In God's Hand

 In God’s Hand

John 10:22-30[1]

Our world doesn’t feel very safe right now. A global pandemic. Another war in Europe. Financial instability. Wildfires consuming millions of acres of land. A deep rift in our country created by anger and mistrust. It all leaves us feeling quite unsettled. More than that, it’s stressful. Any one of those situations would be stressful by itself. But we’re dealing with all of them at the same time, not to mention whatever personal crises we may be facing. That kind of stress, and the fear of sweeping changes going on right now, can leave us wondering where we can turn to find safety. I don’t know about you, but to me it feels like it’s harder to know where to find safety these days.

Many of us will of course take refuge in our faith and look to God for our safety. But that might not necessarily be true for everyone. After all, the Christian faith is known (or perhaps notorious) for the idea that God loves those who love him, but condemns those who don’t (or at least those who don’t love him the “right way”). That doesn’t sound very safe to me! And in the Presbyterian Church we follow the Reformed tradition, which was founded by John Calvin, among others. Most people who have heard of Calvin know him as the guy who said that you’re either chosen or rejected, you’re “predestined” either to blessing or punishment. Again, it doesn’t sound very “safe.”

I believe our Gospel lesson for today addresses this situation. Last year we looked at the earlier part of this chapter from John’s Gospel, where Jesus identifies himself as the “Good Shepherd” who cares for, protects, and even lays down his life for us all. Our lesson for today provides the follow up. The Jewish leaders pressed Jesus for an answer as to whether he was the Messiah. While he had told them in many ways, he hadn’t “said the magic words” they were looking for: “I am the Messiah.” So they were still searching for an answer.

Jesus answered them in the first place by telling them that the reason they didn’t believe in him already is because “you do not belong to my sheep” (Jn 10:26). If they had, they would have been able to understand and believe in him, because, as Jesus said it, “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me” (Jn 10:27). That could sound like we’re right back on that “thin ice” of you’re either chosen or rejected. But I don’t think it’s that simple here. Even at this point, which is rather “late in the game” in John’s account of Jesus’ ministry, Jesus still tries to convince them to believe in him because of the “works” that he had done among them (Jn 10:38). That doesn’t sound like he had written them off. It doesn’t sound like their fate was “predestined.”

More than that, Jesus made one of the strongest declarations about his ability to protect those who turn to him. I’d like to quote the full context: “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand” (Jn 10:27-28). I’ve always found this statement to be a source of comfort and assurance. To me, it says that our salvation, our security, and our eternal destiny rests safely with the one who loved us enough to lay down his life for us on the cross. And no one will ever be able to “snatch” us out of his hand.

But Jesus didn’t stop there. Because he’s not the only one on whom our salvation, our security, and our eternal destiny rely. No less that God the Father, the creator of all the heavens and the earth, holds us safely and securely in his hand as well. Jesus said it this way: “My Father who has given them to me is greater than all, and no one can snatch them out of the Father’s hand. The Father and I are one” (Jn 10:29-30). Again, I think the point of this is to provide us with unshakeable confidence in the comfort and assurance we have in God. Think about it: the one who holds the power to create all the heavens in their vastness and this world in all its intricate complexity, the one who holds the power to raise Jesus Christ from the grave, this is the one in whose hand our fate rests, safely and securely.

I think it’s important for us to clarify something about our faith here. The doctrine of predestination was developed by the Reformers like John Calvin to provide assurance to believers in the face of all the threats we may face in this life. Yes, Calvin himself wrestled with the implications this idea held for those who never come to faith. But he continued to hold out hope that all people would come to faith. In that context, the point of the doctrine of predestination is to affirm that God has already chosen us all in his grace and love and mercy that are beyond our understanding.

