“The Cost of Discipleship”

Psalm 23; 1 Peter 2:19-25; John 10:1-11[1]

It seems that from time immemorial people have believed that doing what is right means that God will bless you with prosperity and happiness, and doing wrong means you will suffer. Whole chapters of Deuteronomy are devoted to this. If the children of Israel would obey God, they would be blessed at home and blessed in the field and blessed in the country, etc., etc. But if they disobeyed God, they would be cursed at home and cursed in the field, etc., etc, etc. That principle had a profound influence on a large chunk of the Old Testament, especially the books of history. In fact, 1 and 2 Kings adopt it as the central organizing principle for their chronicle of the kings of Israel and Judah.

That’s why Job’s three friends insisted that the only reason he was suffering was because he must have done something terribly wrong! It had been ingrained in them from childhood that when you do what is right you’re blessed, and when you suffer, you must have done something to deserve it. (Un)Fortunately, that doesn’t quite fit the facts of life. In fact, bad things often do happen to good people! What that means is that it is entirely possible for you to do everything right, to obey God completely, and still have to undergo some kind of suffering![2]

One of the ways that Jesus the Christ overturned the traditional ways of thinking about God was to provide a prime example of a person who did everything right, who completely obeyed God, and who in fact suffered because of it. The world in which we live is one that does not tolerate those who want to obey God.[3] It is a world where those who push their way around do in fact get where they want to go. Those who step on others do in fact climb to the top. Might does make right in our world, and money does far more than talk!

In that kind of system, what happens to the person who insists not only on not stepping on others, but also who insists on making the case that people are not meant to be stepped on?[4] What happens is that the system resists change; it exerts subtle and not-so-subtle pressure on them to “get back in line.” And if someone has the temerity to persist in not “playing by the rules” of this world—perhaps someone like Jesus of Nazareth—those who defend the system may become hostile, and they may even attack. That’s what happened to Jesus. As Peter reminds us (1 Peter 2:23), Jesus was insulted but he remained committed to the way of God’s kingdom. And he suffered for it but he did not strike back at his tormenters.

Perhaps the most difficult thing Peter says about all this is that we who claim to follow Jesus have been called to this kind of life! In fact, Peter says that Jesus suffered in this way to “leave you an example, that you should follow in his steps” (1 Peter 2:21, NIV). Jesus’ death on the cross was the final negation of the age-old assumption that doing what is right in God’s sight means we will prosper. As a matter of fact, doing what is right in God’s sight in the world in which we live means that we can expect to suffer. And that is our calling as Christians.

How could it be different for those of us who follow a Savior who was executed in a most de-humanizing way? Jesus himself told his disciples that his path, the path of obedience to God’s will, the path of seeking God’s kingdom and God’s justice, was going to lead him to death. And he warned them that if they followed him, they would have to be prepared to suffer the losses that would entail.[5]

So if this really is the “cost of discipleship,” why would anyone in their right mind actually choose to follow Jesus as Savior and Lord? One reason is because it is when we are “walking through the valley of the shadow of death” that we experience the presence of God most powerfully. As we follow Christ in suffering for the kingdom of God and God’s justice, we become more assured of God’s love for us than ever before.[6] Another reason is because we know that suffering love has the power to overturn evil and redeem it.[7] As we follow Christ in suffering for God’s purpose in this world, we join in the work of making all things new.[8]

Peter reminds us of a third reason: the cross was not the final chapter of Jesus’ career. The resurrection of Jesus from the dead reveals God’s ultimate endorsement of Jesus’ life. It also shows us that following Jesus’ example of suffering is the “path of rightness” that leads to the refreshing still waters and the green pastures that restore our very souls. As Jesus said, “If you try to keep your life for yourself, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake and for the sake of the Good News, you will find true life” (Mark 8:35, NLT).[9]

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[1] © 2008 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached on 4/13/08 by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX

[2] In fact, a rabbi named Harold Kushner wrote a book with that very title: When Bad Things Happen to Good People. When faced with the reality of suffering in this world, Rabbi Kushner concludes that bad things happen to good people because that’s just the way it is and God cannot do anything about it. Kushner and his wife endured the painful suffering of losing their young son to a degenerative disease. In the face of such intense suffering, he concluded that he must either give up God’s benevolence or God’s omnipotence. He chose the latter, believing that God loves us and wants the best for us but is basically powerless to do anything about it. While he has been criticized for his theory, no one would criticize his own personal experience of suffering.

