s been going around for a while. The slogan is “In Cops We Trust.” Now, I get the point of it: in a time when police officers are under fire, people are trying to express their support for members of the law enforcement community. I think what troubles me about this is that the “original” version of this slogan is “In God We Trust”! This motto has been a part of our national conscience since Francis Scott Key wrote the national anthem. It has appeared on coins since the 1860’s, and it has been our official “national motto” since 1956. While I support those who serve to keep our communities safe, I find it disturbing that there are those who see nothing wrong with revising “In God We Trust” so casually.

But then the question of the true basis for our faith is one that predates our national motto. We human beings seem to want to be able to trust in something more “real” than a God whom we cannot physically see or hear or touch. And for many of us, what we really trust in is our own ability to see things through. As the old saying goes, “If you want to do something right, you have to do it yourself.” That betrays some fairly obvious presumptions: that we know the “right” way to do something, and that we have the ability to do it. When push comes to shove, I’m afraid that many of us really trust in ourselves, not in God.

Our Gospel lesson for today addresses the question of where we place our trust. The parable tells the story of two very different men who went up to the temple to pray. One was a Pharisee, who would have been widely respected for devoting his life to studying and obeying God’s word. The other was a Tax Collector, a man who would have been widely despised as a traitor to his people as well as a thief. At the outset, it would have been easy to assume that the “hero” of the story was the one who had devoted his life to God. But as is often the case, Luke gives us a clue to what’s going on in this the parable with his introduction: Jesus “told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt” (Luke 18:9).

The problem with the Pharisee in this parable was not his apparent devotion to keeping God’s word in every aspect of his life. Rather it was the fact that he “trusted” in himself that he was “righteous” before God. I like the way Gene Peterson puts it in The Message: people like him were “pleased with themselves over their moral performance” (Lk. 18:9). Judging from his prayer, this fellow was very pleased with himself. It’s hard not to think that he was bragging about himself to God! But perhaps more importantly, “Those who trust in their own righteousness will regard others with contempt, and those who regard others with contempt cannot bring themselves to rely on God’s grace.”^[2] This kind of self-righteousness leaves little room for trusting in God.

The tax collector is the opposite: he would have been despised by more than just the Pharisee. In the ancient world, a conquering power like Rome gave the right to collect taxes to whomever was the highest bidder. As long as he collected what he promised to pay, he could keep anything else he could extract from people. And so he would hire a whole team of people who would work under him, each collecting a portion of the taxes. And as long as they paid their quota, each one could keep whatever they collected. So it’s not hard to see why this man would have been despised by most people as a thief and a traitor.

Two very different men came to the temple to pray. But they were not so different in that each was a “self-made” man. The Pharisee had become a respected leader of his community by following the letter of the law. The Tax Collector had taken a fast-track to getting rich, regardless of the fact that it meant compounding the poverty and the oppression his people endured. And yet, there was a difference between them. One of them was thoroughly satisfied with himself. He was quite convinced that his life was right and even pleasing to God. The other one came to the temple not satisfied, or pleased, but broken. He was so broken that all he could do was to cry out, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” (Lk. 18:13). 

While the people to whom Jesus told this story would have expected him to say what a good man the Pharisee was and what a rotten scoundrel the tax collector was, he shocked them. He said that the tax collector “went down to his home justified” (Lk 18:14) rather than the Pharisee. But Jesus wasn’t just trying to shock them; he was making a fundamental point about faith. If we place our trust in anything or anyone other than God, that trust will be disappointed. Even and especially if we place our trust in our own efforts to be right before God. On the other hand, when we place our trust in the unfailing mercy of God, that faith will be sustained by the one who has promised never to fail us or forsake us.

When we encounter a parable like this, it’s easy to assume that it doesn’t apply to us. We automatically see the Pharisee as the one in the wrong, and so we may overlook the lesson of the parable. But the truth of the matter is that we are always vulnerable to the kind of self-righteous arrogance this Pharisee represents. We all are prone to place our trust in ourselves and our own abilities, regardless of the pious words we may recite. So I would say this parable has a message for all of us. That message is the call for us to continually place our faith in God’s mercy rather than our own efforts.

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[1] ©2019 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 10/27/2019 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] R. Alan Culpepper, “The Gospel of Luke,” New Interpreters Bible IX: 343.