One of my college professors put it this way: when you’re approaching the gates of heaven, the inscription reads, “Let anyone who wishes come and take the water of life as a gift” (Rev 22:17). After you walk through the gates, when you look back the inscription reads, “chosen in Christ before the foundation of the world” (Eph 1:4). I’ve always liked that way of looking at it. There is no pre-selected list of those who are “in” and those who are “out.” All are invited to come to faith. But the amazing thing is that all of us who have come to faith learn that God chose us in his grace even before anything existed. And that means, in the midst of all the turmoil of our lives, and even in the face of the worst this life can throw at us, we never have to worry about our ultimate destiny, because we are all safely in God’s hand. And no one and nothing can ever change that

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[1] © 2022 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm Ph. D. on 5/8/2022 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

Safe and Secure

Safe and Secure

John 10:1-18[1]

Much of what we do in this life is directed toward our sense of security. We choose the neighborhood in which we live based on whether it feels “safe.” We may install fencing or external lights or even an alarm system to enhance our feeling of security. We work to find a job that will provide us with the opportunity to work productively for as long as necessary to ensure that we will have a stable livelihood. We have insurance policies to enable us to meet our major medical needs and to protect us in case of unforeseen damage to our cars or our homes. And we save up a nest egg to try to make sure we can retire as comfortably as possible.

For all of our efforts at feeling “save and secure” in life, however, the hard truth is that none of them are foolproof. Career, home, and finances can be swept away in the blink of an eye. In a very real sense we are all like the rich farmer Jesus used to illustrate the fragility of our lives. He saved up so much grain that he had to tear down his old barns to build bigger ones. But Jesus pointed out that his life could be snatched away at any time. The things he had stored up for himself could not provide ultimate security. The same thing is true for us. We cannot know what today will bring, let alone tomorrow. Finding security in the things we have only serves to distract us from the vulnerability that we all face in this life. We have to find our security elsewhere.

In our Gospel lesson for today, Jesus declares that he is the “Good Shepherd” who cares for, protects, and even lays down his life for his flock. He is the one who “calls his own sheep by name and leads them out” (Jn 10:3). He is the one who enables them to “find pasture” and “abundant life” (Jn. 10:9-10). Unlike a “hired hand,” Jesus as the “Good Shepherd” protects the sheep from all dangers, even at the cost of “laying down his life” for them (Jn. 10:11-12). Jesus knows those who belong to him in the same way that Father knows him and he knows the Father (Jn. 10:14-15). And he not only “lays down his life” for the sheep, but he also “takes it up again” (Jn. 10:18). Thus he remains the “Good Shepherd” for all time.

Part of what’s going on in the background of all this is that Jesus is engaging in a not-so-subtle criticism of the Jewish leaders of his day. Like the prophets before him, he saw the people of Israel as God’s “flock,” and the leaders were intended to be “shepherds” who cared for them. Instead, as the OT prophets pointed out, these “shepherds” were often more concerned about their own welfare than the welfare of the people. In fact, in one place, God speaks through the prophet Ezekiel to say that he would rescue the “sheep” by sending his “servant David” to “feed them and be their shepherd” (Ezek. 34:23).

I don’t think anyone in Jesus’ day would have failed to hear the criticism of the Jewish leaders in what Jesus was saying. Time and again they demonstrated that they were more concerned with maintaining their own religious rules than they were with the welfare of people—especially those who were hurting. I also don’t think that anyone in Jesus’ day would have failed to hear in the statement “I am the good shepherd” an allusion to God’s promise to send one who would be a true shepherd for his people by caring for them. I think Jesus was saying that he had come to offer true and lasting care and protection to his people.

There are two aspects to that care in this passage. First, Jesus says, “I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father” (Jn. 10:14-15). We find our safety in Jesus because of the relationship he has with us. Part of what’s behind this is the idea that those who belong to him are “his own” because they have been “given” to him by the Father. But the other part is that Jesus says he knows those who are “his own” and they know him in the way that Jesus and the Father know each other! We are “safe and secure” in Jesus’ hands because we share the same relationship with Jesus that he shares with God!

 The second aspect of Jesus’ care in this passage is found in that he says, “The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep” (Jn 10:11). Now, at first glance, this makes perfect sense. But when you think about it, if the shepherd “lays down his life,” who will be there to protect the sheep? I think that’s why Jesus also says, “I lay down my life in order to take it up again” (Jn. 10:17). In fact, he says that he has received the “power” or perhaps better the “authority” to do so from the Father. In this respect, then, he can be the one who lays down his life us, and because he has “taken up his life again,” he can also still be the one who is there to protect us from any dangers.