[3] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, “Joy in the Revolution of God,” in The Gospel of Liberation, 119, describes it this way: “that inhuman world in which not God but mammon, not love but anxiety, not freedom but law, not the Son of Man but power and fighting for riches reigns.”

[4] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, “Liberation through Reconciliation,” in The Gospel of Liberation, 82: “Wherever man leaves his humanity and makes for himself proud and doubtful gods of himself and his neighbors, he is inhuman, … . He can no longer love. And, loving only himself, he misuses his experiences, his possessions, and his neighbors … .”

[5] See Jürgen Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, 97: “The whole church lives from Christ’s self-giving and in self-giving for the reconciliation of the world.” See also ibid., 284: “The way of life of the messianic era is stamped by messianic suffering.”

[6] Jürgen Moltmann, “Love and Sorrow,” in The Gospel of Liberation, 77; cf. also Jürgen Moltmann, Experiences of God, 7-9, where he talks about his own experience of desolation as a prisoner of war as an experience that led him to faith.

[7] Moltmann, “Love and Sorrow,” 74-75; cf. also Moltmann, Church in the Power, 284.

[8] Jürgen Moltmann, “The Transformation of Life,” in The Power of the Powerless, 69-70. He says (p. 69), “Now, no night is so dark that the light of transfiguration does not fall on the person who takes up his cross and seeks the will of God along the path of Jesus.” Cf. also Moltmann, Church in the Power, 355: “When believers take up their cross, the kingdom of God is manifested to the world.” See further Jürgen Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Christ, 204: “Anyone who participates in ‘Christ’s sufferings’” becomes a witness “to the coming truth against the ruling lie, to coming justice and righteousness against the prevailing injustice, and to coming life against the tyranny of death.”

[9] Moltmann, “Transformation,” 70: when we choose the path of self-surrender and obedience, there “the will of God is fulfilled in us and for us and through us” and “there life is transfigured; even in the face of tears and pain and disappointment.”

“Futile Ways”

Acts 2:14, 36-41; 1 Peter 1:13-22; Luke 24:13-35[1]

One of the most important lessons that Easter faith has to offer us is that there is more to life than the incessant obsession with being the “best.” The precious and costly death of Jesus on a cruel Roman cross combined with his surprising and powerful resurrection to new life expose the futile ways of our world. The quest to be the brightest, the most attractive, the richest, and the most successful is empty, isolating, and ultimately robs us of our humanity.[2] The crucified and risen Lord Jesus Christ points us to a way of life that is significant, meaningful, and truly fulfilling—the way of giving oneself away for others.[3]

That is the lesson of the 1994 film entitled With Honors.[4] It’s a story about Monty Kessel, a yuppie in the making at Harvard who misplaces the only copy of his senior thesis. When Simon Wilder, a middle-aged homeless man who has been living in the basement of the library finds it, he offers to return it to Monty—but on one condition. Simon promises to give Monty one page of his thesis for every day Monty gives him food and shelter! Reluctantly, Monty agrees. He really has no choice—he’s on a deadline and he’s striving to graduate Harvard “with honors,” the first “feather” in his cap that will surely open the doors to other “achievements.” The problem is that his thesis is nothing more than an elaborate “suck up” to his advisor, a prominent and powerful member of the faculty. Over the course of the school year, something unexpected happens. Simon becomes Monty’s real advisor, forcing Monty to recognize that there is more to life than simply buttering up your professor to get ahead in the game!

You see, after spending his life seeing the world with the Merchant Marines, Simon is dying of asbestos exposure. Understandably he wants to spend his last days with food and shelter. In exchange for a warm bed and the chance to eat every day, Simon does much more than give Monty back his senior thesis. He convinces Monty that no success is worth your soul. As a result, Monty actually changes his thesis, writing a paper that is not only unconventional but one that actually succeeds at impressing the crusty old Harvard professor. Unfortunately, he misses an important deadline and will not be eligible to graduate “with honors.” But Monty learns that there is more to life than achievement, or success, or winning awards, all of which boils down to self-serving.

