Sunday, March 25, 2012

Engraving


Jeremiah 31:31-37
31The time is coming, declares the LORD, when I will make a new covenant with the people of Israel and Judah. 32It won’t be like the covenant I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to lead them out of the land of Egypt. They broke that covenant with me even though I was their husband, declares the LORD. 33No, this is the covenant that I will make with the people of Israel after that time, declares the LORD. I will put my instructions within them and engrave them on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people. 34They will no longer need to teach each other to say, “Know the LORD!” because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, declares the LORD; for I will forgive their wrongdoing and never again remember their sins.
35The LORD proclaims:
The one who established the sun
to light up the day
and ordered the moon and stars
to light up the night,
who stirs up the sea
into crashing waves,
whose name is the LORD of heavenly forces:
36If the created order should vanish
from my sight,
declares the LORD,
only then would Israel’s descendants
ever stop being a nation
before me.
37The LORD proclaims:
If the heavens above could be measured
and the foundations of the earth below
could be fathomed,
only then would I reject
Israel’s descendants
for what they have done,
declares the LORD.

This is the World of the Lord
Thanks be to God

The season of Lent is walking in the wilderness, mirroring Jesus forty days of temptation, and the ancient Israelites forty years before reaching the Promised Land. The Lenten wilderness is a spiritual wasteland that has no end in sight. But the prophet Jeremiah can see farther, and points us in the direction that the LORD is taking us.

There’s a reason we read this passage in the wilderness of Lent. There’s a reason Jeremiah speaks to us as we wander through the world, in search of our savior. There’s a reason we need to hear this word in every age, in every time and place. There’s a reason we need to remember the future that has been promised.

The reason is, we’re still a people who need God grace. The reason is we don’t have it together and we can’t do it on our own. The reason is our faith is shaken from time to time, and we still need to hear the promise, because the time is coming, declares the LORD.

“The time is coming, declares the LORD, when I will make a new covenant with the people of Israel and Judah.” Judah, the people who are suffering under the heel of the armies of Babylon, Judah, who are hiding in the hills watching as their homes are destroyed, as the kingdom that was promised to them burns and is systematically ripped apart. Our Judah has been conquered and it seems like the battle is over and we’re on the side of the losers. Our neighbors have been carried off into exile. The Babylonians that are knocking at our own doors are not here to make a social call. The symbol of the promise of God has been taken away from us.

When you’re in the Judah referenced in this passage, you’re watching everything you’ve built crumble before you. Living in Jeremiah’s Judah makes the stories you used to order your life around feel like a betrayal. Because those stories no longer apply, and we’re not equipped to deal with their loss.

My generation was told that if you get a college degree, you’ll get a job, and have a secure future. My parents generation was told that if you work hard, you’ll be able to retire comfortably. My grandparents generation was told that if you provide, you’ll be provided for. And then we all watched as those stories were suddenly not true for everyone anymore. The man who built great things during his long career sees that his retirement benefits are drying up. So now he has to sell what was to be his children’s inheritance to provide for himself and his wife. The woman who worked her whole life at the furniture factory is told that the business is moving overseas and she won’t get the pension she had planned for. The summa cum laude graduate hears that she’s the next great up-and-comer in her field time and again. But those who tell her that she has potential aren’t hiring. She worries that she can’t pay off the mortgage she took out on her future with student loans. And all of them groan together for a new promise, a new covenant.

It won’t be like the covenant I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to lead them out of the land of Egypt. It won’t be like the covenant that required more than the people have been able to live up to. It won’t be like the covenant that instructed them “You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, all your being, and all your strength.” It won’t be like the covenant that was to be tied on our hands, that should be written on our foreheads as a symbol. It won’t be like the covenant that our spiritual ancestors wrote on their houses’ door frames and on their cities’ gates. That covenant is broken, and we, individually and collectively, are the ones who broke it.

Broken promises to God. We live in a world glutted with broken promises to God. It seeps into every fiber of our culture, every word of our communication, and it’s all so very broken. The brokenness of our promises to God defines us, sinful from our origin. The broken covenant separates us from God. We cannot undo the break because we cannot keep the covenant. With Babylon beating on our doors to take us away, God misses us terribly, and refuses to let our break be the final word.

Jeremiah reminds us throughout this whole book that we have done this to ourselves, and we have done it to ourselves consistently. We cannot say that what has happened to us is not fair, because it’s not a matter of bad things happening to good people, it’s a matter of bad things happening to people who deserve what they get, because they have rejected God. God who wanted an intimate partnership with the people, a partnership compared in this passage to a husband. The comparison is weak, because God goes farther than any human metaphor of marriage could. When we reject and run away from God, God follows us. Our break will not be the word that defines our reality, God misses us too much for that to be all we are. So God changes the shape of reality in order to be with us.