The hard truth of life is that all our efforts to secure our lives will ultimately fail. No amount of protection can keep us from the fact that we will all have to face death someday. But because we have a “Good Shepherd” who has laid down his life for us and has taken it up again, we can trust him to keep us “safe and secure” even in the face of death. More than that, because we share the same relationship with Jesus that he shares with God, we can trust him to walk with us every step of the way, no matter what life may bring. That not only means that we have a constant companion and guide, but that “no one can snatch” us out of his hand. Because Jesus is our “Good Shepherd,” we can trust that we are safe and secure in his hands!

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[1] ©2021 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 4/25/2021 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

Caring Deeply

Caring Deeply

1 Thessalonians 2:1-8[1]

We live in a time that seems devoid of risk-takers. To be sure, there are plenty of people who engage in risky behaviors, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about people who set off on journeys of exploration without knowing for sure whether they would make it back safely. I know there are some of them, but I don’t see too many people “boldly going where no one has gone before.” Even NASA, which seemed to embody that spirit for so many of us for so long, is retreating from manned space flight to sending robotic devices to take all the risks for us.

You may see things differently, but to me it feels like we’ve decided these are the days for playing it safe. We do everything we possibly can to minimize the risks we take in every aspect of our lives. We want guaranteed outcomes, assurances of protection, and hedges to minimize any potential exposure to loss. Any kind of loss. But the problem is that life is full of losses. To protect ourselves from loss, we have to refuse to be vulnerable to the people around us, to life itself. Choosing to live that way is really choosing to avoid life altogether. Yes, if we take risks, if we make ourselves vulnerable, we’re going to get hurt. We’re going to lose something or someone we cherish. But to refuse to do so is to choose not to live at all.

When you pay attention to the story of St. Paul’s life and ministry in the New Testament, I think you’d have to conclude that he took a different approach to life. While he may have started out on a relatively safe path, after he met Jesus Christ his life was anything but safe. As we discussed a couple of weeks ago, it seems as if Paul was constantly going from the frying pan into the fire as he went from town to town preaching the gospel and planting churches. Paul was nothing if not a risk-taker, making himself vulnerable in just about every way possible—even risking his life at times for the sake of the gospel and the people he served.

In our lesson for today, Paul mentions the fact that he had been “shamefully mistreated” at Philippi just before coming to Thessalonica. If we read the story in the book of Acts, we find that he was arrested and thrown in jail, although it was illegal to do that to a Roman citizen without due cause.  Again, we have to remember that jails in St. Paul’s day were a far cry from jails today! I think it would be more accurate to say he spent the night in the city dungeon. I’m not sure how eager I would be to get back to the work of preaching the gospel and serving the church if it meant spending time in jail, let alone a dungeon! And yet, Paul seemed to take it all in stride. He continued to take the risk of serving Christ.

If you think about all that St. Paul had been through, I think it’s amazing that he continued to press on from place to place. When St. Paul came to Thessalonica, a city he’d never visited before, he says, “we had courage in our God to declare to you the gospel of God in spite of great opposition” (2:2). Just exactly what that opposition was, we may never know for sure. The book of Acts mentions opponents who followed Paul from place to place, stirring up opposition against him, gathering crowds to run him out of town. Despite all of that, the Apostle kept right on proclaiming the Gospel in every new city he visited.

I don’t know about you, but I find it amazing that Paul was able to keep on going despite all the opposition and even outright attacks he faced. I think he gives us an idea of why he would do so when he says, “So deeply do we care for you that we are determined to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves” (1 Thess. 2:8). It was his genuine love for the people he was serving that kept him going in the face of overwhelming odds. The fact that he “cared deeply” for them was what motivated him to keep taking the risk of putting himself out there, serving no matter what the cost, sharing God’s love for all whom he encountered on his travels.

I think part of the reason why he was willing to make himself so vulnerable was because of his commitment to practice what he preached. In another letter he says, “we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God’s word, but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God” (2 Cor. 4:2). His commitment that his private life would be consistent with his public life made it possible for him to share himself so openly with the people he served in churches all over the world of his day.