That’s not a lesson that we tend to learn very easily these days. We still live in a world where the only thing that counts is winning. Getting second place still means losing. “Beauty” is power, and so is money. Our world is completely obsessed with getting ahead by any and every means. It doesn’t matter how many people you have to step on or run over as long as you finish first! And in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, that is the message that is handed down to us from our parents. We’re taught from early childhood onward that we only count if we compete, and we’re only significant if we win.

When the Apostle Peter wrote to the early Christians, he reminded them that they too had inherited a way of life that was empty. Although the emptiness of their life may not have consisted of getting ahead at any cost, it was just as empty. Peter describes it as a life spent on “ignorant desires” (1 Peter 1:14), and later specifically names things like “indecency, lust, drunkenness, orgies, drinking parties, and the disgusting worship of idols” (1 Peter 4:3, TEV). As a matter of fact, that sounds like a pretty typically Jewish way of talking about Gentiles, and may have reflected some bias on Peter’s part. [5] But there is ample evidence that the futile ways of the First Century included a life of wanton immorality, reckless wastefulness, and self-indulgent decadence.

But the “living hope” that Peter preaches includes the promise that the sacrificial death of Jesus the Christ sets us all free from our “futile ways.” The fact that God has lavished on us this “costly grace” makes all the difference in the world in the way we live our lives. We can no more go on living simply for our own selfish pursuits any more than Monty Kessel could ever pass another homeless man without thinking about Simon Wilder!

What’s more, the resurrection of Jesus from that horrible death changes not only us but in a very real sense changes everything. Now everything from our former lives has been emptied of meaning, and the only thing that matters in the “new creation” that is taking its place (2 Corinthians 5:17) is “faith expending itself in love” (Galatians 5:6).[6] And in light of the Easter faith that Jesus is alive, the Apostle Paul reminds us that we can “always keep busy working for the Lord” because we know that “everything [we] do for him is worthwhile” (1 Corinthians 15:58, CEV). No more wasting time with futile ways—now we have the chance to live a life that is truly worthwhile, a life of giving ourselves away for others.[7]

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[1] © 2008 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached on 4/6/08 by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX

[2] See Henri Nouwen, Here and Now, 42, 98.

[3] Cf. Hans Küng, The Christian Challenge, 152-53. He defines this in terms of loving our neighbors as ourselves, where our “neighbor” means “anyone who needs me here and now.” See further 157-70, 274-312 where he characterizes this as being “truly human” and makes some very concrete “suggestions” for what this looks like.

[4] See Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat, review of With Honors, accessed at http://www.spiritualityandpractice.com/films/films.php?id=3855 .

[5] See J. R. Michaels, 1 Peter, 64; contrast Ben Witherington III, Letters and Homilies for Hellenized Christians, vol. 2, 106-107, where he argues that Peter’s comments resemble what Paul has to say about the futility of trying to keep the law apart from Christ.

[6] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 337-38. He says, “Human life must be risked if it would be won. … If, however, we are thus to risk expending ourselves, then we need a horizon of expectation which makes the expending meaningful … . The expectation of the promised future of the kingdom of God which is coming to man and the world to set them right and create life, makes us ready to expend ourselves unrestrainedly and unreservedly in love and in the work of the reconciliation of the world with God and his future. … Faith can expend itself in the pain of love, … because it is upheld by the assurance of hope in the resurrection of the dead.”

[7] Cf. John Paul II, Evangelium Vitae 25.4: “Christ’s blood reveals to [man] that [his] greatness, and therefore [his] vocation, consists in the sincere gift of self.” See J. Michael Miller, ed., The Encyclicals of John Paul II, 815.

“Everything To Live For”

Acts 2:14, 22-32; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31[1]

Several years ago my oldest son Derek and I visited two canyons in the Southwest. We spent a day at the Grand Canyon with about 12,000 other people. The sight of the canyon was truly impressive; it is one of those places on earth whose grandeur cannot be captured by photography. We also spent a day at Chaco Canyon in Northwestern New Mexico. You may not have heard of it. It is the site of the oldest Native American ruins in the U. S. It’s about 20 miles off the pavement along a bumpy dirt road.