We see how far we have fallen, we see what we have done to the world and to one another, pushing each other and ourselves away with the hope that by shoving them deeper into the muck we’ll somehow feel cleaner. So when we are about to get what we deserve for rejecting God, God speaks.

No.

No, that’s not the kind of God I am. That’s not the kind of people you will be. That’s not the kind of world I created. No that’s not the way it’s going to be. No, I will not allow you to be destroyed as a result of your own choices.

No, this is the covenant I will make with the people of Israel.

When you write something on your hand, it will wipe off. When you paint it above your doorpost, you can always paint over it. The old covenant trusted in human ability to keep it, and the human freedom to break the covenant won out instead. But this new covenant is not something we write, and it’s not something we can wash off or cover up. The new covenant is dependent solely on God’s intervention.

“I will put my Instructions within them and engrave them on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people.”

I had the opportunity a few years ago to work with a stonecutter. Up until the moment when you begin the engraving process, you’re just looking at a rock. There’s nothing special about it, it’s like so many others. It’s a collection of minerals cut from a quarry. But once it’s engraved, it’s different. A blank wall becomes a monument. An empty slab becomes a gravestone. A floor tile becomes a centerpiece at a wedding banquet. The engraving takes a humble rock and provides it with a new purpose. Engraving a stone can transform the basest mineral deposits into beautiful art.

What the rock carver does to the stone, God’s covenant does to us. The instruction is internalized and engraved on our hearts. A new purpose is provided and we are no longer bound by our own brokenness but free to be restored to our relationship with God. The next verses tell us that we will no longer have to even teach each other what to say, because we’ll just know. We no longer have to remind ourselves what has been said, as with the ancient covenant, because it’s not an issue of knowing about, it’s about being who God has created us to be. God’s engraving on our hearts gives us a purpose and an identity and turns what is essentially a bag of meat and mostly water into a human being, created in the image of God.

And that time is coming, declares the LORD. Because we’re not there yet, we’re still wandering in the desolate wasteland of Lent, expecting to find a Babylonian army ready to carry us deeper into this exile of our own making. But being trapped in the desert doesn’t stop God from claiming us as God’s own. Because the second half of the passage is a creation story. God takes a moment to remind us of exactly who we’re dealing with here. We’re not dealing with some idol made of wood or brass. We’re being dealt with by “The one who established the sun to light up the day and ordered the moon and the starts to light up the night.” We are not claimed by a nationality, or a race, or a club, or a fraternity or a denomination. We are claimed by the one “who stirs up the sea into crashing waves, whose name is the LORD of heavenly forces.” This same one claims us as God’s own people.

When we run away and abandon God, and we will, God will engrave her instructions upon our hearts, giving us a purpose and an identity. Our discarded chunks of granite are engraved with and transformed into testimonies to God’s faithfulness. Because our rebellion shows God’s refusal to give up on us. God will have a relationship with us, even when we are broken and imperfect.

My mother has a saying, “God uses imperfect people because he made so few of the other kind.” We are the imperfect people whom God has choses to use. We are the body of Christ eagerly awaiting the return of our Lord. We are not our own, we belong to God, and God has missed us in our exile, and will bring us back. When we proved that we could not come back to God, God came to earth, taking the form of a slave, and was crucified for us so that we will know that God will be with us no matter what. Let us know that God has engraved our hearts with that powerful message of love. There’s a reason we read this text in the wilderness of Lent, so that when we are confronted with our sinfulness, we will be reminded that God will be with us no matter what.

Lord of heaven and earth, we feel alone and broken, and we cannot reach out to you. Comfort us with the knowledge that even though we can never reach you, you not only reach us, but refuse to let us go. Amen.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Changes

Hey folks, time to update your bookmarks. I've changed both the title and address of my blog. The "Russel(l) eats poo" moniker has served me well, but as I approach the realm of ordered ministry, I decided to frame the blog more theologically, to reflect what is increasingly becoming my reality. The new title, as you can see, is "One Short Sleep Past" and the new web address is http://wewakeeternally.blogspot.com/

The REP name was a reference to my Freshman dorm room, which had been "decorated" with a permanent marker by a previous occupant. Of the things that could have been added to a door in a Freshman Dorm, "Russel eats poo" was on the tame side. It became a kind of a battle cry for me and my roommate. However, a couple of folks have indicated that the name might be a barrier to those who might otherwise enjoy my contributions.

This is not a sanitation, but a reframing. I still enjoy slightly off-color humor and that will still pop up on this site from time to time. The new title and website are taken from John Donne's Holy Sonnet X, which I've added below.