I’ll be the first to admit that it’s difficult to take this approach to life. Most of us cannot say that we perfectly embody the model of aligning our private lives with the part of ourselves we present to the world. Most of us cannot say that our public lives are a shining example of discipleship to Jesus Christ.  When we feel vulnerable in these ways, our natural tendency is to withdraw and protect ourselves. But that’s not the example Jesus set for us, nor did Paul. They offered themselves freely because they were motivated by something deeper and more powerful than a desire for safety. They served because of the heartfelt love and concern they had for others. I think their example can help us today: we, too can take the risk of making ourselves vulnerable and choose to serve others no matter what the risk may be because we care deeply for the people around us.

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[1] ©2017 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 10/29/2017 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

Attachments

Attachments

Psalm 62:5-8; 1 Corinthians 7:29-31[1]          

I think most of us would have to admit that we are creatures of habit. We have a certain way we like to do things, at a definite time, and perhaps even at a particular place. I think that’s probably one of the reasons why we don’t like change. It throws us off our routines. The older we get, the harder it can become to make changes. And yet, some changes can significantly affect even children. Moving can be hard on us all, young and old. Just moving from one home to another in the same town can be hard on us, not to mention moving to a different place. Changing towns, changing jobs, changing schools, changing grocery  stores and family doctors—it can all be a royal pain in the neck!

I would say one of the reasons why we prefer to keep things the same is because it’s comfortable. We get attached to our routines. We like going about the business of our lives in familiar settings. People know us; they smile a little bigger and interact with us a little more. Even something as simple as driving a car can become a habit. We go the same way to the same places at the same time of day. Most of us who drive can recall times when we have found ourselves driving on autopilot. We’re so accustomed to our driving patterns that we sometimes “wake up” in the middle of driving somewhere and realize we don’t even remember half of the journey!

I think we also get attached to life the way is because we don’t have to think so hard about it. But there is a  problem with our attachments. When we get so connected to the routines of our life, they can control us. We see that especially when we face the loss of what has become familiar to us. A job, a house, a place—the more we’re attached to the more we stand to lose. I don’t have to tell you that we can be deeply afraid of losing what is familiar to us. And whatever creates fear in our lives can control us, because sometimes it seems we’ll do anything to avoid what we fear.

And yet our lesson from the Psalms for today reminds us that our efforts to secure our lives by our own efforts are ultimately futile. In fact, he says that all our efforts to find safety by our own doing put together are as flimsy as a mere breath (Ps. 62:9).[2] And I think, down deep, if we’re honest with ourselves, we all recognize the truth of that. Life goes along just the way we planned and then all of a sudden something comes along and unravels everything. The hard truth is that when we put our faith in our own attachments, we’re setting ourselves up for disappointment.

The only alternative, from the Psalmist's experience, is to build our lives on God as the foundation of all our confidence and security. Make no mistake about it, our Scripture lesson doesn’t come from the serene reflections of someone who is safe and secure. The affirmation that God is the only truly secure foundation for our lives comes from one who is in the midst of a severe crisis.[3] It’s one of life’s strange twists that we often discover our deepest faith when we go through our hardest trials. And that was the case for the psalmist. His expression of faith comes in the midst of being so viciously attacked that he can say that he is no stronger than a “broken down fence” (Ps. 62:3, TEV).

It’s in that setting that the psalmist affirms that “God alone is the mighty rock that keeps me safe, and he is the fortress where I feel secure” (Ps. 62:6, CEV).[4] As usual, the psalmist uses images that were familiar to his time and place. But I think the message is clear enough—only God is loving enough and strong enough to provide a sense of safety that will last no matter what.[5] He says it a little differently in another translation: “[God] is my strong protector; he is my shelter” (Ps. 62:7, TEV). I like the way the CEV puts it even better: “God is our place of safety” (Ps. 62:8, CEV). Because of this faith, this hope, this confidence, the conclusion is clear: rather than trusting in our own devices, we are called to “Trust in him at all times, O people.”[6]

I realize that can be very difficult. Other facets of our lives, like savings accounts and real estate and stable careers and homes that are bought and paid for, are things we can see and touch. They can seem more “real” than the safety and security offered through trusting in God. But in a manner similar to what the psalmist said about all our efforts to secure our lives being as flimsy as a mere breath, St. Paul reminds us that “the present form of this world is passing away” (1 Cor. 7:31).[7] In the face of the temptation to think that what we can see and touch is truly real, St. Paul urges us to carry out all our dealings with the present world in light of the conviction that it is not ultimately real at all.[8]

