We Are Witnesses

Acts 10:34-43[1]

What defines the church in our day? Is it our beliefs? Our worship? Our lifestyle? Our political views? We live in a time when people are taking opposite sides on many issues, and the definition of what it means to be the church is no exception. I think it is appropriate that we will be walking through the book of Acts during the Easter season this year, because it is the story of the foundation of the church. I can think of no better way to try to find a new orientation about what it means to be the church than to go back to the beginning.

Fundamentally, the story that the book of Acts tells about the early church is a story of witness—the witness to the resurrection of Jesus and the new life that comes out of it. As soon as the church receives the power of the Spirit, they begin to bear witness to the resurrection of Jesus. In fact, from then on, they rarely mention the events surrounding Jesus' resurrection without adding, “We are witnesses of these things.”[2]

One of the amazing features of this story is that, despite all obstacles, against all odds, the early church’s witness to Jesus’ resurrection is a great success. It is natural to wonder what made the witness of the early church so successful. Perhaps we should seek the answer by asking a prior question: what was the witness of the early church? It was the combination of their life and their message.

The message of the early church was that Jesus had been raised from the dead by God, who vindicated Jesus’ claim to be savior.[3] They proclaimed to all who would listen that the resurrection of Jesus from the dead is a sign pointing us to God’s new creation that is coming in the future, and indeed it is already working in hidden ways.[4] They proclaimed that the resurrection validated Jesus’ claim to be the bearer of the kingdom of God, the realm of compassionate justice and joyful new life. And they proclaimed the hope that, just as God has restored Jesus to life, so also God will restore all creation to life.[5]

But perhaps just as important a factor in the early church’s witness was that their message was backed up by their life.[6] They lived out the good news they were proclaiming by extending God’s gracious welcome to all and by their mutual acceptance of one another. They sought God’s guidance in prayerful discernment by asking questions together and listening together for the answers. They lived out the joy of the resurrection in worship that opened their hearts and minds to a genuine experience of God. They shared their faith and their experience of God’s love with one another by sharing their testimony. They integrated the good news into every aspect of their lives through open and humble study. And they went out from their prayer and worship and study seeking to realize the compassion and reconciliation of God’s kingdom in every facet of life.

Some who study these matters would say that it was these practices that made the early church’s witness so powerful.[7] I think I might put it a little differently—what made them so successful was that their witness came out of the experience of being radically transformed in their own hearts and minds and lives.[8] They were bearing witness to that which they had experienced first hand! One of the early Christian leaders put it this way: what they spoke about was “something which … we ourselves actually saw and heard: something which we had an opportunity to observe closely and even to hold in our hands” (1 John 1:1, Phillips).

We might be tempted to think that our witness could not possibly rise to that level because we are not eyewitnesses of the events as they were. And yet, I would argue that we do have the same opportunity to become witnesses of what we have experienced. The power of the new life that was unleashed in this world by Jesus’ resurrection is still working to transform our hearts and lives today. And so when resurrection of Jesus transforms our lives and hearts we can also bear witness to what we have experienced first hand.

The sad truth is that the “witness” that the church has borne has often looked very different from the early church’s witness to the life-changing power of the resurrection of Jesus. Some say that the lesson from Acts for today is the story of how Peter had to be converted to the notion that non-Jewish people were included in the gospel of Jesus Christ—as did the church of his day![9] I think like them we all need to be constantly converted to a way of life that flows from the life of the risen Lord Jesus. And that means constantly “learning new ways of being the church.”[10 Only as we do that can we fulfill our calling to be “a sign in and for the world of the new reality which God has made available to people in Jesus Christ” and to be “Christ’s faithful evangelists.”[11]

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[1] © 2009 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 4/12/09 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.

[2] Cf. John B. Polhill, Acts, 85, 93; William H. Willimon, Acts, 34-37.

[3] Polhill, Acts, 115.

