Unveiling the Kingdom

Unveiling the Kingdom

2 Corinthians 3:17-4:6; Mark 9:2-9[1]

Anytime we achieve some major success, we tend to want to publish it as far and wide as possible. Sometimes, as with the birth of a child, we would shout it from the rooftops of our neighborhood if we could get away with it! But this seems to be a part of human nature: when something really great comes our way, we can’t wait to share it with someone. Depending on our personality, we may be more or less discreet with that sharing. Some of us choose only trusted friends. Others publish it all over social media! It just depends on how comfortable you are with people knowing your business!

Regardless of personality traits, anyone who is chosen for a special task, especially if it is one that carries a significant amount of honor, wants to tell someone about it immediately. And the more important the position, the more widely we spread the word and the more we make a big deal about it. The arrival of a new and promising coach generates a lot of excitement. The inauguration of a new leader may draw a large and distinguished crowd to the event. Whenever we have new and important roles assigned to us, we mark the occasion with some kind of special observance. We want people to know about it and celebrate it with us.

The strange thing about Jesus and the kingdom of God, however, is that he went about things in the exact opposite way. In our Gospel lesson for today, we hear the story of his “transfiguration” before the disciples Peter, James, and John. His appearance is transformed, and they hear the voice of God telling them, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” (Mark 9:7). It would seem that the whole event was designed to reveal to them that Jesus really was the one who had come to bring the blessings of new life God had promised. In a way, it was a confirmation of Jesus’ message that though his ministry, “the kingdom of God has come near.” As we have discussed, that was one of the major themes in the Gospel.  In a very real sense, we could say that Jesus’ whole life and ministry was an unveiling, a disclosure of God’s work of salvation for us all. 

But the strange feature of this “unveiling” that took place through Jesus’ teachings and ministry is the fact that it was somewhat understated and easily overlooked. Many in Jesus’ day did just that: they missed the whole picture of what he was saying and doing. They missed the fact that Jesus had come to reveal the presence of God’s kingdom already working to make all things new, to set things right and restore life as God intended. In light of this, it might make sense for us to speak of Jesus’ life and ministry as a kind of preview of the Kingdom. In him, we get a taste of what is coming, but the full dimension of what that will be remains to be seen. 

That’s what the transfiguration of Jesus was—a preview of what is to come.  Whatever you make of it in terms of “just the facts”, the point of the transfiguration was that it was a “pre-view” of Jesus’ resurrection.  And, in turn, one aspect Jesus’ resurrection is that it serves as a “pre-view” of the restoration of all life and indeed all creation.   So the “unveiling” that occurred when Jesus was transfigured before his disciples reveals the light of God’s new life already breaking into this world.  

St. Paul the Apostle says it this way, “God commanded light to shine in the dark—Now God is shining in our hearts!” (2 Corinthians 4:6 CEV).  Although St. Paul knew as much as anyone that the light God has poured into this world is one that can be veiled, he nevertheless believed without a doubt that the light is indeed shining, here and now.  And he was convinced that all who have the chance to catch a glimpse of this light in Jesus wind up completely changed. Just like with the kingdom of God, it’s easy to overlook the changes God’s light in Jesus makes in us. But Paul nevertheless insists that  the light of God’s new life is indeed shining here and now, and changing all of us to be more and more like Jesus.

I think it’s still very easy to overlook what God is doing in our lives through Jesus today. The reason for that is that the way God’s kingdom works is very different from the way things work in our world. Instead of turning it into a “media event,” as Judas suggests he should have in “Jesus Christ: Superstar,” the way Jesus unveiled the presence of the kingdom was understated and easily overlooked. I think part of the reason for that was he didn’t want to confirm the false assumptions people had about what the kingdom would look like. But I also think that his approach to unveiling the kingdom was so discreet because he only wanted those who were sincerely looking for it to see the signs of its presence.

In the midst of all the clamor for attention by those who are blowing their own horns in our day, we have to be sincerely looking for the signs of God’s kingdom to be able to see them. Wherever God’s love is shared freely with those who may not deserve it, there is the kingdom. Wherever words are spoken and encouragement is given in such a way as to renew faith and strengthen hope, there is the kingdom. The signs that “the kingdom of God has come near” are the same now as they’ve always been. We have to be truly looking for them in order to see the ways that Jesus continues to unveil the kingdom’s presence in our lives.