I don’t think it’s a terrible thing to be a creature of habit. As a matter of fact, I’m one myself. But we need to beware of letting our attachment to what is familiar dictate our lives. The Gospel calls us to go out into this world and risk our lives for the sake of Christ, giving our lives away in love for those around us. I’d have to say that our preference for our attachments can get in the way of that. If we want to live our lives in the presence and power of the Spirit of God, we have to intentionally step out of what is comfortable and let go some of our attachments. We have to take the risk of doing something new and different. We have to put our trust not in the status quo of our routines, but in the God who shelters us in every aspect of our lives, the God who is truly our “place of safety.” When we build our lives on that kind of confidence in God, then we can take the risk of letting go our attachments and live the life of the Spirit.

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[1] ©2015 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 1/25/2015 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Cf. James L. Mays, Psalms, 216.

[3] Dave Bland, “Exegesis of Psalm 62,” Restoration Quarterly 23 no 2 (1980): 86: “After much thought and meditation …, the psalmist emphatically declares, ‘Only in God can I be silent, confident, content, submissive.’ His conclusion did not come suddenly in one burst of meditative thinking. It had come through a long painful growth, a growth which is at any age painful but unlimited in rewards.” Cf. also H.-J. Kraus, Psalms 60-150, 16 and J. Clinton McCann, Jr, “The Book of Psalms,” New Interpreters Bible IV:923.

[4] Cf. Mays, Psalms, 216: the Psalm speaks of “a quietness of soul, an inner stillness that comes with yielding all fears and anxieties and insecurities to God in an act of trust.”

[5] Cf. Mays, Psalms, 217.  Cf. also G. C. Berkouwer, Faith and Perseverance, 94: “The meaning and the power of the words which are spoken here depend on trust in the gracious presence of God. It is the decisive leading of God’s good Spirit (Ps. 143:10), His taking of our right hand (Ps. 73:23), His refuge (Ps. 73:28; 62:8; 46:1, 2), His being with us (Ps. 46:11; 23:4).”

[6] Bland, “Exegesis of Psalm 62,” 92: “Throughout these verses the psalmist has emphasized the fact learned through his own painful experiences: that God only is his salvation. He had tried to find safety in other things but all failed him. It was only upon God that he found contentment and peace of mind.”

[7] Cf. H.R. Botman and D. J. Smit, "Exegesis and Proclamation: 1 Corinthians 7:29-31 'To live.... as if it were not!,'" Journal of Theology for Southern Africa 65 (Dec 1988): 75, where they note that the basis for Paul’s statement is not a stoic asceticism: “The Stoic withdrawal from life, coupled with … an inner avoidance of all true emotional bindings, are for some more acceptable (and at times more Christian) than apocalyptic conceptions. The emphasis in one’s vision of the world is then on ‘the eternal’ and ‘unseen’. For ages, this kind of ‘eschatology’ has been the only one which Christians could really appropriate!” Unfortunately, they observe (p. 75) that the result is that “those concerned with ‘heaven’ often seem to disregard ‘everyday life.’” By contrast, they insist (p. 74) that “Paul derives his perception of the transient nature of things from the Christ event. His eschatology is fundamentally christological. For him the true motive and ground of Christian freedom from the world rests with the ever-present and returning Lord.” Cf. similarly, David W. Kuck, "The Freedom of Being in the World 'As If Not' (1 Cor 7:29-31)," Currents in Theology and Mission 28 (Dec 2001): 591-92. See further Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 3.4:116, 470, 565.

[8] Cf. McCann, “Book of Psalms,” NIB IV: 924, where his comments about Psalm 62 and Mark 1 seem relevant:  “The prominence of the call to decision in Psalm 62 reminds us that Jesus’ preaching clearly involved a similar call (see Mark 1:14-15). The reality of God’s reign means the creation of a new world with new priorities and values. … a world in which to be powerful is to become like a child (Mark 10:13-16), to be great is to be the servant of all (Mark 9:33-37), to know peace is to bear a cross (Mark 8:34), to experience abundant life is to give oneself away (Mark 8:35).” Cf. similarly, Jürgen Moltman, The Way of Jesus Christ, 157.