[4] Cf. Willimon, Acts, 3;cf. also 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] Moltmann, Way of Jesus Christ, 223.

[6] Cf. Willimon, Acts, 39-42; cf. also 51: “The most eloquent testimony to the reality of the resurrection is not an empty tomb or a well-orchestrated pageant on Easter Sunday but rather a group of people whose life together is so radically different, so completely changed from the way the world builds a community, that there can be no explanation other than that something decisive has happened in history.”

[7] Glen H. Stassen, D. M. Yeager, John Howard Yoder, Authentic Transformation: A New Vision of Christ and Culture, 209-10 (citing John Howard Yoder, Body Politics: Five Practices of the Christian Community before the Watching World).

[8] Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics IV.3: 622: “The Christian becomes and is … the witness of the great Yes which God has spoken to [the world] in total renewal and definitive liberation.”

[9] Cf. Anthony B. Robinson and Robert W. Wall, Called to Be Church: The Book of Acts for a New Day, 158-60.

[10] Robinson and Wall, Called to Be Church, 164.

[11] The Book of Order 2007-2009, G-3.0200, 3.0300(c).

Ultimate Trust

Ps 31:9-16; Philippians 2:5-11[1]

In our culture, it seems that religion is something that has more to do with dying than with living. For many people, Christian faith, church-going, serving others, is all about making sure they’ll “go to heaven when they die.” Even at its best, this perspective is one that views faith as preparation to “meet our maker,” a way to face the final frontier, to approach death with confidence rather than fear. While there may be some truth in those sentiments, I think those who make Christian faith about dying have got it all backwards. Christian faith is essentially about living, not about dying!

When we read our Psalm for today, we naturally think of Jesus’ death on the cross. We think of Jesus’ cry, “Into your hand I commit my spirit” (Lk. 23:46), as a dying prayer. But if we view it in the light of the Psalm from which it was taken, we have to view it rather as a life motto. The Psalmist recounts all the hardships of life—enemies who seek to undo him, anxiety and sorrow from opposition.[2] At the end of it all, the Psalmist can basically say, “I am as forgotten as a dead man” (cf. Ps. 31:12, TEV). And yet, in spite of all the afflictions he endures, at the end of the day he can pray, “my times are in your hand” (Ps. 31:15). It is a prayer of trust, of confidence in the “faithful God” (Ps. 31:5), literally in Hebrew “the God of truth” (el-emeth). The Psalmist trusts in “the God who can be relied on and believed in because [God] is true to himself.”[3] And so end of his prayer is “Be strong and let your heart take courage, all you that wait for the Lord” (Ps. 31:24).

That is a prayer for life, not a cry of death! From this perspective, Jesus’ prayer, “Into your hand I commit my spirit” is more of a motto for living than a prayer for dying. That sense of trust that can say, “it is up to you, God, what becomes of me, and I am willing to have it so,”[4] defined Jesus’ entire life, not just his final days. His whole career, indeed his very being, was motivated by the prayer, “not my will but thine be done.”

Time and time again Jesus told his disciples that his life and his purpose were entirely directed by God. In a very real sense, Jesus is the perfect example of a life lived in accordance with God’s ways, and God’s truth:

• being faithful in relationships, loving in a way that never quits, working to set things right;

• being humble enough to seek God’s direction in all of life;

• entrusting oneself to God’s goodness and steadfast love and faithfulness, and being willing to take the risk of following God’s ways;

• “waiting” for God—sometimes rather loudly, but also quietly and patiently;

• living in harmony with God’s will—with God’s justice and mercy and love; and

• embracing the supreme act of humility by giving ourselves away in sacrificial love as he did.