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[1] ©2018 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 2/11/2018 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

Believing and Seeing

Believing and Seeing

I Kg 18:30-39; Lk. 7:1-10[1]

  One of the hardest ideas to grasp is that the way you look at the world in which we live determines what you see.[2]  For example, just within the last few days there have been public servants who have died in the line of duty, seemingly random drive-by shootings, and children taken away from parents for colossal neglect.  Seems like our world is filled with tragedy.  And that’s just in Houston—and it’s just what the local news reported.  You don’t have to look too hard to see even more tragedy—loved ones and homes lost in storms; women and children killed in the collapse of a clothing sweat shop that makes it possible for us to shop at discount stores; and we need only mention the wars that are still going on after years of fighting.  If that is the primary focus of what you see in this world, it’s easy to believe that the world is a place of suffering.  And it can be easy to think that “God” must be a fantasy.[3]

  There are others in our world who seem to take a completely opposite approach.  God is the only reality they see, and so they tend to minimize the suffering and tragedy in the world, because they assume it’s part of “God’s plan.”  And since they assume that God is good and loving, they can’t bring themselves to believe that God would allow anything bad to happen to people who are good.  And their evidence for this is that they see miracles everywhere.  Someone whose cancer goes into remission, a child who lives despite the odds, last-minute gifts that supply their needs.  These are evidence to them that everything that happens is God’s will. These kinds of things serve as proof that God directly intervenes in our lives in everything—from our grades in school to our love lives to our careers to our finances.  And whenever that happens, it always seems to be something miraculous or supernatural.  If God as a miracle-worker is the primary focus of what you see in this world, it’s easy to believe that the world is good and our lives are exactly what God intends for us.  From this perspective, suffering is the fantasy.

  In our lesson about Elijah, it would seem that the biblical view is the second one.  God is the one who proves his existence with signs and wonders—like fire falling from heaven to consume an offering.  Prior to that, the people of Israel were “wavering” regarding what they believed.  But the miracle demonstrates to them that God is real.  Once they see that, they are convinced: “the Lord is God indeed; the Lord is God indeed” (1 Kg. 18:39)!  But you don’t have to read very much farther in the biblical story to find out that it never took much to shake Israel’s faith.  The prophet Hosea, speaking in the name of the Lord, told them that their faith was about as lasting as the morning dew (Hos. 6:4)!

  That’s the problem with faith that is based on what you see.  If you need some kind of miraculous sign or wonder in order to believe in God, you’re always going to be dependent on another miracle to bolster your faith.[4]  That’s why even Jesus refused to work miracles for the people who came to him looking for a sign.  He knew that after the “awe” wears off, they would find themselves back where they started: doubting, wondering if God is real or not, begging for God to give them another sign so that they could believe again.  That’s not the kind of faith God wants from those of us who claim to trust in him.

  I think our lesson from the Gospel presents us with a different approach—faith as a deep conviction within that doesn’t need any external confirmation.  The story begins with some Jewish leaders coming to Jesus and asking him to heal the servant of a Roman Centurion.  Apparently this was no ordinary Centurion, because he had been very kind to the Jewish people in this community.  So Jesus agrees to go with them.  But on the way, the Centurion sends word that he is not worthy to have Jesus come to his house, but that if he would just say the word, his servant would be healed!  That’s pretty remarkable faith.  Normally in the Gospels people express their faith in Jesus after he worked a miracle.  But in this case, without seeing any kind of sign or wonder, the Centurion has faith that Jesus can just say the word and heal his servant.[5]  It’s not surprising then that Jesus said, “not even in Israel have I found such faith!” (Lk. 7:9).

  It seems to me that is what genuine faith is like.  It’s a decision you make, no matter what the circumstances of your life.  Believing that God is utterly faithful, that God loves us no matter what, and that there is nothing that can separate us from that love, is a conviction you choose to believe.  And it makes all the difference in the way you see the world around you.  I don’t think this kind of faith ignores tragedy in the world.[6]  It is simply too much a part of the reality  of our lives to ignore.  But this kind of faith also does not surrender to the tragedy in the world.[7]  Without needing any kind of supernatural intervention, without looking for “signs and wonders,” this kind of faith believes that God is always working in our lives for his good purposes, to bring peace, and wholeness, and joy, and life to all of us.  And when we believe in God in that way—with all our hearts—we can see the goodness and beauty and joy in the world, despite the tragedy and suffering.[8]

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[1] © 2013 Alan Brehm.  A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 6/2/2013 at First Presbyterian Church of Dickinson, TX.

[2] Cf. John Caputo, On Religion, 91, where he lays out the options: believing that the world of faith is what is “really real,” believing that faith is “unreal” in comparison with the observable forces at work in the world, and a third way, in which faith is directed toward the reality that is beyond what our senses perceive as real.