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so,
For, those whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and souls delivery.
Thou are slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppie, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke, why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

This is a short post, but I'm preaching this weekend on Jeremiah 31:31-37, so a new sermon is forthcoming.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Abraham, Fear and Faith (Genesis 15 and Romans 4)

Genesis 15:1-8

1After these events, the LORD’s word came to Abram in a vision, “Don’t be afraid, Abram. I am your protector. Your reward will be very great.”

2But Abram said, “LORD God, what can you possible give me, since I have no children? The head of my household is Eliezer, a man from Damascus.” 3He continued, “Since you haven’t given me any children, the head of my household will be my heir.”

4The LORD’s word came immediately to him, “This man will not be your heir. Your heir will definitely be your very own biological child.” 5Then he brought Abram outside and said, “Look up at the sky and count the stars if you think you can count them.” The LORD continued, “This is how many children you will have.” 6Abram had faith in the LORD, and it was credited to him as righteousness.

7The LORD said to Abram, “I am the LORD, who brought you out of Ur of the Chaldeans to give you this land as your possession.” 8But Abram said, “LORD God, how do I know that I will actually possess it?”

This is the Word of the Lord
Thanks be to God

Romans 4:13-25
13The promise to Abraham and to his descendants, that he would inherit the world, didn’t come through the law but through the righteousness that comes from faith. 14If they inherit because of the Law, the faith has no effect and the promise has been cancelled. 15The Law brings about wrath. But when there isn’t any law, there isn’t any violation of the law. 16That’s why the inheritance comes through faith, so that it will be on the basis of God’s grace. In that way, the promise is secure for all of Abraham’s descendants, not just for those who are related by Law but also for those who are related by the faith of Abraham, who is the father of all of us. 17As it is written: “I have appointed you to be the father of many nations.” So Abraham is our father in the eyes of God in whom he had faith, the God who gives life to the dead and calls things that don’t exist into existence. 18When it was beyond hope, he had faith in the hope that he would become the father of many nations, in keeping with the promise God spoke to him: “That’s how many descendants you will have.” 19Without losing faith, Abraham, who was nearly 100 years old, took into account his own body, which was as good as dead, and Sarah’s womb, which was dead. 20He didn’t hesitate with a lack of faith in God’s promise, but he grew strong in faith and gave glory to God. 21He was fully convinced that God was able to do what he promised. 22Therefore it was credited to him as righteousness.

23But the scripture that says “it was credited to him” wasn’t written only for Abraham’s sake. 24It was written also for our sake, because it is going to be credited to us too. It will be credited to those of us who have faith in the one who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead. 25He was handed over because of our mistakes, and he was raised to meet the requirements of righteousness for us.

This is the Word of the Lord
Thanks be to God

Abraham is held up in the Romans passage as the height of believing. Paul paints a picture through the stories with which he grew up. It’s a portrait of of a man who’s righteousness was counted to him because he believed what God said. Genesis weaves a different tapestry. It’s not a different character than Paul’s, just a more complex version of the story. In the Genesis passage, Abram is full of questions. Knowing the story of Genesis 15 and reading Paul’s interpretation in Romans 4 leaves me with the question Abraham, what are you afraid of?

I imagine Abraham responding, I’m afraid that I’m too old for the promise. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to respond to what I know God is doing in the world. I’m afraid that this wrinkled body, this tired mind, will fail somehow, and I won’t get to see God’s promise fulfilled.
Abraham, what are you afraid of?

I’m afraid that all that God has given to me will pass to Eleizar of Damascus. I’m afraid that everything I’ve built will pass out of the hands of my family and into the hands of another. I’m afraid that I will not be able to leave something behind that will outlive me. I’m afraid that the things around me that carry my memories will be sold because they won’t mean anything to the one who possesses them. They’re not just trinkets, they’re artifacts from my story, and I cherish the moments of which they remind me.

Abraham, what are you afraid of?

I’m afraid that my wife Sarah, whom I love, has lost out on the promise. I’m afraid that her body is not up to the task and that I will have to go someplace where she cannot follow. I’m afraid that her story and mine are no longer the same. I’m afraid that she has no part to play, for her womb is dead, and though God has promised children, I do not see how it can happen. I know the promise is there, but I don’t see how it will happen, and that makes me afraid.

Abraham, what are you afraid of?

I’m afraid for my life! I’m not a young man anymore, I thought I could live out my days in the city my father built, the city that shares its name with my brother who died. I’m afraid that I live in a strange land where people do not know me, and where I do not know them.

Abraham, what are you afraid of?

I’m afraid that one day, no one will remember me, that I’ll be a footnote in someone’s family tree, and my story will be lost. I have struggled and succeeded, I have fought and lost, and I am afraid that none of it will matter because those around me won’t care anymore. When the times comes for me to sleep with my ancestors, I am afraid that the ways that God has acted in my life will die with me, and no one will give my testimony. I’m afraid that after I’m gone, people will only say nice things about me, because they do not know the true things to say.