As we gather to commemorate Jesus’ life during Holy Week, it is natural that we think about his sacrifice, his cruel death on the cross. And it is natural think about how Jesus died for our sins that we might be free from guilt and rose again that we might be free from fear. But I think we must not forget that Jesus’ death on the cross was the culmination of an entire life entrusted to the faithful God! His death was but the ultimate act of trust in a whole lifetime of obedient trust.[5]

Yes, Jesus died for our sins; yes, he died to set us free from the power of death; yes, he died to make it clear once and for all that God loves us. But just as importantly, Jesus died to show us how to live—how to live a life of ultimate trust, a life that is wholly and completely entrusted to God.[6] May God grant us courage to follow his example and entrust ourselves wholly and completely to the faithful God as our savior Jesus the Christ did.

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[1] © 2009 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 4/5/09 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.

[2] Most modern versions follow the (Greek) Septuagint version which reads “misery” in v. 10 rather than “iniquity” in the Hebrew text (and KJV). Cf. H.-J. Kraus, Psalms 1-59, 360; Peter C. Craigie, Psalms 1-50, 258; See also John C. Endres, SJ, “Psalms and Spirituality” Interpretation (April 2002): 143-54 (esp. p. 145).

[3] Mays, Psalms, 143; cf. also Kraus, Psalms 1-59, 363, who renders it “the faithful, dependable God.” He also adds (p. 365), “The truth of God is the confirmation of [God’s] grace and faithfulness.” See further, Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 2.1:459-60.

[4] This is Mays’ interpretation of “into your hands I commit my spirit.” Cf. Mays, Psalms, 144.

[5] Cf. Philippians 2:8, “he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death.” See Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.1:306; see also Endres, “Psalms and Spirituality,” 153.

[6] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Christ, 149: Jesus is “the child of God, the God whom he calls Abba, dear Father. As the child of God, he lives wholly in God and God wholly in him. He opens this unique relationship with God to all who believe him and who, as children of God, like him cry ‘Abba’.” See also Jürgen Moltmann, “Good Friday: Birth of Hope from the Cross of Christ,” in The Power of the Powerless, 120, where he calls this “believing with one’s whole life.”

Exposed

Ps 51:1-12[1]

We Americans have a funny relationship with privacy. We insist that our right to privacy—especially in our own homes—be protected. And yet, as a culture we have rushed to the phenomenon of “social networking,” where people—admittedly mostly younger people but not exclusively—spill the most intimate details of their “private” lives. The latest development is called “Twitter,” where you “Tweet,” or post a message that must be 140 characters or less—which is about the length of a sentence. In my humble opinion, it seems to me that inevitably means a “Tweet” is going to contain some “mundane” matters from your private life.

We have a funny way of thinking about privacy. Even our definition of “personal space”—the space between you and another person that you need to be comfortable—is at least twice that of most of the rest of the world. But if you put a camera in front of us, we’ll bare our most private details. I find it ironic that one of the most outrageous crimes these days is to expose someone against their will. At the same time, we find some strange satisfaction when we learn that someone has been exposed in wrongdoing!

And yet we stubbornly insist that no one and nothing should expose what we don’t want exposed. But when it comes to our relationship with God, the Bible says over and over again that all our secrets—our thoughts, our feelings, our lies, our sins—are exposed to God. Jesus said—and I’m paraphrasing here—that what is done in darkness will be exposed for what it is in the light and what is whispered in secret will be shouted from the rooftops (Luke 12:3)![2]

Our psalm for today expresses the remorse and penitence of those who acknowledge their sin before God. We don’t like that at all, do we? For some reason we find it extremely difficult to really acknowledge that we are sinners, that we are sinful, and that we have indeed sinned.[3] Nevertheless, every Sunday we go through the ritual of confessing our sins together. Many of the prayers come from our Book of Common Worship, or from Scripture, or from both. I wonder if we ever really pay attention to what we’re saying. Do we really mean to acknowledge that we have sinned so specifically? Do we really mean to make that acknowledgment so publicly?