[3] Cf. Shirley C. Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, 182: “when we experience tragic suffering in our own lives and see so much tragic suffering in the world, we wonder whether all talk about a loving and just God is not in fact ... wishful thinking.”

[4] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.3:941, who points out that it is only “the mighty activity of the Holy Spirit” that can awaken faith and hope rather than “a miracle which can be understood only with the help of a mythology which includes all kinds of magical notions, and which is then to be rejected when it is found impossible to accept these notions.”

[5] Cf. F. Bovon, Luke 1: A commentary on the Gospel of Luke 1:1–9:50, 265: “Faith means trust, and more concretely, to trust without having seen.” Cf. also ibid., 264, where he observes that both Luther and Calvin “believe ... that the centurion ... can see the power of God in the person of Christ, and this suffices for faith ( see Martin Luther, Evangelien-Auslegung, 365; John Calvin, A Commentary on the Harmony of the Gospels, 249).

[6] Cf. Caputo, On Religion, 124: “We do not find the religious without the tragic, or when you do it is because the tragic has been violently suppressed, repressed, or excluded, which means that we are threatened with the return of the repressed, which is pretty much how the powerful convulsions of fundamentalist violence are to be interpreted.”

[7] Cf. Caputo, On Religion, 125: in the face of the “specter of a heartless world of cosmic forces,” “Faith is faith that there is something that lifts us above the blind force of things, .... That there is something ... or someone ... who stands by us when we are up against the worst, who stands by others, the least among us.”

[8] Cf. Keith Ward, God: A Guide for the Perplexed, 213, where he summarizes Kierkegaard’s view of the “religious sense” as “a way in which you see all things in the face of eternity, and you believe in eternal bliss, and love, and hope, despite the agonies life brings.”  Cf. also ibid., 215, where he paraphrases the Bhagavad Gita in describing faith in the following terms: “To look for the good in everything, to see everything embraced by goodness, ... is to be possessed by the Good.”

Sign of Joy

Sign of  Joy

John 2:1-11[1]

For centuries, our faith has been more a source of oppression than celebration.  Long ago the motivation for being a Christian turned from joy over the coming of God’s justice, peace, and freedom to fear of punishment, guilt over our shortcomings, and the belief that humanity is inherently evil. It would seem that in the days when the church became the official religion of the Roman Empire, it became convenient to control people using fear, guilt, and shame.  And since the keepers of the faith insisted that people approach their faith from this perspective, they really had only two choices--to follow their leaders’ dictates to the letter or to renounce their faith and risk an eternity of banishment.  From that time until now, the prevailing spirit of the Christian faith in many cases has been repressive rather than joyful.

But our gospel lesson for today flies in the face of that kind of approach to religion.  We know very well the story of Jesus turning water into wine at a wedding feast in the village of Cana in Galilee.  But I’m not sure we get the point of it all.  In fact, I think many throughout the history of our faith have made a concerted effort to suppress the point of this first sign that he worked to demonstrate his glory, i.e., to show what he was about and what God’s kingdom was about.  Surely most of us have heard the saying that wine in ancient times wasn’t fermented, or if it was it was only lightly fermented.  The idea that Jesus would make a huge quantity of alcohol (around 150 gallons!) seems to offend the sensibilities of those who still view our faith from the perspective of fear, guilt, and shame. 

But that is precisely what Jesus did for his first “sign.”  He made a huge quantity of wine--and very fine wine at that, according to the steward of the feast.  What we have to understand is that the “signs” in John are a central theme running throughout this Gospel.  The signs Jesus works are the actions by which he demonstrates what he is about and what God’s Kingdom is about.  They reveal his “glory,” and they culminate with his being “lifted up (on the cross) in order to draw all people” to himself (Jn. 12:32).  The signs in John’s gospel are meant to demonstrate what Jesus is doing, and what God’s Kingdom is about.[2]

What would Jesus possibly mean to demonstrate by doing something like this as his first “sign”?  Well, I think we have to consider the context to answer that question about any particular text.  Jesus was a guest at a wedding feast in the small village of Cana in Galilee.  It would appear that this family was not wealthy, because it would seem that their feast was only going to last one day.  Traditional wedding feasts, even today, can last up to a week.  Unfortunately, even at this meager feast, the family had not been able to buy enough wine to last the whole feast.  And to run out of wine at a wedding feast would have been humiliating to the family, and not least to the couple who were starting their lives together on this special day.