Archaeologists think that Chaco Canyon was first occupied about the year 500 by Native American farmers.[2] By about the year 800 they were building the crescent-shaped pueblos for which the site is famous. The pueblos were built along lines marked out by the sun and the moon, as well as perfect East-West and North-South lines. The discovery of many pre-historic roads that fan out to the surrounding area suggests that Chaco Canyon may have stood at the center of a fairly large and well-developed culture, known today as the Early Puebloan People. They flourished there for another 350 years, until they were forced to leave by an extended drought. Most historians would agree that they founded the Pueblo Cultures that still thrive in the desert Southwest.

If you’ve ever been to the Grand Canyon, you can perfectly understand why so many people go there. But if you visited Chaco Canyon, you’d have to ask yourself why in the world anyone would want to visit, let alone live there. It’s a stark and barren landscape. There’s really nothing much to commend it as a place to build a fairly sophisticated complex of pueblos. We can only speculate at this point, but some have suggested that the unique geographical and astronomical alignment of the canyon may have related to ancient Puebloan religious beliefs.

As Derek and I wandered the ruins of Chaco Canyon that day—with about 12 other people as opposed to 12,000!—I found myself wondering what it was that enabled men and women to do what it took to survive the harsh conditions of that time and place. It’s hard enough to survive what life has to offer in the relative comfort of what we call “civilization.” It’s hard to understand what motivated people to endure the hardships of life in those primitive conditions. What did they have to live for?

If we took the time to study what life was like for the early Christians, we might ask the same question. As Peter says in his letter, they suffered for their faith in a wide variety of ways—ranging from ridicule to hostility, and from ostracism to lynching! In the midst of their hardships, the Apostle Peter reminded them that the Easter faith offered them a “living hope.” Their hope was “alive” because it is a hope that comes from the life of the risen Christ who defeated death. Their hope was alive because it is a hope that comes from the promise of never-ending life in God’s new creation and “brand-new” life here and now through God’s Spirit. Their hope was alive because it is a hope that nothing can quench—not doubt, not hostile enemies, not even martyrdom, which they suffered on occasion. Because of their “living hope,” Peter assured them that they had “everything to live for.”[3]

But there had to have been times when those First-Century Christians asked themselves why they had to suffer so much if all that was true. I think part of the problem is that our faith in the resurrection and our hope of new life simply exceed our grasp. But just because we may not be able to get a handle on them doesn’t mean that our faith and hope are not just as alive today as they were in Peter’s day.[4]

Even though we may not be able to fully grasp our “living hope,” the good news of Easter is that the new life of the risen Christ is something that takes hold of us and changes us forever.[5] That is the basis for our hope and faith—not that we can grasp everything there is to know about God and faith and eternity, but rather that God has grasped us through the living presence of our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ. The hope of Easter, that new life will one day transform everything and everyone, gives us everything to live for.[6]

And as Peter assured those first Christians doing their best to live their lives in the midst of the struggles of their world, he continues to assure us that the experience of being “grasped” by God is one that cannot be diminished by time, or doubt, or even death. It is an experience that transforms us for good because we are from then on “kept safe by the power of God” (1 Peter 1:5, TEV).

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[1] © 2008 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached on 3/30/08 by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX.

[2] See the article on “Chaco Culture National Historical Park,” at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chaco_Culture_National_Historical_Park .

[3] 1 Peter 1:3 (The Message): “Because Jesus was raised from the dead, we’ve been given a brand-new life and have everything to live for.”

[4] Walter Wink, “Resonating With God’s Song,” The Christian Century (March 23, 1994) “The resurrection is not a fact to be believed, but an experience to be shared”

[5] Paul Tillich, “Faith and Uncertainty,” in The New Being, 77: says, “In our uncertainty there is one fixed point of certainty, however we may name it and describe it and explain it. We may not comprehend, but we are comprehended.”

[6] Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 85, 88; cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Christ, 256; Jürgen Moltmann, Experiences of God, 20, 28

“Sight Unseen”

Isaiah 25:6-9; Colossians 3:1-4; John 20:1-18[1]

For most of human history, people believed in an unseen dimension of the world that is just as real as what we can see and hear and taste and touch. In fact, some have believed that dimension to life is more real that the material world around us. And I’m not talking about superstitious primitives—Socrates and Plato, the founders of Western Philosophy, endorsed this view of things. Of course, the scholars turned the unseen dimension of life into something rational, something you can only access through serious intellectual work.