I have no problem reading the words—even reading them out loud. But I have to admit that I have a hard time seeing myself in these ways. Take these excerpts from the Litany for Lent:

We have not forgiven others as we have been forgiven. We have not listened to your call to serve as Christ served us. We have grieved your Holy Spirit. We confess to you, O God, our unfaithfulness and our self-indulgence. We confess to you, O God, our anger and our envy toward others. We confess to you, O God, our dishonesty and our neglect. Accept our repentance, O God, for our indifference, our selfishness, and our prejudice.

Now, I have been a minister of the Gospel for more than 20 years, and yet I have to confess that there are times when I have been slow to forgive. In fact, there are some people in this world who have done things against me that I still have not forgiven, even if it pains me to say so. I pride myself [funny words for a confession!] on being faithful and honest and responsible and hard-working. In fact, they are core values by which I define my character. Yet, if I’m really honest with myself and with God, I have to admit that there have been times when I have not been faithful, when I have been dishonest, when I have been negligent, even if it pains me to say so. I grew up in a family where I was not taught racial or ethnic prejudice. In fact, they encouraged a tolerance by sending me to Scandinavia for the World Scout Jamboree in 1975. And yet, I have to recognize that I harbor other prejudices, even if it pains me to say so.

The reality is that we are not the righteous people we think we are.[4] It’s always easier for us to pay attention to the sins of others rather than our own sins. And yet, God’s new covenant of forgiveness makes it clear that we are all sinful.[5] As our Confession of 1967 puts it, “The reconciling act of God in Jesus Christ exposes our sin in the sight of God.”[6] That’s right—it is God’s love that exposes our sin. It is God’s “abundant mercy,” that calls forth the recognition “I know my transgressions.”[7]

Such exposure is a painful thing to undergo. And yet, we must remember that it is God’s love that does this.[8] And the promise of the Gospel is that confession and repentance opens the door of our hearts to receive God’s gift of forgiveness, new life, reconciliation.[9] The psalm assures every one of us that when we acknowledge our sin in the brokenness, God’s Holy Spirit is “the presence and power of God acting already to create the clean heart that the prayer seeks.”[10] May God grant us courage to undergo the painful exposure of our sins that we may open our hearts to God’s gift of new life.

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[1] © 2009 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 3/29/09 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX

[2] Cf. Matthew 10:26; Mark 4:22; Luke 12:2

[3] James L. Mays, Psalms, 201, reminds us that the Psalmist is not just confessing a particular transgression, but “a whole life conditioned by sin.” Cf. Also H.-J. Kraus, Theology of the Psalms, 156-57.

[4] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.1.576: “The divine pardon does not burst into man’s willingness but his unwillingness.” Cf. Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline, 145, who suggests that we have difficulty making confession for the opposite reason—we feel shame over our failures and shortcomings.

[5] Mays, Psalms, 200, says, “Sin is essentially a theological category. It is God and God alone whose way and will as criteria for human acts reveal them as sin.”

[6] The Confession of 1967, inclusive language version, 9.12.

[7] Cf. Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.1.591, where he reminds us that God’ s “Yes” to us cannot properly be heard unless the “No” is heard.

[8] H.-J. Kraus, Psalms 1-59, 507: “The sola gratia shines forth from every verse” of this Psalm.

[9] Kraus, Psalms 1-59, 507: “Only by God’s creative, renewing power can the heart be cleansed and led to a new obedience.”

[10] Mays, Psalms, 203.

Renouncing “Sufficiency”

Ps 107; Mk 8:31-38[1]

Ralph Waldo Emerson has been called the prophet of American ideal.[2] His most famous essay, on “Self-Reliance,” may fairly be said to present perhaps the central theme of his life and work—“Trust Thyself.” Of course, what Emerson meant by that was an endorsement of the ideal of “individualism.” Today we might say it differently: “believe in yourself,” or perhaps “stand in your own truth.” It articulates our belief in the sanctity of self-sufficiency.