Now, at this point I think we have to recognize that the place of wine in biblical festivities is a bit naive.  While there are places where the Bible criticizes drunkenness as a habitual practice, there are several places where drinking a lot of good wine is an essential part of joyful celebration.  Whether it’s a wedding feast, or even the feast that God promises to set for “all people” when the Kingdom comes in all its fullness (Isa. 25:6), wine is there as something that is supposed to make the celebration joyful.[3] 

I think that’s why Jesus’ first sign by which he revealed the light that he was bringing into the darkness of this world was the creation of a huge quantity of very fine wine.  If the wine had given out it would have ruined the celebration of these two people beginning their new life together.[4]  It would have been a mark against their family that would not have been forgotten in a small village.  It would have not only marred the joy of the day, it would have potentially marred the joy of their life together as husband and wife.  And so Jesus made enough fine wine to ensure that the joyful celebration of life continued.[5]

It may seem strange in church to hear that the inaugural sign of Jesus’ ministry in John’s Gospel was the creation of a huge quantity of wine so that a drinking party could continue as long as it needed to.  But we have to remember that the whole point of this miracle was to ensure that this couple’s joyful celebration of their new life together could continue.  We may be surprised to hear that the means for doing that was 150 gallons of fine wine, but that was entirely appropriate in that day and time.  The main point is that Jesus’ first sign, the first act by which he reveals his glory to his disciples, the first thing he does to demonstrate what he’s about and what the Kingdom of God is about, is to promote the celebration of life.

More than that, Jesus’ action of ensuring that this particular celebration of life at Cana could continue points to the good news that God is working in this world through Jesus the Christ and through the Spirit of Life to restore everything and everyone to the place where we can all celebrate life.[6]  It seems to me when religion loses its ability to celebrate life, it loses its very heart and soul.  God created our world, and all that is in it, and stood back and said, “it’s very good” (Gen.1:31). When our religion looks at life and says “it’s very bad,” we’ve missed something very important.  Don’t misunderstand--there is much that is wrong with this world.  But the message Jesus came to proclaim to us, the message that we’re re-learning during the season of Epiphany,  is that God is in the business of making everything right, of making all things new.  And part of that message is that the life that God has created, and that God has redeemed through Jesus Christ, is something precious and joyful.  It’s something to celebrate!

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[1] © 2013 Alan Brehm.  A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 1/20/2013.

[2] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 3.2: 479.  Cf. also G. C. Berkouwer, The Return of Christ, 237, where he reminds us that “Only when signs are seen through the eyes of faith can they display their meaning and significance.”

[3] Cf. Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John I-XII, 105: “One of the consistent OT figures for the joy of the final days is an abundance of wine.”  Cf. similarly, G. R. Beasley-Murray, John, 36.

[4] Cf. Timothy L. Owings, “John 2:1-11,” Review and Expositor 85 (1988): 535-36; cf. also Gerard S. Sloyan, John, 36.  Cf. similarly, J. D. W. Watts, Isaiah 1-33, 479.

[5]Cf. Jack Good, “Defining Moment,” The Christian Century (Jan 13, 2004):16: Jesus’ “coming-out event was a party within a party, a celebration within a celebration. The work of Jesus began in a life-affirming setting. The sign of his ministry would be wine, a symbol of human conviviality and gladness.”

[6] Cf. Gail R. O’Day, “The Gospel of John,” NIB IX, p. 540.  She says that Jesus’ miracle is “a miracle of abundance, of extravagance, of transformation and new possibilities.” cf. also Sloyan, John, 38; Watts, Isaiah 1-33, 479; and Hans Wildberger, A Continental Commentary: Isaiah 13-17, 534.

Perishable Things

Perishable Things

Jn. 6:24-35[1]

Last week we talked about the difficulty of putting our faith in a God that no one has ever seen and a Savior whom none of us ever met in person.  I think the challenge we have with believing in things “unseen” is one reason why we tend to put our faith much more easily in other things.  Things we can see and touch.  Things like career, finances, family, relationships, and our own ability to control our lives. Unfortunately, life has a way of reminding us that our faith in those things may not be rewarded in the way we expect.  When it comes to our career, most of us these days can expect to experience a significant disruption in our career at least once in our lives.  Finances are no more reliable.  We entrust our life savings to financial institutions who engage in what is basically a sophisticated form of gambling, and may wind up losing our shirts.  And people—whether our family or our spouses or our children or our friends—are all flawed and fallible and imminently capable of letting us down when we most need them. 