God's Care

God’s Care

Luke 18:1-8[1]

There is a question that has haunted the human family since the beginning. We have wondered from ancient times whether there is a God, and whether that God cares at all about us. When science and the church taught that the earth was at the very center of the universe, it might have been a bit easier to believe in a God who cares for us. When we began to finally understand how small the earth is compared to the rest of creation, I think it became more difficult. Even before that, there have always been catastrophes and tragedies that made us question whether there is a God, and whether that God cares at all about us.

It’s a dilemma that has been expressed in the centuries-old question: If God is both loving and all-powerful, how can there be evil in the world? The presence of tragedy in our lives suggests that God loves us but he’s not powerful enough to stop these things from happening. Or it suggests that God is powerful enough to stop them, but since he doesn’t he must not be loving. This question was addressed in the Bible in various ways, most notably the book of Job. It’s a question that allows no rational explanation, because the only answer to the tragedies of life is to find a way to trust that God does indeed care about us.

That’s one aspect of our Gospel lesson for today. In it, Jesus tells a parable that Luke says was meant to encourage us “to pray and not to lose heart” (Lk. 18:1). The parable is about a woman who was a widow, very likely in danger of losing her livelihood because women could not inherit property. This is an important matter because in the Bible widows were to be the objects of special care and were to be protected from their oppressors. Unfortunately, not everyone who was a leader in Israel was motivated by the desire to follow God’s ways of compassion and true justice.

That is in fact the case in this parable. The woman is at the mercy of a corrupt judge, who had no interest in protecting her. According to the Bible, one who served in the role of a judge was to exercise their authority with fairness and compassion in imitation of God’s character. But this man is the opposite of what any judge was supposed to be. He doesn’t care about God, and he doesn’t care about people, either. Apparently, like many in his day, he had acquired this position by “pulling strings” or by bribing someone, or perhaps both. It seems clear that the only reason he was a judge was to enrich himself.

But this is no ordinary widow. She’s called the “importunate” widow in the title that’s traditionally assigned to this parable. That’s a word most of us don’t use, but it means “persistent,” “demanding” “unrelenting,” and even “annoying.” And that’s precisely what she was. She persisted relentlessly in demanding that this judge grant her what was rightfully hers, and she kept doing so until she annoyed him! He confessed, “Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming” (Lk. 18:4-5)! She simply would not give up until he made things right.

At this point Jesus contrasts the unjust judge with the God whom he has taught clearly is gracious, loving, and caring. Jesus asks a question: “will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them?” (Lk. 18:7). Jesus answers his own question: “I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them” (Lk. 18:8).  The point of the parable is a contrast: if a godless, inhumane judge will finally give in to a powerless widow’s unceasing requests for justice, how much more will our merciful and loving God “grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night.” God will make things right, ultimately if not immediately.

But that’s precisely wherein lies the rub! We have lots of affirmations in the Bible that God cares about us and will take care of us. We have promises that God will set things right. But life doesn’t always confirm those promises. Sometimes, bad things happen to good people. Sometimes bad people do bad things to good people. And when that happens we can wonder where God is. In fact, in the parable, instead of asking the question “Will he delay long?” some translate that verse as a concession: “even if he delays long”! That might just make more sense in the context. The problem with “praying and not losing heart” is when we do that and it seems like God “delays long,” or perhaps turns a deaf ear altogether! When life comes crashing down around us, we come back to the age-old question whether there is a God, and whether that God cares at all about us.

Unfortunately, I’m afraid that at times like those, our perspective can get quite narrow. All we can see is the hardship or tragedy we’re dealing with. And all we can ask is, “Why?” or, “How long?” stuck in our pain and our fears. But in this parable, I think Jesus wants to help us focus our attention elsewhere. He wants to remind us that we believe in a God who is a loving Father who knows what we need, who wants what is best for us, and who is working constantly for our good. And he does all of this despite our inability to understand our circumstances. There are simply some questions we may never be able to answer. But in this passage, Jesus redirects our questioning. He reminds us that the crucial question is, “when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” In this way, Jesus points us to what really matters: finding the faith to entrust ourselves to God’s care in all the circumstances of our lives.