Abraham, what are you afraid of?

I’m afraid that people look at me, at my age, and call me as good as dead. I still have more to offer, but I’m afraid that I’ll get lost in what other people tell me I am. I’m afraid that I’ve outlived my own narrative, and now I’m just waiting for the book to be closed. I’m afraid that I no longer have a say in my own reality, that all I am is what people say about me, because I don’t think I’m as good as dead. I’m afraid that even though God has promised me much, I cannot keep my end of the deal. I’m afraid that by choosing Sarah and me, God has made a mistake, and we don’t have what will be required of us to embody God’s promise for the world.

Abraham, what are you afraid of?

I’m afraid that all these things that I have floating around in my head will hold me back, and I won’t see what God is doing in the world. I know that my fears are real, and I know that God’s promise is as well. I know that God is wholly reliable, but I am afraid that I will miss God’s promise. I have faith in God, but I’m afraid that my faith has no effect and the promise has been cancelled. I am afraid that I am beyond hope. God has promised me much, but “LORD God, how do I know that I will actually possess it?”
In spite of all these questions we can image Abraham having, “He was fully convinced that God was able to do what he promised. Therefore it was credited to him as righteousness.” Like the Abram of Genesis 15, we have questions, doubts, and much fear. But Paul shows us Abraham not full of fear, but “when it is beyond hope, he had faith.” And when Abram was filled with fear, he chose instead to have faith in the LORD, and it was credited to him as righteousness. These are two impressions of the same man, chosen by God to give glory to God. God who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead. So we can ask Abraham a new question. A question to which we already know the answer.

Abraham, what do you have faith in?

My faith is in the God of my father, who is the author of all creation. I have faith in the God who is beyond time, and who’s promises are upheld in every age. My faith is in the God who does not fail, even when I cannot see how it will happen, my faith is that God will make it happen. My faith is in the stories my father and mother told me as a child. Stories about God’s faithfulness, passed down in the family to whom I am connected. Stories that cannot be forgotten, because they are the stories that create reality for all of creation. My faith is in the God who calls things that don’t exist into existence. My faith is that even though the part I have played in this story may be lost, the story still remains. Because it is not only my story, but yours, and ours, and God’s.


Abram’s faith was credited to him as righteousness, and he only had a few stories to hold up. For Abraham, it was the promise of a child. But the child of promise is not just Isaac or Ishmael. The child of promise is something that Abraham could not have imagined. Abraham wandered the promised land generations before his descendants would call it their home. And Generations after those who settled there, his descendant would be born in Bethlehem, and play out a pageant that we have seen and know to be true. We have seen so much more of God’s glory than Abraham could have imagined. Like Abraham, we are sometimes caught up in our fear. But we know that the faith of Jesus Christ is credited to us even more than Abraham’s faith is credited to him.

“[Jesus] was handed over because of our mistakes, and he was raised to meet the requirements for us.” The requirements are met, the promise is made, and it has been credited to us as righteousness before we have a chance to debate it. We do not have to earn it, in fact we cannot. But neither can we lose it, “the promise is secure for all of Abraham’s descendants, not just for those who are related by Law but also for those who are related by the faith of Abraham, who is the father of all of us.” The promise is secure not because of anything we have done or left undone. The promise is secure because God says so.

And when we ask of ourselves the same question we have asked of Abraham, “Christian, what do you have faith in?” The answers can ring out with confidence, because our faith is in the God who gives life to the dead and calls things that don’t exist into existence. Our faith is that when we poor sinners make a mess of this world, God doesn’t stop at cleaning up the mess, God cleans the sinners. God has declared that God will be with us and our own sinful nature cannot stop him. Like a mother who will not forsake her nursing child, like a father who welcomes the prodigal home, the requirements of righteousness have already been met.

Even when our faith falters and we revert to our fears, God still keeps God’s promises. Even when we cannot let our statement of faith rise up from within us, even when we cannot whisper our own faith, the faith of Abraham is counted as ours. Even more, the faith of Jesus our Lord is counted to us. We don’t have to be good enough, we don’t have to have enough faith. God is good enough, and faithful enough, to carry out the redemptive promise.

So don’t be afraid, says the LORD, I am your protector. How freeing is that? How freeing is the promise that we are a redeemed people, and there’s nothing that is not already taken care of? “The promise to Abraham and to his descendants, that he would inherit the world, didn’t come through the Law, but through the righteousness that comes from faith.” The faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, who “was handed over because of our mistakes, and he was raised to meet the requirements of righteousness for us.”

So to answer Abram’s final question, “LORD God, how do I know that I will actually posses it?” You know it because God sweeps away all that we have to fear, and frees us to act in faith, rather than fear.

Amen.
Focus: God is faithful in spite of our fears.
Function: To encourage people to act out of faith, rather than fear.