In a very real sense, most of the what we invest our faith in fall under the category of “perishable things” that Jesus talks about in our Gospel lesson for today.  After feeding the 5000 with five loaves and two fish, he and the disciples crossed the lake, only to find that the crowd had followed them there.  When they approached him, he abruptly accused them of seeking the “food that perishes.”  In a sense, he said they followed him not because they were trusted in him and in God’s cause of peace and justice and freedom in the world, but because they had a good meal.  In the dialogue that follows, it would seem that they were looking for a repeat of the miracle of manna in the wilderness.  It would seem that they believed that if Jesus could give them the manna from heaven like Moses did, then he must really be the Messiah.[2] It’s hard to tell whether the crowd was even aware of the miracle that had happened the day before.[3] What they did understand was that it was Jesus who fed them, by whatever means. 

But Jesus was constantly aware of the dangers of faith that is based on tangible results.[4]  Whenever you get whatever it is you asked for, it’s only a matter of time before you begin to wonder, and then you need something more to bolster your faith.  I think that’s why Jesus was so harsh with the crowd.  He was aware that they weren’t looking for the new life of God’s peace and justice and freedom.  They weren’t following Jesus because they believed he was bringing them this new life.  They were following him because they were looking for some kind of visible confirmation so they could believe.[5]

But Jesus called them to a completely different kind of faith.[6]  He called them to “Throw your lot in with the One that God has sent” (Jn. 6:29 MSG).  That means throwing their lot in with God’s cause.  It’s the same kind of the faith that the three young men displayed when they confronted King Nebuchadnezzar and refused to worship his statue.  In effect, they said to him, “Our God is able rescue us from the fiery furnace, but even if he doesn’t we will not worship you” (Daniel 3:17-18).  They had “thrown in their lot” with God’s cause in the world.  They weren’t about to give that up for the sake of anything or anyone.

That kind of faith is not easy. It’s very much like Abraham and Sarah setting out on a journey without even knowing where you’re going.  That kind of faith without external props can feel incredibly uncertain. It deals with “things hoped for” and “things not seen” (Heb. 11:1).  It’s impossible to wrap your hands around that kind of faith and get a firm grip on it.  It’s no wonder most of us prefer to place our faith in something concrete, something we can see and touch.  But at the end of the day, all those seemingly reliable objects of our faith fall short.  They all let us down.  And we really shouldn’t be surprised at that.  Because those “perishable things” that we put so much of our faith in simply lack the ability to satisfy our deepest need.  What we need is the life that only God can provide.

I think Jesus knew that we all have a tendency to put our faith in things that ultimately cannot satisfy the deepest longings of our soul.  St. Augustine said it this way, “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you.”[7]  The only “bread” that can truly satisfy our hunger is the life that God offers us.  And the amazing truth is that when we take the risk of “throwing in our lot the one whom God sent” to carry out God’s cause in the world, we find that somehow we experience a peace, a freedom, a quality of life that none of those “perishable things” can possibly provide.  When we take the risk of faith and begin to quiet our restless hearts, we find the life God offers us truly satisfies us in ways we may never have expected.

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[1] © 2012 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 8/5/12 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.

[2] Cf. G. R. Beasley-Murray, John, 98.

[3] To some extent, it would seem that only Jesus and his disciples knew what had happened. Cf. Gail R. O’Day, “The Gospel of John,” New Interpreters Bible IX:599: “The crowd does not recognize the sign that has been enacted before them.”

[4] Cf. O’Day, “Gospel of John,” New Interpreters Bible IX:611; cf. also ibid., 576: “The person who interprets a miracle solely as a miraculous act will remain transfixed by and limited to the act itself … .  Jesus could be revered, perhaps even believed in on account of that act, but only as a miracle worker.” On the contrary, “it is not the miracle per se, but the glimpse of the presence of God at work with and in human experience that can lead to faith.”

[5] This is somewhat problematic in John’s Gospel, because one of the main emphases in the Gospel is that Jesus works miraculous signs so that people might believe.  I think  Stephen Fowl “John 6:25-35,” Interpretation 61 (July 2007): 315 puts it in perspective well when he says, “the signs challenge those who see them, hear about them, and ultimately read about them, to look beyond the miracles that are performed to the one who performs the miracles. … Signs, rightly understood, deepen and strengthen belief in Jesus. They are gracious gifts. Like many gifts, however, they are not always received in the right ways.”

[6] Cf. Gerard S. Sloyan, John, 73: “This chapter is about believing without seeing (v. 36), about coming to God through Jesus and being assured that trust in him cannot be misplaced (v. 37).” 

[7] Augustine, Confessions, I.1; cf. John Caputo, On Religion, 15, 29, 127, where he discusses Augustine’s statement from the perspective that faith always involves an element of being restless and “unhinged.”