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[1] ©2019 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 10/20/2019 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

In the Power of God

In the Power of God

2 Timothy 1:1-14[1]

  One of the great challenges of life is what to do when it feels like your values are under attack. For most of my life, I have heard people say that the Christian faith is under attack in our country. I’m not so sure I would agree with that sentiment. I know that there are some who speak against religion in general. Ironically, I would say Jesus echoed some of their criticisms of religion. In our day, it seems to me that the greater problem is that the Christian faith has become irrelevant. I don’t think that’s the fault of the faith, mind you. I think that’s because of the way “church people” like us represent the Christian faith. Or perhaps it would be better to say that we fail to represent the faith.

  Unfortunately, part of what happens when we think of ourselves as under attack is that we go into a “defensive” mode. When we see ourselves as the victims of attack, it’s easy to see threats where none exist. When we go into this “defensive” mode, one thing we do is pull back from engaging people who are “other.” We retreat to the safety of our “own” group. And we have certain “litmus tests” to be able to make sure someone really is a part of our group. Whether it’s a list of beliefs, or certain stances on social issues, or sheer tribalism (where we trust only those of our own race, creed, and nation), this kind of stance makes it hard to live out our faith in the world.

  That was the situation to which 2 Timothy was addressed. Timothy and the believers in his care were discouraged. It would seem that they found themselves in a setting where the challenge of living the Christian life was getting them down. As a result, they were retreating into a mode of “guarding” themselves, of “avoiding” those who were perceived to be a threat, and of drawing lines to keep out those who were on the “outside.” It’s hard to understand why they turned in on themselves this way, but it would seem that the underlying problem was that they were struggling with a sense of being ashamed of their faith (2 Tim. 1:8).

  This may seem strange to us. Apparently Timothy and the band of struggling believers he was serving were feeling ashamed because they were losing out to competitors preaching a different gospel. We don’t know all that these “impostors” stood for, but what we do know is that they imposed strict demands on their converts’ behavior, while indulging their own desires to do whatever they pleased. They wormed their way into congregations, and then milked the people for money. It would seem Timothy and his flock felt ashamed of the gospel because these “impostors” were so successful at gaining converts, while they were struggling to survive. As a result, they had gone into a “defensive” mode.

  Unfortunately, there are aspects of 2 Timothy that seem to positively encourage this retreat into a “defensive” mode. The Scripture actually uses language that I would say only reinforced their natural inclination to withdraw from perceived threats. It advises the believers to “guard” themselves, to “avoid” and “shun” others, to mark off those who are not a part of the “chosen,” and to effectively “consign” others to their fate. Much of this language is reactive, not proactive. It doesn’t sound very much like Jesus’ challenge to courageous discipleship!

  But there are other ideas here that are more helpful. First, Timothy is encouraged to “rekindle the gift of God” (2 Tim. 1:6). The image here is of fanning the embers of a fire that is no longer burning. There is still heat in the coals, but they have to be coaxed into actively burning again. In the face of discouragement, Timothy was challenged to “tend the fire” of his calling and gifts. I think at least a part of that meant for him to remind himself who it was who called and gifted him in the first place.

  Second, Timothy is reminded that “God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline” (2 Tim. 1:7). This is one of those passages where I think the King James translators got it right: the spirit God has given us is one of “power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” In other words, the charge to Timothy was to recognize that it was the Spirit of God who gave him the power and love and good sense to be able to face the challenges that came his way. He didn’t face these hardships alone, but rather the way for him to fulfill his life and his service was by “relying on the power of God” (2 Tim. 1:8).

  I think that this advice to Timothy can help us as well. The Bible tells us that each and every one of us has been given a “gift of God” with which to serve others. That means that living a life of faith and service is not a “self-help” project. Rather, we live and serve through the gifts God has given us. And sometimes we have to “tend the fire” of our calling and gifts. More than that, however, we do not fulfill the life of discipleship to Christ in our own strength alone. Rather, the Scriptures make it clear that we have all received the Spirit of God, who gives us more than enough power and love and good sense to be able to follow the path of faith no matter what we may face along the way.

  While I don’t believe it’s helpful for us to think of ourselves as “under attack,” it’s clearly the case that striving to live the Christian life and to give of ourselves in service to Christ is a path that can be discouraging at times. It can feel as if we’re constantly swimming against the stream, and we can grow weary with fatigue. But the Scriptures continually remind us that we don’t serve in our own strength alone. We serve with the power and love and good sense that God gives us. We fulfill our calling to live for Christ and to serve others by “relying on the power of God.”

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[1] © 2019 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 10/6/2019 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.