Self-sufficiency is a sacred dogma for us. We believe in “pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps.” We want to be able to do any job that needs to be done; we want to be able to find our way to any destination without asking directions; we want to make our own way in the world. Self-sufficiency represents the American version of the belief of the modern era that we can solve any problem, climb any mountain, ford any stream.

What I might point out is that this represents an interesting contrast to the perspective of the Psalmists. The Psalmists speak of self-sufficiency in a very different way. The “mighty ones,” the “proud” the “rich,” the “princes”—everyone who we might think could very well stand in their own self-sufficiency—are those who go astray in their foolish independence and rebellious self-reliance. In the Psalms, self-sufficiency is an obstacle that has to be overcome in order to call upon the Lord for help. Asking for help—truly asking for help—is not something that comes easily for most people. To ask for help requires the ability to recognize that you need help. It requires a significant dose of humility to break through self-sufficiency.

More than that, our Psalm for today calls those who have experienced the God’s help to take a further step of humility and to offer thanksgiving in public worship.[3] It also takes an act of humility to be willing to gather with a group of people and recite prayers out loud and then actually sing hymns of praise! Out loud. So that those around you can actually hear you! But the kind of heartfelt praise that the Psalmist has in mind comes from the humble recognition that “We are the hungry and thirsty who have been fed. We are the bound who have been liberated. We are the sinners deserving death who have been given life. We are the fearful before the terrors of existence who have been given hope.”[4]

As we have seen, the Psalms tell us that God’s torah or instruction is for those humble enough to know that they need it (Ps. 25:9). But they also tell us that God’s salvation, God’s deliverance, God’s gift of new life are for those who are humble enough to know that they need it. Those who are open to God’s way are the ones who are humble enough to realize that they need God in every aspect of their lives.

I think there is a striking resemblance between what the Psalmists have to say about the humble who seek God’s way and God’s help and what Jesus says about those who receive the good news of the kingdom of God.[5] It takes a significant dose of humility align our lives with God’s kingdom. In our Gospel lesson for today, Jesus called those who would follow him to “deny themselves.” The central act Jesus called for in response to the kingdom of God is an act of supreme humility—denying self. Denying oneself is “not the denial of something to the self but the denial of the self itself.”[6] Jesus disclosed to his disciples that his obedience to God’s way meant that he would have to go to the cross. Then he proceeded to make it clear to them that following him would mean giving ourselves away in sacrificial love, a “love that serves others no matter how much it costs,”[7] even if it means suffering tremendous loss, even if it means death![8] It’s a matter of leaning to say “not my will but thine be done”[9]

I think part of what Jesus is talking about is being willing to renounce the illusion of self-sufficiency. I think it is very similar to the perspective of the Psalmist about the “humble” who recognize their need for God versus the “proud” who think they can take care of themselves, thank you very much. It requires humility to take this step, because it can feel very foolish to actually identify yourself publicly with such a way of life. But as Paul reminds us, it is only by becoming “fools for Christ” (1 Cor. 4:10-13) and following Jesus’ example of self-surrender and suffering for others, especially the outcasts and the downtrodden and the forsaken ones, that we discover our true identity as “the community of the crucified Jesus” and “the fellowship called into life through Christ’s self-surrender.”[10]

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[1] © 2009 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 3/22/09 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX

[2] See Harold Bloom, “The Sage of Concord,” The Guardian, Saturday 24 May 2003; accessed at http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2003/may/24/philosophy. I would hasten to add that was true for the white middle- and upper-class of the Nineteenth Century.

[3] James L. Mays, Psalms, 344-45.

[4] Mays, Psalms, 347.

[5] Cf. Mays, Psalms, 35 and Kraus, Psalms 1-59, 92-95.

[6] Garland, Mark, 333; quoting Ernest Best, Following Jesus, 37.

[7] Garland, Mark, 335.

[8] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, 96, 99

[9] Cf. Garland, Mark, 327.

[10] Jürgen Moltmann, Church in the Power of the Spirit, 92, 96.