Other people took a spiritual approach—devising rituals for accessing the unseen reality. Why is it that we give more credit to the intellectual insights of philosophers than we do to the spiritual intuition of shamans? Both, in their own ways, were grasping for a handle on this side of human experience that remains persistent but elusive.

Of course, this approach to reality has almost completely disappeared from our cultural “radar.” For over two hundred years philosophers, scientists, historians, and other scholars have been telling us that the only thing “out there” is what we can see, hear, taste, touch, or smell. At this point, they have convinced us any attempt to even talk about a dimension to life that is “unseen” is at best embarrassing, if not complete “non-sense.” In our quest to be free from spiritual institutions that ruled all of life through superstition and dogma, we have robbed ourselves of the wisdom that has been attested since the beginning of time—a wisdom that comes from acknowledging that there truly is more to this life than what we see.

This theme is at the heart of the 2002 film Signs. Yes, I know that the “story” is about how a rural family survives an alien invasion. But like many of M. Night Shyamalan’s films, the point is what happens to the people in the story, not the story itself. Graham Hess is a former Episcopalian minister who left the church and the faith after his wife was killed in a tragic accident. At one point, Graham’s younger brother Merrill looks to him for some answers to the stress and fear he’s feeling. Graham responds by saying that there are two groups of people in the world; those who believe that no matter what happens, someone will be there to watch over them; and those who believe deep down that they are on their own. Though he had once served as a Christian minister, Graham says that he is in the second group.

Here is a man who had been dedicated to the spiritual life, and he has given up his faith and become a convinced skeptic because of the tragic death of his wife. Perhaps the real tragedy is that his grief blinds him to the signs of God’s love all around him. It takes a bizarre “war of the worlds” to bring him to the place where he can see the hidden presence of grace enveloping him and his family. But if he had eyes to see them, the “signs” of that unseen dimension were there—the awe-filled wonder of his children’s birth, the fact that the people all around him are naturally drawn to him for comfort and assurance, the simple beauty of a field of corn. All of which he had taken for granted. [2]

I think that’s something of what the Apostle Paul was trying to tell the Christians of his day. When all you have to go on is what your eyes can see or what you can touch with your hands, then the whole human story points to death as the ultimate reality of this life![3] But what Paul wanted them and us to remember is that God does not operate within the limits of what we can see. And God demonstrated that conclusively by raising Jesus from the dead! And so Paul urges them and us to remember that “your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:3). That doesn’t mean that our lives here and now don’t matter, because they do. But what it does mean is that we are called to put our trust in something that lies beyond our ability to see and hear and taste and touch. We are called to put our trust in the God and Father who raised our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ from the dead!

The resurrection really is the crucial sign to us all of the reality of God’s grace and love and life. The Christian faith is that the resurrection of Jesus from the dead is a sign pointing us to God’s new creation that is coming in the future. It is also a sign pointing us to the fact that the new creation, the kingdom of God, is already working in hidden ways here among us to make everything new.[4] The resurrection is like a promise that points toward a future filled with hope and joy and love and life.[5] It is a promise that, just as God has restored Jesus to life, so also God will restore all creation to life.[6] It is a promise that “I have swallowed up death forever,” and “I will wipe away every tear,” and “I am making everything new.”

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[1]© 2008 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached on 3/23/08 by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, Tx.

[2] See the review by Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat at http://www.spiritualityand practice.com/films/films.php?id=4539 . They comment, ““All the spiritual traditions encourage us to ‘see’ the signs all around us that point to the possibilities unfolding in every moment in a meaningful universe.” They continue that we can either live our lives based solely on “what we can reasonably explain and predict”—a life that is ultimately fear-based—or we can open ourselves to the spiritual dimension to life and trust in the providence of that higher power.

[3] Jürgen Moltmann, God in Creation, 163; cf. also Jürgen Moltmann, In the End—the Beginning, 93; Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 22-26.

[4] Jürgen Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Christ, 26-27, 28, 30, 32-33.J. Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, 98-99, 191.

[5] Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 24-25.

[6] Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Christ, 223.